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  Chapter six was more difficult for her to read: “Do not be yoked together with unbelievers.”

  She had read the passage a million times before, and it never registered. Maybe she’d been willfully blind about it, especially because she didn’t see the harm in dating non-Christian guys. But if she devoted herself to God, she wouldn’t even consider sharing her life with someone who didn’t feel the same way.

  Trish also realized the dire truth. Dating only Christian guys cut down her dating pool. Drastically.

  She admitted that Christian ity wasn’t at the forefront of her thoughts whenever a cute guy passed by. Especially not if he gave her a second look. But only Christian guys? That was so hard. But if Kazuo had been Christian, he wouldn’t have pushed her into sleeping with him, right?

  Well, she hadn’t exactly run away from him. And she’d really enjoyed the magical intimacy they shared. Why was it that all the guys who were bad for her made her feel so good? She didn’t know any interesting or attractive Christian men. But then again, if she focused on God, she probably wouldn’t even care about the lack of dating prospects.

  There it was, printed in black and white. It was what God wanted for His children. And He gave promises if she obeyed: “I will receive you.” Ooh, she wanted to be received in loving arms. “I will be a Father to you, and you will be my sons and daughters . . .”

  Trish wanted the intimacy of being a beloved daughter. She’d lost favor with her cousins after they saw Kazuo embracing her in the middle of the hospital waiting room, and Grandma was withholding favor until Trish got back together with him. Her mom was really sick, and Dad . . . things were strained, to put it mildly. There was no one there for her.

  And maybe once she was successful in becoming a better person — if she did enough things so God could love her more — then He might lead Mr. Perfect Christian Man directly to her. Didn’t they always say you found what you were looking for when you stopped looking? It had worked for her cousin Lex and her great relationship with Aiden.

  Trish definitely had that whole “burning” thing Paul talked about in 1 Corinthians 7 somewhere. She needed a good Christian boyfriend to depend on, someone to be strong so she wouldn’t have to be.

  She continued on. She had already filled pages and pages of her notebook with verses and thoughts.

  On Friday night, Trish stayed home like an utter social failure to finish the last few chapters of 2 Corinthians. In chapter twelve of 2 Corinthians, she reached Christ’s words to Paul: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

  She burst into tears.

  She was so weak, such a loser, such a tramp. But Christ promised to give her His power despite her weak-loser-tramp status. Paul himself said, “For when I am weak, then I am strong.” If Paul could be flogged and jailed and still be faithful, then she could at least face morning traffic with fewer temper tantrums.

  Sniveling and honking into tissues, Trish finished 2 Corinthians and jotted down her last note. She sagged back in her chair and took a deep breath, feeling the air rasp in her throat. A vague nervousness simmered somewhere south of her stomach, making her a bit queasy. This was something big.

  Reconciled with Christ. Blameless. Undivided — undistracted — devotion.

  Her nervousness rose to a rapid boil, and she started to hyperventilate. Could she do that? Turn her back on non-Christian boys — on all boys, because if she was looking at guys, even Christian guys, God certainly wouldn’t give her one. Could she turn her mind and desires around so that she could achieve that undivided devotion? Jenn seemed to have that — she was such a good Christian girl. Could Trish learn to rely on God more than she did? Most of the time, she simply didn’t remember to think about God.

  She needed to pull a Nike and just do it. Commit to becoming a different person, a better person. Regaining her chastity, making everything like it was before.

  The realization hit like a dash of cold water, calming her boiling tension, invigorating her senses with new purpose. She would change her innermost desires and make Christ her top priority. First and Second Corinthians could show her how to do it.

  She sifted through her notes and saw many things falling into a pattern. Energy rushed through her hands and feet. She felt like she was back in school, and she finally understood a calculus concept that baffled everybody else.

  I think I get it . . .

  “Hallo?” Jenn’s voice sounded scratchy with sleep.

  “Jenn, I just exited the freeway. I’m on my way to your house.”

  “Trish? What time is it?”

