Change of Heart (A Faith-Based Gay Romance)

Chapter 8: "Remorseful Heart"

A sense of Déjà vu settled over Dean as he took his place behind the podium for the second time that day. The first time around, he had begun by gazing out on a church full of smiling, eager faces so excited he had come for a visit. Among the happiest to see him had been Nicholas. Now, the young man wouldn't look at him. He remained leaning forward, head down, refusing to make eye contact with the one person who had disappointed him most in this life.

Pastor Mitchell...I think he was in love with you.

Dean's throat constricted so fiercely he couldn't get his voice, could hardly breathe. Just one more chance, that's all he'd needed...one more chance to speak his heart to Nicholas, the way he hadn't been able to before. But there were no more chances. He'd had one shot and he threw it away.

"Good evening," Dean murmured. "I would like to thank Pastor Bryant, and all of you, for allowing me this opportunity to speak with you once again." The faces staring back were guarded; some angry, some wary. In them all, though, he saw the hurt he had inflicted at the earlier service. "I'm not here tonight to talk about the subject matter from earlier this afternoon. I want to talk to you as my friends, my family...the way we used to talk to one another." He swallowed as his eyes misted, slightly distorting his vision. "Most of all, I need you to know that my love for you, for this church, is as strong as ever. Regardless how you feel about me in light of my announcement this afternoon, in my heart you are and always will be my family. This will always feel like my true home."

He paused and looked down at the podium, his throat working. Please, God...Nothing else followed. What was it he was asking of God? To please fill this hole in his heart? Take away the emptiness that was setting in? He raised his eyes and his gaze drifted to Nicholas; it was his disappointment and hurt that wounded Dean the deepest.

"I came here tonight to apologize." Uncertainty—hopefulness?—etched the faces before him. He could see it in their eyes; they were grasping at the hope that he would take back his words, admit he was wrong. He could never do that. "Although I didn't reveal beforehand what I had intended to speak on earlier, I realize now that I deceived you about my intent. I knew what you were expecting of me, and I deliberately let you think it until I was standing before you. And for that, I apologize. I didn't treat you like family, I didn't give you credit for being able to love me even if we didn't see eye to eye. I betrayed your trust in me by thinking I had to come in under false pretenses and...ambush you. If I had truly treated you as my family and friends, I would have been honest with you about why I wanted to come back and speak with you. And in deceiving you, I..." His throat squeezed painfully "...I hurt many of you, and I promise you, if I could take back that hurt, I would."

His eyes filled as Nicholas refused to look up, refused to look at him and see Dean's own anguish.

Dean blinked and rubbed his nose. "I can't take back what I said before, as I believe it to be the truth with all my heart. But I deeply regret the deceit I thought I had to use to get that message out to you. Rather than waiting for God to open the front doors for me to share open and honest dialogue on this issue, I felt the need to sneak in and take you by surprise. I feel as if I disrespected our relationship as brothers and sisters of Christ. And I am sorry." He cleared his throat, unable to pull his eyes from Nicholas. Though the young man kept his head down, Amanda stared back at him, a storm of emotions rolling across her face. "I hope that one day you can find it in your hearts to forgive me." He glanced at Pastor Bryant who watched him with damp eyes. "Thank you, pastor," he murmured thickly and left the platform, walked numbly down the aisle, and exited the church. Forever? Only God knew for sure.

Once in the privacy of his car, he curled his arms over the steering wheel and buried his face in them, sobbing, his heart coming apart piece by piece. He had no prayer to pray, he was empty. He just wanted to sleep, and maybe then he would pray that God would show mercy and prevent the dreams that would surely finish off his heart.

Dean raised his head. The church swam before him. He wiped his face and slid the key into the ignition, started to twist, then went still, his wet eyes glued to one of the side aisle windows of the sanctuary. The silhouette of a man stood there, staring back at him.

Nicholas? Dean trembled. He couldn't tell for sure, but he felt the anguish emanating forth. A moment later, they disappeared from the window. Dean glanced at the entrance doors, his heart shuddering to a stop as he waited to see if anyone would emerge.

No one did.

"I'm sorry, Nicholas," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."