Finding Faith: Faith Brooks Series Book 2

By Niki Hershey Knisley

Faith Brooks, prodigal daughter, has returned, attempting to put the past year of rebellion behind her. Remarkably, she’s been restored into the loving arms of her family and her old life. But past decisions have consequences—she is now a mere shell of herself—pregnant, penniless, and heartbroken. Choosing her baby’s life over Gabe, who she thought was her soulmate, was the right thing to do, yet she cannot easily relinquish her love for him.

Faith must decide whether to raise her daughter or give her up, while struggling to move on without Gabe. And what is her true calling now that the hope of a musical career has also been sacrificed? She may have crossed the bridge to get back on the right path, but she can’t help looking back and wondering if Gabe will ever be part of her life again. And if the daughter they created will ever know her father.

Finding Faith, the second in the Faith Brooks Series, is a story of overcoming. Faith proves what the love of family, friends, and especially God can do for one who feels hopeless and defeated. It is inspirational, thought-provoking, and evidence of the power of a faith-based life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Oct 2, 2019
• ISBN: 9781480882034

Niki Hershey Knisley

Niki Knisley became passionate about writing at a young age and is a prolific writer of songs, poetry, and stories. Her first two novels in the Faith Brooks series were well-received and earned glowing reviews. She and her husband, Craig, have served in pastoral ministry for over twenty years. They live in the Midwest with their three awesome sons, Hudson and twins Graham and Tyler. In her sparse free time, Niki also enjoys reading, singing, playing board and card games, scrapbooking, puzzles, coloring, Sudoku, and great conversation with her friends and family.

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What people are saying about Niki Knisley and the Faith Brooks Series:

Niki is a fabulous writer!!! I can’t wait to read her next one!!! I loved all the characters and she made them real. I loved the book. I will read/buy everything she writes!

-Donna Y.

Ah, I absolutely loved it! This book blew me away - Niki has a real gift! I can’t wait to read the next one!!!

-Beth B.

I couldn’t put it down… It was thought provoking, a good read.

-Jere M.

I loved this book! It collided real life situations mixed with real truth. There will come a time when reading this book that you realize you can’t put it down until you read how it will end. I definitely recommend this book.

-Sara D.

Intriguing story, hard topics, solid truth! Like her style and am looking forward to the next book in the series to see how this story unfolds… She touches on relevant topics and adds humanity to them with solid truths mixed in!

-Jen. A.

Finding Faith

Faith Brooks Series Book 2

Niki Hershey Knisley

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Copyright © 2019 Niki Hershey Knisley.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.archwaypublishing.com

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The NIV and New International Version are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

ISBN: 978-1-4808-8202-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-8203-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019912865

Archway Publishing rev. date: 10/01/2019

Contents

Dedication

Prologue: Faith

Chapter 1   Carter

Chapter 2   Faith

Chapter 3   Gabe

Chapter 4   Grace

Chapter 5   Gabe

Chapter 6   Faith

Chapter 7   Gabe

Chapter 8   Grace

Chapter 9   Faith

Chapter 10   Gabe

Chapter 11   Ellie

Chapter 12   Gabe

Chapter 13   Grace

Chapter 14   Gabe

Chapter 15   Faith

Chapter 16   Faith

Chapter 17   Ellie

Chapter 18   Gabe

Chapter 19   Noah

Chapter 20   Gabe

Chapter 21   Ellie

Chapter 22   Gabe

Chapter 23   Faith

Chapter 24   Faith

Chapter 25   Carter

Chapter 26   Faith

Chapter 27   Faith

Chapter 28   Faith

Chapter 29   Gabe

Chapter 30   Ellie

Chapter 31   Grace

Chapter 32   Gabe

Chapter 33   Faith

Chapter 34   Gabe

Chapter 35   Carter

Chapter 36   Faith

Chapter 37   Grace

Chapter 38   Carter

Acknowledgments

Dedication

To my ever faithful Lord, who gifted me with the ability and passion to write, and cleared the way for me to share it with others. He birthed the dream of publishing in me at a young age, then took me on a circuitous route to get there. I didn’t always understand His methods or timing, and they weren’t how I would have scripted them, but in the end, as always, they were better than I had originally asked for. Some may believe fiction isn’t as spiritual or inspirational as non-fiction. I used to wonder the same. But Jesus knew the power of story to communicate Truth in a tangible, transformative way. If it’s good enough for Him, it works for me!

