Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
T wo weeks later, Rev joined her for a volunteer day at Laurel Grove. During her visits, Vera helped guests with legal advice, aid paperwork, job applications—whatever her skillset could offer them.
They all did their part. Cyn gave self-defense classes, and Skye taught computers. Ros offered general business principles and tips on acing job interviews, while for Abby it was accounting and bookkeeping. Learning employable skills and care for themselves built confidence in people who’d had it stripped from them, or never had it before.
The men helped, too. Tiger worked on vehicles, and fixed up old beaters to expand transportation options. Lawrence coached the kids on sports. When Neil and Mick were in town they came, too, doing maintenance, and interacting with the kids to prove real men weren’t cruel and mean.
Though Vera showed Rev the rules for volunteers, she knew he wouldn’t need much guidance. His church did charity work for NOLA’s homeless shelters and associated agencies. But the main reason he didn’t need much direction was simple. He was Rev.
She turned him over to the day manager, and went to the small room set up with folding table and chairs to meet with her scheduled appointments.
As she finished the last one, Skye appeared in the doorway. “Come see this,” she signed.
Vera followed her friend through the big rambling house to a communal living space. Rev was sitting on a stool far too small for him, but made it look comfortable, his feet braced and hands resting loosely on his spread and bent knees. A child stood on the outside of either knee, listening attentively to him.
He was telling Bible stories, and integrating some singing into it. Though what he sang were playful rhymes and he kept his volume low, his compelling voice had drawn a crowd. Mothers perched on secondhand sofas or folding chairs, kept stacked in here for group counseling sessions. Many held children in their laps. Others lined the walls to listen.
While many of the kids were young, some were teens, including a boy so skinny a good wind could take him away. Rev’s gaze strayed to him several times. He was remembering Craig, she knew. He’d gone to the juvenile detention center to meet with him a couple times, though the boy had been unresponsive to anyone, even his own bewildered and horrified parents.
This scene was poignant and heartwarming, a needed contrast. Skye touched her arm, directing Vera’s attention toward what her friend really wanted her to see.
Cyn was leaning against the wall, listening to the stories with as much attention as anyone else. Mick stood next to her, his hand braced above her head. Like many here, they’d seen the worst side of humanity. Rev’s words offered a balm, maybe in a way they hadn’t expected. He had that effect.
Since Cyn was as situationally aware as a feral cat, she noticed Vera’s arrival. Saying something to Mick, she tugged on the front of his shirt, an affectionate gesture, before sliding over to Vera and Skye.
“At first, I watched him because I didn’t want him bible thumping,” she admitted quietly, “But he’s not like that.”
“No, he’s not. I wouldn’t bring him if he was. I wouldn’t be with him if he was. I’m also bringing him to dinner tonight,” Vera added.
“We’d be pissed if you didn’t,” Skye responded, signing.
“The Bible also say there a time to dance.” Rev said, concluding his story. He swept his gaze around the room. “I think now is that time.”
“‘Says,’” one of the girls declared. “The Bible also says , there’s a time to dance.”
“Is that how it go? Well, that works, too.” Rev smiled at her. “It important to go to school and learn how to speak proper. See, you already taught me better. Maybe you be a teacher one day.”
She beamed at him. “Then I’ll tell all the students what to do.”
Vera suppressed a chuckle and exchanged a glance with Cyn and Skye. “Next generation Domme, in the making.”
Rev’s attention moved to the emaciated teen, dropping to the phone in his hand. “Anything on that have a beat that’ll work?”
A tentative smile crossed the boy’s face. He called up his music, scrolled through and pressed play. A tinny version of Olly Murs “Dance With Me Tonight” started, with the toe-tapping drumbeat.
There was a set of speakers nearby, and the boy connected his phone to them. As the music filled the room, its cheerful vigor and Rev’s smile had even the shyer kids slipping off their mothers’ laps to dance with him.
Rev swayed back and forth, clapped and spun. He led them in some nonsensical dance moves, making the children laugh. Then he picked a child to choose the next dance move. Then another.
A woman at the wall was tapping her foot, despite a bruised face and her arm being in a sling. Rev offered her his hand in his gentle way. “Let’s show ‘em how it’s done.”
A considering pause, then she put her hand in his. He back strolled them into the circle, snapping his fingers with his free hand, and guiding her in a turn under his arm, being careful of her one in the sling. When she smiled, the bruises on her face didn’t disappear, but held less weight. Her six-year-old boy came with her, and Rev incorporated him into the dance they were doing until Rev relinquished her to her son. “You take over now,” he told him. “A boy should always be willing to dance with his momma.”
“Fucking hell,” Cyn murmured. “I’m half in love with him already. No offense,” she told Mick.
“None taken. I’m totally smitten myself, and I’m as straight as a Roman pillar.” Mick shot Vera an amused look.
After several songs, a staff member announced it was lunch time. When the boy disconnected his phone from the speakers, Rev was talking to him. The boy stiffened as Rev put a hand on his shoulder, but relaxed into the contact as Rev kept talking. He nodded and sauntered off to lunch.
As Rev moved toward Vera, a little girl with an eye patch and an earnest expression intercepted him. She wore jeans with daisies embroidered on the pockets, matching the daisy fasteners in her dark hair. She reached out and gripped his hand. “Will you come sit at the table with me and my mom?”
“I need to do some more chores. But I appreciate you asking. It always nice to have a pretty little lady wanting to spend time with big old me.”
She giggled and left to find her mother. As Rev reached Vera and the others, he spoke low, but with feeling. “They want daddies so bad, it breaks the heart.”
