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  What readers are saying about

  Lighten Up

  “Lighten Up is one of the heaviest Christian novels I’ve ever read. It’s also fun, smart, snappy, real, and convicting. Highly recommended for a reader who’s looking for something different from the norm, with a lot of faith-challenging entertainment.”

  Christina Berry

  Christy-nominated and Carol-winning author of The Familiar Stranger

  “Lighten Up is a powerful work of fiction. Strong’s characters jump off the page and into the hearts of readers. Bethany’s voice rings true with life and emotional traumas many will relate to. This is a book that makes you laugh and makes you think. It moved me. And I hated to see the story end, wondering what would happen to Bethany next.”

  Jill Williamson

  Author of By Darkness Hid, Replication, and Captives

  Lighten Up

  She saw her pastor in a new light.

  Angela Ruth Strong

  Endurance Press

  2012

  Copyright © 2012 by Angela Ruth Strong. All rights reserved.

  Endurance Press

  577 N Cardigan Ave.

  Star, ID 83669

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be

  reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in

  any form or by any means-electronic, mechanical, photocopy,

  recording, scanning, or other-except for brief quotations in

  critical reviews or articles, without the prior written

  permission of Endurance Press.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiosly. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or publisher.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named

  features are assumed to be the property of their respective

  owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied

  endorsement by the use of these terms.

  ISBN 9780985674649 – Trade Paperback

  ISBN 9780985674656 – Electronic book format

  Cover Design by CSarton Design

  Cover Photo used by Permission.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Letter from the Author

  Dear readers,

  As a pastor’s daughter myself, I’ve seen it all.

  •My dad took over a church when the former pastor ran off with the secretary.

  •My mom was a church secretary who discovered another pastor with a phone sex addiction.

  •I met a pastor who confessed nine years of affairs to me but continued to hide it from his very large congregation because he said he didn’t want to be responsible for any of them leaving the church.

  It happens. And it hurts lots of people.

  In Lighten Up I focus on the daughter of a fallen pastor and the feelings of judgment that affect her. Others judge her, and she judges her father.

  It’s a story of how becoming a Christian doesn’t make you perfect. You will still be tempted. And those temptations can be way too easily justified.

  So this is my chance to warn readers that if you are looking for a sweet romance or sterilized view of Christianity, this probably isn’t the book for you. It’s going to be uncomfortably real at parts.

  The novel became even more real for me the year after I finished writing it when my ex-husband left me for another woman. (You can read more about that journey on my blog: www.angelaruthstrong.blogspot.com.) The lesson Bethany learned through this story is one that I had to learn all over again.

  “You, therefore, have no excuse, you who pass judgment on someone else, for at whatever point you judge the other, you are condemning yourself, because you who pass judgment do the same things.” (Romans 2:1)

  We are all susceptible to unfaithful desires. It’s not enough to say, “I won’t ever cheat on my spouse.” You have to start with something like, “I won’t ever have coffee alone with a member of the opposite sex.” And then you have to create accountability.

  For those of you who have had to (or will have to) deal with infidelity in some form, my prayer for you is that through it you learn to give and receive mercy like never before. For mercy is the only way to truly lighten up.

  Sincerely,

  Angela Ruth Strong

  Dedication

  To my parents Mike and Ginger McGrath

  for being the most merciful people I know

  Acknowledgments

  Jim Strong—for making my dreams his dreams

  J-Dog, Cat, and Mouse—for making me want to be a better person

  Charla Leasure—for making the tragic entertaining

  Christina Berry Tarabochia—for leading the way

  Focus Seminars—for kicking me in the butt (in a good way)

  Jeanette Light—for hiring me at her personal training studio back when I was in better shape

  Robert Sweesy—for giving me the opportunity to work with Endurance Press

  Chapter 1

  “He’s here!” I call over my shoulder, and immediately the electric charge of whispered hushes fill the room. Excitement grows within me like one of the birthday party balloons ready to pop.

  I sneak one more glance out the window to mentally calculate the time before my brother Christian opens the front door. At the moment, he’s climbing out of a fancy blue pickup that must belong to the buddy who took him golfing. Yeah, golf in November. I would have thought by this time of year all the “birdies” had migrated south for the winter.

  The two men connect in front of the truck and head toward the house. Christian laughs at one of his own jokes, but his friend looks up at the window. He shoots me a grin before I’m able to drop the red toile curtain back into place.

  I search my brain, trying to recall if Christian’s wife Laurel mentioned the name of Christian’s friend. I haven’t met him before. If I had, I would have remembered that amused smile I just received. The guy is attractive, but even from a distance I could tell his appeal is from more than just appearance.

  Giggles from an excited child interrupt my thoughts. The kid’s mother tries to calm him down, reminding me of the anticipation I’d felt at Dad’s fortieth birthday surprise party. At the age of ten, my Daddy had seemed perfect—I couldn’t have been more wrong.

