Page 23 of Halo

Beth and Hannah glance at one another, pressing their lips together as Jane hums, giving me a once-over. “Isn’t the harvest festival such a fantastic outreach to the community?”

“And this year is going to be bigger than ever,” Beth pipes up.

“Thanks to Jane,” Hannah singsongs, patting their leader on the shoulder.

“Ladies …” Jane approvingly nods. “It’s all for the glory of God. This is his desire that he put on my heart, so of course, it’s going to be absolutely amazing.”

They talk like this all of the time, gloating about how wonderful they are—thanks to God. As long as you acknowledge that God had his blessing on anything you do, it’s not considered bragging. It’s praising him. It’s being humble.

It’s pretentious.

“Sounds wonderful,” I lie, smiling brightly. “Looking forward to hearing more about what you have planned for this year.” I excuse myself from the Stepford wives, their sideways glances following my every step to the refreshment table.

I grab two plastic plates and peruse the bounty of cookies, pastries, and fresh in-season produce.

“Getcha’ some bacon ranch dip, sweetie.”

I smile at the older woman—my mother’s long-time best friend. She’s one of the first people to ever hold me as a newborn. “Hey, Mrs. Mary.” My arm wraps around her shoulder in a quick side-hug. “Is this the same one you brought to the Super Bowl party this year?”

“The exact same one!” She chuckles, taking my plate and giving me a heaping helping. “Now your mama told me you got … a new job?” She says it with a lilt, but she’s just baiting the truth out of me.

“Yes, ma’am, I did.” I grab a few apple slices.

“Hmm … and it’s at a bar?” The word might as well be poison on her tongue.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s a sports bar, where I help clean and—”

“Serve alcoholics?” She holds up her finger. “Leah, my Danny was a good boy—always a good boy. Then he went off to UT and tried beer—” she whispers the word—“ and next thing you know, he’s joining a fraternity, getting a piercing and a tattoo. Now he’s dating a Catholic—a Catholic.” She sighs. “You know better, dear. The Lord is not going to bless you if you are helping others sin like that.”

“I’m sorry I’ve let you down, Mrs. Mary,”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, sweetie.” She pats my arm. “The Lord offers mercy and forgiveness to those who repent.”

I plaster on my Christian-nice smile. “I better get this dip over to Rachel. Good seeing you.”

I’ll hear about this later from my mom, no doubt.

I duck around the woman and head back to my sister-in-law, who’s showing the women at our table her pregnancy tracker.

“That’s so cute! The size of an avocado!” One lady coos.

“The miracle of life is so precious,” another chimes in while the others nod and hum amen.

“We always thought you’d be first, Leah.”

I pause for a moment, convincing myself that their intentions weren’t to hurt me. I take my seat, unfolding my napkin. “I guess the Lord has other plans.”

A silence fills the space. Everyone takes slow chews as they avert their eyes.

It hasn’t always been like this. For as long as I can remember, I was a good girl, placed on a pedestal as the reverend's daughter. I acted right, learned how to be gracious and hospitable. I kept my nose clean throughout my childhood. Modest clothes. Never cursed. Avoided the opposite sex for fear of being raped or giving into lust. Any time the church doors were open, I was there. I folded bulletins for Sunday morning worship, sang on the praise team, even volunteered on a regular basis in children’s church and vacation Bible school.

I did everything right.

I met a boy from church.

I saved myself for marriage.

I was the perfect virgin bride.