When Lightning Strikes (8 page)

I buried my face in my hands, and silent tears sprang to my eyes. They were crazy tears. It's like they were joyous tears that turned bitter as they fell onto my cheek. I quickly brushed them off my face, hoping he didn't notice. I wiped my face as I took a deep breath, trying to decide how I felt and think of what to say.

Chapter 13

We were sitting in his car, driving into Austin and Patrick had just come right out and told me he wanted more with me—a lot more.

"Patrick, I don't know what to say. Everything you said just now was so perfect. You have no idea how much I want to just throw caution to the wind and say, 'yes Patrick Mallory! I'll travel the world with you!'"

"So say it," he said.

I groaned. "I feel like my head's gonna explode because you're only missing one thing and it's the only thing that matters!"

"Why does it matter so much? Why can't we just ignore religion?"

"It's not religion I'm trying to ignore. I pretty much
do
ignore religion."

"Why can't you get over it that I don't believe in God?"

"Because I know there
is
one. I'm too invested in you not to care."

"Oh, so you're saying you're like all the others who are scared of me now?"

"It's not like that, Patrick. I don't care what you choose to believe. I can't control that. But I also can't be
with
you."

"Why not?"

"Because one day I want to have kids, or at least one kid. I don't know, but I'm relatively sure I want offspring."

"Okayyy?" he asked.

"Well, I'm gonna want to teach these offspring about God. It's important to me. I know I'll feel responsible for their little souls, and I'm just not gonna be able to ignore God with them."

"Why can't we just let them choose what they want to believe?"

I couldn't believe he was discussing our made-up future children. My thoughts were desperate as I tried to make sense of why I was telling Patrick Mallory no when all I wanted to say was yes.

"I wish I could tell you I'd be okay with you or our theoretical children choosing to believe anything they want. I wish that were true because that would solve this whole problem. The truth is, this is the suckiest impasse I've ever been at in my life. I hate myself for telling you no right now."

"So, that's it? You're telling me no?"

I let out another frustrated groan. "Uhh! It has to be it."

"You can't date me because I'm not a Christian?"

"When you put it like that it makes me sound like a freak, and you know it."

"It's the truth, though. That's what you're saying, right—that you won't date me because I'm not a Christian."

I was angry with myself that it had to be an issue. I hated it. I felt the blood rise to my cheeks as embarrassment and anger hit me. I couldn't fathom that I was actually telling Patrick Mallory no. I just couldn’t get over what I knew was going to be his fate. I considered the possibility of being with him long term—thought about how much more I'd grow to love him. My soul just couldn't get over it.

"I know it makes me seem like a prude," I said. "It doesn't sound right when you accuse me of judging you for not being a Christian because normally I don't care what people choose."

He let out a long sigh.

We were getting close to my house and I dreaded saying goodbye because I felt like it might be for the last time.

"I don't know what to tell you," he said. "I can't just flip a switch, Mia."

"I know you can't," I said. "Wait," I added, feeling a backlash of hope when I thought about his statement. "Did you try to flip it?"

He smiled, but shook his head. "I mean, I'm open to anything, especially if it means getting you in the deal, but I have to be honest with you… I've read the Bible and I just don't see the point."

"That's because it hasn't clicked," I said.

"Clicked? How am I supposed to get it to click?"

I sighed helplessly. "If I knew how to get it to click with you, first I'd do it, and then I'd teach my clicking skills to all the other Christians in the world who are wishing they could click all
their
friends right now."

"Okay," he said, shaking his head. "Don't you think it's wrong that you believe something that needs a clicking device to make it make any sense?"

I narrowed my eyes at him for asking one of those questions.

"The clicking device is made up, obviously. I was just saying that if I knew a way to make God click with you, I'd do it for every other non-believer in the world. Unfortunately, it's something you have to want for yourself."

"What I want is you," he said, killing me.

"I'm sort of a package deal. And even as I say it, I hate myself and want to take it back because I really like you."

"What can I do?" he asked. "How am I supposed to see it any differently than I do right now? The Bible didn't work. The Veggie Tales didn't work."

"I don't know!" I said. "If I knew I'd tell you. I know for sure you shouldn't wait for God to show up on your doorstep or anything. It'd help if you sought after Him. Read someone's opinion of the Bible. Find someone smart, and read what they have to say."

"And what if I try? Does that change how you feel about us?"

"Well, of course it does," I said. "But it really only works out if the clicking happens."

"Don't I get points for trying?" he asked.

We pulled into my driveway and he turned off the ignition, but neither of us moved to get out.

