Belief in Miracles (completed)

Chapter 1: Summer

There wasn't much in my life that I believed in other than what my own eyes showed me. The fact that I could feel the wind but not see it was generally as far as my faith reached, and it needn't go any further. To see someone with a saintly soul be tainted and shattered had effectively removed my need for a God with cruel intentions. Those who would still bow and worship were no better than wolves in sheep's clothing; walking freely among those like myself who'd rather see the church crumble beneath the weight of its own sin. I wanted no part of any of it, even as I ran toward it.

The last thing I wanted to be doing was hauling butt down a crowded sidewalk toward a place I'd prefer to avoid. All around me, people were skittering out of the way, passing me more than one dirty glare at my apparent rudeness as I absently followed the GPS line on my phone. The destination point was just ahead, but, glancing up, I saw nothing that even remotely resembled a church. I'd driven up and down this road a million times in the last few years, and I knew I'd never seen a church. It had to be wrong.

Furrowing my brow, I looked back down at my phone, double-checked the address on Google, and cross-referenced it with what I had logged into the GPS. It was the same. Still frowning, I pushed my way through the five o-clockers still milling around me in their suits, my eyes following the ever-closer arrow pointing downward on my phone.

I didn't see the person standing in front of me until I collided with him, and cursed as I started falling backward. A hand caught my wrist, stopping me mid-fall, and I blushed as I looked up into a pair of hazel eyes, shining gold in the evening sun. With one hand wrapped around my wrist, the other on the wide handle of the door at his right, the muscles of his arm straining a bit with my weight, the man looked down on me with concern

"Whoa, you okay?" He asked as he pulled me upright.

Face flaming, I nodded. "Mortified, but otherwise intact. Sorry."

He released me and shrugged. "My fault. My head was in the clouds."

"No, no, definitely mine. I'm late and rushing and not paying attention. So, yeah, sorry, and thanks." I quickly moved to inch around him.

Meeting his eyes, he smiled at me, then took a step forward to push open the door into the building on the sidewalk strip. "Going in?"

I shook my head. "No, I uh..." I looked at my phone again. "I'm actually looking for Wayside Church."

"Right here." He gestured a hand toward the cracked door, and I followed it with a scowl.

"This?"

He shrugged. "It's not beautiful from the street, but it looks much different on the inside. You here for the Support Group?"

Much against my will, but... "Yes..."

"Good. I'm not the only one that's late then." 

His grin was genuine as he pushed the door open a little more and held his other hand out in a gesture for me to come. I noticed his left index finger had a splint on it. 

"Ladies first."

Sighing at the disappointing structure, I inclined my head and stepped past him into a semi-decent foyer. Though the musty, granny's attic smell left much to be desired, it was warm and homey. Through the double doors in the back, I could see through to a shallow chapel area. Rows of seats surrounded the altar at the center, which was positioned a step higher than the floor, a handful of instruments left waiting until Sunday.

"See?" The man said from behind me as the door closed. "You'd never know it from outside."

I nodded. "Still not quite what I was picturing."