“It’s a good sign for her, though,” Stefanie said. The staff member was leaning against the wall on Vera’s other side. “When she first came here, men scared her half to death. All she expected from them was yelling and hitting. She’s made great strides. Now we work on the deeper stuff.”
At Rev’s curious look, Stefanie added, “We build up her self-esteem so she doesn’t backtrack in her future relationships, looking to fill that need for a father by trusting anyone who comes along, and ending up down the same path her mother did. But her mom’s made good progress in that direction, and she’s the most important role model her daughter can have in valuing herself.”
“You have a hard job,” Rev said. “That’s a lot to work through and figure out.”
“Volunteers like you remind us that learning to have fun and enjoy life is a big part of that healing process. And helps with the harder challenges. Thank you. Thank you all,” she told Vera.
Vera could tell it helped Rev to hear that. Craig would be going through counseling, part of his road to trial and sentencing. Cyn touched her arm. “We’re headed out. We’ll see you tonight.”
Her gaze rested on Rev as she said it. Though she’d seemed to enjoy his singing and Bible stories, Vera could tell Cyn had more on her mind on the subject. She’d likely bring it up at dinner. Vera considered slipping a tranquilizer in her drink. Or taking one herself.
Cyn and Mick moved away, Mick giving Rev a friendly nod.
“Tonight?” Rev asked.
“We have a once-a-month dinner, Ros, Cyn, Skye, Abby and me, and their men. Bastion has a standing invite to it, and he comes every once in a while, but he prefers different haunts. We rotate the location between our houses. Tonight it’s at Neil and Abby’s place outside the city. It’s a bit of a drive, but would you like to go?”
“Would you have invited me if it hadn’t come up just now? I know you a very polite Southern woman.”
“Not that polite. For your information, I told them I was bringing you a few minutes ago. I was debating whether I wanted to do that, or skip the dinner, take you home and do other things with you.”
He raised an intrigued brow and leaned in, hand braced by her head, those gingerbread-colored eyes heated and close. “Maybe we can do both, Mistress. I got a lot of stamina, but if I run out, the Lord will provide.”
She laughed. “I’m moving before lightning strikes this doorway.”
The evening’s mild weather made it a good night to have dinner outdoors, lit torches and the breeze keeping mosquitos and gnats at bay.
Since he and Abby had married, Neil had made some changes to the small house he lived in on the bayou, including a deck built off his boat dock, accommodating a grill area and scattered chairs. He’d also expanded the screened porch for a treated wood table that could seat a dozen people or more.
“I helped,” Abby noted.
“You sure did.” Neil slid an arm around her. “You were cute as a button, with bouncy ponytail, shorts, sneakers, and sawdust on your nose.”
He was able to catch the thrown punch, though only because he had the training to do so. Thanks to Cyn, Abby was no lightweight. None of them were.
“Don’t ask me why I’m hesitant to hand her power tools,” Neil told a grinning Tiger.
Vera sat next to Ros, enjoying the relaxing pastime of watching her closest friends and their men socialize. Tonight that pastime included Rev, but her attention on him wasn’t casual, for several reasons.
She’d meant what she said to him, about being the earthly person he could lean upon. Physically, he’d recovered from the shooting, but he was dealing with the emotional fallout. The hurt he carried over it was deep.
She also watched him because the monthly dinner was a true family gathering. She was surprisingly nervous about it, which had no basis in anything. Everyone here would be kind to him—even Cyn, in her own way—and he was easy with people.
Her nerves were because there was a significance to her inviting him to be here, and they all knew it.
He and Skye were sitting together, and he was trying his sign language on her. Rev took his mistakes with humor, just as he had with the student at the school, and followed Skye’s lead when she showed him the right way to say what he was trying to tell her with his hands.
Skye looked pleased. Though she was proficient with her voice recordings, her reaction to sign language fluency—or the attempts to become fluent—was no different from how anyone in a foreign country felt when they crossed paths with someone who could speak their language.
Tiger, standing at the grill with Neil and Lawrence, watched his Mistress. His look held a million things, light and dark, primal and elevated, all under the heading of love. Desire, interest, protection, regard, respect, hunger, possession. Need. Joy and care. Happiness, contentment. It forged the bond anyone with eyes and a heart could feel when they saw it, and it was expressed with the same elements between all the couples.
Tiger had been part of the Club Progeny world when he and Skye had gotten together. Before that, every woman here had enjoyed sessions with him. Lawrence and Mick were committed alpha submissives, so understood that without confusion. Neil was a unique Dom in his understanding of Abby’s needs as another Dominant, but likely because of her illness and its management, he’d gotten a quicker than usual crash course in how essential every stabilizing bond in her life was, including those with former submissive partners like Tiger.
When Cyn had found Mick, and Vera had become the only one without a soulmate, seeing those ties had made the dinners less enjoyable to her. Not something she admitted to anyone. The gut-deep “they don’t really need me” feeling she despised was a hydra whose heads could never be terminally pinched off.
Tonight, she understood how pathetic that feeling had been. Having a man like this with her, who made her feel the way Rev did, reminded her of the many different ways that love expressed itself, and how strong her ties with the other women were, built on the experiences and times shared.
She hoped, if she did have to give Rev up, that she would remember that, and not let that feeling return.
All that said, having her own man looking her way, often enough to make sure she was doing well or didn’t need anything, was a nice new feeling.
Now Rev was half singing, half speaking a hymn to Skye in a low voice, with lots of starts and stops. She was showing him how to sign the lyrics. Vera imagined him doing it at the church, where the sweeping movements of his large hands would add to the beauty of his voice.
“So how many bodies have you dumped here, Neil?”
