“In the beginning. The story is somewhere in the first half. Wait a minute.” She put the phone down. He could hear pages riffling. She picked up the phone again. “Start with chapter 18 on page 16 and keep reading. See you in the morning.”
It wasn’t the first time Grace had hung up on him. She was still his employee, and office hours were over. At least he hadn’t waited until after midnight to call. At least he wasn’t calling to needle her about a placid kiss from Prince Charming. At least she wasn’t mad this time.
Roman turned on the television again. After fifteen minutes, he gave up, shut it off, and yanked open the nightstand drawer. If the Bible was as boring as it looked, he’d be asleep in five minutes.
Grace wondered if Roman was upset with her the next morning. He hadn’t said much over breakfast, and now that they were on the road, heading north toward Bodie and Bridgeport, she couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “Didn’t you sleep well last night?”
“No, I didn’t. Thanks to you.”
“Me?”
“I read until two in the morning. Genesis. Exodus. Gave up on Leviticus, whoever he was. Do you believe all that stuff?” He sounded ready for an argument.
She wasn’t the kind of girl eager to pull on boxing gloves, but she still wanted to know. “Which stuff do you mean?”
“God created everything in seven days. The serpent in the garden, Adam and Eve being kicked out, the angel keeping them from going back in, the plagues of Egypt. All of it.”
She decided not to hedge. “Yes, I do.”
Roman glanced at her with a sardonic smile. “Seriously?”
He wasn’t the first to dismiss what she believed. Patrick had complained when she went to church on Sundays. He wanted her home with him. He nagged so much, she gave up church. She realized soon enough all he wanted was a cook to make touchdown taco dip for his chips while he watched sports on TV, or a quick, rough roll in bed so he could sleep through to Monday morning. Giving up church hadn’t changed the inevitable outcome of their relationship. She’d gone back to the Lord wounded and floundering. Work then became her way of coping, until a caring friend talked her into a night out.
Grace swore she’d never stray again. Hold me close, Lord. Never let me go. Alone, she knew she’d drown and wash up on a sandy shore.
Roman looked at her again. “Why?”
The single word implied she was stupid. “Because it’s true.”
“Give me a break!”
“You needn’t be insulting. I’m as serious about my faith as you are about yours.”
“I don’t believe in God.”
“You believe in yourself. You believe you have control over your life and can live accordingly. That’s your religion.”
He didn’t say anything for the next five miles. Grace wished she’d kept quiet. So much for being friends. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Roman.”
“Who brainwashed you? Your aunt?”
“It doesn’t matter.” He’d never believe an angel came to her any more than Aunt Elizabeth had. The visitation had opened her heart to the Lord. How do you explain that kind of experience to an atheist? Or was he an agnostic? Did it matter?
“I’d like to hear.”
He looked serious, and she couldn’t see a way out. “There’s order everywhere: the stars, the seasons, the currents of the ocean, the air that moves over the planet, down to the cells that make up everything. I don’t believe that’s by chance or a series of accidents. It takes intelligence to create all that, intelligence beyond anything human beings can understand. That’s part of why I believe in God.”
“There was a serpent in the garden.”
Was he mocking her, or did he seriously want her to talk about what she believed? “Satan.”
“You believe in a devil.”
Just when she was beginning to enjoy his company! Was the rest of the trip going to be like this? “Yes, and I believe in hell, too. Everyone these days likes to think they’ll go to heaven or a better place somewhere. The truth is, the price for sin is death and hell. That’s why Jesus came. That’s why God sent His Son. Only Jesus could live a sin-free life and be the perfect sacrifice to ransom us. All He asks is that we believe. And I believe.”
“I must have pushed a button and gotten the recording.”
“You asked.” Hot tears threatened, and she looked out the window. Lord, You deal with him. “My ex-husband didn’t believe either.”
“If faith matters that much to you, why did you marry him?”
She gave a bleak laugh. “You have no idea how many times I asked myself that same question. He needed me. I thought I loved him. I was warned.” By her aunt as well as the quiet voice within her. “I just didn’t want to listen.” She had been so desperate for someone to love her she swallowed a lie.
She didn’t like feeling exposed. Let Roman do the talking. “Why don’t you tell me what you believe?”
“We’re born. We survive as best we can. We die. End of story.”
She glanced at his profile. He looked grim, as though hope didn’t exist. “No wonder you’re so miserable.” She turned her face away. “Why don’t you read Ecclesiastes tonight? You have a lot in common with King Solomon.” Including his taste for women.
Roman gave her an irritated glance and made the turn to Bodie.
She sighed. “Do you want to hear some history?”
“Something other than the brochure I read and practically recited to you?”
Grace breathed in and out slowly as she did a search on her phone. She read about the gold-and silver-mining boomtown that had boasted ten thousand inhabitants in its heyday—sixty-five saloons, gamblers, prostitutes, and a reputation for violence and lawlessness. A little girl, on hearing where her daddy planned to move the family, said, “Good-bye, God. We’re going to Bodie.”
Roman parked and got out of the car.
They walked among the dilapidated buildings. Grace paused to peer through windows, while he stood waiting, hands in his jacket pockets. A church, a saloon, a store. She looked through the window of a small house where a prostitute had once conducted business. “What a miserable life that must have been.”
“She picked it.”
Annoyed, she started to walk on, then decided not to let his comment go unchallenged. “Do you really think a woman wants to be a prostitute? I can’t imagine anything worse than having to sell my body to any guy who wanted to use me. I think women do that kind of work as a last resort.”
He looked angry now. “They aren’t forced into it.”
She was sick of being the brunt of his ill temper. “That depends on what constitutes force in your dictionary, Mr. Velasco.”
“Spoken like a college girl, Ms. Moore.”
“What if a woman lost her husband on the way out West? They didn’t have the same rights and opportunities men did. Or the physical strength. What if it was a girl on a wagon train and her family died of cholera or typhus? Can a woman plow a field and build a cabin on her own?” The only way she could stop herself from saying more was to walk away from him. He fell into step beside her. She quickened her pace.
“She could get married again.”
“What if all the men were like you?” Grace blushed, but she couldn’t bring herself to apologize. “If the girl had an education, she might find a job as a teacher, but most women weren’t allowed the privilege of education back then.” She made a sweeping gesture encompassing Bodie. “How many schoolhouses do you see out here?”
“What about now?”
“Now?” She didn’t know what he was talking about.
“What excuse does a woman have now?”
How could he be so insensitive? “Sometimes people make mistakes they can’t undo. Sometimes people are so beaten down they don’t know how to get back up. And there will always be people who want to keep them in their place.”