4. Bess
“What did you think about downtown?”My dad cleared the paperwork off the passenger seat as I climbed into his late model truck.
“It’s nice.” I buckled my seatbelt and set my backpack on the floor between my feet. “Better than the last place you and Mom settled down.”
“We go where we’re needed the most.” Dad pulled onto the narrow two-lane road that ran straight through town.
They’d moved about a month ago while I was finishing spring semester of my junior year at the University of Texas in Austin. I would graduate with over nine thousand students next spring, probably three times the number of people who lived within a ten-mile radius of Maplewood.
It was going to be an adjustment staying with them this summer, especially since Dad expected house rules to apply while I was living under his roof. I’d never really gone out with anyone except for an extremely short-lived awkward thing my freshman year, but I was confident Dad’s rules didn’t include dinner dates with a local biker.
I’d cross that bridge when I came to it. Triton didn’t strike me as someone who suffered from a lack of female attention. My insides melted just thinking about him: the sexy beard, the ripped muscles, the teasing glint in his beautiful brown eyes. I fanned myself with my hand, suddenly quite a bit warmer than I’d been just seconds ago.
Dad reached out and turned up the air. “Are you hot, honey?”
“No, I’m fine.” I wondered how he’d react if I told him I was all hot and bothered over a man. Would he pull out a chastity belt and lock it around my hips or lecture me on the importance of staying pure until marriage? I wasn’t curious enough to bring it up.
I’d keep my interaction with Triton to myself. It’s not like I’d hear from him again since I’d purposely typed the wrong number into his phone. I was definitely interested, but I’d never win that battle with my dad. He had a certain type of man in mind for me. Preferably one whose idea of fun involved writing the perfect Sunday sermon. Of course, my role would be to play the dutiful wife like my mother had always done. According to him, a woman’s place was in the kitchen and her purpose was to support her husband and bear as many children as she could.
“We need to stop by the church on the way home. I’ve got to take care of a few things, but it won’t take more than a half hour or so.” Dad pulled into the parking lot of the small white church. Since I got home on Saturday, he’d already shown me around the church and the surrounding land. It was a typical old-fashioned country church with a smaller building holding offices attached and several outbuildings dotting the property that were no longer in use.
“Do you mind if I come in with you?” I’d melt if I stayed in the truck. Maplewood might feel like a world away from Austin, but the heat was the same, even in mid-May.
“Just stay out of Celia’s way.” Dad held the door open and nodded toward the woman behind the desk. “Celia, you remember my daughter Bess?”
She peered up at me through thick glasses and gestured to a pair of well-worn chairs that looked like they’d come out of a hotel built in the 70s. “Of course. You can sit right here while you wait.”
“Thank you.” I sat down and picked up last Sunday’s bulletin to fan myself. The window unit whirred with the effort of blowing lukewarm air.
“Pastor Phil, there’s a gentleman in your office. He got here about a half hour ago and has been waiting for you.” Celia nodded toward the open office door and lowered her voice. “He seemed very eager to talk to you but wouldn’t tell me what it’s about.”
“I’ll handle it.” Dad picked up a stack of papers sitting in a tray on the corner of Celia’s desk and headed into his office, closing the door behind him.
I’d left my computer in the truck, so I pulled up my favorite word puzzle app on my phone. The walls in the office were pretty soundproof since dad wanted his flock to feel comfortable sharing their private troubles in the sanctity of his office, so I was surprised when I heard him raise his voice.
Celia looked up from her keyboard and shot me a reassuring smile. “I’m sure everything is fine.”
Despite her attempt of offering reassurance, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I’d seen my father get upset before, and he wasn’t a yeller. Whatever was going on inside that office had to be pretty bad. I got up and walked over to the water cooler located next to the office door. Taking my time, I filled a thin paper cone while I tried to make out what they were talking about.
The door flew open and a man in an expensive-looking suit stepped out. A jagged scar cut across one cheek and his eyes lit up when he saw me. “Is this your daughter? The same one from the pictures on your desk?”
“I’m Bess.” I dropped the paper cone in the trashcan and returned his smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“No. The pleasure’s all mine.” He lifted my hand to his lips and planted a soft kiss on the back. “You must get your beauty from your mother.”
My stomach churned at the contact. I was used to making small talk with members of the congregation, but something about the way he held my hand and looked at me—like he wanted to consume me—made my hackles rise.
“Leave her out of this.” Dad cleared his throat and smoothed his hair back into place. Something had him rattled.
“That will be up to you, Pastor Trammer.” The man narrowed his eyes and slowly looked me up and down. “For your sake, I hope you make the right decision.”
My dad opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, then snapped it closed again. The man casually strolled through the front door out into the afternoon heat.
“What was that all about?” I filled another paper cone and handed it to my father. He looked like he could use something stronger than water, but I’d rarely seen him drink.
He gulped it down then motioned for Celia. “Can I have a word with you in my office?”
“Dad? What’s going on?” I stepped out of the way as Celia shuffled past. “Can I join you?”
“I need you to sit this one out, hon. Why don’t you take the truck back up to the house, and I’ll call you when I’m ready to come home?” With no further explanation, he shut the door and left me standing there all alone.
I’d been taught to respect the privacy of others, but I had a feeling whatever he was talking to Celia about somehow involved me. I pressed my ear to the door to try to make out bits and pieces of their conversation. Celia did most of the talking, but her voice was too soft for me to hear much beyond a word here and there.
I was about to give up when my dad pounded his fist on his desk. “Dammit. Someone should have told me what I was getting myself and my family into. What am I supposed to do now?”
The room went quiet. I slouched into my chair and tried to make sense of it all. A few minutes later, Celia came out of the office and scurried back to her desk. “You’re still here. I thought you would have left already.”
“He never gave me the keys.” I shrugged a shoulder and leaned forward, hoping she might shed some light on my dad’s strange behavior. “What’s going on?”
“It’ll be better for you to talk to your father about it.” She picked up her phone, pressed a couple of buttons, then held it to her ear.
Having reached a dead end with Celia, I headed into my dad’s office. My high school graduation picture sat on his desk along with a cheesy family photo of him, me, and Mom that was taken years ago at one of those department store photo studios. Dad leaned forward and held his head in his hands.
“Dad?” I rounded the desk and reached for his shoulder, trying to offer comfort. “What happened? Who was that man?”
“We need to get home.” He covered my hand with his.
“Are you okay?” Seeing him shaken made me feel rattled inside. I couldn’t remember him ever losing his composure. He was a pillar of strength and the one everyone counted on for support.
He took in a deep breath and pushed his chair away from his desk. “I will be, and so will you. We’ll get through this.”
“Get through what?” Something big had happened, but I had no idea what it was.
“Let’s get back to the house.” He kept hold of my hand as we walked out to Celia’s desk.
She hung up the phone and looked up us. “They’ll send someone over to talk to you about your options.”
“Who?” I planted my feet, unwilling to move until someone told me what the heck was going on.
Dad squeezed my hand as his eyes met mine. “The Rebel Hearts. They’re a local motorcycle club. Celia seems to think they might be the only ones who can help us right now.”