Finding Faith



 

 

  Copyright © 2017 by Anthony Lampe

  Book edited by Kristi Lampe

  Cover designed by Timothy Lampe

  Cover image by Stokkete (Shutterstock)

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the written permission of the author, Anthony Lampe.

  [email protected]

  www.anthonymlampe.wix.com/home

  To my wife and children; to all men, women and children of God, may you always feel God’s presence, guidance and love.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  About the Author

  Interactive Adventure Books by Anthony Lampe

  1

  Andrew Jensen, no longer entertained by the conversation, shifted in the back seat of the sedan and slipped a black MP3 player out of his side pocket.

  “Are you excited to be seeing your little sister competing in the ballet semi-finals?” His mother glanced over her shoulder with a wide smile, and awaited a positive response.

  “Oh yeah,” Andrew replied with a hint of sarcasm. “Just as excited as when you asked me two minutes ago.”

  “Now son,” his father said, his deep voice slightly admonishing, “your sister has been perfecting her solo dance routine for months, and now she has a chance to compete for the finals.”

  “I know she will give it her all,” he said sincerely.

  “She is really dedicated,” his mother stated proudly.

  I just don’t always want to talk about Angela and how talented she is, Andrew thought.

  When he turned on the MP3 player, and the music blared through the earbuds, Andrew had to quickly adjust the volume down considerably. He had not anticipated that his friend at school would have listened to music that loudly.

  The rock music seemed a little dark, perhaps edgy, but the beat enticed him. As the singer began to scream the words, Andrew was caught off guard by some of the provocative lyrics and cursing.

  His first thoughts were of disgust, and then curiosity got the better of him. His parents would never have allowed him to hear that kind of music, but since his friend lent it to him, the new music was exciting.

  Maybe it’s okay, he reasoned with himself. Feeling slightly rebellious, he thought, I’m seventeen. I’m old enough to listen to whatever I want.

  “Son,” his father repeated as his kind brown eyes gazed at Andrew’s face searchingly in the rearview mirror.

  Andrew jumped in his seat, fearing that his father could hear the lyrics. He yanked the earbuds out of his ears and shoved them under his jacket on the seat beside him.

  “Yeah?” he responded, clearly off guard.

  “You have a soccer game next weekend, right?”Andrew felt relieved that his dad mentioned his sport. “It’s the quarter-finals of the tournament. If we win that, then we’ll play the semi-finals game two hours later.”

  “That’s great,” he replied, “and I know you guys will do your best. Son, this isn’t easy for me to tell you, but I know you are nearly a man now and you will understand. If Angela wins in the semi-finals today, then her final performance will also be next weekend.”

  Disappointment washed over Andrew and made him speechless. He glanced out the side window at the industrial buildings, which became a blur as his emotions heightened. After an awkward silence, he asked, “Hers would be at a later time than my games, right? I mean, you wouldn’t miss me play, would you?”

  “As I said,” he began, glancing at Andrew’s mother for support, “it depends on how she does today, but the finals would be going on at the same time as your second soccer game.”

  His mother turned in her seat to look at Andrew, her short brown hair framing her caring face, and added in her warm voice, “We can be there for the first game, but we’d miss the later one.”

  “Don’t worry,” his father said, “this is only your first soccer tournament of the year. There will be plenty more. But, this is Angela’s last solo ballet competition. If she does well today, we need to support her in the state finals next weekend.”

  Andrew wanted to drown out his feelings of hurt, so he grabbed the earbuds and once again listened to the music. Despite the harsh lyrics being said that made him cringe inside, he just wanted the distraction from his thoughts.

  “Son,” his father said, but he did not respond.

  His mother glanced back and then turned to his father. “Honey, we can discuss this more later. We are almost there anyways.”

  With a nod, he returned his focus to driving.

  As each minute passed by, Andrew started to become annoyed with things. Suddenly his seat felt hard and uncomfortable and the air in the car became stale and oppressing. The turmoil inside him was overwhelming, and he did not want to accept that his parents would miss the semi-finals game, yet there was nothing he could do about it.

  In his heart, he loved his little sister. He knew that Angela would do great at her semi-finals competition today, and would qualify for the state finals.

  For a moment, he thought about how happy she would be to see their parents watching her final dance routine at State, and that nearly made him smile.

  As Andrew felt his anger abate, he shifted in the sticky leather seat. The sleek MP3 player slid off his lap, which yanked the earbuds out of his ears, and fell into the darkness somewhere by his feet. As he lunged for it, his fingers accidentally brushed against the volume button, which sent the music screeching throughout the car.

  When his dad heard the blaring music, and caught some of the blatantly offensive lyrics, he looked over his shoulder in shock and anger. “Andrew Michael Jensen, what kind of trash are you listening to?”

  Andrew turned off the music abruptly and said rudely, “You wouldn’t understand.”

  Realizing that his tone was disrespectful, Andrew felt a little ashamed.

  “Since when did you start listening to music like that?” his father demanded, his voice sharp as a dagger.

  Andrew silently fumed and refused to answer. The atmosphere of the car was as cold as ice.

  “Your father asked you a question,” his mother stated pointedly.

  The car came to a sudden stop at a red light, and his father turned to him. His father’s eyes were narrowed; his body was taut with tension, and his voice heavy with authority. “If you want to wait until we get home tonight to discuss this, we can do that. But, you are going to have to give me that MP3 player right now.”

  His father extended his hand expectantly for the device.

  Feelings of guilt flooded Andrew’s conscience, but he did not want to admit any fault. “I’m sorry, dad,”
he said obstinately, “but it belongs to a friend.”

  His father’s eyes went wide with shock, and he took deep ragged breaths as he tried to control his anger. “Angela is about to start her performance, and I for one want to be there to support her. Please hand it over.”

  The stoplight changed.

  “Dad,” Andrew said nervously, “the light is green.”

  His father ignored the light and focused on his son.

  “Hand it over,” he said firmly, “now.”

  “Just drive,” Andrew begged. “And leave me alone.”

  His father grinded his teeth in frustration and threw a glance over at his mother who appeared as distressed as he was.

  The car behind them honked loudly. The noise reverberated throughout the vehicle.

  Andrew tried to stuff the MP3 player into the depths of his pocket, but his father quickly reached back and seized hold of the earbuds with his right hand.

  “Let go,” Andrew pleaded as he felt the cool beads of perspiration break out on his clammy forehead.

  They struggled awkwardly for several grueling seconds, both staring at each other in frustration.

  The horn behind them went off again, this time it was pressed down and incessant. The noise was deafening. Andrew’s father still held the earbuds securely in his fist, and he looked torn as to what he should do. His father’s face was flushed with anger and his tormented eyes tore into Andrew’s heart. With the earsplitting horn going off, Andrew’s father abruptly made his decision. He let go of the MP3 player as he swiveled back into his seat, yanked hold of the steering wheel with his left hand, slammed his foot down, and accelerated into the night.

  “Wait,” Andrew shouted, his body rigid with fear while watching the yellow light change to a vivid blood red.

  As their sedan sped into the intersection, his mother screamed in panic.

  But it was too late.

  A red pickup truck plowed into the front of their vehicle on the passenger side, and sent them into a spin. It was over as quick as it had begun. His mother’s scream was silenced.

  The crunching of metal against metal, the angle of the devastating impact made the front airbags ineffective. Whiplashed from the side, Andrew was left disorientated. When the sedan finally came to a halt, Andrew fought against his urge to pass out. He lifted his head up to see his parents, but their fate had been sealed.

  2