Cyn and Mick were sitting on the bench at the end of the dock, Cyn’s leg casually looped over Mick’s thigh, his arm around her back and hand resting on her hip. They were close enough to the grill to listen in on the conversation between Tiger, Neil and Lawrence, but far enough to do their own reconnecting, since Mick had returned a day ago from a special ops consult in Texas. He’d offered his experience to an agency attempting to shut down criminal organizations active at the Mexican border.
However, since they were now bantering with Neil, Vera knew it was a good moment for her to handle something else. She caught Cyn’s attention with a raised hand. “Come sit with me a minute and let Mick supervise Neil, make sure your veggie burger isn’t touching the dead animals.”
“Neil knows better,” Cyn said, but agreeably rose, Mick’s hand sliding over her hips to help her to her feet and enjoy the contact. She shot him a heated look and half smile from under her tangle of brown curls and came to sit next to Vera. Ros strolled over to the grill to lean against the rail next to Lawrence, hips brushing as she sipped her drink.
Cyn nodded at Rev. “He handled himself well today.”
“He’s comfortable with people. He works with kids during the day, and is a leader in his church.”
“I thought his cousin was the preacher.”
“Yes. But Rev…I think he’s the talent. The real deal that strengthens the faith of the congregation.”
“He’s the sales guy.”
“No. I wouldn’t put it that way. Not the way you’re meaning it.” Vera nudged her. “What’s going on? I thought you had made peace with some of this.”
“Yeah, and no. It became less important. I think he’s just rubbing me the wrong way.”
“Him or his faith?”
“Are the two separate? They don’t seem like it.”
“When you do it right, they’re usually not. I follow the Wiccan faith, and it speaks to me, guides me in my choices. You know that about me, and it doesn’t seem to bother you.”
Cyn took a swallow of her drink. “I’m just able to accept your version of the spiritual hoodoo because it’s more like Halloween than Easter, and I like Halloween.”
“That is an insulting oversimplification of two very powerful and complicated spiritual paths.”
“I aim to offend. It’s my reason for getting up in the morning.”
“It used to be.” Vera glanced at Mick, who’d picked a soda out of the cooler and taken a seat in a chair near Neil and Tiger. “I think you have other reasons for getting out of bed.”
“Uh, no. He’s my reason for staying in it.”
Vera tapped her bottle of water against Cyn’s. “What you believe in, deep in your heart, what helps the world make sense to you, that’s a big part of your personal fabric, right? Your love for Mick, no matter how you shrug it off, is your spiritual compass.”
“Spiritual compass and fuck toy. They go hand in hand in my one-woman church.”
“Are you planning to expand the congregation?”
“Not if I can help it. It makes arguing about dogma a lot easier.” Cyn sobered, her eyes on Rev. “I have my own shit about it, Vera, but be careful. Just because he has his head on straight, doesn’t mean his family does, and their dislike for you oozes out of their pores. Lawrence gets some serious weird vibes off the aunt, and after the hospital, I agree.”
“You think an elderly church woman is going to jump me one night while I’m leaving my favorite coffee shop?”
“Someone’s beliefs can make them do stupid, violent shit, no matter how harmless they seem.” Cyn’s troubled dark eyes turned to Vera. “I know you can handle yourself, as long as you don’t forget to watch for a threat. But what I worry about more is how they might mess with his head, so he breaks your heart.
“I know I’m impulsive,” she added, “but my gut doesn’t lie to me. I like him, I do. I just wish he didn’t come with all the rest.”
Vera couldn’t deny Cyn’s perspective made her uneasy, but she kept her tone light. “Do we know any man worth the trouble who doesn’t come with baggage? And would we like to turn that mirror on ourselves?”
Cyn made a face. “Stop pointing out stuff that makes sense or I’ll start calling you Mom again.”
“And I’ll do what I did last time you tried that. I’ll have Skye leak doctored pictures of you at a Taylor Swift concert, wearing a sparkly rainbow unicorn shirt.”
Cyn’s grin ended the conversation’s serious tone. “I love it when your inner sadist comes out to play.”
Rev was aware dinner was an audition of sorts. Casual lovers were not brought to this. Only family.
He thought of what Lawrence had told him at Progeny, that his job wasn’t to worry about what they all were thinking. It was to care for Veracity, what mattered to her, what she needed. This was an opportunity for a deeper understanding of that.
He was different from the other four men. In one way or another, they had the heightened awareness of their surroundings and keen attention to detail that came from dangerous career paths.
Neil was an active SEAL and Lawrence a former one, and the two men were closely bonded from having served together. Tiger owned a successful local garage and liked to customize motorcycles as a side business. His former life as a member of the Fallen Angels, an outlaw MC notorious in the New Orleans area, still rested behind his eyes, though, a lightly sleeping lion. Mick was a former cop and undercover agent from the human trafficking world.
Even if Vera hadn’t told him, Rev could tell which man and woman were together. Those puzzle pieces hooked directly together, while the rest formed the full picture, a unique family of Dominants and submissives.
Lawrence made sure Ros was never low on her wine or in need of anything. She watched him banter with Neil, a light smile on her lips, a warmth in her eyes that said she had her hand on the thread to whatever was going on in Lawrence’s head and heart.
Tiger used sign language with Skye. She almost never used her recorded voices with him. Rev could pick up the tone of their conversation from gestures and facial expressions. When Tiger sat down on the bench by the grill, Skye climbed into his lap, her knees bent, his tattooed arm going around her to hold her secure as she obviously teased him with quickly moving hands and a dancing light in her eyes. Though his own dark blue gaze rested upon her with devotion, a moment later he groaned and dropped his head back at whatever she’d said, making Mick and Cyn laugh.