  “Let me in, okay? I called your cell phone so I wouldn’t wake up your mom.”

  “What? What time did you leave Mountain View?” Trish heard Jenn fumbling for something.

  “Well, I stopped off for coffee. I had to talk to you — ”

  “Trish, it’s seven a.m. on a Saturday!”

  Uh oh. “Um . . . Do you want me to come back later? I could drive around . . .”

  Jenn sighed. “No, I’m already up. I’ll unlock the door for you.”

  Twenty minutes later, Trish bustled into Jenn’s kitchen. Jenn dozed while standing over the coffee maker and turned a bleary eye when she walked in.

  Trish dropped her Bible on the counter. “Good morning. Did you make enough for me?”

  “You said you had coffee already.” Jenn gestured to the mucho-grande-popcorn-tub-size paper coffee cup in Trish’s hand.

  “Oh, I finished it.”

  “I’ll make another pot for you. Will you let me have my one cup so I feel a bit more civilized?”

  Wow, Jenn sure was crabby in the morning. Trish retreated to the breakfast table. “I’m sorry. I’m excited about what I read last night.”

  “What?”

  “I figured out my problem is men.”

  Jenn didn’t applaud. She circled her hand in the air, asking for more. “Isn’t that every girl’s problem?”

  “Well, specifically, my behavior around men. I need to stop desiring Kazuo or any other guy. I need to regain my chastity.”

  “I guess that’s a significant revelation.” Jenn yawned. “What were you reading?”

  “First and Second Corinthians.” Trish bounced up and down in her chair. “I even memorized a verse: ‘Since we have these promises, dear friends, let us purify ourselves from everything that contaminates body and spirit, perfecting holiness out of reverence for God.’ Second Corinthians 7:1.”

  Jenn stared at her.

  Could someone fall asleep with their eyes open? “Jenn?”

  Jenn sniffed. “What.”

  “Oh, you are awake. Okay, so I decided I need a complete transformation to become completely devoted to God. So I came up with three rules — ”

  “Wait, where did you get those rules from?”

  “Don’t worry, they’re from First and Second Corinthians. It was like God showed me all these verses, and three key themes kept coming up.” She dug out a small note card from her Bible.

  “Um, not to harp on this, but do you have biblical references?”

  “Yes, and they’re not taken out of context, either. Now be quiet and listen. Okay, rule number one — ”

  “Rule number one.” Jenn sank into the chair across from Trish and propped her head in her hand.

  “Don’t look.”

  Jenn stared in confusion for a few seconds. “Huh?”

  “I have to stop looking at guys.”

  “Are you going to blind yourself or something?”

  “No, it’s just that . . . well, everywhere I go, I’m looking around, hoping to meet guys. I’m striking up conversations, checking him out, wondering if he’s single, encouraging him . . . I have to stop.”

  “Like I said, are you going to blind yourself?”

  “Jenn!” Who knew quiet Jenn could be such a smart aleck at seven a.m.?

  “Sorry, sorry. I’ll be more supportive. But . . . even Christian guys?”

  “Wel
l, if a guy is interested in me even though I don’t encourage him, I’m not exactly going to blow him off. But this rule will ensure I don’t forget God’s will if I get tempted by some yummy but nonChristian guy.”

  “Is this rule really going to be able to do that for you?”

  Trish gnawed her lip and glanced at her notes. “Uh . . . I hope so. At least I know what my problem is now. It’ll be a hard habit to break, but I need to stop doing it.”

  Jenn looked skeptical. “Okay, next?”

  “Rule number two: Tell others about Christ.”

  “Like all the time?”

  “Well, more than I’m doing now.” Which was closer to never.

  “You’re not going to be preaching on street corners, are you?”

  “No, but I work with nonbelievers. I can start telling them more about God.” She envisioned striking up conversations while seeding cell lines, leading a coworker to salvation while bowed over a biochemical assay.

  Jenn bit her lip. “You don’t need to evangelize to everyone around you, you know. You can show God’s love with your actions. Like forgiving whoever keeps stealing your ice cream from the company fridge.”

