A Quest of Love: The Fall, #4

By Dayo Benson

A marriage in tatters.
Selah McAllister didn't expect a second chance after fleeing to New York with Levi Carter. But with her husband, Kevin, willing to forgive the past and rebuild their marriage, she returns home, not quite sure what to expect.

 

Deciding that they need a fresh start, Selah and Kevin move to Bakersfield, California, to fight for a love they've never had. The city is the safe haven they hoped it would be, a place where they can live a simpler life, free from the pressures of leading a growing congregation.

A secret that could tear them apart
Just as love begins to blossom between them, a threat from Selah's past resurfaces, throwing chaos into their peaceful new lives. As the pressure mounts, loyalties are tested, and the foundations of their marriage are shaken.

A madman determined to destroy them.
Kevin thought he knew what he wanted. The constant threat of Levi waiting in the wings to take his wife off his hands only made him fight harder. But these new challenges are their most difficult yet. They will either crush their fledgling love or make it stronger than ever.

Can their love withstand the ultimate test?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gracetide Press
• Release date: Oct 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223760160

Book preview

Chapter 1

Selah

My greatest desire in life has always been to be free.

Other people want money. Material things. Maybe even to travel the world. I've always just wanted the freedom to be myself and make my own decisions. Probably because that's something I've never had.

I stare up at all the boxes stacked around the room. There’s a big one full of my old running shoes; another stuffed with workout gear. My heart is pounding. I can already taste my impending freedom. It's close enough to touch.

I've had false victories in the past—times when I felt free for a while. But my freedom always had a deadline. At eighteen, when I left DC for college in LA, I had the deadline of turning twenty-four hanging over my head. Six years of freedom, after which I had to return and pretend to be the perfect little daughter my parents have always wanted me to be. This time, there’s no deadline. I will truly be free.

A series of thuds startles me from my reverie. I turn. Across the room, Kevin has dropped a bunch of books. He crouches to pick them up, then piles them into a box. My gaze lingers on him. I'm pursuing freedom with a man I don't want. Resigning myself, finally, to this loveless marriage.

It is what it is, I tell myself. Kevin and I just have to accept our fate. Who knows, we might even find a way to be happy together. He isn't hard on the eyes with his dark skin, chiseled features, and full lips. I guess I could love him if we really worked on our relationship.

Kevin begins to pack a bunch of his shirts. He isn't bothering to fold anything. He's just dumping them in boxes. I, on the other hand, have folded all my clothes meticulously. As a result, I’ve managed to fit plenty into as few boxes as possible.

As though sensing my scrutiny, Kevin looks up. I quickly finish labelling my box of sneakers then tape it up.

I think I've done enough packing for one day, Kevin says with a sigh.

It’s been a long day, I agree.

After taping the box, I approach the dresser. The bottom drawer is waiting to be emptied. I take out an armload of sweaters and dump them on the bed, going back and forth until the drawer is empty.

We don't have to pack everything today, you know? Kevin says, as I methodically fold a sweater. We still have a month to go. You might need some of those clothes.

I've left out the clothes I'll be wearing for the rest of the month.

Kevin watches me for a moment as I continue to fold, then he grabs his laptop. For the next few minutes, the only sounds in the room are the softly ticking clock and the clicking of Kevin’s computer mouse.

I glance at his screen when I finish folding my sweaters. He's looking at information about Bakersfield, California. That's where we’re going. He woke me up at two a.m. to tell me, and I’ve been awake since. I googled Bakersfield immediately and scrolled through dozens of pictures. I'm already in love with it, although anywhere that isn’t DC will seem like paradise to me right now.

It's just two hours away from LA, Kevin says, noticing my glance at his screen. I'll need to get us a house there. And a car.

We've already talked about how we’re going to downsize and live a much simpler life in Bakersfield. Here in DC, we live in a beautiful suburban house that my parents gave us as a wedding gift. I look around our sprawling master bedroom with its humongous windows and neutral color scheme, hating every inch of its immaculate, Pinterest-worthy beauty.

In Bakersfield, Kevin and I won't be the pastors of a five thousand-person congregation, so we won’t be able to afford the things we’re used to. And it's going to be awesome! No more luxury home or nice cars. No more dressing up in designer clothes to preach on Sunday mornings.

Why not LA? I ask Kevin. Then I shrug. I guess LA is too expensive.

Kevin’s lips tighten ever so slightly. Yeah. Plus I prefer somewhere smaller where it’s less likely you’ll find yourself another Levi.