Prologue

Faith

Screaming—that’s the first thing I notice when I come to—agonizing, heart-wrenching screams. Amidst the ambient noises and distant, hurried voices, that sound rises above the rest. It cuts me to the quick, not merely because it’s so piercing, but because—while I can’t place it exactly—I swear I recognize that cry.

I shuffle around, absorbing my surroundings. I’m standing inside a circular room that’s all white, sterile, absent of furniture, décor, and, well, everything. Its walls are clear glass, allowing me a front row seat to what’s happening outside them, yet it seems the white-coat clad individuals huddled over a stretcher are oblivious to my presence.

Bleary-eyed from what I presume was sleep, and disoriented from my abrupt awakening, I sweep one hand down my face to clear my vision and rake the other through my hair. I feel terrible—groggy like I’ve been drugged and achy all over like I have the flu. I pat myself down, feeling for injuries or some explanation for why I hurt. When my hands alight over my distended belly it comes rushing back to me. I’m pregnant—from the looks of it very pregnant.

Last I remember I could still hide my baby bump under a sweatshirt—how long have I been out? The dull ache spreads over the taut skin of my stomach and penetrates through to my womb, becoming a strong, pulsating pain.

Bracing myself against the throbbing, I try to dismiss it (I have more pressing matters to deal with—like where I am and how I got here). I move to the wall between myself and the medical professionals hovering over what I assume is the origin of the screaming. To test my suspicion that I’m undetected, I pound on the glass with the sides of both fists and call out to them. Predictably, my cries go unheeded. As there’s no door apparent for escaping this solitary prison, and nothing else revealing the answers to my questions, I just stand watching the drama playing out before me.

The white coats are blending together as they rush around, presumably striving to spare the life of the victim on their table. Above the din of the medical jargon being cast about, still the howling is dominant. My instinct is to cover my ears, but I refrain, knowing it won’t dampen the noise enough to not be disturbing. Intrigued by the familiarity of the shrieks (do voices really sound distinct at that pitch—such that I could identify them?); I continue to listen. My ears are ringing at the sheer volume, yet straining to determine the source. Finally, I’m able to see through the spaces between white coats what’s making that racket. It’s a tiny baby.

Then suddenly a scorching sting rips through my abdomen and I cry out. I’m driven to my knees by the pain and also by the sickening realization that slams against my heart: I know why the screeching is so unsettling—besides that it’s earsplitting. That voice is familiar because it’s my baby girl’s—my unborn baby girl’s! How is that possible?

And I can’t get to her.

I can’t wrap my brain around how I could still be pregnant with this baby and have her squirming on a hospital table at the same time. And how can I recognize her cries when I’ve never heard them before? Yet, I have full confidence that it’s her. Call it mother’s instinct, premonition, whatever, but the bottom-line is: that’s my baby out there, dying, and I’m helplessly trapped inside these walls—with nothing to do but witness the life drain out of her.

I grab a deep breath as the tears stream down my cheeks unimpeded. Out of nowhere the screaming abruptly halts, accompanied by another knife tearing its way out of my belly. Biting back the anguish, I keep my gaze fixed on the table.

The doctors and nurses are slowly filing out, defeat weighing down their shoulders, failure nipping at their heels. Gradually the baby’s body comes into view, her face last, and my hunch is confirmed: it’s my little girl—she’s blond and the resemblance is unmistakable. I bang on the walls with open palms, screaming until I’m hoarse. Still on my knees weeping, my eyes are locked with my baby’s, whose lids they failed to close, lifeless and yet piercing through to my soul. Her head is turned toward me and, though vacant and frozen open, her light brown eyes are accusing, appealing to me: Why didn’t you help me?

Murmuring profuse apologies she’ll never hear, I close my eyes and rest my forehead on the cool glass. That’s when it strikes me that something is missing, besides the noise… The pain. My stomach no longer hurts, the ache has vanished. I reach down to feel it, expecting the large smooth protrusion, but instead feel nothing. My skin is firm over my ribs and my abdomen, but there’s no flabby flesh. No stretched out, soft pooch most women have just after they’ve delivered their babies. I’m completely flat. Not as though I’ve just given birth to my baby girl, but instead…it’s as though I’d never been pregnant at all.

