Voting begins Wednesday at noon! Have you picked a hero yet? The winning hero will be revealed in the final chapter of A Dozen Apologies, releasing February 14!
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Read Chapter Five.
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Read Chapter Seven.
Read Chapter Eight.
Read Chapter Nine.
Read Chapter Ten.
A Dozen Apologies
Chapter Eleven - November
Brent Teague
Mara pasted on a grin and waved at the
cackling guy who was clearly not aware he was the hundredth person to make that
joke. She turned toward the counter where customers at the diner placed their
orders. Cashiering at a diner had never seemed like a particularly elegant
profession, but the humiliation of being stuffed in this Thanksgiving turkey
costume made taking orders look as dignified as being the Queen of England.
“Mara?”
“Mara?”
She closed her eyes at the sound of the
man’s voice behind her. Wonderful. Someone recognized her. She swallowed the
remains of her pride and turned to see … Brent?
She blinked. Was she dreaming? She
wasn’t supposed to see him yet. The apology wasn’t ready.
He looked into her eyes and smiled—a
slow, widening grin that sparkled against the light chocolate tones of his face
and warmed her to her toes.
The Brent Teague she knew was a skinny
computer geek with a long neck and small head, dark eyes hidden behind
wire-rimmed glasses, and lips too full for his boyish face. But there was no mistaking
the warm understanding in those eyes and the brightness of that smile, despite
their new attachment to a mature, swoon-worthy picture of masculinity.
“Mara Adkins.”
She looked away from his direct gaze
and cleared her throat. He could still see right through her. She lifted her
chin, prepared to force her showy grin.
Her gaze collided with his dark eyes.
Always such compassion, even now. She couldn’t be fake when it felt like he was
looking at her heart.
“Brent Teague.” She relaxed. “I didn’t
expect to see you here.”
“It’s mutual.” His gaze moved to the
top of her head. “Especially like this.” His eyes sparkled with humor.
Heat surged up from her toes and rushed
to her cheeks. Why couldn’t the beak of the turkey costume hide her face
instead of stopping on her forehead? Brent would have to be the one to see her
like this. After all these years, it was hardly the impression she wanted to
make. She searched for something to say. “I’m surprised you even recognize me.
It’s been so long.”
“Oh, I could never forget you.”
Something about the way he said the
words made her risk a peek at his eyes again, but he glanced away.
Did he still care for her? After
everything she had done to him? She remembered how he used to look at her—with
lovesick cow eyes in a baby face, she and Jenny used to say when they laughed
at him for his obvious infatuation. She shoved the unpleasant memory away, her
guilt squashed under embarrassment from being recognized in this ridiculous
costume. It was his chance to laugh now. Maybe that made them even.
“So what brings you to Spartanburg?”
She put her hands on the brown fleece material at her hips, hoping that looked
chic.
“I live here.”
“You’re kidding.” She thought she
couldn’t find him to apologize, but he was here all the time?
“Afraid not. I moved back to pastor a
new church.”
“You’re a pastor? I thought you were
studying to be an engineer in college.”
His closed lips formed a tight smile.
“Computer Technologies, actually, but, yeah, I changed direction after …” he
glanced away, “stuff happened.”
He obviously didn’t want to talk about
it, so Mara moved on. “What church do you pastor?”
“New Covenant. We’re just getting
started, so it’s small.” He met her gaze squarely. “We’d love to see you there
sometime.”
“I don’t think so,” she answered, a
little too quickly.
“Before you decide, I should tell you
it’s not a segregated church. My plan is to make it more integrated than other
churches tend to be. We need to learn how to worship together and ignore
differences in color and culture.”
She blinked at the mini sermon. “Oh,
no. That’s not at all what I meant.” Her face flushed again. Did he think she
was prejudiced, too? “I just have a great church I’m happy at right now.” Hopefully,
he wouldn’t ask what the predominant race was at her place of worship.
“Sorry.” He flashed an abashed grin as
he smoothed a hand over the black stubs of shaved hair on top of his head. “You
can tell what I’m passionate about these days.”
He
was apologizing to her?
