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Chapter 6
After Sunday morningservice, Pastor Adam approached Brent. “How are things going?”
Brent knew that he was asking a lot more than his words might suggest. “I prayed about it alot. And I’ve decided to at least try to reconnect with her.”
“Wow! So you’ve really thought about it.”
Yes, he really had. He’d thought about nothing else, really. The more he thought about her, the more he thought about her. The more he prayed for her and about their situation, the more he couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms again. It was a snowball effect turned avalanche. “But I’m not sure how to approach her.”
“Well are you trying to have a conversation or are you trying to sweep her off her feet?”
Brent laughed. That was a good question. He liked the sounds of the second option better but didn’t quite dare say the words out loud. They sounded ridiculous. And he might well fail. “Not sure.”
Adam nodded. “I get that. You know ...” He scratched his chin contemplatively. “You said she lives in Hartport, right?”
Brent nodded.
“Does she go to church there?”
“I’ve heard that she does, yeah,” Brent said, though he could hardly picture that. “I can’t remember what it’s called. It’s the one with the Christian school.”
“Ah, yes, Greater Life. Great church. I know the pastor there, and he’s great too. Maybe you take a drive down the coast and pay him a visit, ask his advice.”
“Are you serious? That’s not a little ... stalkerish?” Wouldn’t that seem kind of strange to that pastor? Not to mention that it was a long drive.
“I’m serious. And no, I don’t think it’s stalkerish unless you also bug her home while you’re there.” He laughed, but when he realized he was laughing alone, he grew serious again. “It would be confidential, and he might give you some sense of whether she would be receptive to reconnecting. And I know that he makes a sincere effort to know everyone in his church, so he might even be able to give you some advice on how to approach her.”
“I don’t know ...” Brent might have had enough pastoral counseling for one lifetime.
Adam shrugged. “What have you got to lose?”
When Brent didn’t say anything, Adam said goodbye and turned to walk away. Then he turned back. “And I promise, Darren is cool. I’m not sending you to some bully.” Then he left for real, leaving Brent a bit stupefied.
Bully?Had a pastor just suggested that there could be such a thing as a pastor who was abully? If that was true, Brent really wanted to avoid that. Not because he would be the one getting bullied but because of how strongly he might react to it happening to someone else. If anyone ever tried to bully him, that would be a short-lived effort.
Brent had been home less than thirty minutes before deciding he might as well take a drive down the coast. It was a pretty day for a drive. The leaves were at peak fall color. He may or may not decide to stop at Sammy’s church. But he could at least enjoy the drive. Besides, there was a very cool restaurant there in an old historic train station that served a killer barbecue pork nachos.
Yes, he decided. He would head for the train station.
He urged his old basset hound George up into the pickup and then climbed in behind him. George didn’t know Samantha yet. Brent had adopted him from the Bucksport Animal Shelter soon after he’d left Samantha. He’d wanted someone to soothe the crushing loneliness that had encompassed him.
Being married to an alcoholic was a lonely business, but living alone after being married was even lonelier.
George had been a big help. And in a roundabout way, Brent could even give George some credit for helping him meet Jesus. He’d delivered fuel to a giant old farmhouse full of women. At the time he’d thought it was three generations of the same family, but he’d since learned that they weren’t all related. But those women had spilled out of the house to fawn over the basset hound in the fuel truck.