Chapter 1

Carter

Laughter, by far, has to be the most beautiful sound there is. Particularly the kind that rings pleasantly in my ears now, as I sit on the couch, a spectator to the spirited expression of joy occurring in my living room. And especially coming from the mouth of one whose bright laughter was absent for close to a year.

As I watch my family dancing happily around the room, a silly grin donning my face, I’m aware that it’s not just Faith’s chuckle I’ve missed. My wife, Ellie, and our other kids, Grace and Noah, are bubbling with giggles that are richer and fuller than I’ve heard in many months. Not that we didn’t share some humorous moments after Faith rebelled and moved out, but there was always a certain hollow quality to them—a deep emotion that was absent. As though we subconsciously felt we didn’t deserve merriment because of our roles in, or response to, Faith’s desertion. Or we felt it was another form of betrayal to share levity without her.

It’s Christmas Day. I’m at home relaxing after preaching three Christmas Eve services at Catalyst last night. Now I have only my family to focus on, after ministering to countless visitors, some of whom only step foot in church once or twice a year. Normally, I battle a subtle letdown, after the adrenaline and energy generated to gear up for the holiday at church have dissipated. Not this year. Faith’s return was the best Christmas gift ever received, and the satisfaction of having her home has not faded. God has been faithful and so good to us countless times over the years, but returning our prodigal daughter to us—battered yet safe, damaged yet whole—surpasses them all. When we thought our Faith was essentially dead to us, had mourned as though we’d seen her for the last time, God outdid Himself by bringing her home.

Faith’s only been back a few weeks, but already her color’s returned, her face is filling back out, and her skin lacks the pallid hue it wore the night she returned—unrecognizable, wasting away, broken. Between the cessation of the vomiting from morning sickness, access to quality, healthy meals Ellie fixed, and prenatal vitamins and care, she’s quickly regained much of the weight she’d lost her first few months of pregnancy.

Amazing what happens when you can keep down what goes into your mouth instead of bringing it right back up, huh? Faith had jovially commented one night when we noted the changes in her.

While I’m sure the nutritional side has contributed greatly to the improvement in her physical appearance, I’m convinced the source of her newfound radiance and rediscovered joy is more profound. The sparkle in her eyes that used to show only when she sang or spoke of Gabe (the boyfriend who caused much of her condition) now is a steady twinkle, rooted in wholeness and freedom. She’s become reacquainted with the God who loved her unconditionally through her year of rebellion and restored her to Himself and her family despite her unfaithfulness to Him.

Resident in her expression is a fresh confidence—a mature, well-founded surety that is unlike the false confidence she had as a teenager, who always thought she knew best. And a peace she formerly lacked when she was restless with her life here and sought purpose and meaning in her independence. A peace she discovered as a by-product of reaching the end of herself, hitting rock-bottom, experiencing hopelessness, and being extended a divine hand to extract her from the mire her life had become. Her genuine, humble spirit stems from the lessons she learned when she lay shattered on the rocks, no lifeline apparent, and cried out to a forgiving, merciful Father who sat just waiting for her to relent, eager to repair her broken heart and estranged relationships.

Having no gifts for Faith, and occupied by so many details that needed attending to as a result of Faith’s re-entry into our life, Ellie was scrambling three days ago to have something for her to open for Christmas. The one thing she managed to purchase in time was a karaoke machine, which all four of them are now testing out. I watch with amusement. Faith loved the gift.

Ellie is attempting to belt out a current pop song by Taylor Swift I’ve never heard of. It’s likely she hasn’t either, which is why she’s butchering it so badly. And the other three are dancing around, laughing at her expense. Ever the good sport, Ellie’s hamming it up, exaggerating her ineptitude at music for their benefit. Faith may be the only Brooks who is vocally gifted, but the rest of us can passably carry a tune. So Ellie’s obvious embellishment of her inadequacy is that much more hilarious. Grace and Faith hold their sides with glee, clumsily attempting to dance despite being weak-kneed with laughter. Noah, who’s generally carefree anyway, just spins and swoops around them, not caring whether he’s staying on rhythm or making a fool of himself. He’s basking in the mere presence of his sisters, whom he adores.