Cyn’s razor-sharp edges didn’t come out to cut her man, except maybe in the ways Mick wanted. When Cyn’s hand rested on Mick’s arm, Rev noted her nails bit into his skin, a promise of the pain she could inflict. When she did that, Mick adjusted his hand on her shoulder, his thumb sliding along the side of her throat to caress her. Their bodies were so close, it was as if they wanted to be one person. Or already felt like they were.
Then there was Neil and Abby. Vera had told him that before Skye and Tiger got together, Tiger had been a regular session partner for Abby. Every woman here had “played” with him, and it showed in Tiger’s easy intimacy with them. However, now that he was fully claimed by one Mistress, Rev could also tell—with relief—that bond had priority.
Vera said that when Abby came to the club with Neil, sometimes they would choose a male sub for her to enjoy as a Mistress, but always with Neil present and participating in some way that made it clear who she was going home with.
When Neil had the burgers and shrimp ready, they sat down on the screened porch, gathering around the yellow pine table a friend of Neil’s had built for him. There was cucumber and tomato salad, fresh corn on the cob, bread baked by Cyn, and green beans from Vera’s canned garden stores.
Rev intended to bow his head for a brief silent prayer, but Vera spoke. “Would anyone mind if I have Rev say a prayer over the food?”
“Since Neil cooked the shrimp, it might be needed,” Lawrence said.
“I spit on yours, Munch,” Neil told him. “It’s all good.”
Rev noticed Cyn’s expression wasn’t encouraging, but not against it. Just neutral, her gaze on Vera.
“I’m fine doing it quiet,” Rev told Vera.
“I know. I’d like you to say a prayer for us, Rev. I wouldn’t presume to command you on your faith, but I’m asking.”
“If you asking, Mistress, it no different than a command to me.”
His response brought everyone’s attention to him, but he saw no reason to say less than the truth to her. As he bowed his head, Vera’s hand curled around his. He’d left his other hand out and Skye took it, her clasp certain. He didn’t have to look to see what the others did. He felt it when the circle closed. It infused him with warmth. The tightening of Vera’s hand confirmed what he could feel.
“Thank you, Lord, for the food before us and the blessings you give us, but most especially for Love, the greatest blessing of all. You taught me early that Love comes to us the strongest when we surrender to it. I see that in those around this table tonight, and I’m grateful they and You let me be here to witness it.”
He paused, Craig’s face in his mind, Mrs. Cuddy’s, those kids who’d been hurt. He didn’t turn the reaction away. Grief like that should be felt and honored. “And I know that whatever happens to us, You there to help get us through. I can feel it, that every person around this table know that Love is there, as close and ready as the hand they clasping. Amen.”
“Blessed be,” Vera murmured.
The conversation bounced around as they ate, comments about the food and work. Sessions at Progeny were also brought up.
“What did you think of that portable stock you can suspend from ropes or chains?” Cyn asked the other women. “Mistress Lace M. Tight tried it out last weekend.”
“I think it would choke someone with a neck as thick as Tiger’s.” James Earl Jones voiced Skye’s opinion through her recorder.
“The pads on the inside can be removed for someone with a bigger neck,” Cyn told her.
Seeing Rev’s puzzled look, Vera explained. “You remember the big stock you saw at Progeny, anchored to the floor? With holes for a person’s neck and wrists?”
“Yeah. I remember.”
“This one is more portable. It’s a square, formed by two pieces of hinged wood. It’s about eighteen inches long. It’s fitted around the submissive’s neck, holding him in place, whether standing or sitting. The weight of the wood is taken off the collar bones by attaching suspended chains or ropes to the two hooks screwed into the wood.”
“It requires careful attention,” Ros told him. “If you bliss out your sub and his knees buckle, or he slumps over and that board’s in the wrong position, it could press on the throat in a dangerous way. But for early stages in the session, it’s nice. Gives the sub a different experience. Whistler got pretty wound up over it with Laci.”
“He gets bored quickly,” Vera observed. “So that was a good option. It keeps him guessing and on his toes.”
“Literally, if she takes up the slack on the chains.” Cyn pointed at Ros with cornbread for emphasis.
“Speaking of which, the club has switched out a few of the restraint systems with Tetruss cuffs,” Abby noted. “You can keep subs up on their toes with less abrasion to the wrists.”
The Dommes moved from that to other equipment at the club that they liked, the pros and cons. The submissives weighed in on them from their perspective.
No matter how matter-of-factly the subject matter was presented, Rev couldn’t avoid his body’s reaction to it. Vera’s hand slid up and down his leg, slow, her head tipping up so she could gaze at his face. She was pleased he was getting worked up.
And he wasn’t alone. Ros’s hand was also below the table. Rev couldn’t see where it was, but the heated way Lawrence was looking at her, the curl of his fingers on the back of her chair, gave him that answer. Skye was leaning against Tiger, his arm hooked over her neck, thumb brushing the upper curve of her breast. The sensual tone in the voices of those talking ran smooth through Rev, like hot syrup off a stack of pancakes.
Then the conversation took a different turn.
Throughout the meal, Cyn’s eyes had returned to Rev. On the next lull in the conversation, she changed the topic.
“So Rev… Do you have your people’s pat response to why bad things happen to good people? Pedophiles, tsunamis that kill thousands, every kid or puppy out there crying alone in the cold, hungry or hurting. We don’t know what the fuck that reason is, but that’s okay, just keep tripping along, happy as clams in the sunlight of God’s love, and it will all make sense eventually. God’s all powerful, God doesn’t make mistakes, God’s shit don’t stink.”
“Wow,” Tiger observed, stretching out one leg under the table to nudge Cyn’s boot. “Way to put a guy on the hot plate.”
