Free Tattered Innocence by Ann Lee Miller

an arm around her waist and
propelled her toward the surf. “You’re done with Coach Bret?”
    “How about a ‘Hi, how are you?’ before you
go for my throat?”
    “Sorry. The night you came home from State,
I walked over to your apartment and waited on the steps. Cisco and
I were having drama, I wanted to talk to you…. When I saw you guys
kissing, I took off.”
    The bile of shame rose in the back of
Rachel’s throat—forgiveness, too new to have taken root. “I wish
I’d been there for you. I had no idea what you went through till
tonight. I’m so sorry.”
    “It’s okay. We got through it.” Avra toed a
piece of driftwood. “But I worried about you.”
    Rachel’s eyes teared at the tenderness in
her cousin’s voice. “I—quit seeing Bret. I’m here. I’m
listening.”
    Hall—who loved God with an abandonment she
used to understand—had been tainted by her sewage, too. She wanted
to shop-vac all the gossip sludging the walls of the high school
and restore his idealism. But it was much too late.
     
     
    Jesse’s words churned in Jake’s gut as he
hiked into the dunes, away from the kids heading to their cars from
the bonfire. He glanced back at Rachel and her cousin strolling
toward the water.
    The guy screamed at God .
    “God, this whole deal sucks.”
    What an opening when listening to Gramps say
grace was the sum total of Jake’s prayers. He lifted his eyes to
the star-spattered sky.
    “Aren’t You the one who created men and
women to—want each other? And Gabs and I wanted each other for a
year. Doesn’t that count for something?”
    Silence.
    He flung a piece of driftwood into the
dunes. “Maybe she never loved me. That’s what I always
suspected.”
    He closed his eyes and listened to the surf
crashing yards away.
    “Honestly, I don’t regret it. I had sex
because I wanted to. Now I’m paying. I hope You’re happy.”
    Jake opened his eyes to moonlight glinting
off the water-slicked sand, the fire glowing on the beach nearby.
Everything had been sucked out of his life but the Queen .
Gramps and Gabrielle gone in the same year. Sailing only displaced
the hurt in five-day increments.
    He inhaled the scent of salt and seaweed.
His damp T-shirt clung to his skin.
    Jesse said he needed to let God run him,
Gramps’ words more or less. The guy had given up everything—music,
love. And he got them back. Even if Jesse didn’t get the girl who
made him scream at God, he’d married—probably the blond hottie who
sat near Rachel’s cousin. A wry chuckle slipped out. It couldn’t be
too rough to wake up to her every morning. Maybe God could be
trusted to give him back a life.
    But it was a gamble. With Jake’s luck, God
would make him sell the Queen and join the Peace Corps. Or
become a priest.
    God had always been a friend of a
friend—Gramps’ friend. Gabrielle’s friend. Probably Rachel’s
friend. Even that shirttail connection eased some of the ache
inside. Maybe he’d actually survive Gabs’ rejection if he stepped
toward God.
    But how could he get past what he’d done to
Gramps?
    Rachel parted from the people standing
around the fire and walked alone down the beach.
    He sprang to his feet and followed her. She
shouldn’t be alone on the beach at night. It wasn’t safe.
    He headed for the water, shoulders hunched,
hands buried in the pockets of his shorts. He didn’t want to be
here. She had no right to hijack him tonight.
    Up ahead, Rachel gripped her flip-flops in
her hand. She waded through the foam to the clean water beyond.
    He walked past her on the hard-packed sand
toward the jetty.
    Maybe tonight had been good for him. Gramps
would have thought so. As much as he hated to admit it, those guys
talked his language.
    The rocks of the jetty pointed a jagged
finger into the ocean. A wave ran out, and Rachel crossed the
water-sheened sand to where he stood. She raked fingers through her
ringlets. Her tears must have been over the guilt she’d talked
about the night