  “But those are Häagen-Dazs pints.”

  Jenn lifted an eloquent brow.

  “Okay, okay. But won’t people just think I’m being nice? They won’t know it’s because God has changed me into a fabulous new Trish.” She flung her arms out in a “ta-da!” gesture.

  Jenn didn’t even crack a smile. “You’re making it sound too easy.”

  “But I’ll be motivated to do it, and God will help me. Which brings me to rule number three: Persevere and rely on God. Paul told the Corinthians to persevere, and that God would give strength, help, and grace in hardship.”

  “Following these rules won’t automatically make you devoted to God.”

  “But if I follow these rules, eventually God will change my heart so that I will be devoted to Him.”

  “Where does it say that?”

  “Right here in 2 Corinthians, after the ‘do not be yoked’ thing.” Trish flipped pages. “ ‘‘I will be a Father to you, and you will be my sons and daughters, says the Lord Almighty.’ See? I will become His daughter. I’ll be a good girl instead of an embarrassment.”

  “I guess . . . you’re right.” Jenn stared hard at the verse.

  “You have that concerned sound.”

  “Well, they seem kind of legalistic.”

  “No, they’ll remind me of what I need to do. My new rules for living!” Trish flung her arms out again and almost knocked over her coffee cup.

  “Keep it down, you’ll wake Mom.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” Trish leaned against the table. “So what do you think?”

  “Don’t get me wrong — realizing that you need undivided devotion to God is a good thing. It’s a huge spiritual step. And they’re good rules. I don’t see anything wrong with them, and they’re biblically-based.”

  Trish perked up like she’d found a five-dollar bill outside of a Starbucks café. “Then will you keep me accountable?” She was so proud of herself for remembering that she needed a prayer partner, let alone actually asking someone to help her.

  Jenn’s brow wrinkled. “Me?”

  “Why not you?”

  “Well . . .” She twirled the ends of her hair. “Not that I don’t love you, but you’ve always been closer to Lex.”

  Trish gnawed a little on the inside of her cheek and scratched the back of her neck. “Uh . . . Lex hasn’t been returning my emails lately.”

  Jenn’s eyes cracked a fraction wider. “Is she okay?”

  “Oh yeah. I think she’s . . . well, she might be mad at me.” Her neck started warming up like she had a heating pad wrapped around it.

  “Mad at you? For what?”

  “At the hospital that night, Kazuo and I were . . . sort of embracing.”

  “Embracing? At the hospital?”

  Trish realized she’d embraced guys in worse places, but this time, she wasn’t totally to blame. “He was holding me back from smacking my adulterous father. I think that’s a good reason.”

  Jenn’s gaze fell to the scarred wooden kitchen table. “Oh. Yeah.”

  “And Venus is always so busy at work.”

  “She works at a startup. Of course she’s busy.”

  “Oh. So anyway, I really need you. I kind of feel like . . .” Trish bit the inside of her lip. “ . . . like they’ve abandoned me.” The way Trish had abandoned Lex.

  She touched Trish’s hand. “I’m sure they haven’t.”

  “Well, it sure feels like it, since Venus is so busy and Lex isn’t talking to me.”

  “Trish, she’s not perfect. You hurt her, and she’s going to need time. But she’ll call you eventually. Besides — ” But she swallowed whatever she was going to say. She started braiding a lock of her hair.

  Trish stared hard at her. “What?”

  “Well . . .”

  “Spit it out, Jenn.”

  She looked up at her. “We pick you up, dust you off, take care of your problems for you, and then you always seem to go and do the same things again.”

  “No, I d — ” Well, last year there had been that whole “I’m not going to date” phase (à la Joshua Harris), which didn’t last very long. And then there had been that thing about going back to church, and she’d only gone a few weeks before slipping back into the habit of sleeping in on Sundays. There was the mess about getting intimate with Kazuo again after she’d sworn she was finally over him, which caused that minor thing about making Lex feel like she wasn’t as important as Kazuo’s loving attentions. And . . .

