Despite Daddy’s ghost, the pews were comfortable. Almost bed-like. Kind of like a cot. I leaned to one side, my head colliding with the scratchy fabric, and let my eyes close.
The lights turned on just as I was drifting to sleep. Busted.
“Who’s there?” A voice called out into the dim room. I knew the voice wanted me to answer, but I was terrified. If I answered I would get in trouble. All I wanted was a warm place to sleep. Slowly I sat up straight, revealing myself to the authority. It was just me among rows and rows of empty pews.
A woman approached me, wearing jeans and a white t-shirt. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled up in a ponytail and her face was kind.
“I’m sorry,” I said immediately. “I got turned around and then I just fell asleep.” It sounded like a lie. I was sure the woman was used to people like me, vagrants, coming in there and trying to sleep. Before she could kick me out, I stood up and walked toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
I turned around, surprised. “I was leaving.”
“If you want to stay the night, you can. I would love to talk to you tomorrow.”
I nearly declined, too proud for my own good. Ready to eschew the offer and run out, my mouth was forming around the word “no”, but the pew had been so comfortable. It almost felt like a bed, and the place was warm, and the walls offered protection from the wind.
I didn’t say yes, but I didn’t say no either. The woman walked out of the room of worship, not giving me time to answer, and turned off the lights, leaving me alone. It wasn’t long before I returned to the pew and fell asleep.
“You’re a pastor?” I asked in disbelief. The woman from the night before had returned to talk to me and, very surprisingly, she was the church’s pastor. A woman. Women weren’t allowed to be in positions of authority within a church, at least that’s what Daddy had led me to believe. He’d told me that because of what Eve had done to Adam, women were forever mistrusted in the eyes of God.
He constantly reminded me how he was risking his soul to save mine, how it was bad for him to teach me the ways of God, as God viewed women as vile, dirty things. Since I was his little girl, though, he would risk himself.
When I was young, only about five, I felt constant guilt over Daddy risking himself for my soul. I felt fear. One day I ran crying into his prayer room, begging him to stop teaching me and just let me go to Hell if that meant it would save himself.
If it hadn’t been for Eli, I would have lived and died under Daddy’s spell. I truly believed his words. I believed I was an evil, vile thing and that the only good in me came from Daddy’s teachings. Looking at the female pastor across from me, I was again slapped with the realization of how deep Daddy had dug himself. He was dead, I was across the country, and yet his beliefs were like the thick roots of a Redwood.
“I’ve been pastor of this church for only a little while,” the woman explained. “Two years about. Before then I was pastor of a small church down in Lake City.”
I nodded, even though I had no idea where she was talking about. Truth was, I’d stranded myself in Colorado on my quest toward California. I’d run out of bus money and was barely scraping by on food.
Colorado wasn’t the worst place to be stranded. They really took care of their homeless people. After talking with a few people at the shelter, I’d learned that many homeless people actually traveled to Colorado for that very reason.
I was working hard to not get complacent. It would be so easy to become the person people saw me as: a young, aimless vagrant. I could disappear as Grace Wall forever and be this nameless person that people occasionally gave money to to make themselves feel better.
I wouldn’t have to deal with Grace's past or Grace's family. I would just…be.
“What brings you to Colorado, Grace?” The pastor’s voice warmed me out of my bleak thoughts. She sat next to me in the pew, less than a foot away, and I was very aware that I hadn’t showered. I must have been disgusting to her.
“I was on my way to California,” I answered, trying to end the conversation. Sitting with the pastor just reminded me how unworthy I was.
“Was?” the pastor asked. “Have you changed your path?”
I shrugged, standing up. “I suppose not. Thank you for not kicking me out, but I really should be going. If I’m not back at the shelter all the beds will be gone.”
“Why don’t you stay the night here?” she offered. I eyed the woman warily. She seemed genuine enough, but then most people seemed genuine at first.
“What do you want?” I asked skeptically.
She laughed, a sound like grinding cans and very at odds with her petite frame. “Nothing, of course!”
“Will I have to attend church?” I wondered if this woman was sincere. It all seemed too good to be true.
She shook her head. “No, of course not. If, however, you decide you want to come to a service, you are always welcome.” She smiled warmly at me.
After a few moments, wherein I considered her offer, I finally answered, “No, no thank you.” No one offered anything for free. I wasn’t sure what the pastor wanted from me, but I was sure she wanted something. I didn’t have much to give and what I had left, I wanted to keep.
She raised her hands in defeat. “The door is always open.” I gave the pastor one last look, still unsure, and left to go secure my spot at the shelter.