My gaze immediately drops back to the clothes I’m folding. Just the mention of Levi's name makes my heart jump into my throat. An image of him fills my mind even though I don't want it to. His bronze skin; deep, dark eyes; million-watt smile.

Other things flit through my head—things I shouldn't know about considering the fact that I'm married and should never have slept with him. But none of those physical things are the reason why it happened. Levi and I connected on an emotional level years before we ever crossed the line between friendship and…something more. He's been my best friend since I was four years old. He was the man I pictured whenever I thought of my future marriage.

I hate that things didn’t work out that way. Our parents fell out, my parents going so far as to leave Levi’s parents’ church and start their own. From then on, Levi became strictly off-limits. But the final nail was driven into the coffin of our relationship when my parents made me marry Kevin secretly at eighteen. It was one of the worst decisions of my life—a bargain I struck in exchange for a few years of that freedom I so craved. In exchange for permission to compete at the Olympics once more.

The bargain wasn’t worth it. Those six years of freedom in LA were fleeting. As for the Olympics, I ended up getting blackmailed by Daryl, my coach, after he’d slipped performance-enhancing drugs into my drinks without my knowledge. He said his silence would cost me two million dollars, and that if I couldn't get the money I would have to pay with my body indefinitely.

So my body paid. It paid for one long miserable year before, at the end of my rope, I decided to try and use Mom’s name to get a loan. Unfortunately, my parents busted me so I had to confess what was going on. They were the last people I wanted to tell, but I had no choice.

My life has been a mess. A big, fat mess. And the few things that have ever worked out for me happened only by chance. The only reason I got free from Daryl is because he happened to get into a car wreck. My parents prayed about the situation and a week later Daryl was in a car accident and has been in a coma ever since.

In my peripheral vision, I can see that Kevin is still looking at me, no doubt thinking about Levi and me. I keep my gaze away from him. He's promised to try to get over it, but I know it's hard for him. I guess I could give him a heartfelt apology for what I did, maybe even try to make it up to him, but Kevin and I don't really have a true relationship. Had it been Levi that I’ve hurt, I would bend over backwards to make it right, but Kevin doesn't really love me anyway. He barely even tolerates me. We’re both just trying to make the best of a bad situation.

Kevin has said he loves me, and that he agreed to my parents’ plan six years ago because he wanted to be with me. But I've experienced real love—with Levi. Whatever Kevin says he feels doesn’t compare.

I blink away that thought and begin to pile my folded sweaters into an empty box. I really have to stop comparing Kevin to Levi, otherwise our marriage will never work. Still, I wonder where Levi is now. I know his contract for designing outdoor areas at New York Fashion Week ended yesterday. He could still be in New York.

Kevin’s phone rings, and he takes the call. From his side of the conversation I deduce that it’s another person from our congregation asking why we’re leaving. Kevin announced it online just before coming to bed yesterday. Ever since, our phones have been ringing off the hook. I've muted mine.

I listen to Kevin's vague answers as I begin to fold up the special occasion dresses I store in a trunk under the bed. There are evening dresses, cocktail dresses, gowns I wore for special functions when I was an athlete, and a few preaching outfits—there’ll be no more preaching for me.

Kevin sighs when he gets off the phone, clearly exhausted. Even though it would be easier to just leave for Bakersfield immediately, he wants us to do things the right way. The online announcement was just the first step. We’re going to give our congregation an official announcement at church tomorrow morning. Then we’re going to serve a month’s notice.

I have a feeling the battle isn't over with your parents yet, Kevin says.

I have no idea whether or not that’s true, but we told them we’re leaving and that should be that. I'm not interested in fighting with them.

Kevin drums his fingers on his laptop absently. I have a feeling they're going to show up at our church tomorrow.

I shrug. I don't care.

Maybe we should just leave now, he says. Then he grimaces. Actually, we shouldn't burn bridges.

You don't know my parents, I reply. You have no idea how long they can hold a grudge. We've gone against their wishes, so no matter how polite we are and regardless of whether we bend over backwards to make the transition as smooth as possible for them, the bridges are burned. They’ll never forgive us for this. And as much as they like you, they’ll never forgive you for siding with me. They’ll never forget it.

Kevin nods slowly. Then we have to be above reproach and work our notice. That way, they won't be able to accuse us of anything.

