A Small Voice

Chapter Twelve

"And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, orto return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; andwhere thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people,and thy God my God." Ruth 1:16

After our hike, life started moving fast. I took Rachel to church the very next Sunday. She looked adorable in her light and airy, flower print summer dress. The dress swayed gracefully as she walked, and I thought of the beauty underneath the thin cotton. I quickly tried to push it out of my mind. We were, after all, in the house of God. But...the dress was V-cut, and her small breasts looked cute in it as opposed to sexy. She had her wild black hair tamed into a stunning up-do. She wore a shade of red lipstick that could, at her will, take me to another dimension. Her beauty was not lost on the few other girls in the congregation. I didn't have anyone my age at the church, but a few of the girls were a year or two younger, the boys much younger. I guess this was why I was more comfortable around girls than I was around guys. I noticed a few sideways glances. A lot of the girls from the congregation liked me. It was such a small group of us. We all grew up together, so naturally, the girls were a bit possessive.

I didn't play my guitar this morning so I could be with Rachel. It was her first time in an Evangelical church, and I wanted to be with her. She seemed a bit freaked out by the upbeat music. Willey, an older man who used to be a hippie before his conversion, was playing in his rough, campy way. Beads of sweat formed on his balding head, and his long blond fringe—a remnant of his pre-Christian days—flowed as he played.

I whispered explanations to Rachel. "The music we play at church is pretty modern, like the bands on my tapes in the car, but more mellow."

"Oh, that's cool. The only other church I've gone to was Catholic, a couple of times. It's pretty boring compared to this one."

When the congregation started praying in tongues, her face went a bit ashen. Old ladies raised their hands, shouting in their individual, special prayer language. Most of the younger believers looked down and prayed more quietly, more shyly.

"Oh, it's just a way to pray, nothing to feel nervous about. We believe that God gives each person a special language that only they and God understand," I reassured.

"Oh, okay," she whispered back, though she was clearly nervous as she took it all in.

She was such a good sport. When Pastor John began the message, talking in his down to earth, rough, and ineloquent way, she listened intently to every word. I felt like the king of the world with her beside me, worshiping together.

After the service, as the crowd started to disperse with talk of after church dinners and college football, Pastor John came up to Rachel and asked if she wanted to talk for a minute. He took her to a now empty corner in the front. I tried to read his lips, but I knew what he was saying anyhow.

"Your girlfriend is really pretty." A soft voice whispered from behind me. I turned around in my chair and saw Sammy smiling. She had straight blonde hair, pulled into a conservative bun. A pretty girl, a couple of years younger. I knew she had a crush on me, but I considered her a child. That said, I did feel bad.

"Yeah, she's all right," I downplayed. I thought it cruel to underscore Rachel's charms.

Sammy just looked at me wistfully for a moment. "I had to buy a bigger bra," she said.

She caught me by surprise, and I had to hold back my laughter. Sammy realized it and went beet red. "Oh, I have to go." She literally ran away. I felt terrible, with such a drought of guys at this church. This young, pretty girl was desperate enough to try to entice me with proof of her ample breasts. I really wanted to go over and tell her not to be embarrassed, but I knew it would only make things worse. I thought about my own awkward moments of the last decade. I also thought about my lack of social skills. These were the side effects of being raised in a small, suffocating, sheltered environment.

I pushed Sammy and her awkwardness, a mirror image of my own, out of my head. I wanted Pastor John to hurry up now. I wanted to hold Rachel. Her body close to mine was the only thing that made me feel like a normal guy.

She was still in the corner talking, and when they bent their heads to pray, I saw Rach even shed some tears. I could see he was leading her to the Lord. She looked like a child beside him, her expression meek and genuine.

Lord you have been so good to me, I repeated over and over in my mind. The dreaded choice between Rachel and my relationship with Christ would no longer need to happen. I felt great gratitude to Pastor John. Not only had he talked with my father earlier in the week, which had created a better atmosphere at home, but here he was, literally saving the soul of the girl I loved.

When they were done, Rachel trotted over to me, her cheerful disposition renewed, and we walked out of the church, hand in hand.

"Dan! I feel so good!" she exclaimed. "I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I always wondered about God and religion, but I never knew where to look or what to read." She kissed me on the cheek in the church parking lot. The gentleness of her soft, sticky lips took me back to more naughty moments. I blushed and wiped my face.

"What are you doing, you little bastard? Don't wipe off my kiss. Oops, I guess I can't talk like that anymore!" She laughed. "I guess 'bastard' is not a proper word for a young Christian lady like myself to use." She held her hand to her chest to accentuate her recent conversion. She was beaming, and had the silliest little grin on her face. It was incredibly cute.

We walked up to my old Dodge Colt, and always being the gentleman, I opened the door for her.

"Aw," she smiled. "You're such a keeper. Hey, wait. Now I really want to crank that Christian rock music." Her dainty hands were already in the glove box, shuffling, reading the names out loud. I melted. I loved her chiseled features and her intense expression. I loved that she had a goofy comment for every single cassette she touched.

"I love you, Rachel." It came out before I could stop it. It flowed out of me like the words of a shy poet who had finally found his voice.

Rachel stopped. Her big, dark eyes focused intensely on mine. I could almost see my reflection in them. Even though my religion wouldn't categorize her an innocent girl, I could see pure innocence in those hazel eyes. Her stare pierced my heart. It made my temperature rise, as if she could control my very body, even my soul, and I knew all too well from what had happened during our hike, that she could.

Her lips seemed to move in slow motion. People milled busily in the parking lot around us, but in my little car, time stood still. "I love you too, Daniel." The words floated to me like a warm breeze scented with her perfume of vanilla and tobacco. Her voice mystically echoed inside of me, penetrating my whole being. I reached over and held her tightly, and she pulled me in even closer.

Again, I had that ominous feeling that the universe would somehow conspire to keep us apart. I forcefully pushed it away. Right now, we were together, bound by the passion of young and true love.