Watching my only son, I marvel at how God chose to use one so young and unassuming as a catalyst to bring Faith home. Despite all the praying and agonizing Ellie and I did the year Faith ran off with her non-believing boyfriend, Gabe (whose name we tip-toe around still because of the emotions it evokes), it was Noah’s actions that finally penetrated Faith’s hardened heart.

When Faith was at her worst, most desperate moment—sitting alone in the abortion clinic, contemplating an act she never would have entertained had she not been frantic to maintain the approval of one Gabe Scott—God used Noah to get her attention. I recall with a content heart a conversation between them I overheard the other day regarding that event.

So even though you couldn’t come to my last soccer game, you’re still glad I made Mommy text you ’bout it? he asked Faith. I smiled at the thought of a five-year-old Noah making Ellie do anything

Grinning, Faith responded, Absolutely, buddy. Remember why? When I got Mom’s text about your game, I was in a really bad place, about to do something that would have made God really sad. Thinking of you and how precious you are made me reconsider—change my mind—about what I was doing. The fact that you remembered my promise to come to your games and were hurt that I hadn’t kept that promise, made me feel really upset at myself.

’Cause you knew you’d missed all my goals and seeing that I was the best player on my team? he jumped in, his face lighting up at the thought.

Faith chuckled and ruffled his hair. Of course! I’ll forever regret missing the best kindergarten soccer player the Lebanon YMCA’s ever had! She and I shared a knowing smile over Noah’s head. But also because I realized how much my leaving had hurt you guys, my family who I love. I realized how selfish I was being, that I was so caught up in my own pain, I failed to see how it was affecting others. I didn’t like the person I’d become and got really sad because of it.

So I made you cry ’cause Mom told you how dis’pointed I was? he inquired tentatively.

Shaking her head and taking his hand, Faith replied, No, no, buddy. No way. It wasn’t your fault. I cried because I felt sorry for what I’d done. And because I missed you guys. Reminding me of our deal made me see that, when I couldn’t before.

A smile crept back on his lips. So I’m the reason you came home?

Smiling conspiratorially at me, she answered, One of them, yeah! Let’s just say you were God’s partner. You helped Him get through to me.

So that’s the day you came home, then? he asked innocently.

Sadness clouded her features as we exchanged a look, but she rebounded quickly. Not too long after that. Some other things happened that I can share with you when you’re older, all of it bringing me to the point of being ready to come home. But it started with you!

Like Rachel asking Jesus into her heart?

Yeah, that’s the best one for sure, kiddo. Bottom line: God used several circumstances and people to reach me, and you are lucky to be one of them!

Beaming proudly, Noah nodded his approval. Yeah! Then he added, "And now that you’re home, you can go to all my games!"

Raising her eyebrows at me, she replied, "Oh, goodie. All of them!" I stifled a laugh.

Yeah! he repeated, her sarcasm lost on him. But soccer’s over so it’ll hafta be T-ball—if I play in the spring. He glanced at me because we’d told him we’d see.

Folding him into a hug and snickering, Faith’s eyes shined. I felt my own smart with tears, my heart swelling with gratitude and pride.

Love you, sweet boy, she murmured into his hair.

Love you, too! he echoed contentedly.

Later I mused about how much more there was to the story that Faith couldn’t share with her brother. How complicated and painful the process had really been, despite her simplifying the retelling of it to Noah. This began with leaving home, taking her college fund with her, and embarking on a life with Gabe as a barista at Starbucks by day and rock-star singer by night. The loss of her virginity and alienation from her faith. The slow dissolution of her new life’s appeal and her discontent with the empty existence she’d settled for, even though she’d once wanted it desperately. Morning sickness causing her to forfeit her big chance at a record deal with Gabe and the ensuing havoc wreaked by learning pregnancy was to blame. Gabe’s manipulation and pressure to abort the baby and the compromise of her convictions, which made her seriously consider giving in—to the point she actually stepped foot in a clinic with the intent to take her baby’s life. The ensuing horror at how far she’d fallen and decision to flee the clinic and save her baby at great cost to herself. The heartache of betrayal when Gabe kicked her out because she failed to terminate the pregnancy he thought would disrupt his future plans. Her shame at being pregnant, alone, broke (Gabe had spent all her money) and too humiliated to come home in that condition. Staying with Rachel who lived the life at Miami University that she would have had, then having the honor to be part of Rachel coming to Christ and becoming aware, by contrast with her friend’s newfound faith, of how far she’d strayed from her own. Finally, to our great relief, dragging herself home, though proving to be merely a shell of herself.

