Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
I thought that Reverend Hanes was somewhat sane.
Turns out, he wasn’t.
***
Hennessy
I knew that by going to church, I’d be pissing my father off. After what had happened yesterday, I fully expected him to be upset that I was there.
However, I hadn’t missed a Sunday sermon yet since I’d been home, and today I wouldn’t either. Especially after all the hype that was being generated after the city had found out about my and Tate’s relationship.
What I hadn’t expected was my father to confront us during the most crowded part of Sunday church. The time, directly after my father finished, that everyone gathered out on the church lawn and discussed the week prior, and the coming week ahead. The time when some of the most gossip was spread amongst my father’s parishioners.
“You’re a filthy whore in the eyes of God.” I closed my eyes as embarrassment swamped me. “Your mother would be so ashamed of you. Cavorting with a man that has sinned the worst of us all.”
That’s when I started to laugh.
I opened my eyes and stared at the man I thought was my father, but was so far away from how a father should act that it was a wonder I’d made it this long with my head in the sand.
“So, your small sins don’t equal the same in God’s eyes?” I asked. “Your cheating, lying, stealing ways are less serious than the fact that Tate killed a couple of gang members that were trying to rape a small girl?”
My father’s face twisted. “What I do on my own personal time is of no concern to you.”
I couldn’t stop the laughter from continuing to bubble out of my throat. It was harsh, and hard to hear, even to my own ears.
“That’s rich, coming from you,” I said. “You beat your own daughter. Cut her hair every time you perceive that she has sinned. And you’ve done that for a very long time now.” I paused. “Oh, twenty years give or take? Ever since my mother died? The mother that you cheated on during her final days on this Earth?”
He snapped his mouth shut, surprised that I’d let that particular cat out of the bag.
What, was I supposed to act like I didn’t know when he was practically tearing the man that I loved to shreds in front of some of the most judgmental people in the town?
I think not.
“What about that time you beat me so bad that I had to stay at home for a week, and you told everyone that I went to a youth camp while my bruises healed?” I questioned.
The big man at my side stiffened.
He’d been home that week from leave. It’d been his fault that I’d been caught ogling him anyway. He’d ran past our house in nothing but shorts and tennis shoes. He’d had sweat dripping down his body, and he’d been drenched.
My father had caught me ogling, and began to beat me for my ‘sinful behavior.’
“Do you think your parishioners know that you skim a little money off the top when you feel like having a nice gamble out on the boats?” I asked. “I’m pretty sure gambling is a sin, as well…right?”
My father’s face turned a mottled shade of red, and then his eyes narrowed.
“You’re delusional.” His face wiped clear of any and all expression but pity. “This man has brainwashed you with lies. What has happened to you?”
I leaned sideways and looped my arm around Tate’s thick waist.
“Have a good one, Dad,” I commented. “We’re going to have lunch with Tate’s Grams.”
It was as we were leaving, both of us walking to his grandmother’s car to make sure she got in all right, that it happened.
A scream filled the air, causing both of us to turn to survey what was going on.
At first, I couldn’t place what was wrong.
My eyes scanned the parking lot. There was a huddle of groups all likely talking about what had just gone down, and quite a few people were still staring at us as we walked. However, that hadn’t been the scream—one of real fear—that had caught our attention.
“Where did it come from?” I asked.
Tate shook his head. “I don’t…”
And that’s when we saw my father coming toward us, the hunting rifle he normally kept in the back window of his truck held confidently in his hand.
My belly sank.
Tate pushed me behind him.
I looked around him to see my father’s gun aimed at Tate’s lower body.
“You will not make this worse than it already is,” my father growled, tightening his hand around the butt of the gun.
Tate didn’t say a word.
I was so focused on the two of them that I wasn’t paying attention to the woman that was at my side, the door open and her standing beside it.
In fact, I was so focused that I didn’t know the woman, the sweet older woman, was armed until she spoke, drawing our attention.