We return to West River around six, and when I get to my house Mom is just about to serve dinner. It seems like she didn't even notice that I'm home pretty late for having left so early in the morning. I don't have to think of an excuse, I just go upstairs to wash up and then come to the table.

Dad emerges from the computer in the living room and we all sit down and hold hands for grace.

"Lord, thank you for bringing this food to our table so we may enjoy time as a family and the sustenance of you, our G.o.d," he says. "Thank you for Theresa's fabulous lasagna tonight, and for the cattle who gave us this meat sauce. Thank you for our always sympathetic and caring Lacey, and thank you for helping her to see where the limits lie, for her own well-being. In Jesus's name we pray. Amen."

I want to talk to him about Tessa, and about how he sent Jeremy to her and maybe helped her open up a little bit today. But the prayer that Dad said makes my chest tighten, and I take a few deep breaths so I won't scream. I also don't think Dad would like to hear about Tessa's new thoughts on abortion. And my head is still swirling, so I stay quiet and let Dad go on and on about tonight's rehearsal.

I'm still thinking about his grace, and our hurried dinner, as I walk into the House of Enlightenment. Tonight is our first full-on dress rehearsal, complete with all of Dean's props at "go" so we can test them out. Starla Joy isn't here yet, but Dean and I sit together right up front.

"How are you?" I ask.

"After meeting Dottie and the girls and hearing about Tessa's new politics?" he asks. "Absolutely sure that I'm not having s.e.x until marriage."

I swat his arm and laugh.

We quiet down as Pastor Frist approaches the podium with a mile-wide smile. "Friends, Youth Leaders, tonight we have a very special guest with us," he says. "You know of Pastor Tannen, who is studying our h.e.l.l House and considering his own production for next year."

We all nod in recognition-Pastor Tannen's name is famous in the evangelical world.

"He wants to learn why h.e.l.l House is such an awesome outreach that has the devil on the run," continues Pastor Frist. "And this week, he's here with us to watch the final seven days of refining before our big shows over Halloween weekend!"

A tall man with a tuft of white hair and a strong stance, despite his age, joins Pastor Frist at the podium-it's Joe Tannen himself. I hear excited t.i.tters in the pews. I wonder why he chose our church to visit?

"h.e.l.lo, House of Enlightenment," says Pastor Tannen, his voice booming even more than Pastor Frist's always does.

"h.e.l.lo!" the church answers back enthusiastically in the call-and-response instinct that takes over when we're in the sanctuary.

"I've heard tell of a world-cla.s.s h.e.l.l House right here in West River," he says. "And I had to see it for myself!"

"Woo-hoo!" shouts Jeremy Jackson. Everyone laughs and Pastor Tannen smiles too.

"You may wonder why I'm not tending my own sheep in Oklahoma," he says. "Well, I decided to let my fellow pastors handle it so that I could take a sabbatical."

A low, questioning rumble moves through the crowd.

"Now, now," says Pastor Tannen, waving his hand to quiet everyone. "I'm only traveling for a few weeks, but I'll tell you what." He pauses briefly in the way that pastors do. I've always been impressed by their skill at emphasizing meaning with that powerful pause. Dean once said it reminded him of the way wrestling announcers take a breath before shouting out "Wild Willie Wogan!" or whatever.

Pastor Tannen continues, louder than before. "I believe it's G.o.d's will that I'm here in West River, to watch this h.e.l.l House and gain inspiration to create just as powerful an outreach with my own congregation back in Oklahoma!" he shouts. He does kinda sound like a wrestling announcer.

A cheer erupts in the pews, and a few people stand up to clap.

I look over at Dean, who's glowing with excitement. Everyone is. Laura Bergen is listening to Pastor Tannen almost as if he's an older version of Jesus.

I wish I could be thrilled with this moment too, but I'm still caught up in my own thoughts-about Tessa, about Ty, about the experiences I haven't had, the things I haven't seen. Is it okay to not know what I believe?

Pastor Tannen speaks for five more minutes and then he leads us in personal prayer. I stay quiet tonight, and I don't feel guilty about it. It's like my own meditation among all the yelps and high shrieks. Just because I'm not screaming doesn't mean I'm less connected to G.o.d.

When I get into the nursery for the full rehearsal, I have to catch my breath. It looks like a real hospital room. The bed that adjusts up and down is waiting for me, made with white sheets that will soon be covered in blood. There's an IV that I have to tape to my arm, and there's even a machine next to the bed-the one that goes beep, beep, beep along with your heart. When I die at the end of the scene, it'll flatline into that eerily long beeeeeeeeep.

I change into one of those hospital gowns-this one has little flowers all over it-but I still wear pajamas underneath. We're not getting that realistic. As I climb up on the table, I see my dad come into the room.

"Lacey, have you seen Starla Joy?" he asks.