“Yes, and don’t .” Vera pinned Cyn with a hard look. “I mean it.”
“Veracity.” Rev put his hand over hers. “I thank you for your care, but I can speak for myself.”
His thumb slid over her palm, a secret caress to confirm it. Then he turned his attention to Cyn. “You angry, like a lot of people. Angry for the pain done to you, yes, but especially to those you care about. Ain’t nobody understand it, Miss Cyn. Everyone I ever met, including me, struggles with that, no matter what we believe. Only belief that answers it is no belief at all, but that emptiness has a cost too big.”
He moved his hand to where the bullet had hit his side. His pain-filled eyes, the harsh ache in his voice, showed Cyn and all of them what Vera had felt churning inside him for days, how he’d struggled with what had happened.
“I don’t know why a good teacher had to die, or how a boy get so messed up in his head that he think killing someone is the way to deal with that pain.”
Silence gripped the table. Vera knew his words found the vulnerable spots in all of them. For Neil, Lawrence and Mick, it would be the lives they’d seen end—sometimes because they’d had to be the ones to take them. For Ros and Abby, it was Laurel’s death from her husband’s abuse, as well as the death of Abby’s own mother, who took her own life rather than deal another minute with the illness her daughter had inherited.
For Skye, it would be the father she’d lost with her voice, who’d died within arm’s reach of her. And for Cyn…she’d been born having to fight, and lost more of those battles than she’d won. It hadn’t defeated her, but she carried scars that still festered.
“But when I was growing up,” Rev said, “a preacher told me you can lean on your faith to give you the strength to deal with pain, or you can be angry and hate and turn your back on it, to punish it for not riding to the rescue. Now words is words. They don’t mean much. But he backed it up with his own experience.
“He say, ‘I’ve done both, and I can tell you, the second one, it don’t do you or anyone else around you any good. The first, somehow, it help you get through it and appreciate the blessings in your life, which manage to show themselves, even in the worst times.’”
Rev shook his head. “Hate just don’t do anyone any good. If you feel it in your heart, your first job is to find a way to get rid of that poison before it infects everything about you.”
As his gaze moved to each of them, Vera could tell that Rev felt those currents of memory and experience, even if he didn’t know the details. He hadn’t told them he had the answer, or even that God did. His words acknowledged their confusion and pain, and offered all he could. His understanding. And hope.
She was tense, waiting to see what Cyn would do. The intelligent brown eyes had rested on him throughout the explanation, her mouth a thin line. Now it eased a fraction. “Okay. Decent answer. Next question.”
“Great Goddess,” Vera muttered.
“Tonight’s interrogation dinner will include a rack of testicles over a bed of marinated nails.” Skye was still using James Earl Jones’ voice, only now it sounded like his Darth Vader character, complete with heavy breathing.
Ros leaned over Lawrence to murmur to Vera. “If he can’t handle Cyn, you chose the wrong person, and I don’t think you did. Look at him. He’s fine. He wants to answer her.”
Mick was leaning back against one of the porch support posts, his fingers caressing his Mistress’s shoulder. He sent Vera a look that included a flicker of amusement, a tug at his firm mouth. It was reinforcement of Ros’s reassurance, she was certain.
Cyn ignored the byplay to deliver her question. “Your family doesn’t like Vera. Why are you so sure they’re wrong, sure enough to be here, instead of kicking her to the curb?” Her attention slid to Ros. “If I’m being an ass, I’ll stop. But Vera is important to us. To me.”
Cyn met Rev’s gaze again. “She’s been our spiritual backbone for a long time. She helped me believe there’s something out there to have faith in. I don’t want anyone messing with hers.”
Thinking this had been about exorcising Cyn’s own demons or testing Rev’s mettle again, Vera was taken off guard. And deeply moved. She found herself at a loss for words, but that was all right, since it was Rev that Cyn was expecting to answer her.
Rev propped his elbows on the table, his fingers laced together as he dipped his head, thinking. No quick response. Cyn waited him out, as did everyone else. They respected taking the time to do things right. To answer from the heart, and Rev would search his to do it.
“Faith is something that’s always being messed with. Ain’t strong unless it’s tested.” Vera saw a tightness around his mouth and a different kind of shadows in his eyes. Just like the school shooting, he wasn’t hiding how his family’s behavior was making him feel. Vera put her hand on his back, feeling his heart beat through his shirt. He gave her a look of gratitude.
“My family don’t understand, but I believe they will, in time. They’ll learn that they wrong to worry about me and Vera. Because seeking love, when it true and pure, and what it should be, is always God’s will. I think sometimes even when it’s not what it should be, because you got to learn the way of it, and that means mistakes, failing at it.
“There’s a man in our church, Vince. He done had two marriages, and losing both through divorce nearly did him in, because he has a heart made for love. But this last one, she was the right one. And he told me what he learned from the other two helped him find her.”
When Vera moved her hand back to his leg, he laced his fingers with hers, looking down as he traced the tip of a manicured nail. Then he raised his gaze back to Cyn. “What I said that first day in your office is still true. No matter what happens, Miss Cyn, I’ll care for her heart. I promise you that. I promise all of you that.”
Just as he had that day, his gaze moved to Ros, acknowledging her as the head of the family.
“I know Vera can take care of herself, Rev,” Ros said. “She’s handled some deep hurts in her life. I’ll give you an assurance, too, because I know you mean what you say. If you end up being one of those deep hurts, not because you intend her harm, but because it’s another step in the journey, like you described, she’ll be able to handle it. Because she has us, always.”
His mouth tightened, but he nodded. “Thank you, ma’am. I glad to know that.”