Faith’s not the only one who’s been restored. Ellie’s shifted her motherhood into high gear, relishing being in her element. She’s taken on the coordination of Faith’s prenatal care, pursuit of resuming high school, and reconnecting with her long-lost daughter as a kind of challenge to be conquered. And she’s juggling it all swimmingly. Occasionally I catch glimpses of the young Ellie I married—full of life, hope, and expectation. The Ellie not yet scarred by the suffering that awaited her: the struggles with infertility, pregnancy complications, childbirth post-forty, painful ministry situations…and a prodigal child.

Grace, who’d been fifteen, aged years in that moment Faith exited the house. Her heart shriveled, betrayed by the older sister she’d admired, had wanted to emulate. The walls of self-righteousness and pride she’d constructed for self-protection grew thicker as the months dragged on, until Faith’s homecoming initiated their demolition. When she emerged from the heaps of rubble, not only did she have a sister again, but a renewed faith of her own, a greater grasp of God’s grace and her own depravity. She’d learned a valuable lesson: there are many forms of betrayal and rebellion. In some ways we’re all prodigals, and thus we all need forgiveness.

At the tender age of four, the nuance of the situation was largely lost on Noah, mercifully enabling him to escape much of the pain. But he was still impacted by Faith’s absence and lack of involvement in his life (i.e. missing soccer games and his first day of kindergarten). Kids have an uncanny ability to sense underlying tension and changes in family dynamics. So his transformation at Faith’s return amounted to merely a higher spring in his step, but a noticeable one nonetheless.

And me? Well, I quite possibly grew the most. The Lord stretched my faith, and tested the tenacity of my absolute, unconditional trust in Him. I’m a pastor—seminary-trained to handle the wrenches life throws my way, theologically schooled to have answers to life’s most perplexing questions, carefully prepared to counsel and shepherd the flock through those agonizing circumstances when God seems inopportunely mute. Additionally, this was not my first rodeo; I was no stranger to suffering. Yet when Faith approached me, seeking my blessing and my funds to strike out on her own at seventeen—dropping out of high school and moving in with Gabe, which all but guaranteed a loss of innocence and virginity—I was completely undone. It’s one thing to preach the prodigal parable, an entirely different one to live it.

The timing of Faith’s return is apropos; Christmas is about new life for the dying, hope for the weary, peace for the worn. Faith’s departure brought a form of death—to family relationships as we knew them, to the normalcy with which we’d grown accustomed, to naïve faith…to hope. And when God graciously delivered her back to us, not only was Faith returned, but all of us were reborn.

Chapter 2

Faith

It’s only been a year, but I barely recognize the place. Could high school have changed so drastically so quickly?

When Grace and I press through the doors of Little Miami, the bustle of teenagers reuniting fresh from Christmas break overshadows any attention I may have attracted. Grateful, I cast a sidelong glance at Grace. She touches my arm.

Ready?

Inhaling deeply, I reply with greater confidence than I actually possess, Guess we’ll find out!

As we merge as inconspicuously as possible into the throng of kids milling through the halls, I feel glaringly out of place. Outwardly I blend decently well—I’m no longer emaciated and am still able to conceal my baby bump well enough with sweaters (blessedly it’s been a cold January). Yet still I’m a pariah, a scarlet letter on my chest, garnering unwelcome interest. Word’s gotten around. I’ve never felt more self-conscious.

Grace’s hand on my elbow as she guides me toward our lockers is oddly reassuring. As though she’s the senior showing her underclassman sister the ropes. I used to know this place inside and out, certainly spent enough time here, but it no longer feels like mine. School was so far removed from my radar last year, so inconsequential in relation to a job, the band, Gabe, and pregnancy. I’ve almost forgotten how it operates.

