“Those women can’t protect me, Mark,” Cadence said. “You can’t either.”
“You underestimate all of us,” Mark replied. He pointed to the group waiting patiently at the door. “You realize they’re mothers, don’t you?”
“Huh?”
He smiled. “They’re mothers. Nobody’s gonna mess with you.”
She didn’t understand. She had a mother, but what did that matter? She was bullied constantly last year. No protection. No sympathy. What did he mean? Not every mother protected her child.
“Come on,” he urged, pulling on her hand gently.
She shook her head. “You don’t even like church,” she pointed out.
“It has merit,” he replied.
That statement made her laugh.
“And it’s important to you,” he added. “And what’s important to you is important to me.”
She nodded. “I didn’t want to come back to prove that I’m not scared of anyone. Because that’s not true. I’m scared of everyone.”
Mark listened.
“I wanted to come back because I can’t do all my studying on my own.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“You need to fill up on some spiritual food from an expert,” he replied.
She grinned. “Is that all right?”
“I wouldn’t want you any other way,” he said.
Cadence wasn’t sure what Mark meant by that. He said it playfully, but there was an underlying seriousness to his words. It was subtle—imperceptible to anyone but her. But she heard it, and she wondered what it meant. She opened her mouth to respond before she was stopped by Mrs. Connelly’s voice.
“You two ready?”
Cadence took a deep breath and walked inside with everyone. They surrounded her and Mark—Mrs. Connelly and LouAnn in front, Marybeth and Gypsy on either side of them, and Martha to the back. They really were serious about keeping her safe, though she never thought she’d have to worry for her safety inside a church.
She scanned the area her family usually sat in, but people were still moving about finding seats, so it was hard to see those who were already sitting. Her hand started to sweat, and she quietly apologized to Mark, who was holding it.
“I like when your hand sweats,” he assured her.
She giggled. It was so stupid, and she knew he’d keep saying those sorts of things to her to calm her nerves.
They filed into a nearly empty row, and that’s when Cadence glimpsed her mother staring at her. Well, no. That wasn’t right. She was staring just to Cadence’s left, where Mrs. Connelly sat. Cadence understood immediately: Jealousy. And a part of her felt greedy for it because it suggested her mother cared. Suddenly the Bed Bath and Beyond incident didn’t matter. If she tried very hard, she could forget the whole thing and focus on this new feeling: one of hope. Her mother cared. She displayed it poorly, but she cared nonetheless.
So much for spiritual sustenance. Cadence came to church to learn something, but she spent the entire service fantasizing about an alternate universe where her father pleaded for forgiveness, begged her to come home, and promised her whatever she wanted. Her mother was there, too, crying her eyes out, wrapping Cadence in hugs and dousing her with kisses.
It was a nice fantasy.
Her brain switched tracks. Fantasizing ended, and now her mind traveled down the road of memories. She saw her family huddled on the couch watching a Disney movie. She was eight. Oliver was six. They were eating popcorn. She was nestled between her parents, and she lay with her head against her father’s chest. She thought he kissed the top of her head.
“Are you okay?” Mark whispered.
She turned to him, and that’s when she felt the tear slide down her cheek. She wiped at it and smiled.
“Because the pastor just made a joke,” Mark said. “But you’re crying.”
“I didn’t hear him,” Cadence replied.
Mark took her hand and squeezed it. Only ten minutes of the service remained, and she tried to listen. She had to focus hard, though, because her mind kept urging her back to the Disney movie night, and she was certain there were parts of it that she was making up. Her father didn’t kiss her head.
Yes, he did, her brain countered.
That’s a lie, Cadence insisted.
It’s not. He kissed your head. He laughed when you accidentally burped.
Cadence’s eyes went wide. She’d forgotten that! It was the Coke. She couldn’t control it, and she thought she’d get in trouble with her mother. But her mother laughed. Dad laughed. Oliver laughed. It was one of those family bonding moments. Over a disgusting burp.
“Cadence?” Mark asked, and then he took her hand and led her out of the sanctuary. She made it to the foyer before she burst into tears. “Sweetheart, it’s okay,” he said, wrapping her in a hug.
“It’s not even important!” she wailed.
He didn’t know what she meant, but he shook his head.
“Everything is important, Cadence,” he said. “If it’s happening to you, then it’s important.”
“I burped!” she cried.
He was even more confused, but he kept right on holding her.