If he says so. Personally, I don't care about being accused anymore. I’m used to being on the receiving end of my parents’ resentment. I would rather we left as soon as possible instead of waiting a month. A month is a long time. Kevin could change his mind. Granted, some of his actions seem to indicate that he won’t—announcing on social media that we’re leaving; booking our flights for the day we finish working our notice—but flights can be cancelled, and resignations can be withdrawn. That's why I insisted we start packing immediately. The more we go through the motions of preparing to leave, the more likely it is that we’ll actually get on that flight next month.

I open the closet doors. There are only a handful of clothes left. I remove them all from their hangers and begin to fold them. We’re not taking much. At least, nothing that my parents gave us—appliances, furnishings, art work. We’re packing only our clothes and the things we bought ourselves.

Don't pack up that dress, Kevin says as I begin to fold one of my favorite black dresses.

Why? I ask.

Because I like it. Kevin's face is deadpan, so I don't know how to interpret his words.

If you like it, that's all the more reason why I should pack it.

Kevin shakes his head. I want you to wear it tonight.

Tonight? Do we have some event that I've forgotten about?

Kevin gives me a hint of a smile. No. But we do have a dinner reservation at six.

Oh. Heat infuses my cheeks. Is it…a date? I clamp my mouth shut feeling foolish. Of course it won’t be a date. It must be some kind of meeting with another pastor couple, or something.

Yes, it’s a date, Kevin says.

Surprise floods me. But I’m still uncertain. Is it with other people? I ask, just to be sure that I'm not misunderstanding.

Other people like who? Kevin asks.

I shrug. Some pastor friend of yours? The leadership team at church?

No. It's just you and me. That's what a date is—just two people.

A river of warmth flows through my chest. It’s not the dizzying, scorching heat I feel around Levi, but it’s something. I glance at the clock. It's already almost four thirty. I decide I can finish packing some other time, and grab my makeup bag. I rarely wear makeup these days unless I’m going to be on camera, but I figure I should make an effort. Kevin is certainly making an effort, taking the time and initiative to book a date for us.

I glance at him as I leave the room to get ready. He’s back to clicking away on his laptop and doesn't look particularly happy or excited about our date. Still, I appreciate that he’s trying to improve our relationship.

I enter the guest room and do my makeup in record time. Then I twist my curls into a tidy updo and slip on the black dress. When I get back to our room, Kevin isn't there. He must have gone downstairs. I dig through my box of already packed-away shoes and select a sparkly, heeled pair.

I might as well go all out!

I lean a hand against the wall for balance as I step into them, then I turn to check my reflection in the mirrored doors of the closet. The makeup, the dress, the shoes—they don’t quite hide the strain and anxiety that bubble close to the surface. Things are going to get better, I whisper to my reflection. Kevin and I are leaving DC. That’s a start.

When I get downstairs, Kevin is waiting in the hallway, tossing his car keys up and down in one hand. I think he’s as nervous as I am. I have no idea what we’re going to talk about over dinner. We never talk to each other unless it’s to discuss some responsibility at church—or argue.

He glances at me and stills for a moment, then he quickly resumes tossing the keys. He clears his throat. You look…nice.

Thanks. I notice that he’s changed into a crisp white shirt and black dress pants. Uh, so do you. I cringe internally. We sound so awkward and stiff. Some kind of married couple we are! Maybe when we move to Bakersfield we’ll be able to loosen up and get to know each other. Maybe we’ll even fall in love.

Where are we going? I ask as we leave the house.

Elysium.

Oh. Nice.

In the car, we fall into a silence that feels heavy. Oppressive. It makes me wonder whether we should bother trying to make our relationship work, or if we should just give up and cut our losses now; stop wasting each other’s time. I stare through the windshield, trying to feel cheered by the way the evening sunlight gilds the road, and by the sight of the boxelder trees that stand at attention on the sidewalk. Their swaying branches are clothed in green leaves that are only just beginning to turn yellow for fall.

After a few minutes, Kevin switches on the radio. I think the silence is getting to him too. Music fills the car, and my head, and I slip into a mindless state of worry. No discouraging thoughts now, just troubling feelings that make me feel restless.

It’s not until we pass by the National Gallery of Art Sculpture Garden that I snap to attention. My heart skips a beat and I hurry to block out the memories. Kevin glances my way and I wonder if he’s sensed a shift in me. I immediately try to keep my breaths even, my gaze steady, my expression neutral.

