It Happened on Maple Street

James had been chosen to give us our social club messages that semester, in addition to leading our prayers. I’d heard leaders talk about his Bible study and his level of faith and commitment.

“That’s baloney,” I said. “If all God cared about was our emotional commitment, or our intention to stay together, then he wouldn’t require marriage at all.”

The Bible clearly said a man and a woman were to marry before making love. I’d been taught that my whole life.

“Would it be okay with you if we just sit close?” He ran his hand along my neck. “It’ll help if you just put a little pressure on . . . it. Just sit with me.”

We’d been taught my first semester at Armstrong that girls were not to sit on boys’ laps. We’d be kicked out of dormitory living if we were caught sitting that way.

I wasn’t a new student in the dorm anymore, but I didn’t want to break the rules. And I told him so.

“Please, Sweetie Pie? You love me, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” I thought I did. I wasn’t really sure what love was. He’d spilled a Coke on himself and I’d cared. I’d hated to see him humiliated and uncomfortable. I’d wanted to make it better for him. That meant I loved him, didn’t it?

I still didn’t want to sit on his lap.

“Do you understand about men?”

“Yeah.” They got hard. And wanted to put it in women.

“You know that it brings a man physical pain to be turned on and not get release?”

No. And I didn’t want to know.

Had it hurt Tim? He’d never let on. And why was I thinking of him now?

It was wrong. Futile. And suddenly all I could think about was my Tim. About being on a country road with him.

In the backseat of his car with his fingers between my legs, touching me in places only he had touched. His places.

God, give me that country road again. Please, God.

Wait. I stopped myself. God, please forgive my sinful thoughts.

Tim didn’t want me. He hadn’t offered to marry me. James had. I was engaged to marry James. I was going to spend my life as his wife.

It wasn’t fair to him that I was thinking about another man when all James wanted to do was love me. I was not a good and faithful woman. The Bible said that if our thoughts were impure, it was kin to impure actions.

“Please, Sweetie Pie? Please just sit on my lap for a bit. Let me hold you.”

My chest was so tight it hurt. “Okay. But only that. Nothing else. I have to be pure when we get married.”

I wasn’t budging on that one. I’d paid a very dear price the one and only time I’d let my morals slip. I’d lost the man I loved more than anything else on earth. Because I’d been too easy. I’d lost my heart and all of the magic it had contained. Because I’d given too much too soon. And I’d spent two long years gaining back my self-respect with faithful service to God. I’d lost my family to put God first—to be forgiven and regain my pureness.

James moved. There was a console between us. “Your seat will work better,” he said, his tall frame looming big in the car as he moved toward me. “The steering wheel is in the way here.”

I didn’t say a word. He was never going to fit in my seat. Where was I going to go as he climbed over?

“Put your seat back.”

I did as I was told.

And before I had my next thought, he’d picked me up and was sitting underneath me.

“That’s it, just sit,” I said, feeling stupid. And dirty. And wanting to go home.

I also wanted to be a good wife to the man I was going to spend the rest of my life beside. I wanted to be a good girl. I wanted to make him happy.