“There have always been a bunch of
great churches here, though,” he added.
Always? Her mind went to what he said
before. “Wait, did you say you moved back
here?”
He nodded, apparently not going to give
her any help.
“I thought you were from …” She looked
away at the huge sign that advertised the turkey sandwich special. She had no
clue where he was from.
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
She jerked her gaze to his. “Of course
I do. You helped me with biology in college before I dropped it. We went out
once before—” She stopped herself just in time. Was she really going to say, “Before
I dropped you”? She was evidently more flustered than she thought.
His smile was nowhere in sight as he
watched her. “I mean before that. We went to the same high school.”
“Gobble, gobble!” some woman shouted
from behind him, but Mara barely registered the noise. She was too busy trying
not to look like a turkey with her jowls dropped to the floor. “I—you can’t be
serious.”
“All four years.”
Impossible. She would have remembered
him. “How could I not have known that?” She could kick herself with her yellow
turkey foot. Was she asking for punishment?
“There was a lot you didn’t know about
me.”
Even as guilt surged in her throat, she
inexplicably felt the urge to defend herself. She could not let him see her
that way. “I wouldn’t have forgotten that.”
He shrugged. “You probably didn’t. I
don’t think you knew I existed in high school.”
Or in college. He didn’t have to voice
the thought. She could see it in his eyes. They held the same pain as when she
had invited him to kiss her at the party with everyone watching. Then she’d
spun away with hysterical laughter. He loved her then. Did he hate her now?
She opened her mouth to speak but then
shut it. All this time and practice, and she still couldn’t come up with an
apology that was good enough. If she had thought of one before, it wouldn’t
work now. Treating him like dirt in college was bad enough. Learning she had
ignored him in high school, too, was like adding the final cement to sink her
in an ocean of guilt.
“Hey, turkey.” Ralph barked at Mara
from behind the counter. “You’re paid to gobble, not blab.”
Mara tried to cover her embarrassment
by rolling her eyes as she looked away from the diner’s manager.
Brent stuck out his hand. “I should let
you get back to work.”
She put her hand in his, suddenly too
hot in her fleece getup as his hand cocooned hers in a warm, comforting grip.
“It was great running into you again.”
She didn’t want to look away from the
deep sincerity in his eyes.
But he let go and turned to leave.
“Wait.” The word burst out before she
had time to think.
He looked back.
She couldn’t let him leave. She had to
apologize, but not like this. Not in a turkey costume at a diner. “Would you
like to come to my house for Thanksgiving dinner? We’re planning a big spread
this year.”
“Thanks, but I’m afraid I have other
plans.”
Of course he would. It was only two
days before the holiday.
He watched her a moment. “Why don’t you
join me? You can come before or after your dinner. I’ll be there all day.”
“Where?”
“The children’s home.”
The children’s home? That was sweet,
but not really her thing. She was looking forward to spending all day with her
parents—their first Thanksgiving since they had all come to Christ. But she did
still have to apologize. “Okay. I’ll try to make it.”
“Good. Hope to see you there.” He gave
her a small smile and headed out of the diner.
She had the feeling her mind would make
sure she’d be seeing him everywhere until Thanksgiving. She better come up with
the best apology ever, or her racing heart was going to be sorely disappointed.
****
Mara took a deep breath Thanksgiving
morning as she walked through the door of the clean and modern facility used as
the children’s home. At least she was ready to face Brent this time. She had
worked all night on a suitable apology and practiced it all the way to the
shelter.
“You a volunteer?”
Mara turned to see a girl of no more
than sixteen emerge from a doorway, tugging at the hem of the T-shirt that
stretched across her pregnant belly.
“I’m here to see Brent Teague.”
“You and everybody else, lady.” The
girl smirked, but there was a friendly glint in her gaze as she eyed up Mara.
“Come on.” The girl waved a hand. “I’ll show you where he at.”
The girl led Mara down a hallway toward
the sound of children’s laughter.
They reached a doorway and Mara
followed her guide inside. Mara gulped at the sight before her. Brent stood in
the middle of the room holding a tiny girl on his hip as he reached down to
help a boy with a paper turkey. Now there was some serious husband material.
