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Prologue
Raine wasn’t sure if it was two, possibly three in the morning. He’d been sitting on a rock by the end of the pier in South Port, North Carolina, hypnotized by the waves and moonlight. This town wasn’t what he’d expected. When he drove through late in the afternoon, he’d planned to fill up with gas, get some fast food, then continue up the coastline while trying to figure out where he would settle.
He wanted to start over, to have a new life. A new place. A home. A family. He wasn’t sure of the physical location yet. South Port hadn’t been on his radar, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be the one.
The trouble was, he wasn’t sure how to start over or how to create a home.
When he’d parked his car at the local park and walked out to the pier to sit, it’d been roughly five o’clock in the evening. The beach had been bustling with people laughing and families and couples holding hands as they’d strolled down the shoreline. The ocean’s white crests had drawn him in, and he’d climbed down to sit on a rock where he could watch the sunset.
He had been looking forsomethingfor a long time. The past year had been a journey to discover himself. His brother had told him there was no way to change. They were who they were. Raine didn’t believe it. Somethinghadto change. Desperation had gripped him lately, causing his chest to tighten and his heart to race sporadically at times.
Yet tonight, as he’d focused on breathing and the ocean breeze, he’d finally felt calm. So he’d stayed on that rock as the sky had grown darker and the moonlight had grown brighter. Eventually, he’d turned his back on the water to walk back to the park and his car, but the town had captured his attention, so he’d wandered. He could still hear the waves crashing behind him. It was late and the streets were deserted, so he kept walking and inspecting each closed shop beside the pier.
He’d ended up at a church in the center of town, staring up at a magnificent statue. As he walked closer, he could see bronze lettering that read “Saint Paul.” Who was that? He didn’t know. How would he? He hadn’t attended church a day in his life.
He backed up and sat on a nearby bench, still gazing at the statue and wondering about Paul. Maybe this counted as loitering, but that didn’t concern him. He had gotten himself out of far worse than sitting on a bench and staring at a statue. Plus, he wasn’t that man anymore; the man who needed to get himself out of trouble. At least, he didn’t want to be.
He closed his eyes and thought about one family he’d lived with when he was younger. There had been many foster homes, but this family stood out in his memory because they’d always prayed together and read the Bible.
Was that where he’d heard the name St. Paul? They had told him he didn’t have to pray or read with them if he didn’t want to, but he’d wanted to be part of the family. So he remembered listening to them reading out of the large book.
They had been good people. Too bad he’d been past the point of being able to stay with them. He’d been thirteen, but he’d already been good at stealing, and he’d convinced himself that no one could care for him outside of his brother.
If only he could go back in time and be with that family again. If he’d stayed with a family that prayed and read the Bible, then maybe he would’ve prayed tonight. Maybe he would’ve known how to, and maybe God would have … What? What would God do?
“When I talk to God,” a voice said, “I just always kind of pour it out. I pretend like I’m writing a letter to the Ephesians, like Paul did.”
Raine jumped in his seat.
A man stepped toward him from the shadows of the little home next to the church.
“Sorry.” Raine stood.
The man motioned for him to sit. “No. Stay.” He wore a robe and what looked like bath slippers. His glasses were slightly crooked, and his hair was mussed. “Nothing to be startled about.”
Raine wanted to sit, but he didn’t trust people as a rule. “I was just on my way.”
His heart raced. It felt like the man had answered the question he’d been thinking about regarding prayer.
The man kept walking toward him, seemingly unperturbed. “Oh, don’t leave on my account. Believe me, I am not bothered by you being here. It actually makes sense.”
Usually, Raine didn’t want to engage with people who weren’tmarks; someone he wanted something from. Granted, he’d given that up, but it had left his social skills lacking.
The man sat on the bench and patted the spot next to him. “Sit back down. I am just an old man. I never sleep well anyway.”
Despite his uncertainty, Raine sat.
There was silence. At least it was a comfortable silence.
Raine got up the courage to ask, “What were you talking about? About praying the way Paul wrote a letter?” He felt vulnerable asking this. He wasn’t sure if most people knew the answer to who the statue was or how to pray.
For a few moments, the man was quiet. “I don’t know what you know about Paul, but he was in prison for a long time. And before his name was Paul, it was actually Saul. He was one of the worst persecutors of Christians during his lifetime.”
“I actually don’t know anything about Paul,” Raine admitted; he’d stiffened a little at the mention of prison. “I’m guessing this is a Bible story.”
The man let out a light laugh. “Excuse me, I didn’t introduce myself. I am Pastor Henry.” He pointed to a nearby house. “I live over there, but this is the church I work at, and I sit on this bench probably every day and think about Paul.” He put his hand out.
Raine wanted to laugh at how official the man was being, but he played along and shook his hand. “I’m Raine. I stopped over at the beach today and just thought I would be in South Port for a bit, and then I got kind of mesmerized with the ocean and found myself here. I’m sorry if I was trespassing.”