"No," I say. "Maybe she's just helping her mom or something. I'm sure she'll be here."

"Okay," Dad says. "I wanted her to take Pastor Tannen through-she's our best Demon Tour Guide-but I'll put him with Jeremy."

I nod.

He smiles and winks at me, and I smile back. Part of me wants so badly for us to share this h.e.l.l House, to be devil and daughter like I pictured when I first got this role. Plus I'm so grateful to him for sending Jeremy to Tessa. But the other part of me knows that our relations.h.i.+p is changing.

I sit back on the reclining bed, which is mostly in an upright position. Abortion Girl watches as the hamburger meat gets taken from her womb. I think about the girl Tessa mentioned, with her own father's baby. My stomach tightens.

Randy Miller and Laura Bergen are in costume, and he's turning on the beeping machine while she tapes the IV to my arm and fastens some tubes to the backs of my thighs-those are for the fake blood.

"Ready?" she asks.

"Yup," I say, taking a deep breath.

We sit there, silent and poised, for a couple more minutes.

Then I hear Jeremy outside, getting closer. The first two scenes are over and he's leading Pastor Tannen and some other VIPs down the hallway. I can make out his voice, growling the lines I heard Starla Joy say just a few days ago.

"You've seen movies and read books about young love," he says, his tone gritty and hard, sounding even more eerie since it's m.u.f.fled by the door. "I want you to believe in that! I want you to believe in that feeling, that rush of sick pleasure that goes through your body when you're touched by impure thoughts!" He's yelling now, really getting into the demon state.

"Are you ready to see the s.l.u.t? Are you ready to witness a wh.o.r.e making a choice?"

He's talking about me. I mean, not me. But for a moment I am this girl, lying on a hospital bed and scared out of my mind, being judged by everyone around me and subjected to this physical torture. I try to remember how Ty told me this isn't what an actual abortion is like. There's not this much blood. It's not this intense. I'm in a play. It's a show. It's not real.

The door swings open and I see Pastor Tannen's face. He's beaming at me. I also see Pastor Frist. And my father. "It's my choice!" I scream dutifully. "It's my choice!"

"That's right," Jeremy says, rasping and snarling. "Kill your baby. Sin and belong to me! It's your choice."

He hisses, and I feel myself start to cry. It's involuntary-and every time I try to catch my breath and calm down, another sob chokes my throat. Tears stream down my cheeks and blur my vision.

Randy Miller is opening my knees and reaching under the sheets, where the hamburger meat is hidden. I feel a cold spurt of wetness, and I realize that Dean's fake blood is running down my legs now. I see a splat of the clumpy blood drop to the floor as Randy Miller lifts the burger baby up from between my legs and throws it into a trash can next to the bed.

I've rehea.r.s.ed this scene dozens of times. But now, with the props and the blood and the smiling bobble-headed faces of Pastor Tannen and Pastor Frist and my father and Jeremy sneering in front of me, I watch the room start to spin. I still haven't gotten control of my sobbing-my breath is coming out in short spurts. Jeremy is laughing maniacally and clapping his hands in evil glee-my sin has made me the devil's property. Randy Miller grins warmly at me and says, "That's it, miss. You've made your choice."

And then everything goes black.

Chapter Thirty.

When I come to, I see my father leaning over me. The flatlined machine is screaming.

"Turn that off, Laura!" Dad shouts. "Lacey, are you okay? Wake up, honey."

I push myself up onto my elbows and look around. The IV is still taped to my arm. Randy Miller, in his doctor's coat with a stethoscope hanging from his neck, is staring at me, open-mouthed. Laura Bergen is holding my left hand and stroking it. Kind of annoyingly, actually. I see Starla Joy standing by my side, one hand on my leg and the other holding her demon mask. She's out of breath like she ran here.

I look down and see that my legs are splayed open and covered in bright red fake blood, as is the sheet that was white ten minutes ago. In front of me is Pastor Tannen, Jeremy in his demon costume, and Pastor Frist. Everyone is frozen. I must have fainted, but thank goodness I remember where I am-this is a scary waking-up moment. I take a deep breath.

"I'm okay," I say.

And then Pastor Tannen starts clapping. His hands thunder together, and he looks around the room smiling, encouraging everyone to join in. Soon I'm in the middle of my own standing ovation.

"That was the best example of giving it up to G.o.d that I've ever seen, young lady," he says. "Ted, you oughta be very proud of your daughter."

Dad beams. "I am," he says.

Pastor Tannen comes over to me, holding out his hand. I shake it.

"It's a pleasure to know you," he says. "I'll be thinking of you when I cast my own Abortion Girl next year."

"Thank you," I say, still a little stunned and not sure how to handle this situation. How can I tell them that it wasn't G.o.d that moved me to faint-it was my own doubts and confusion, and maybe the sight of that burger baby.