How did he manage to look more handsome with red marker on his forehead and the
little girl stretching the neck of his sweater with her pulling?
“Mm, hmm.” The pregnant teenager
watched Mara’s reaction. “You gonna be a volunteer before you leave here,
lady.” The girl turned and shook her head as she left the room with a grin.
There was a tug on Mara’s coat.
A boy about four years old stared up at
her. “You pretty.”
And his voice was loud. The room hushed
at the announcement as all the children and the two other adult volunteers
looked her way. Mara caught Brent’s gaze as he spotted her.
He smiled. “That’s Damion. He has great
taste.” Brent winked.
She thought her heart might stop.
Damion tugged on her coat again. The
boy held up a mess of cutout papers that she surmised were to be formed into a
turkey.
“Thank you.” She took the papers he
offered.
He crossed his arms like a grown man
and waited.
“Oh, you want me to help you with it?”
He nodded and grabbed her hand, tugging
her to a short craft table. He guided her into a kiddie chair, and she was soon
helping six similarly aged children assemble their paper turkeys.
The expectant teen was right—what
started out as a visit to see Brent quickly turned into a volunteer moment.
Funny thing, Mara didn’t mind. She hadn’t felt such a sense of joy and
belonging since the moment she accepted Christ. The little children reminded
Mara of herself as a kid. No, she hadn’t suffered abuse or needed to be removed
from her home, but she knew well the insecurity of having parents who were
bitter enemies and the fear of her young heart as she listened to their
constant fighting.
Even Jacqueline, the teen Mara met at
the door who later joined them with the kids, served as a reflection of Mara’s
own shallow life, wasted on the pursuit of beauty and boys. Flushed with
passion as she shared her story with Jacqueline, Mara caught Brent watching her
over the heads of some kids. Was he listening? Was he happy to know she was a
Christian now? She couldn’t read his expression.
Jacqueline asked a question, and Mara
had to look away from Brent to answer. She didn’t know how much time passed
until two women came and called the kids together to march out of the room for
their Thanksgiving meal. Mara returned Jacqueline’s wave as the teen followed
the younger children.
“Call me.” Mara pointed to the paper
Jacqueline carried that held Mara’s phone number.
Jacqueline nodded and smiled.
Mara turned.
Brent watched her again.
She walked over to the table and
started gathering up the scraps of paper and crayons. Why was she suddenly so
nervous?
“Thanks for coming.” Brent walked to
the other side of the table and began to help clean up.
“It was fun. And I still have time to
get home for our Thanksgiving dinner.” Now why did she have to say that? As if
he didn’t already think of her as selfish. God sure had a lot of work left to
do on her. “So why do you come here?” She hoped Brent would allow the change of
subject.
“I want to help kids who are like I
was. Struggling with the same stuff. I’m hoping I can show them the love of
Christ that I never knew as a kid.”
“Oh.” What else could she say? More
guilt just got piled on her head. She hadn’t even known he had a rough
childhood.
Her gaze fell to his hand on the table,
and she couldn’t help but notice his bare ring finger.
Their hands touched as they reached for
the same crayon. She jerked back, trying to ignore the sensation that tingled
in her fingers.
“Sorry.” He straightened.
She closed her eyes and prayed, Lord, give me strength. “No,” she met
his gaze, “I’m the one who has to apologize to you.” She couldn’t remember a
word of her memorized apology, but she had the feeling God wanted it that way.
“I know I hurt you. A lot. In college and in high school. I’m ashamed to say I
didn’t even remember that part of it, but I know I probably made fun of you or
stood by as others did.”
She set down the crayons she had
gathered and clasped her shaking hands together, her gaze dropping to the
table. “I don’t know if you heard me talking to Jacqueline, but I’m a Christian
now, and I know what I did was very wrong. I’m sure I can never make it up to
you.” She made herself look into his eyes. “I hope you can find it in your
heart to forgive me somehow.”
“I don’t need to forgive you.”