He glanced at Cyn. “If it all right with you, Miss Cyn, I think it might be time to enjoy this fine meal without more serious talk. Maybe we could talk more later, if you want.”
“Amen,” Abby said, inspiring laughter around the table. When Rev winked at Vera, she freed her hand from his to squeeze his thigh.
Neil nudged a bowl of sugared pecans closer to his plate. They’d had them out as appetizers before the meal, and transferred the remainder to the table to have with dinner. “Noticed you tucked away a couple handfuls of these,” the SEAL said. “I think you just earned some more.”
Rev chuckled. “My sweet tooth can get away with me. I like those in particular. They sell heated ones at the candy shop along my bus route.”
Cyn gave Vera a “we okay?” look. Cyn’s expressed feelings about their friendship and faith made Vera feel like hugging her. Such a gesture would horrify Cyn, which was reason enough to do it. However, since Vera didn’t want to move from the warmth of Rev’s side, she gave Cyn the “I’m watching you” gesture as her answer. It made Cyn grin, as expected, and restored things to an even keel.
For a few moments at least. Once the dinner was concluded and the dishes were cleared, her contentious younger sister-of-the-heart had another mission. She brought it up as they were lounging in chairs on the deck, letting the meal digest before coffee and dessert.
Neil was cleaning the grill while Lawrence and Abby perched on the rail. Tiger leaned against it, a beer clasped in loose fingers. Mick and Cyn had chosen two side by side chairs, and Ros was in one that gave her a good view of Lawrence. Skye sat on the bench near Tiger, her knees folded up and heels on the edge of the wood as she sipped a soda. Vera and Rev were on the two-person love seat with canvas cushions.
“What kind of fight skills do you have, Rev?” Cyn asked.
“This is her soap box,” Vera informed Rev. She rested against his side, her fingers playing with his on her shoulder. “She thinks everyone should be a trained assassin.”
“I believe everyone should have the skills to protect themselves and others,” Cyn corrected. “And from what I’ve seen, it seems like he could use some.”
She was remembering the video she’d watched over Vera’s shoulder. The slight tension in Rev’s body told Vera he’d made that connection himself. “I wouldn’t have hit Craig,” Rev said.
“No? Even to keep him from shooting anyone else? There are tactics you could have used to disarm him.”
“Yes, I know. I used them.”
Rev and Cyn’s gazes locked and held.
“Cyn.” Vera spoke, low, drawing the woman’s gaze. This was raw wound territory, and Cyn had to know it.
“She trying to protect you. And me. I’ll take that as a compliment.” Rev attempted a smile, moving them to more amiable ground. “You’re right, I haven’t had much call to learn how to fight like that. Never needed to know how before, don’t exactly know why, because I been places where people are too used to fighting. But don’t hurt to be prepared. The kids I played with growing up were afraid Teena Joy, my aunt, would take a strip off them if I came home with a scratch.”
“Overprotective females are the worst, aren’t they?” Mick commented to Lawrence. He gave a narrow-eyed Cyn an innocent smile as Lawrence grinned at his own Mistress.
“I wouldn’t know.”
Ros shook her head at them and turned to Rev. “Whether elbowing your way through tourists on Bourbon Street or breaking up a fight with middle school kids, it doesn’t hurt to have some moves.” She shot a glance at Cyn. “Despite her breathtaking lack of tact and timing, she’s a very good self-defense teacher.”
Neil gestured at Rev with his beer. “Don’t worry. Her trained assassin shit is a more advanced class. That’s where she requires a blood oath.”
“I think that’s a blood donation.” Lawrence squinted as if trying to remember.
“I’ll be happy to draw some of yours later,” Cyn promised him. “Asshole.”
“Hey, hey, hey.” Tiger wagged a finger at her and Mick. “None of your foreplay shit in front of the rest of us. I’ve just eaten a heavy meal.”
Cyn rose. “Neil has a workout area out front. I’ll show you a couple things, Rev. We can spar.”
Rev stood, but looked her up and down and shook his head. “No ma’am.”
“You pull the ‘you’re a woman’ shit, and we’ll go a round right here.”
“Cyn.” Ros drew her attention. “It’s not always about that.”
“Not entirely true,” Rev said courteously to her boss. “I won’t lift a hand against a woman.”
“Cyn,” Vera snapped and stood up as Cyn took a step toward him. She wouldn’t put it past Cyn to throw a punch to make him rethink that position.
In an adroit move, Rev put his hands on Vera’s shoulders and moved her in front of him. It brought Cyn up short and made Tiger laugh outright, a sexy, masculine rumble. When Cyn shot him a venomous look, he lifted one hand in an “I’m Switzerland” move.
Rev gauged Tiger’s considerable size. “If you wouldn’t mind having him show me what you have in mind,” he said, “we can do that.”
“He would have chosen you, Munch, except sparring with someone your height just doesn’t seem fair,” Neil said to Lawrence.
“I didn’t get this shit when you all needed a guy to get into a tight tunnel,” Lawrence noted.
“Yeah, you did. We were just a little nicer about it.” Neil formed a narrow space between thumb and forefinger. “Little. Like you.”
“Munch?” Rev asked.
“Munchkin,” Neil told him, and ducked Lawrence’s lunge at him with the grill brush, the men ably demonstrating their skills, even in mock sparring.
“Dinner and a show,” Skye signed to Ros. “Can’t beat it.”
“It’s a nickname our team tagged him with early,” Neil explained. “They call me Twizzler, because I was a bean pole in BUD/S and they found a picture of me when I was a kid, sunburned to lobster red.”
