Losing Faith (16 page)

Abel brought Cullen’s hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “That’s my take. Like it or leave it. And call it selfish or self-serving, call it me wanting you, call it whatever you want, but in my heart of hearts, that’s what I believe.”

Cullen took Abel into his arms. “I want to believe Cole was helping me. Guiding me. But what if all this is just my subconscious trying to justify my moving on?”

“The way I see it, it doesn’t matter who or what’s behind it. Something is telling you that you can’t go on living the way you have been. From what you’ve told me, I think you’ve been slowly dying inside. And, Cullen, the body instinctively wants to survive. Somewhere deep down, whether you know it or not, you
want
to survive. I’m sure of it.”

“I just need time to process all this.”

“Of course you do,” Abel said. “And take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you.”

A couple minutes of silence passed and Cullen smiled weakly. “You still in the mood for that run?”

“Sure. But can we go by my house first so I can change?”

ABEL STOPPED
dead in his tracks when he saw his house from across the street.

“What’s wrong?” Cullen asked.

“Look!” Abel pointed. His house was totally decorated for the fall season. There was a huge corncob wreath with orange and gold leaves adorning the front door. Pumpkins in various sizes were lined up on the porch, and a cornstalk garland ran from one end of the white picket fence to the other.

“It’s not bad,” Cullen said, trying to sound convincing.

“It looks like Disneyland.”

“Who did this?” Cullen asked.

“The ladies of the church,” he said, wincing. “They do this for every holiday.”

“Did they skip Halloween?”

“That’s a very touchy subject at our church. The Southern Baptists are divided on whether to celebrate Halloween or not. Some allow their children to dress up and trick-or-treat, and some think it’s the demon’s holiday and lock their door and turn off all their lights. It all goes back to paganism and the rituals that go with it. And since the congregation is divided, the church sort of ignores the holiday altogether.”

“Wow!” was all Cullen could say.

“Abel! You’re back.” Abel’s neighbor Dottie waved from a rocking chair on her front porch.

“Yes, ma’am.” Abel and Cullen crossed the street and stopped just outside her fence.

“Hello, Reverend Kiley. I’m so glad you boys didn’t miss each other.”

Abel raised one eyebrow and gave Cullen a quizzical stare.

“Long story,” Cullen said, feeling a blush creep up his face. “Good to see you again, Mrs. Arnold.”

“Another long story?” Abel teased through clenched teeth.

“Sorry.”

Dottie gestured toward Abel’s house. “Looks like the church monkeys paid you a visit again, Abel.”

“Looks like,” Abel replied, obviously trying to hide his disapproval.

“They mean well,” Dottie said.

“I know, Dottie. I know. It’s good to see you. The
reverend
and I”—Abel glanced at Cullen, and Cullen thought he detected a little sarcasm in his voice—“are gonna go for a run, so I need to get changed.”

Abel slid the key in his lock and pushed the door open. When they were safely inside, he turned to Cullen. “Anything you want to tell me?”

This time Cullen felt the heat that accompanied the blush as it crept up his face. “Okay. I’m sorry. I was desperate to find you. I didn’t know where you lived, and I didn’t have your cell number, and I was running out of time. Then I remembered you told me you lived a few blocks from the marina, so I ran up and down every street within a five-block radius, hoping I’d see you in your yard or something. When that didn’t work, I called the church office, and it was closed, and I was starting to get desperate. With nothing but time on my hands and no other options until Monday morning, I googled you.”

“You ran up and down every street in Southport and googled me?” Abel’s tone carried a certain amount of disbelief.

“I know. I know,” Cullen said. “When I say it out loud, I sound like a real stalker. Don’t I?” Cullen held up his hand. “But I promise I’m not.”

Abel raised an eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest. “Go on.”

Damn if he’s not enjoying this just a little bit. Or maybe a lot.
Cullen rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I found an article about you online, announcing your appointment to the Southport Baptist Church. It said you would reside in a church-owned residence on Caswell Street. So I walked up and down Caswell Street until I finally saw Dottie outside and struck up a conversation. And before you say anything, yes. I added the reverend title to my name. I thought it would lend credibility.”

“Apparently it worked.”