  Jenn sat there blinking.

  “This time I’m really serious.”

  “But how would anybody know that?” Jenn’s question was sincere.

  Trish sat back in her chair. How would anyone realize this was different from other impulsive decisions she’d made over the years? Because this really was different. She knew it without knowing how she knew. Deep down inside her, deeper than emotions. “How do I prove to them I’m sincere?”

  Jenn continued to blink at her.

  What could she do that would undeniably prove she had become a good, Christian girl, devoted to God, earnestly longing to serve Him and —

  Wait a minute. Good Christian girl. Devoted. Serving. Who else served the church like no one else? The pastor.

  “I’ll get my MDiv!”

  Jenn blinked faster. “What?”

  “A Master of Divinity degree. Then no one can refute that I’ve really changed.”

  “You’re going to go to seminary just to prove that you’re changed? That’s awful.”

  “It’s not just to prove I’ve changed. Before this wakeup call, I wouldn’t even have considered doing this. I feel inspired because God is going to make something new and terrific inside me.” Trish nodded firmly.

  “What are you going to do with an MDiv?” Jenn asked.

  Trish waved a hand. “Anything. Women’s ministry. Children’s ministry. Evangelism deacon. I’m sure God will tell me.”

  “You’re going to quit your job to go into full-time ministry?”

  “What? No. A couple people from my church got their MDiv, but they haven’t quit their jobs or anything.”

  Jenn had started twirling the ends of her hair. “I don’t know, Trish . . .”

  “Why not? This is perfect. I’m always taking classes at the community college just for fun — I love taking classes.”

  “It’s a lot of work.”

  “I’m not afraid of schoolwork, and I’m great with languages. I’m fluent in Japanese, and I learned some Chinese and Spanish — I’ll bet Hebrew and Greek would be a breeze.”

  “I don’t know about that. It’ll take years.”

  “I’m willing to work for it, no matter how long it takes.”

  Jenn closed her eyes and rested her forehead in her hand. “It’s too early in the morning for this.”

  “For now,
can you be my accountability partner?”

  “Sure, sure.” Jenn sighed.

  “Good. Kazuo goes back to Japan for good sometime this summer — his uncle is opening a new art gallery and promised to display Kazuo’s paintings at the grand opening — but until then, maybe my three rules will help me transform myself so I won’t be tempted by him.”

  “You won’t run into temptation sooner?”

  Trish snorted. “Where? At church? Everyone knows you never meet eligible men at church.”

  “How about your apartment complex?”

  “Ewww. No way. They’re all either married or packing massive emotional baggage. And I think the guy upstairs is doing something illegal.”

  “How about at work? They’re all smart and have steady incomes.”

  “They’re not Christian, and most of them aren’t cute. No temptation there.” Trish got up to get coffee. “You’ll see. I’ll transform myself, and that MDiv will prove it’s not temporary.”

  SIX

  If Trish’s supervisor went by “Asian time,” Trish would be on time for the meeting even though the wall clock in the cell culture room showed ten past the hour. However, she didn’t think Diana would find that Asian American joke very funny.

  Trish yanked off her nitrile gloves and threw them at the biohazard container. The first official day back from New Year’s holiday was always busy — Diana would understand that, right? She raced to the door of the cell culture room and happened to glance at the container. Rats, the cancer-cell-infested gloves had missed. She screeched to a halt, flung her body back, picked them up by a clean corner between thumb and forefinger, and dropped them into the red plastic bag.

  Trish slammed out the door of the room. Tearing off her lab coat, she sprinted to the lab sink. She cranked the sink handle and a spray shot down from the narrow spout and ricocheted up into her face.

  Spitting and shaking her head, she turned the water down so she could wash her hands. She pinched off tiny pieces of the paper towel before grabbing a mammoth handful to dry her hands and wipe her streaming face. Stupid towel dispenser. Oh, and the stupid water got on her new blouse. She scrubbed at the water stains as she raced out the lab doors and down the hallway.