As we weave through the hordes to the alphabetically-grouped lockers, Grace occasionally waves or calls out a greeting to a friend or acquaintance we pass by and it strikes me how few familiar faces I see. Of course my senior class, with whom I had the most popularity and connections, has graduated. And the underclassman knew me by name, but not vice versa, so I recognize very few of them. The few juniors I knew are now seniors and already detaching themselves from the world of high school as fast as possible, graduation and their freedom looming only five months away.

Before we reach the stretch of ‘B’s, we pass Jenna Greene’s locker and Grace stops to hug her. Grace and Jenna have been best friends since grade school when the Greene’s started coming to Catalyst. Our families are friends, too, though her older brother Jake is more of a spaz than I could ever handle (which is saying a lot coming from me), so it was mostly our parents and the girls who hung out.

With me coming home during break, they didn’t see much of each other beyond church so they take a few minutes to catch up. Jenna motions me over for a hug too.

Hey, Faith, welcome back to high school! Bet this is the last place you want to be right now, huh? she offers, grinning.

Hey, Jen. I return the hug, trying not to crush her petite frame as the mob of students at my back presses us against each other. How’s that mischievous brother of yours?

Rolling her eyes, Oh, you know Jake, he’s always up to something. Trying his darnedest to send my parents to an early grave, I guess. We share a laugh.

So, Jenna, Grace says as Jenna closes her locker with a clang and walks with us toward ours, what’s the buzz around here? You been monitoring the chatter for us?

Jenna always had a better pulse on our fellow students than Grace. Grace’s maturity and strong personality has hindered her ability to be fully embraced by her peers—not that she’s rejected by any means, but is mostly just acquaintances with them. I used to be more like Jenna, with a lot of non-believing relationships, but now I’m out of the loop.

Of course! she responds loudly, to be heard over the din of the socializing students. "I’ve had my ears open for ya! Here’s the deal: There are three camps of opinion as I see it.

"A large percentage of people, especially underclassman who don’t know Faith from Adam, are vaguely interested, only from the standpoint that it’s gossip and they want to be ‘in the know.’ But they don’t really care that much.

The second group either knows you, Faith or your family’s reputation and they’re intrigued by how it’s been handled. They marvel at how you guys welcomed Faith back in, didn’t cast her out, like they imagine their parents would if they ever attempted such a thing. They’re mildly curious about how it’s possible to redeem such a scandalous situation.

Jenna looks at us both as we stop at our lockers. And the third group, well, they’re the toughest. They’re skeptical it’s what it seems, and judgmental—they have a hard time believing in grace for Faith and think it’s all a cover-up to ‘protect’ the Brooks image. Basically they still scoff at Christianity and see Faith’s rebellion and pregnancy as further proof that it’s a crock.

I must’ve flinched because she seems sorry she was so blunt. That’s Jenna for you, though, always willing to say it like it is. I think that’s why she and Grace get along so well.

Wow, that’s quite a report, Jenna, thanks, I say weakly.

Sorry if it’s not what you wanted or expected to hear…

Grace puts her hand on Jenna’s shoulder. No, it’s fine, thanks. Hey, it’s nothing we haven’t heard before, right? They share a knowing smile. It reminds me that they’ve been dealing with this in school much longer than I have. They took the brunt of the backlash from my actions.

I pull the slip of paper out of my pocket that contains the locker combination I received at the front office, trying to hide the tears that spring to my eyes. Fumbling with the lock, I fight off guilt and remorse. When I selfishly dropped out of school and took off with Gabe, I gave no thought to the repercussions Grace would have to face from our peers in my absence.

I recall Grace sharing with me the first week I was home how hard it had been for her to grapple with our family being at the center of a scandal. She recited to me a conversation she’d overheard between two football players, one of whom was Jason Marks, who’s dating my friend Courtney. They were obviously unaware of Grace’s proximity because they were openly discussing my situation, in a crude way, as high school guys tend to do. It was very disturbing to Grace and upset her. They essentially questioned my claim of virginity, stating there was no way Gabe would date me so long without demanding his due sexually, citing my physical attributes, in a demeaning way, as proof positive that Gabe would