I stared at him for a second. "I'm desperate to keep something going with you, so yes, I have to give you points for trying, otherwise I'll just hate myself for the rest of my life. I have to warn you, though. It's definitely gonna be an issue. I hate saying that. Even as it comes out of my mouth, I'm embarrassed about it, but I just can't bend on it—especially years from now, with kids or whatever."

"Can this just please not be the end?" he asked, ripping my heart out. "Can we please just move cautiously forward? Maybe I can do some more reading and see if it appeals to me this time."

Moving cautiously forward sounded beautiful to me. I didn't want to say goodbye, and I thought my convictions could deal with some cautious movement in Patrick's direction. Caution would have to be good enough.

I gave him a little smile. "Maybe I'll dare to hope you'll be appealed-to this time."

"Maybe I'll believe just about anything for you," he said. I had been aching to touch him all day, and as we sat there in my driveway, I couldn’t take it any longer. I reached over the console and grabbed his hand. I pulled it into my grasp and held it securely against my cheek. His arm was stretched across my chest and I held onto it as if holding him near to my heart. I sighed and closed my eyes, feeling relieved at his touch.

Before I knew what was happening, he repositioned, and his lips were on mine. It was a gentle kiss, but I hadn't seen it coming, and my lips were a little dry and tacky.

I opened my eyes to see him smiling. "We got stuck," he said.

"You're about to know what being stuck's all about if you don't stop."

"I'm asking for stuck," he said.

"I thought you were asking for strings," I said, teasing him.

"Stuck and strings represent the same thing, don't they?"

I smiled and nodded.

"I can't believe you're gonna make me read Bible tracts and get saved and sh*! before you'll go out with me."

(He said a cuss word in that sentence and I debated sharing that part, but his sense of humor was a big part of why I loved him, and I had to tell the story as it went.)

"I can't believe you looove me enough to try!"

It was obvious I was joking by the way I said it, and he just shook his head at me.

"You're joking, but something's gonna happen between us," he said.

"What, like strings?"

"Strings
and
stuck."

I leaned forward urging him to kiss me again, and he didn't leave me hanging. Our lips made gentle contact and I let out a tiny uncontrollable whimper of relief and happiness.

I knew things might not work out with us, but at least there was a tiny glimmer of hope. "I'm leaving for Amsterdam soon. I'd like to continue seeing you before then, but I'm booked like crazy at work, so it's gonna be hard."

"I have a lot going on with getting ready for fall," I said.

"I'll be gone till late September," he said.

"That's what you were saying."

"It's the first time I'm scared of being homesick."

I smiled and bit my lip absentmindedly.

"It has nothing to do with Austin."

I closed my eyes and held his hand tightly to my chest. "Please click," I said.

And again, his lips touched mine. I took a shuddering breath.

"We should get these boxes inside," he said.

"Oh yeah, definitely. You're right; we should. That's a great idea."

He laughed.

"What?" I asked.

"You have the hots for me."

That made me laugh. "You have no idea," I said.

"Enlighten me."

"Well…" I said, thinking back, "…I only got this arrow so I could see you again."

He smirked at me. "The tattoo?" he said. "That's nothing. Girls get tattooed by me all the time just to check me out."

I giggled at him. "Oh really?"

"Really. What else you got?"

I stared at him sincerely. His expression was sweet and it made me want to hand him a little piece of my heart. "I like you," I said. "I like you more than I like other guys—like thirty-two times more. And to say that I hope you can work it out with God would be the understatement of the century."

He used his thumb to massage the outside of my hand, and I clutched his arm to my chest closer than before. "How many times ahead would I be if I work things out with God?" he asked, straight-faced.

I giggled. "At least like a hundred and fifty," I said.

He whistled and shook his head. "I'm gonna have to check into this clicking," he said.

I sighed again. "I think if you want it, it'll happen."

"If it comes with you, I want it."

I smiled. "It'll happen," I said hopefully.

He helped me carry in the boxes and we said goodnight. He kissed me two other times in the process, and each time I felt weak in the knees and utterly taken with him. I wanted him more than I'd ever wanted anyone else, and all I could think was how amazing it was that he still liked me after I took a stand for Christ. I honestly couldn’t believe he was willing to look into it some more, and I prayed like crazy that God would find a way into his heart.

Chapter 14

Patrick was right about the next two weeks being crazy at the shop. He loved his work, though, and never had a problem with devoting a hundred percent of himself to his career. He did all custom pieces, and the process of drawing the design and tattooing it was very time consuming. What I'm trying to say here is that I didn't have much time to see him before he left.