Cullen smiled, feeling a little proud of himself. “Yes. She told me you lived right next door. For all the good it did me. You were gone by then. That reminds me. You never said where you actually went.”

Cullen waited for some sort of response, but what came was most certainly not what he was expecting.

Abel smiled broadly and launched himself into Cullen’s arms. “I can’t believe you did all that to find me. Cullen, no one has ever cared enough about me to do anything like that.”

Cullen, for what seemed like the hundredth time since he’d met Abel, swallowed the lump in his throat. Here he was thinking Abel was going to be upset with him because of the measures he’d taken to find him, and instead Abel was flattered. The man never ceased to amaze him.

“Are we gonna run or not?” Cullen asked, trying to lighten the weight of the moment.

Abel kissed his cheek and started up the stairs. “Give me five, and I’ll be right down. Make yourself at home.”

Cullen peeked through an open door off of the foyer into a powder room. He walked through the living room into a dining room and eventually the kitchen and keeping room. The place was nicely furnished. Very neat and clean. But it was… what? What was the word he was looking for? Cold? Unwelcoming? Yeah, both of those words certainly applied.

It was also something else. It was sterile. Looking around Cullen saw not one personal thing of Abel’s. Not one iota of his personality. No pictures of himself. Of course Cullen didn’t expect to see any family pictures because Abel had no family, but besides that, the place just didn’t feel like a home. It didn’t feel like a place Abel would live or even be comfortable in. Suddenly Cullen was very grateful for all the pictures he and Cole had taken over the years. They served as his memories now, which was all he had left.

Stop it, Cullen. This is about Abel. Not you.

Luckily before Cullen could send out invitations to his own pity party, he heard Abel’s footsteps on the stairs. He started back for the foyer and met Abel on the last step.

“How do you like my palace?”

“It’s very nice.”

“Nice? Yes. But I’ve never felt at home here. It has never felt like my place.”

“Maybe ’cause it’s not,” Cullen said. “This place is not you, Abel.”

“You’re right. And whatever it is to me, it’s not even gonna be that for much longer.”

“That’s right,” Cullen said. “The church owns it, so if you resign, you’ll need to vacate the property. Any idea where you’ll go?”

Abel hesitated. “Not really. I haven’t thought that far ahead. Baby steps. Remember? For both of us.”

“Baby steps,” Cullen repeated.

“You take the lead,” Abel said.

Cullen pulled out his phone, started his running application, and put his earbuds in his ears. “You okay with five miles?”

“I’m not a runner, but I’ll give it my best.” Abel put earbuds in as well.

“Okay, let’s go.”

Both men waved to Dottie, who was still rocking steadily on her porch, as they ran down the steps. They turned left on Caswell Street and headed to the Riverwalk, intercepting Cullen’s normal route. Before long they both seemed to be lost in their own heads.

CULLEN’S STEPS
were steady and his breathing was regular, but his brain was on maximum overload. He looked to his right. Abel seemed to be keeping up with him just fine. Abel. What was he going to do about Abel? Cullen hadn’t meant to tell him about his dreams, but the words had flowed out so effortlessly, he hadn’t been able to stop himself. In the end he was glad he’d done it. Abel’s take on Cullen’s dreams was a little different but essentially as valid as Cullen’s. Yes, it could have been some higher power bringing two lost souls together. And Cole may have even had a hand in it. But the more likely scenario to Cullen was that it was his own guilty conscience trying to in some way validate his leaving Cole behind and moving on with his life.

Whatever the truth was, it didn’t really matter. If Cullen was even going to think about living again, he would have to do a great deal of soul searching. And what about Abel? If he took Abel down this path along with him and it didn’t work out, what would happen to Abel? Abel had been let down by too many people already, and Cullen wasn’t about to add his name to the list.

“Time: nine minutes forty-two seconds. Distance: one mile. Current pace: nine minutes thirty-eight seconds. Average pace: nine minutes forty-two seconds. Split pace: nine minutes forty-two seconds.”