  The front door swings open, bringing me back to the much more pleasant present.

  “Surprise!” we all shout.

  Christian grabs at his heart and staggers against the wall feigning a heart attack. The roar of laughter that erupts around me is exactly the response he was going for. It’s as if he’s been preparing for this party his whole life.

  “Man, you’d think I was turning thirty or something!” he yells.

  “Come here, old man.” I wrap my arms around his thicker-than-I-remember middle. It’s a good thing I talked my cousins into going in with me to buy him some exercise equipment for a gift. I wouldn’t want his next heart attack to be for real.

  Pulling away, I search for Christian’s friend, expecting an introduction. But Laurel has other ideas. She drags me up the steps of her split-level home to help get the games going.

  Laurel could have been a Stepford Wife. She’s so perfect (meticulous, organized, um…mechanical) that I’m always a little uncomfortable around her. I mean, how did she ever get hooked up with my brother? He’s the kind of guy who wouldn’t hesitate to ask the President to pull his finger.

  “Bethany.” Laurel directs me, her blonde bob falling flawlessly around the fragile features on her face as she leans over a desk in the corner. “Will you pass out nametag
s?”

  I take the sheets of computer printout labels from my sister-in-law. Now I’ll find out the name of Christian’s friend…or maybe not. I read a couple of the names. Harrison Ford. E.T. Pinocchio. I lift an eyebrow. “This is going to be an exciting party.”

  Laurel gives me an amused smile. “Turn around, Sweetie. I’ve got one for you.”

  “Oh!” I spin to give her my backside. I’m a little anxious to find out what kind of character Laurel would label me as. “Does it matter what name I put on who?”

  Laurel rubs the little white strip onto my shirt then gives me a shoulder rub as well. “No. They’ll all have to figure out their nametags by asking different people yes or no questions. But don’t let them start yet.”

  I dutifully make my way around the room, explaining to people why I’m placing stickers on their backs. I don’t know many of the faces—they’re all from the hospital. I guess that is one thing Christian and Laurel have in common. They met because they both work in medicine. Laurel is an ultrasound technician—and definitely the kind to make you turn off your cell phone as is hospital policy. Christian is in pharmaceutical sales—a very successful salesman who never turns off his cell phone.

  I head toward the kitchen. It’s the one place I haven’t yet labeled people. Christian’s friend must be helping himself to a snack. I prepare my brightest smile as I round the corner, but it’s wasted on my cousin. I try not to sound disappointed as I greet her. “Hi Dee Dee.”

  I look down at my list and pause at the Pollyanna nametag. Not long ago I would have thought it was perfect for her. Sighing, I peel off Rachel Ray instead.

  “Hi.” She smiles at me over her shoulder then arranges a fresh roll on a paper plate. “Try this.”

  I take the plate and bite into one end of the fresh Thai version of an egg roll. Its spicy sauce teases my taste buds. I’m addicted. “You made this?”

  I’m not surprised because it’s delicious, but because it’s healthy. Dee Dee is usually all about comfort food—cheese, cream, and sugar.

  “I thought it would add some variety.” She smiles proudly at her display of chicken salad puffs, stuffed mushrooms, and tiny quiches.

  That’s more like it. Dee Dee’s figure reflects her taste. No, she’s not skinny, but I envy her curvy shape. She got her first bra when she was only nine. Mom always assured me that my time would come—she might as well have said the same thing to my brother.

  Everything about Dee Dee is soft and inviting like a pillow. She’s got full Angelina Jolie lips and big golden brown ringlets that flow to the middle of her back. Even her socks are soft looking—fuzzy and light blue.

  I bet they’re from the funky sock club we joined. It’s more of a modern version chain letter where you send out one pair of socks and get thirty-six in return. I signed up both her and her adopted sister Star. Dee Dee doesn’t know this because she’s not talking to Star. In fact, Star isn’t coming to the party because Dee Dee is here. But I’m not giving up on them. I’ll get them back together somehow.

  “Hey.” Dee Dee motions past the snacks to the table full of presents. “How much do I owe you for Christian’s gift?”

  I think of the elliptical trainer still in the garage. Hopefully my brother will get a lot of use out of it. He’s always hurting himself playing basketball and volleyball but hasn’t quite figured out that if he conditioned between games he’d be less prone for injury. Did I mention he works in medicine?

  “Fifty bucks.”

  Dee Dee scrunches up her face at me. “Really? I thought it was more expensive than that.”

  This is one of my plans to get her talking to her sister again—a little lame, but at least I’m trying. “Star went in on it as well.”

  Dee Dee’s eyes narrow, and her soft lips press together into a hard line. She knows what I’m trying to do. She just doesn’t know that Star has filled me in on what really happened between them. At first I’d assumed Dee Dee was mad at Star for getting pregnant before she was married. Once again I couldn’t have been more wrong about a family member.

