Wait For Me (Breaking Free Book - Renee Fowler.pdf

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Wait For Me
Renee Fowler
Copyright © 2018 Renee Fowler
All right are reserved. No part of this publication may be
reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of
the author. No part of this book may be copied, scanned, uploaded
or distributed, electronically or in print, without the written
permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Any and all names, character,
places and locations are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to places
or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Chapter 1
Faith
A
fter a quick knock to announce my presence, I
let myself in the unlocked screen door. Chrissy sits
curled up on the couch with her six month old Finn
tucked up under one arm. He happily sucks from a
bottle, while his mother scans the screen of her
phone with bleary eyes. Despite that it’s nearly ten
in the morning, Chrissy is still in her pajamas, and
her dark hair frizzes around her head unbrushed.
“What are you doing here? I thought today
was Sunday. Wait, it is Sunday, isn’t it?” Chrissy
rubs her eyes. “I’m so sleep deprived, I don’t even
know what day it is anymore.”
“Was it a late night for you two?” I ask,
going over to whisk Finn out of her arms.
“Mmhmm. I think he’s cutting a tooth.”
The baby grins up at me, and I can clearly
see the two bottom teeth close to erupting from his
gums.
“Wait, it is Sundy,” Chrissy says, after a
second to confirm with her smartphone. “Faith, are
you skipping church?” She asks in a disbelieving
voice as a big grin breaks out across her face.
“Don’t worry, I’m not sick. I wouldn’t come
over here around you two if I was.” I sit on the
adjacent armchair, and settle Finn on my lap. “I had
a bit of a headache this morning.” After pausing to
swipe away some drool from the baby’s chin, I
laugh under my breath. “Well, that’s what I told
Matthew anyways.”
Chrissy’s eyes widen a touch, and she
laughs loud. “I can’t believe it. The preacher’s wife
playing hooky from church. I didn’t know you had
it in you.”
Alone in this house, with my oldest and
closest friend Chrissy Owens, I don’t have to be
the
preacher’s wife,
a role that I have struggled to fill
over the past nine months.
We’ve known each other since the age of
fifteen, when she came to live with her
grandmother in this very house, after the sudden
and tragic passing of her mother. I grew up in a
house a short walk through the woods out the
backdoor of this place, and although we never went
to school together, I was homeschooled, we spent
plenty of time together. She’s one of the only
people I’ve ever befriended outside the church.
I’m thankful for that friendship right now
more than ever, because there is no one else in my

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