Heather Oakley Beltran an innocent Christian girl, the most purest and Holden Parker a quiet and serious boy who's completely lost and hurt by his past.
How can two such different souls learn to love one another?
Sometimes all God does is let two c...
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Holden's POV:
Mom was sitting on the recliner in the corner of the living room, tapping on her phone frantically as she tried to get ahold of dad. Her face was filled with so much worry as she tapped in words in her phone. Again and again she tried dialing his phone number but he wouldn't answer. It went straight to voicemail only confirming that his phone had probably died.
"Holden!" she called without batting an eye away from her phone, clearly not aware I was at the edge of the stairs, observing her.
"Mom?" Her attention finally removed from the phone and she looked caught by surprise that I was already there by her side.
"I can't get hold of your father, honey. Have you tried dialing his phone?"
"I've tried already. It goes straight to voicemail too." What she didn't know was that I had tried multiple times to get ahold of him once I'd seen that she was panicking as the evening turned into night and he hadn't got home yet.
"I'm going crazy, Holden. It's storming outside. What if something bad has happened to him? He is usually home by seven and it's already nine." She stood from the recliner and began pacing the living room back and forth, gripping her scalp a little too harshly. It was clear now that she on full-on panic mode. A part of me was angry at my dad for putting her through this panic and he wasn't even aware of it. He was probably out there getting drunk out of his mind with those stupid friends of his.
"It's fine, mom. I'm sure he is just fine," I consoled and approached her, grabbing onto her shoulders to stop her pacing back and forth. I was getting dizzy by just looking at her. "Have a little faith. Isn't that what you always say?" At the comment her head lifted up slowly.
"You little annoying..." she paused mid-sentence, a smile growing on her lips. I was glad I had gotten her to smile, at least, even through the midst of her panic. That was a relief. "But you are right. I should have a little faith that he will be ok. God has got this. Of course." She nodded to herself almost like she was trying to convince herself that God has got this in control. "Ok. I'll pray." She placed a hand over her chest and sat herself back down into the recliner.
For the remainder of the night my mom remained seated in the living room and I sat myself at the kitchen, refusing to go to sleep when she would be all night by herself, waiting for my dad to show up. Occasionally, I would hear my mom's low whispering. At first I was confused at the low murmurs but then almost immediately I realized that she was praying as the TV played in the background so that's why it sounded distorted.
Something about my mom was that she would get herself to worry all the more with the news in TV but she just couldn't get herself to quit watching it no matter how much we told her not to. All they do is make people grow anxious or fearful. It wasn't healthy. Especially for someone like like my mom, who worries for every single thing.
