Free Anchor of Hope by Kiah Stephens

though—you made the effort to drive all the way to Portland to pick me up, and I made the effort to drop the check to Jay.” She shook her head. “I should have smashed that pie right in his face.” She smiled at the thought of seeing his self-righteousness face smeared with pie.
    Bryan shook his head, a lopsided smile on his lips. “What are your plans for tomorrow
    “Nothing yet—why? What are Jess and the kids up to?”
    “The girls are at a friends’ house today but we should do something tomorrow.”
    “Good idea. It's not like I've got anything to do,” Ashley said. “Literally.” No work had left her with too much free time.
    “Cool. I'll talk to Jess and I'll give you a call. Maybe we could head out to the lake for a swim.”
    “Sounds good. I better get back and see if mom needs a hand with anything for Saturday.” Ashley stood up.
    “Have you got Mom’s car?” Bryan asked.
    “No, I'll walk.”
    “Are you sure? It's a long walk. You can take the Prius if you like.”
    “Thanks, but I don't mind the exercise.” Ashley smiled mischievously. “And I wouldn't be caught dead in that car!”
                 
    When Ashley arrived home she discovered her mom didn't need any help preparing for Saturday. In fact, she and Martin weren't even home, Jane had left another note informing her that they had gone to play golf.
    W hy didn't she text her instead of writing notes?
    The rest of the day was uneventful.
    Too uneventful.
    Ashley paced from room to room, looking for random tasks to keep her busy. A bit of cleaning, straightening the ‘Bless This House’ and ‘A Family That Prays Together Stays Together’ plaques that hung on the walls.
    She always found it intriguing, yet infuriating, that her mother had clung to her faith despite the fact that her husband had died a sudden and aggressive death despite all her prayers to the ‘Magical Man’ in the sky.
    He must have been too busy to hear her .
    Her father was diagnosed with ALS, amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, only weeks after she’d graduated high school. He was given a year to live, and told there was no cure. He didn't even make it that long: within five months he was gone. By then he had deteriorated so much he was barely recognisable. Those few months had been like living within a nightmare—Ashley  watched as her father degenerated from being a strong, capable to a prisoner trapped within his own body. 
    Ashley had avoided visiting him at the hospital towards the end—whether it was out of fear of seeing him, or anger that this had happened to them, she didn't know. Perhaps it was a little of both.
    That was the one thing that irked her about religious people—the world could be crumbling around them and they would still be there, claiming ‘ My God will save me’ . Delusional.   
            Then there was the fact that most of them were hypocrites, telling Ashley she had to get right with God as they praised God on Sunday morning, yet spending their Saturday nights shaking their booty in the club.
    Her father had held to his beliefs throughout the steep slope of his illness. He spoke of God's goodness and mercy until he could no longer physically speak—and even then she knew he continued to praise God inside. What a waste of time that had been.
    She needed something to keep her busy and keep her mind occupied. She resorted to reorganising the refrigerator.
    Hoping to check in with Steven she tried calling him around three in the afternoon, but it went straight to his voice mail. He text her back shortly, after saying he was in a meeting and would call her tonight.
    When Jane and Martin arrived home she was relieved that she could finally have some conversation.
    She helped her mom cook dinner as Martin went out to fertilise the garden. Ashley caught her mother smiling out the window as Martin busily worked away, sprinkling organic fertilizer around the flower garden.
    “He loves gardening doesn't he?”
    “Oh