Rev had stayed behind Vera, fingers firm on her shoulders. She leaned back, her hips pressed to him because it felt too good not to do it. If he got an erection from it, the women would notice with as much appreciation as they were giving to Neil and Lawrence’s wrestling match. His hands tightened on her, and he shot her a wry look before it switched to grave courtesy.
“You seem to know a lot about fighting, Miss Cyn. I wouldn’t mind learning some things, thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Fine. Stop using Vera as a human shield, you big pussy.”
The dinner party relocated to the front, their interested audience securing vantage points on the porch and steps.
“Might be better for me to take the lead on this one anyway,” Tiger advised Cyn. “Since he’s not planning on formal martial arts classes, what he needs are street fighting skills, defensive moves to defuse a situation fast.”
“Nothing defuses a situation like a knockout punch,” Cyn responded. “Or a broken knee cap.”
“Probably not the best way to break up a fight between students,” Rev put in helpfully. “Miss Mavis wouldn’t be happy, and the parents might be upset.”
“Bunch of bleeding hearts,” Cyn grumbled, but she yielded to Tiger’s take on things.
As Tiger and Cyn began their instruction, Vera wasn’t surprised that Rev picked up on the tactics well enough to suggest he had some natural skill. When Neil stepped in to add his input, Vera saw a flash of memory on Ros’s face. Not a good one. Her boss was remembering the close call that had happened here on this porch, when Abby’s meds hadn’t been working and she’d had a knife.
Ros had told Vera how Neil had disarmed her, without leaving so much as a bruise. Which meant Neil was a good choice to provide Rev useful tips for a do-no-harm-if-possible situation.
Though Rev had made it clear he wouldn’t have done it differently, Vera wouldn’t mind knowing he could bring additional skills to a situation like that, other than the hope and faith that it wasn’t his time to die. God approved of those who helped themselves, right?
Rev had ducked out of a hold with Tiger and Tiger was showing him how to do a leg sweep and bring him down to the ground, their bodies pushed into one another, Tiger’s arm extended as he showed Rev the kind of hold he should have on it.
Now that she wasn’t as worried about Cyn’s motives, Vera could indulge herself. Watching handsome men grapple was stimulating. The others were watching attentively. Abby sat in a chair, her knees drawn up, head resting on them. Ros stroked a hand through her friend’s long red hair as she sipped a glass of wine. Cyn perched on the rail, throwing in tips. Skye was just below her on the steps, but she had her tablet out. When Vera leaned over to see what she was creating, a smile crossed her face.
A graphic rendering of Rev and Tiger, gladiators in an arena, while intrigued women in Roman dress watched.
“Gladiator Night,” Skye wrote on the screen.
“Make sure that goes into the suggestion box at Progeny,” Vera said.
During dessert and coffee, Vera helped Abby finish up the dishes in the kitchen while Cyn and Rev walked to the end of the pier together. Vera expected Rev was giving her the chance to have more of that conversation he’d promised.
Vera had thought about going with him, but he’d squeezed her hand, and brushed his lips over her temple.
“No need to babysit me, Mistress. I be all right with her. I can see her heart, same as you.”
She trusted his take on it, but she still kept her eye on them. They sat caddy corner to one another on the dock benches, Rev listening while Cyn spoke. When he responded, she had a thoughtful air, but not a tense or unhappy one.
“She’s gone from evaluating him on your behalf, to accepting and wanting to understand him better,” Abby said. “It’s a good sign.”
“I always hope we don’t put them through too much to be part of this inner circle, but…”
“But they wouldn’t be who we want, if they didn’t embrace and meet the challenge.”
Abby pressed against Vera’s shoulder. The wind through the screened window lifted her hair, blowing it against her delicate cheek. Abby’s unearthly beauty sometimes added to Ros’s constant worry about losing her.
She looks like an angel who took a wrong turn and ended up here.
That worry had fortunately lessened, thanks to Neil and Dr. Maureen Whisnant, Abby’s wonderful psychiatrist and a fast friend of the TRA group.
“How do you do it, Abby?” Vera said, watching Rev. “Love Neil so much and not lose your mind worrying about him being where so many bad things could happen to him?”
“I’ve already lost my mind. Got the certificate and everything. So that box has been checked.” Abby slipped her arm through Vera’s. “Seriously, having practice dealing with unpredictability helps. I have superhero crisis coping skills. And what’s the alternative? Not love someone who’s offering me every part of himself? He’s the person who made me want to keep breathing, living, and dealing with all the bad shit in my head.”
She looked at Neil, who was having one of his quiet moments, leaning on the dock rail and gazing out at the water. Feeling her regard, the tall man glanced over his shoulder and gave her a half-smile, his slate-colored eyes fixed upon her.
“Makes my knees weak, every time,” she murmured, and shook her head. “When I let go of the fear and guilt about inflicting my crazy on him, I gained a new truth, and that truth was that he wanted to be with me through everything. He feels that desire and need as much as I do. The few minutes of peace and joy I have with him, whenever the world gives me that break, has proven to be enough to make it all worth it. Something I never would have believed before I experienced it.”
Her eyes twinkled. “Doesn’t hurt that he’s terrific eye candy, gives me fabulous orgasms, and is willing to care for me in whatever way I need.”
“Yeah, there’s that.”
Cyn rose. She put a brief hand on Rev’s shoulder and said something. From the softening of Cyn’s face, Vera thought she’d said something about the school shooting. Whatever it was helped, because it showed in his expression.
Cyn joined Mick, sitting in a deck chair, his feet braced on the unlit fire pit. Lawrence and Ros sat across from him. Cyn took the chair at Mick’s side.
Rev got up and moved down the ramp to the floating dock where Neil kept his boat tied. He gazed out at the water, his shoulders set.