A former me would have jumped straight into spending nights with him like he wanted me to, but I couldn’t let myself get that attached just yet. I saw him for a couple of hours almost every evening, though.

Turns out, his apartment was in the same building as the tattoo shop, so most nights I'd just meet him at work when he got off and we'd hang at his place for a while.

Some nights we'd go for a drive. He liked to drive my jeep, and we mixed it up between it and his car. Several times, he made sure I knew he was serious about using his car while he was out of town. I thanked him and tried to decline, but he ended up giving me the key when he left just in case I changed my mind.

He also gave me the key to his apartment and asked if I wouldn't mind going by there once a week to make sure everything was fine. He said it was a job he normally left to one of his friends at the shop since it was right downstairs, but he wanted me to do it instead. He said he liked the idea of me being in his apartment while he was gone and he wanted to imagine me in there.

Patrick Mallory was capable of making my body ache like it had never ached before. He made me suffer excruciating temptation, and let me assure you, it was extremely difficult to refrain from allowing things to get heated between us. We refrained, though. The most intimate thing we shared was gentle kisses on the cheek or lips.

I was promiscuous during college and it was foreign to me to take things this slow, but I knew it was the right thing to do. In fact, everything felt right about Patrick. Well, except for that one thing, which we didn't really talk about. We choose to enjoy those two weeks together without bringing God into the picture. He said he was trying to sort some things out for himself and planned on researching it more during his trip.

At first, I was dreading his trip, but the closer and closer the time came for him to leave, the more I looked forward to it. I needed space from him, and not because I was tired of him. It was the exact opposite. I had fallen madly in love with Patrick Mallory, and I needed a second to come up for air.

He left near the end of July and wouldn't be back till late September. The break was necessary. I was so attached to him that I had begun to tell myself I could get over our religious differences.

By the time Patrick had been gone a month, I'd gone back and forth with my feelings a thousand times. I ended up downloading Instagram, and I followed him and was able to see all the work he did along with snapshots of him and the people who worked in the shops where he worked.

Most of his appointments were scheduled during the beginning of his trip, tapering off to mainly sightseeing by the end. That was the way he usually planned his trips so that he could enjoy some R & R after the bulk of work was done.

We emailed each other multiple times every day and Skyped at least once a week. School started back, so I had plenty of stories to tell him about my new students, and he'd tell me funny things that would happen in the shops and with his friends.

Patrick started his trip in Amsterdam and would end it there as well, but he went to a few other European cities in between. One of his good friends lived in Amsterdam, and he had a comfortable place to stay for free, which was why he liked it so well.

He was at the end of his trip and in Amsterdam for the second time when I got an email from him one morning that said he wanted to Skype when I got off work at 4PM (11PM his time). He wrote in his email that he'd be expecting my call between 10:30 and 11 his time. It was a random Monday, and we usually set up Skype on a Friday or Saturday, so I got a funny feeling as soon as I read his message. It was vague and my imagination went wild, thinking about all the possible things he wanted to tell me. Part of me thought he was breaking up with me. Part of me thought he'd ask me to marry him. I didn't dare hope he was telling me he found God. Of course it crossed my mind, but I wouldn't let myself hope for such a thing. I figured I had better odds hoping for a marriage proposal.

I was done with work at 3:00, and I went straight home, intending to call him as soon as the clock struck 3:30. I was anxious to talk to him, and had random fleeting thoughts like,
I'll bet he got a new haircut and wants to show me
. I was going through some of those random guesses when I pulled into my driveway.

Patrick's Audi was parked in my spot, and I absentmindedly wondered who in the world had driven it there. I quickly realized there was no way that was his car and one of my roommates must know someone who had one just like it.

I parked beside it, and by the time I got out of my jeep,
Patrick
had already gotten out of the car. I couldn't believe my eyes! I was all worked up about seeing him on a screen, and there he was
in the flesh
. It was actually him!

I had moments in his absence when I was sure it wouldn't work out, but I couldn’t ignore the overwhelming sense of relief I felt at seeing him.

"What are you doing here?" I asked excitedly as I walked around the front of the jeep. Neither of us stopped when we met each other, we just walked right into a comfortable embrace that relayed how much we'd been missing each other.

"Please tell me you found God," I said, half-joking, but saying the first thing that came to my mind.

"I found God," he said.

I pulled back and stared up at him with a skeptical stare. "Seriously?"

He smiled. "Seriously. Why do you think I'm here?"

I paused for a few seconds, and then said, in a tentative voice that was little more than a whimper, "To tell me you like God now?"

He hugged me tightly. "Yes, Mia," he said, tilting my chin up so I'd meet his eye again. "I like God now."