We're early, Kevin says a few minutes later, pulling into a parking spot outside the restaurant. Let’s hope our table’s ready.

Stepping out of the car and escaping the strange prickly energy between us is a relief. The streets beyond the restaurant’s parking lot are swarming with people who’ve been lured outdoors by the beautiful early September weather. A soft breeze lifts my hair from my shoulders as Kevin and I walk towards the restaurant.

There are a few other couples around us. Most are holding hands. One guy has his arm around his date’s shoulders. As for Kevin and I, you could fit a truck in the space between us. The last time I tried to hold his hand was at a wedding he'd been invited to preach at. He slapped my hand away. That wasn't why, later that day, I ran off to New York with Levi. It was just another brick on my mounting wall of reasons.

We enter the restaurant, and the tall, blonde at the maître d’s stand greets us with a grin. Good evening. Do you have a reservation?

Yes, Kevin replies. It’s for six o'clock in the name Kevin Jones.

The woman taps on the touchpad before her then flashes us an apologetic smile. Unfortunately, your table isn't quite ready yet. It’ll be about twenty minutes. Would you like to wait in our sitting area?

Actually, we'll take a walk, Kevin says. Then he takes my hand, and leads me back outside.

He's holding my hand! Wow. Maybe he really does want us to try and make our marriage better.

Will you be okay in those heels? Kevin asks, glancing at my shoes. Would you prefer to just wait in the sitting area?

We can walk, I say.

A breeze blows by, wafting his cologne up my nose. I allow the woodsy scent to fill my lungs.

I can love him.

We can make this work.

As we stroll down the street, I’m preoccupied with thoughts of how, once we’re away from DC and have space to breathe, we might actually have a happy marriage. I'm so distracted that I don't realize where Kevin is leading me until we’re walking through the gates: The National Gallery of Art Sculpture Garden! My heart leaps into my throat. I do not want to go in there.

Maybe we should just stay on the street, I say, my steps slowing.

Kevin tugs on my hand. It's nice in here. Haven’t you been before? You’ll love the fountain.

Ha! That fountain is the exact thing I don't want to see! Because that’s where Levi and I had our first kiss on my eighteenth birthday.

This is another reason why we have to leave DC. There are so many places that hold significance for Levi and me—parks where we’ve had picnics, bars he rescued me from when I started drinking underage, sidewalks we strolled hand in hand at nighttime when nobody would see us.

My throat starts to close up as Kevin leads me in the direction of the fountain and all the memories. My parents were out of town in the days leading up to my eighteenth, so I decided to have a wild time. I got fake ID and hit the clubs with a bunch of friends.

By that point, Levi and I had barely spoken to each other in four years, but he heard about my birthday party from a mutual friend and sent me a message online. I invited him to join us and couldn't believe it when he actually showed up. He was twenty and in college—much too cool to be hanging out with a bunch of high schoolers. Not to mention that he was so beautiful, I kept forgetting how to breathe.

I had already been drinking before he arrived, but the moment I saw him, I started drinking even more because I wanted to tell him how I felt and I needed the Dutch courage that came a few shots deep.

Unsurprisingly, I told him I’d had a crush on him pretty much my whole life, and was even shameless enough to ask for a kiss as my birthday present.

I'm not going to kiss a drunk girl who doesn’t know what she’s doing, was his blunt response.

Despite my drunken state, I was mortified.

But if you really mean that, he added, his voice softening, come to the fountain at the National Gallery of Art Sculpture Garden tomorrow at three o'clock. If you really want a kiss, I'll be there.

The next day was my actual birthday, and I woke up with the worst hangover ever. I successfully hid it from my parents when they returned from their trip. After they gave me their presents I retreated to my room, freaking out about whether my memories of the previous night were accurate. Whether I’d really come onto Levi, my childhood best friend. Whether he’d really promised to kiss me if I showed up by the fountain.

I desperately hoped it was all a dream, but a small, reckless part of me hoped it wasn’t. There was only one way to find out. I jumped into my car a few minutes before three and drove over. I entered the gardens and as I approached the fountain, there he was. It hadn’t been a dream.

Everyone else faded into nothing, and I saw only Levi. Still, I tried to save face by blaming it on my drunkenness, but Levi went out on a limb and kissed me anyway. And the rest was history.

The loud squeal of some nearby kids playing tag yanks me back to the present. I clutch Kevin’s hand tightly as we walk through the garden, trying to ground myself. I’m not in a relationship with Levi. I’m