Her heart plummeted to her shoes. She
shouldn’t have hoped. She deserved nothing less than his hatred.
“I waited all this time, hoping I would
see you again. But I don’t want to forgive you.”
She swallowed.
“I want to thank you.”
She felt like someone just shot her
dead in her turkey costume. Staring at the sincerity in his eyes did little to
help her confusion.
“I spent all of high school and the
first two years of college caring only about one thing.” He held up his finger
then tilted it toward her. “You.”
She fidgeted.
“I was blessed that I thought you might
notice me if I was smart and got good grades, or I probably would’ve flunked
out of high school.” He crossed his arms and looked away for a moment. “When
you suddenly paid attention to me sophomore year in college, I thought that was
it.”
She bit her lip.
“I thought I was finally going to be
happy.”
“Brent,” her voice was thick with the
emotion that clogged her throat, “I’m so—”
He held up a hand. “But God knew I
needed something else, so he let you dump me, humiliate me, and hurt me more
than I ever thought I could take.”
Blinking back tears, she watched him
struggle with his own emotion, moisture glistening in his dark eyes.
“He knew I would never see Him until I
could stop looking at you.”
Mara sniffed as a drop spilled down her
cheek.
He reached across the table and gently
wiped the tear away with his thumb. “You broke my heart, Mara.” He looked into
her eyes, into her soul, “So God could put it together again.”
She nodded, not knowing whether to
laugh or keep crying. She let out a noise that was something like a combination
of the two.
Brent gave her a small smile. “It’s
okay now. I’m okay, and so are you. He meant it for good.”
“Yes,” she smiled through her tears,
“He did.”
“It’s been good seeing you, Mara.” He
pulled away. “I better go in and help with the meal for the kids. I know you
have to get to your dinner.”
“Oh, yes. I forgot.” She pretended to
check her watch as she tried to hide her confusion. His sudden rush to get away
from her was not a good sign.
He held out his hand again, a strangely
formal ending for what they had just shared.
She put her hand in his and searched
his face. Did he feel what she felt?
He looked away before she could tell.
“If you ever want to visit a different church, you know where I’m at.” He
turned and left the room before she could think of a response.
He wasn’t mad. He didn’t hate her. He
was grateful for what she had done. It was the best reaction one could hope for
on a journey of repentance. But did he still love her? She shouldn’t care, but
her sinking heart told her that she did.
Because we want YOU to choose the best hero for Mara, we're going to try to keep the author/creator of each chapter a secret until after the voting is over. If you know one of the authors, and pick out her chapter, please help us keep the secret. We want the hero chosen based on his personality and his chemistry with Mara, and not make it a contest between authors.
UPDATE:
VOTE FEBRUARY 5 THROUGH FEBRUARY 8 FOR YOUR FAVORITE HERO!
Voting opens at Noon (EST) on Feb 5.
Because we want YOU to choose the best hero for Mara, we're going to try to keep the author/creator of each chapter a secret until after the voting is over. If you know one of the authors, and pick out her chapter, please help us keep the secret. We want the hero chosen based on his personality and his chemistry with Mara, and not make it a contest between authors.
We're depending on you to help us spread the word!
Our authors are also offering some inside glimpses into the writing process, some interviews with authors, heroes, and even the publisher. And that Marji - she somehow got hold of Mara's journal, so you'll be able to read some of her thoughts as she goes through this experience. Fay snagged interviews with all the heroes too. Check out all the links below to stay on top of the latest.
Thanks for joining us in Mara's adventure - we hope you have a great time!
Monday's Bonus Blogs
Friday's Bonus Blogs
Betty Owens–Fall is in the Air in Western North Carolina
Theresa Anderson interviews on Heart of the Matter Radio with Cynthia Simmons
Part 2 of Fay Lamb's fun interview with the Scriblerians
High Five Friday!
Theresa Anderson interviews on Heart of the Matter Radio with Cynthia Simmons
Part 2 of Fay Lamb's fun interview with the Scriblerians
High Five Friday!
Thursday's Bonus Blogs:
Wednesday's Bonus Blogs:
Tuesday's Bonus Blogs:
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