He gave me a little confused smirk. "I can't believe it myself. I can't believe it worked."

I started to cry for joy, but then I made a pitiful, miserable face like the weight of the world had just come crashing down on me in one single thought, which it had.

"What's wrong?"

"Please don't tell me your joking," I said. I put a hand to my chest. "I love you, but I'd be devastatingly mad at you if you're joking around about this right now."

He gave me a sideways grin. "You love me, eh?"

I gave him a little punch to the chest. "Are you joking around?"

"No, I'm not," he said.

I could tell he was being sincere.

It was cloudy outside. There was a storm brewing in the distance and the wind was starting to pick up, but we were both comfortable out there in my driveway as long as it wasn't raining.

I stared up at him, unable to think of words to say. None of it seemed real.

"I'd been doing a lot of reading," he said, "and even listening to some audio by those guys you recommended. And some of it started to sink in a little, I think, because before I knew it, I was going to tour chapels. You know, try stepping my foot in a holy place and see if something happened."

"Did anything happen?" I asked.

He smiled and squeezed me, and then, like he just couldn’t help himself, he put a quick kiss right on my mouth. I whimpered at him a little bit and he smiled down at me before going on with his story. I wanted to melt in his arms, and the storm brewing in the background only intensified the moment.

"Nothing happened at first. I went to seven or eight different churches in the three cities I visited, and never felt anything or saw anything that moved me. Meanwhile, I'm still reading and searching, and not mentioning any of this to you because I felt like it might not be working. I was starting to see it as reasonable, but not quite getting it, you know?"

"Well, something must have finally happened, right?" I asked rushing his story. "You said that's why you're here—because something happened, right?"

He laughed and it shook his chest.

"Did something happen?" I asked.

"Yes, something happened little girl," he said smiling. "So, the night before last after work I went to this church. It has this huge bell tower, the tallest in the city. It's open during the day to tourists, which is how I'd seen other churches like it, but this time I went at night. Anyway, I ran into a man. He spoke broken English, but it was better than my Dutch, so we went with English. He could see that I was searching for something, so took me inside the tower so we could talk while he did some chores. He handed me a cloth, and we both wiped down handrails with some sort of oil as we talked. He asked me a ton of questions, and I answered them as honestly as I could. Then at the end of our conversation, he prayed with me, and
I believed, Mia
. I know I believed because there was lightning."

I stared at him with a confused look and he nodded.

"It's true. I had jokingly asked God a hundred times over the last month to give me lightning, and the
exact moment
I gave myself over to Him during that prayer, lightning flashed. Tom and I were standing near a window, and the whole tower lit up with a huge flash of light."

"Are you serious?" I asked.

He smiled. "I can't believe it myself." He thought for a second. "I knew I was changed. I would have known I was straight with God without the lightning, but it was a cool gift. It makes me feel like He gets my sense of humor."

I couldn't believe he was referring to God as if He existed!
It was a dream come true.
Thinking about how much I loved him made me wonder how long he was staying.

"Did you come back just to tell me that and turn around, or are you staying home?" I asked.

"I'm going back," he said. "I have some work scheduled, and I was looking forward to finishing my trip. I figured you'd be interested in seeing Anne Frank's house and things like that while I'm working."

I stared up at him. "Are you talking about me going back with you?"

"Well, I certainly wasn't planning on going back without you."

I was taken aback by the thought, and the ever-practical part of me spouted the first thing that came to mind. "I don't even have a passport," I said.

"That's not a problem," he said. "You can get one in a hurry if you need to. It's not that hard. I was thinking we'd head back within' four or five days and we can come back when I originally planned."

"What about work?" I asked. "I can't leave work."

"You'll only be missing a few weeks," he said. "They'll manage. They'll find a sub. And, so what if they don't… then you could just quit and travel with me."

"I'm not gonna quit work and mooch off of you," I said.

He gave me an offended glare. "Don't talk like that," he said. "You're my girl. It's my pleasure to take care of you. It's what I want to do, so let me do it. I want to show you the world. I know you want to see it, so let me give you that. You have to be patient with me and let me do my art on people to pay for our adventures, but it's my desire to have you with me."

I buried my face in his chest and let out a big sigh wondering if all of this could possibly be true. I squeezed him tightly and then pulled back to stare up at him. He was my prince charming and this was the exact moment when I was being swept off of my feet.

"Is this real?" I asked sincerely.

And I kid you not, lightning flashed right after I asked it.

It was God, clear as day, answering my question with a little flash that meant, "Yes."

"See?" Patrick said with a wide-eyed expression.