Imagining Us

Ch. 81- At Your Side

The church lot was as empty as expected at just a little after six in the morning.
Porte directed her to a door at the side of the building where, strangely, the Pastor was waiting for them. Her half delusional mind was spinning out of control.

Why were they here? Was this an elopement? How did eloping work? Wouldn't they need witnesses?

The fact that her mind even went to that place was telling. She knew that she loved Porte. Knew that she had considered a future with him, had spoken to him of said future. But the possibility of marriage—of marrying him before everyone they loved—just the thought made her almost breathless.

Pastor Rob greeted them and let them into the sanctuary. If he was surprised to see her, she couldn't tell. Porte handed a cup of coffee to him. (She'd had wondered about the extra cup that he bought.) Something about his gesture seemed so routine, like he  frequented the church at these early hours.

"I'll be in my office if you need anything," Pastor Rob said. "I wouldn't mind hearing the organ this early in the morning either."

His latter statement was directed towards Esi–she just smiled back at him. She would have understood if he said the piano, but a pipe organ at this hour of the morning would not be that welcoming. Possibly, criminal.

Porte led her to a pew right in the center of the hall. They sat in silence. Not an uncomfortable one, but she could sense his ladened emotions.

It was strange. Normally, she would've sidled up to him. Slipped her arm through his, lay her head on his shoulder, but a feeling in the pit of her stomach stopped her.

It was a gnawing, persistent feeling that told her there was something else happening here. More than just his dreams were bothering him.

The feeling made her hesitate—it made her unsure in a way that she hadn't felt with him since before their relationship started. Gone was her earlier fantasy of marriage.

Esi was about to push through it, to reach for him, when he started speaking.

"We weren't much of churchgoers growing up. I actually only started to come after Natasha died—after I came back from Denmark. My grandmother used to make me go with her on Sundays," Porte explained. "I hated it because I didn't understand what–why these things were happening to me. Why all these deaths. Why would God do that to me? Funny how I never understood or knew God but wanted to lay blame."

Porte wearily ran a hand across his jaw. Esi could see the beginnings of dark stubble sprouting.

"I found some of her—my mom's— journals when I came back. I learned things that maybe I shouldn't know like struggles she was facing personally and even within their marriage. Things that she did that she shouldn't have." The coffee cup shook in his hand as fingers began to tremble. A sob lodged in Esi's throat as she observed him, but she didn't say anything—she just listened.

"But her entries changed, and she seemed to find some sort of peace, and I wanted to know how she did it-–I wanted to know what she found. It led me here." He gestured around them. "And of course, I met Mrs. Chandler first. She's overbearingly optimistic for someone who has to manage all those kids by herself."

Esi nodded in agreement because she didn't understand it either.

"She knew my mom, and Pastor did too. I wonder if my dad knew how much time she spent here helping and painting. It was her own sanctuary, and sometimes when I come in here, by myself—I can almost picture her here. I can almost hear her laughter, I can see the tears that I'm sure she poured out in times of distress."

There was no hesitation when she heard his voice break. There was no hesitation as she wrapped her arms around him.

"That's why I keep coming back because of these genuine people that make you feel welcome. They see the brokenness inside, and it's like they're saying that they understand– that they've been there too. I've never felt judged or unwelcomed. If these people are like that because of their faith, why wouldn't I want that too?"

It was a mouthful but Esi understood what he was saying. It was that same feeling that led her here. Once again, she was struck by the similarities between here and Porte.

"I know exactly what you mean," she whispered softly against his shoulder.

They sat there with her leaned against him, and his head on top of hers. They sat together and breathed in the silence-–the peace that they had found.

If only they could carry it with them. That was what they needed to learn to do. They couldn't be dependent on coming here for reprieve even though that was the purpose of the church—they needed to figure out how to take the light with them.

"Will you play something for me?" Porte asked quietly. "Anything."

Esi pulled away from him and reached up to brush a kiss against his cheek.

"Sure," she answered, passing her empty cup to him. "But I'll play the piano because despite what the pastor says, it's way too early for the pipe organ."

The corner of his mouth tilted upwards, and it was enough for her.

As she played on stage, she could feel Porte's eyes on her. He was far away where he sat, but still close enough for her to see the glistening of his eyes. Close enough for her to see the weariness in his body.

Her heart hurt for him. For this man that she loved who was good and kind and stoic and loving.

Porte would always tell her about what she brought to him—to his life-–and she wished that he could believe all that he brought to hers.

How alive he made her feel.

He made her want to fight the dark thoughts, the feelings of not being enough just for an opportunity to continue to be at his side.

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A/N

Back for the New Year with a short, but a little heavy chapter. Thank you to all those who've been on this journey and for those new ones who've just found my story. Thank you for letting me share a piece of my heart with you.

Enjoy, comment your thoughts, vote, share!

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