Read Online Chloe by Cleveland McLeish - Free Book Online Page B

Unbeknownst to Chloe, James has absolutely nothing to do with this.
    As if matters were not mortifying enough, Phil raises his
hand and points at Chloe. “Come here, young lady,” he says with the same
patient smile.
    Chloe’s eyes double in size, wishing desperately that she
only imagined it. Her stomach lurches and storms, tumbling and churning. Heat
floods her face in torrents as she lights up like a Christmas tree. She wants
nothing more than to disappear. “Can I say no?” she whispers hurriedly to
James. It’s America. It’s a free country, holy ground or not.
    James cringes, his eyes jumping from face to face waiting
expectantly. He takes a breath. Lowly, “Some may be offended if you do.”
    Chloe balks, regarding him with an expression that suggests
her reaction to that should be one he anticipated. This is her first time here.
Aside from James and his mother, she does not know a single soul. Bluntly, “I
don’t care.” Just a moment ago, some of these people were giving her dagger
eyes. Why should she care if they’re upset when she does not cooperate?
    James offers an encouraging smile. There is hope in his
eyes. It gives her confidence. Ever the optimist, “Relax and go with the flow.
What’s the worst that could happen?”
    Chloe does not even want to give that thought the courtesy
of an answer. Her mind is already running with it. A million “worsts” could
happen, one of them culminating with the horde that is this church burning her
at the stake, or stringing her up from the nearest tree, or pelting her with
rocks and rotten fruit!
    With all the confidence of a lifelong wallflower, Chloe
reluctantly stands up. Her feet carry her towards the alter and Phil, compelled
by a force not totally in her control. It is surreal.
    She stands before Phil who maintains a tranquil expression.
His eyes are closed, as though he is listening to a voice that transcends
physical presence—something that speaks within him directly to his mind and
heart. Its something, or someone, she cannot see. His countenance is misted
over, veiled by something divine. She is not entirely certain he is himself at
this moment, rather a vessel for another entity.
    This is all quite the sham.
    The unnerving idea makes her glance back at James. Chloe is
not sure how to react to this. He opens his eyes and levels her with a serene
smirk. Chloe stands, rooted in place by the welcoming warmth of his gaze.
    “You have many questions,” he says cryptically, not unlike a
weatherman predicting snow from a cloudless sky.
    His words ring true. Chloe does have many questions. But,
frankly, all of them can be boiled down into, “Just one.”
    Phil’s capricious smile broadens. As though he can read her
mind, “There is no need to question His existence Chloe, you are way past
that.”
    Chloe balks, assuming a defensive stance as one foot slides
back and she squares her shoulders. She wonders if this is all part of some
elaborate plan—some diabolical scheme to brainwash her. Thus far, not a single
piece of fruit has been thrown. Her confidence is slowly returning. “How’d you
know ma’ name?”
    Phil has an explanation for that too, though she does not
necessarily subscribe to it. “Before you were conceived, God knew you.”
    Chloe knows God to be an omnipotent, sentient being. If he
is indeed the creator of the universe and the weaver of past, present, and
future, Chloe rationalizes that it would make sense for him to know her
theoretically. Anyone with a farthing of biblical knowledge could say this to
her. But what he says next is an entirely different ballgame.
    “Before you were formed, he ordained you a scribe.” A scribe
is another word for writer. Chloe’s eyes widen. Her mind reels. She has never
met this man. She cannot fathom how he could know that unless… “Your writing
will change the world,” he concludes.
    His words strike a chord in her. She recalls her ill
reception at Orion’s pub. She does not know