Because she’d stood at that spot at other dinners, she knew the flowing current would mute the sounds of land. Facing the water at night, a person could imagine they were alone, except for the whispering cypress trees and pines, and the occasional splash as fish jumped, or frogs or alligators entered or left the water.
Rev would be listening to those sounds echoing through the open space between sky and water, the movement of the water a constant.
He’d be thinking about Mrs. Cuddy, Craig and the kids. Or the people at Laurel Grove he’d seen today. The weary but persistent staff and volunteers, the kids and mothers, the lonely teen with his music player, the little girl wanting a father to share a meal with. So many bruised and battered bodies and souls.
Was she so connected to him after such a short time, that her soul could reach out and feel all that from him? Understand how the most spiritually connected person could feel overwhelmed by all of it, not know what to tell someone seeking counsel on how to make sense of it? How not to abandon caring, giving and offering whatever was needed?
She didn’t know what he’d told Cyn, but her expression was more serene than usual. She was listening to a conversation between Ros and Mick, but then they stopped, their attention going toward the floating dock.
Tiger and Neil paused, and Skye turned around, straddling the rail, her sneakers propped on the bottom railing.
Rev was singing. He’d started out low, the melody drifting over the bayou. As his tone gained in volume, she recognized it.
“Jesus Loves Me.”
She left the kitchen and crossed the deck, the eyes of the others on her as she followed the narrow dock out to the boat ramp, her footsteps quiet on the boards. When she reached his side, she laid her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her, smoothing her skirt over her hip.
As his voice rose, she looked at the tops of the trees, where roosting birds would hear the notes. The song spread outward as well, into all the dark, moist corners where life was born, lived and struggled to survive. She thought it would soothe and elevate all who heard it. God, the Lord and Lady, every face of the Divine, had to be smiling.
When he finished, she stayed silent, waiting for the last echoing note to melt into the moving water, blowing wind, the ears of frogs and other nighttime creatures. She wiped away the tears on his cheeks, the heat and dampness of them a sacred anointing she felt deep inside.
“Why that song?” she asked.
“A little girl sung it to me today, to show me she knew a ‘Jesus’ song. She told me when her daddy pushed her down the steps and she broke her leg, she sung that to her momma in the hospital, so her momma wouldn’t cry so much. Said her momma sung it with her and promised she wasn’t going to let no one hurt her no more. Now her momma has a job, and they going to a new apartment next week, a real home where there’s no yelling or hurting. She says she thinks Jesus made that happen, because of her singing that song.”
Vera slid her arms around his broad chest and put her head there as he closed his own arms around her. “The faith of children.”
“Yeah. I don’t see she wrong, though. I think her momma saw that faith, and realized her daughter needed to have faith that her momma would take care of her, and she found the strength to do just that.”
He took a deep breath, easing back enough to give her a half smile, though she saw a lot of things moving behind his eyes. Not all of them were about bad things in the world. “So how many bodies has Neil thrown out here for the gators?”
“None. But I routinely sacrifice Christians here to my pagan alligator gods.” She touched his curved lips. “Thank you for coming with me tonight.”
“I liked being with your family. They like all families. Some easier to get along with than others, but they love one another, and that all that matters.”
“Yes.” She saw the flash of unhappiness in his eyes and knew its source. “Witford’s still giving you crap, isn’t he?”
“He say I’m changing, and taking a path that’s not God’s will. He says I think I need to know all these new things, but those things may not be according to the plan God has for me. He say you not my path, that you’re not God’s will.”
Vera bit back ten things she’d be willing to fire at Witford for that bullshit, but he wasn’t here.
“I know he doing it because he’s confused and hurt and worried,” Rev added. “But it’s hard for me not to listen sometimes. Not because I agree,” he assured her. “What he thinks on that is wrong. But it make me think of things he’s done or said in the past that I let slide, because I know the struggle in his heart.”
He sighed and released her to cross his arms and frown out at the water, a man working a problem. “He’s battling what’s inside him, not me, so I don’t feel the need to lift a shield or weapon in defense. Yet lately…I feel under attack. Got something I want, and they telling me it’s wrong, people I care about and respect. It don’t change the love, but it hits that respect part hard. Makes it hard to be around them. After them showing up at your office, then what happened at the school…”
He gave her a bleak look. “Think I maybe need a break. Get some space from all of it.”
The question in his voice, a seeking, told her he was trusting her for guidance, just as she’d asked him to do. She would live up to that faith. “I just happen to have a free weekend, if you’d like me to share that space. And if you don’t, if you need time on your own, I’ll give that to you, too.”
He framed her face in his hands, a sudden fierce movement. “Let me do something for you, Mistress. Let me give you pleasure and joy, find it together. I don’t want to be further away from you than a breath. I want to steep myself in you. Spend the weekend serving you. May I do that for you, Mistress? My head gets clear when I do that.”
She tried to keep her voice steady. “Yes, you may. And when I let you up for air, I’m going to give you that driving lesson.”
He put his forehead on hers, held her. “All right,” he said. “Thank you.”
She offered him her hand and walked back up the dock with him toward the others. When she was close enough, she called out to Tiger.
“Do you mind if I bring Rev out to your place this weekend to give him some driving lessons?”
“You’re going to let him drive the Aston?” Tiger’s expression warred between doubt and shock. “I’ve changed my mind. You crazy kids are moving way too fast. How about you get married instead?”
Vera laughed as Rev’s brows rose. “Could we use one of your older shop trucks? That was part two of my request.”
“Sure. I’ll leave the keys in it, so if you come while I’m at work, you don’t have to wait on me.”
She smiled up at Rev. “Sounds like a plan.”