  “Lookin’ good!” Christian’s booming voice interrupts. He grabs a stuffed mushroom from Dee Dee’s display.

  “It may look good…” I turn my attention to the tubby birthday boy and hold up my second fresh roll. “But these are actually good for you.”

  “Don’t worry, sis.” He says this around the fungi he just stuffed in his mouth. “I’m sure I’ll eat plenty of those, too.”

  Shaking my head in mock disdain, I slap a label on his back. Winnie-the-Pooh. There. That will teach him.

  I freeze with my hand on Christian’s back as I realize he’s not alone. His golf buddy is with him. My actions suddenly feel juvenile.

  The buddy tilts his head when he sees what I’m doing. I follow his gaze and discover that my hand still covers the words on his sticker. He points and mouths the question, “Kick me?”

  I laugh and step away from my brother. I can rejoice that at least I’m not that juvenile. “No. I haven’t done that to him since he was…twenty-nine.”

  Christian leaves us to fill up his little plate to overflowing, so I’m finally alone with the guy I’ve been looking for. But what do I say? Glancing the sheet of labels in my hand I hold them up. “Here, I’ve got one for you.”

  The guy pivots obediently. “It’s nice to meet you, too,” he says over his shoulder.

  I like his quiet sense of humor. And his rhomboids aren’t bad, either.

  Laurel claps her hands to get our attention.

  “Yo!” Christian yells. “Listen to my wife.”

  The room quiets down after a few chuckles.

  Laurel stands primly with her hands clasped in front of her. “I’ve planned an ice breaker game. You all have nametags on your back, and you have to figure out who you are. Yes or no questions only. One question per person, please. Go.”

  We all just stand there.

  “Go!” yells Christian.

  We go.

  I give the new guy a look at my sticker. “Am I female?”

  The guy’s lips quirk up, and he doesn’t say anything. I let out a huge hee-haw sounding laugh as I realize what I just asked. He chuckles.

  “Yes, you are most definitely female.”

  I wipe imaginary perspiration from my brow. “You had me worried for a second.”

  “Am I male?” he asks in return.

  I nod. No question there.

  “Am I blonde?” I continue the game.

  “Well…” The guy pauses. “You do act like it, but no.”

  I try to show offense at this, but I can’t help smiling. “Your turn.”

  “You’re breaking the rules, Blondie.” Note: I’m part Filipino and nowhere near blonde. “We’re supposed to only ask one question per person,” he reprimands.

  Visions of Laurel with her hands on her hips cause me to look timidly over my shoulder. She’s not around, so bravely I reply, “But we’re also supposed to get to know other people. How am I supposed to get to know you if this is the extent of our conversation?”

  The stranger takes my argument in slowly. I wonder where Christian met him. I bet he’s a doctor. He’s got the all-American boy look to him. Clean cut, strong. Medium brown hair and light green eyes. Speaking of green…“You’re green.”

  The man tilts his head slightly.

  “You didn’t ask another question, so I just told you. You’re green.”

  He purses his lips together in thought. “I must be The Hulk. I get mistaken for him all the time. I don’t know why.”

  I think back to the movie. “Do you rip your shirt off a lot?”

  The guy nods thoughtfully. “That could be it.”

  I laugh so hard my abs start to burn. “Sorry, you’re not the Hulk.”

  “Hmm…”

  I don’t know how he keeps a straight face.

  “The Mask,” he guesses.

  I squint because he just lost me.

  “That Jim Carrey movie always
in the five dollar DVD bin.”

  “No,” I groan. “This could take all night. I’m Bethany Light, Christian’s sister. And you are?”

  “Eric…”

  I don’t catch his last name over the conversations buzzing around me. I raise my voice. “How do you know Christian?”

  “Church.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I like his answer. “I’ll be there this Sunday. Christian wants me to visit. Well, and he also wants me to start counseling with the pastor.” I blurt this out like I blurted out the am-I-female question. I roll my eyes to the ceiling. “That’s probably not something I should tell a guy I just met.”

  Eric cracks a smile. “It’s okay this time. I’m the pastor Christian wants you to meet with.”

  Well, bench press me and call me a dumbbell. “No.” It can’t be. “Christian was talking about a Pastor Austin.” And I’m supposed to personal train his fiancée.

  “My last name is Austin.”

  “Oh. My. Goodness.” I stare at him for a moment then give the it’s-a-small-world act. “Your fiancée made an appointment to start personal training at my studio.”

  “Yeah, she told me about you.” He doesn’t seem surprised at all. He should have been a poker player instead of a pastor. He certainly plays his cards close to his vestibule. “She wanted to come to Christian’s party, but they’re having a ‘parents’ night out’ at her preschool.”

  “Right.” I think Brooke mentioned that somewhere in her babbling on the telephone. Babbling Brooke. Ooh, I like that. “That’s so funny!”

  “What?”

  I probably shouldn’t tell him the nickname I just gave his fiancée. “Huh?”