Cullen waited for the British woman to stop talking and pulled out one of his earbuds. He looked at Abel. Abel had taken off his shirt and tucked it in the back of his shorts. When had that happened? His torso was glistening with sweat, and Cullen watched Abel’s pectoral muscles tense and release with each pump of his arms. His hair was falling over his forehead, and his eyes were alert. And damn if he wasn’t matching Cullen step for step. To top it all off, Abel was singing. Cullen listened to the lyrics as Abel sang. “My Soul’s Been Satisfied.” He must be listening to gospel music.

Cullen tried to remember a popular gospel singer’s name. He smacked Abel on the arm. “Hey, Michael W. Smith. We’re doing good. Under ten minute miles. You okay?”

“I’m good,” Abel said. “I’m really enjoying this. Who is Michael W. Smith?”

“Never mind.” Cullen put his earbud back in his ear, realizing his little joke had backfired. He chuckled to himself.
I’ve run to a lot of different music, but never gospel
.

Cullen peeled off his T-shirt and tucked it away as well. The warm sun felt good on his skin, and he was at the point where the run kicked into autopilot. It wasn’t long before Cullen was thinking about Abel again, though. He cursed himself because it seemed that Abel dominated his thoughts these days. That realization surprised him.

Rationally, the only thing that stood between him and Abel getting to know each other better was Cole and his memory. So he decided to take Cole out of the equation for just a few minutes. He told himself he wasn’t forgetting him. He was just trying to figure all this out logically, not emotionally. If Cole were never in the picture, would Abel be someone Cullen would pursue romantically? The answer came much quicker than Cullen would have imagined.
Hell yeah!

Abel was gorgeous. Built like a brick shithouse. Sexy as hell. Funny. Smart. And he had a certain something that Cullen had only seen in one other person. And… times up. Cole was back in the equation. But at least Cullen had his answer.

But what if Cullen got involved with Abel and then decided he couldn’t go through with it? He couldn’t do that to Abel. It was obvious Abel was already attached to him, and Cullen knew why, but that attachment could also be an unhealthy one. Even if their friendship went no further than what they’d already done, Abel was going to be affected when Cullen did decide to leave. Whether it was tomorrow or in the spring when he had to go back to P-town. It was as though Cullen was in a no-win situation.

“Time: 12:22 p.m. Distance: 2.5 miles.”

Cullen once again pulled one of his earbuds out. He smacked Abel, who was still singing, on the arm again. “Time to turn around.”

Abel nodded. “I can’t believe we’re already halfway through.”

He’s only three years younger than I am. But he looks like he has enough energy to run all the way to Wilmington.

Two and a half miles later, they reached the Riverwalk again, and the run was over. Cullen was no closer to deciding what to do about Abel, but for some odd reason, he felt better. He stopped at one of the swings, put his T-shirt back on, and sat. Abel put his own T-shirt back on as well and sat beside him, and the two men didn’t attempt to speak until they each caught their breath.

“Looking good, Pastor Weston,” a passerby said. “You okay?”

“I am, thanks,” Abel replied breathlessly. “Just a long run.”

The passerby nodded, smiled, and kept going.

“You’re quite the celebrity,” Cullen said when he had enough air in his lungs to form a complete sentence. “Does everyone in this town know you?”

“Pretty much,” Abel said. “The different congregations of the local churches often socialize together, and our church even throws a yearly picnic for all the other denominations in town to come together in the spirit of all loving one God despite the differences in beliefs. Trust me. Everyone knows your business.”

“So how are you gonna be yourself in Southport with so many prying eyes? I would think it’d almost be like living in a fishbowl.”

Abel waited a long moment to respond. “I thought about this a lot on our run. The short answer is, I don’t think I will be able to.”

Cullen was totally caught off guard by that admission and now very curious. “What’s the long answer?”

Abel sighed. “I guess I stay closeted for a little while longer. At least until I can decide what to do. I don’t want to be homeless, and right now I have no place else to go. I have some money saved, but it won’t last forever.”

“You’d really leave Southport?”

“Yeah. I mean… I don’t think I can stay. Besides, without the church, there’s really nothing to keep me here.”

That statement rang through Cullen’s head.
There’s really nothing to keep me here.
While he mulled it over, he turned his attention to the river, locked onto a passing boat, and stayed with it until it rounded the bend and was no longer visible.