"I think that's enough for Lacey tonight," Dad says. "Joe, I'm gonna take her home if you don't mind. She needs her rest."

"Absolutely," says Pastor Tannen. "We need to save that star power for the real shows next week."

I give Starla Joy a weak smile and whisper, "I'm really okay," in response to her questioning, worried face. My dad helps me down off the hospital bed. Jeremy slaps me on the back encouragingly as we walk through the doorway, but I don't respond. When we get out to the car, Dad lays a dark maroon towel on the pa.s.senger seat so I won't get fake blood everywhere.

"Dean says it's washable, but your mother would kill us," Dad says.

On the ride home, my father goes on and on about how great I was, how into the scene I got, and how he could see Jesus working through me to convey the horror of abortion. He calls me a vessel for G.o.d.

Six months ago, I would have swooned at those words. But tonight, I know they're not true.

When I get home, I wash off quickly and get in bed. Now everyone thinks I'm this iconic star of h.e.l.l House. That's what I wanted, right? My movie moment. How can I tell them that I fainted amid a swirl of doubt?

My sleep is fitful, and the next morning I wake up full of angst.

Part of me doesn't want to break the illusion that my father and the pastors are under-part of me wants to be the h.e.l.l House star that Pastor Tannen raved about and held up as an example of G.o.dliness. I've wanted to step out of the shadows for so long, and now I have this light s.h.i.+ning on me.

But a bigger part of me knows I have to be honest with Dad-I'm done skirting the truth.

When I come downstairs, Dad is preparing the usual seven a.m. pre-church morning pancakes-whole wheat now, since his cholesterol has been high-and Mom is at the table reading the newspaper.

"It wasn't G.o.d," I say quietly, slipping into my chair.

"What?" asks Dad, still staring at the frying pan.

"Last night," I say. "I wasn't channeling Jesus or anything. I was thinking about ... other things."

"And G.o.d came through you," Dad says. "That's a powerful meditation, Lacey." He flips a pancake, smiling, and looks at Mom. She's beaming too-he must have told her what happened last night. Or his version of what happened anyway.

"No," I say again, louder this time. "It wasn't G.o.d. My head was full of doubts-is full of doubts."

"What are you talking about, Lacey?" Dad asks.

He brings over a pitcher of orange juice and a stack of dark brown pancakes. I reach for one and start to eat it plain, with my fingers.

"I don't know," I say, my mouth half stuffed with fluffy pancake.

"Chew, honey," Mom says.

I finish my bite and swallow. Then I look at Dad and find my words.

"I don't see things in black and white anymore," I say. "The light and the darkness-they're mixed."

"Lacey, you're not being very clear," Dad says.

"Dad, do you think that Tessa's going to h.e.l.l for having s.e.x before marriage?" I ask. "Because I don't."

I get goose b.u.mps when I say that because it feels good to express what I think, maybe even better than being in the spotlight at church.

Mom's hands fly up to her neck. "Oh, Lacey," she says. "What are you talking about?"

Dad quiets Mom with a hand gesture.

"Lacey, I don't know why that came into your head, but Tessa's situation is a very unfortunate thing," Dad says. He's using his children's pastor voice. "Still, you know that if she truly repents for her loss of purity and lives her life in the light from now on, G.o.d will forgive her."

I stare at my orange juice.

"I don't know, Dad," I say. "Maybe you're right. But I don't know. I have to think about it more."

And as I say that, I realize that I do want to think about it. I want to think about everything. I want to think about Dean, and who he is and what if he were gay? What would that mean for him? For his family? For the church? For me? And I want to think about Tessa and her choice to have premarital s.e.x. What if she's in love? Isn't there love before marriage? I want to think about Ty's accident, and how talking about it, and asking for forgiveness, was what he needed. I want to think about Ty himself, and the questions he's brought to me. I wanted to give him answers-solid words and lessons I've read and been taught-but instead he gave me questions. And I am glad that I have questions.

"You shouldn't have to think about it, Lacey," Dad says. "You know right from wrong."

I open my mouth to argue with my dad, to tell him that right and wrong aren't two sides of a coin to me anymore-they're complicated ideas. But then I close it again. I'm past fighting with my Dad. And he can't stop me from thinking for myself.

My house is a house of answers, I think. There isn't room for questions.

"Honey, if you ever have doubts, you know to return to your Bible," Mom says.

"That's right," Dad says, reaching for the front page of the newspaper and not looking at me anymore. "First Corinthians 6:18: *Flee from s.e.xual immorality. All other sins a man commits are outside his body, but he who sins s.e.xually sins against his own body.' "

I push away from the table gently. I've moved beyond being mad at my parents. They're not bad people-they just already have their own answers, and they don't have time for questions.

"Thank you," I say, kissing Dad on top of the head. "The pancakes were great."