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As the service began, Amanda's attention was laser-focused on the pulpit. She whispered questions in my ear, her eyes wide with wonder as the preacher delivered his message. I, on the other hand, was fidgeting in my seat, feeling self-conscious and out of place. But seeing how happy Amanda was, I resolved to stick it out for her sake.
The sixty minutes of the service seemed to drag on forever. I squirmed in my seat, shifting my weight from one side to the other. But Amanda was entranced, singing along with the hymns and listening intently to the sermon.
Finally, the service was over, and Amanda practically leaped out of her seat to join the other children in the back of the church. I watched as she giggled and chatted with her new friends, completely at ease in this unfamiliar environment.
As I stood awkwardly by myself, a woman approached me. It was Jordan's mother. She greeted me warmly, and I felt a pang of guilt for my earlier discomfort.
"It's nice to have you here, Mr. Anthony," she said. "I hope you and Amanda can keep coming. It would be nice to have you here for every service."
I offered an awkward smile, feeling a bit like a fraud. But before I could respond, Amanda bounded over to me, her eyes shining with excitement.
"Can we come back next week, Daddy?" she asked eagerly.
I hesitated for a moment, but then I looked down at her beaming face and knew the answer.
"Of course, sweetie," I said, ruffling her hair. "We'll be back next week."
As we walked out of the church, Amanda turned to me with a look of curiosity and asked, "Daddy, what do you think the pastor eats?"
I smiled at her and replied sarcastically, "Sweetie, the pastor is a human like you; he eats food."
"I know, Daddy, but maybe he's a vegetarian.
"Okay…" I answered, "Or maybe not," I added, not really sure why we were discussing the pastors' diet. Amanda's eyes widened in surprise, and she looked at me skeptically as if she didn't quite believe me.
"Or maybe we could just ask him next time," she said, and I secretly prayed that she would never remember.
When we got home, I reminded Amanda that the next day was a school day, and we needed to do her homework. She dragged her feet to get her backpack while I settled on the couch in the living room.
I watched her as she colorfully decorated her homework pages with pictures of flowers and butterflies while working on her simple math problems. She was so engrossed in her work that she didn't even notice the time passing.
When she finally finished, I could tell she was ready for a nap. I was relieved because I needed a break too. I took her to her room and tucked her into bed, giving her a kiss on the forehead.
I hurried back to the living room as I heard my phone ringing. It was James. At this point, James seemed to be only the reason why I owned a phone. I answered the call.
"Anthony, listen up, this is important. We must deliver a package tomorrow," he said excitedly.
The ''we'' part was very confusing, so I answered, ''We?" I was also confused by his sudden enthusiasm.
"Anthony, this is very important. You wouldn't be driving if I hadn't hurt my hand. See you in the morning then," he said before abruptly hanging up the phone.
James was rarely excited about anything, so this must be big. Even though I couldn’t see his face, I could tell that he was looking forward to it. I was glad I was just the driver and not directly involved in whatever scheme he had concocted.
I stared at my phone for a moment. Without thinking, I opened my message tab and impulsively texted Laura back. I had been trying to play it cool. But now, with the adrenaline pumping through my veins, I couldn't resist the urge to text her.
I stared at the one word I had sent—"saved." Maybe I was overdoing it now and I sounded like a sulky kid, but that was occurred to me to write.
I sighed and put my phone down, trying to focus on the task at hand. I needed to get some rest before tomorrow's trip with James.
***
I had been driving with James in an awkward silence for about an hour. It was not that I wished to have a conversation with him, but I would rather he have said something than continue to feel this mounting tension. I glanced over at him sitting beside me, engrossed in his phone. I wondered who he was going to meet today and why it was so important that we had to travel such a distance. I also wondered what had happened to his heavily bandaged hand.
We continued to drive along a long, winding, empty road lined with trees. The only signs of civilization were the occasional billboard or gas station. As we approached our destination, a big glittery hotel emerged from the trees, just a few feet from the road. It was quiet but luxurious, with its glass walls reflecting the sunlight.
James pointed to the hotel parking lot, and I followed his lead. He told me they needed to see if anyone had followed us, for transparency. We stepped out of the car and made our way to the entrance where we were immediately greeted by the hotel staff and ushered in.
James continued to lead the way, and I followed him through the lobby and into a private meeting room. The room was filled with an array of food, and I couldn't resist grabbing a bite as James chatted briefly with someone. I tried to eavesdrop on their conversation and was able to gather that we were there to meet someone who would be staying in the hotel for six months.
