Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WREN
Later in the afternoon, I’m still glowing. My belly does this yummy tickling flip every time I recall this morning with Sire.
Is that normal?
I guess I’ll burn in hell because my memories find me chewing my lip while I watch him captivate his flock with his Sunday church service.
He’s not wearing his sexy, dark grey suit as he preaches, and it’s probably for the best. At this rate, I’ll go through four pairs of panties a day, just staring at him.
Today, he wears faded jeans and a loose, V-neck T-shirt. His pristine white Nike Killshots add to his street style. His afternoon service is the contemporary kind. Music. Video screens. He doesn’t even give a sermon, not like what I’m used to—all hellfire and brimstone.
No, he’s like Moses, leading his people into the community. He’s urging his followers to volunteer at least one hour a week.
“It is not enough to be compassionate, you must act,” he says, holding his microphone like a rock star.
“The Dalai Lama said that, and I think he and Jesus would be friends. I think Jesus wouldn’t be on his phone, posting memes about change.
No, he’d be in his community, making that change happen. Will you?”
I sit on the front pew and glance back, wondering if everyone is as inspired as I am.
Every spot on every pew is full, with more standing at the back to watch. All eyes are on him. Heads are nodding, voices murmuring praise. They’re enraptured.
Then, I notice a blonde woman two rows back, staring at me. Her smile is so fake, it looks like AI made her. Clearly, she disapproves of me. But sorry, Karen, I’m used to women like you.
Proudly, I smile back.
Then, another blonde woman, across the aisle, catches my attention. She’s not fake. No, she winks at me, and I scan the man sitting beside her, stifling my gasp.
It’s not Jace, but it looks like his twin.
No! He looks like one of the men who was there the night Sire rescued me.
Another brother!
It has to be.
So, that makes the winking woman, proudly sitting beside him, his wife? His queen? Instantly, I like her. I smile back, genuinely this time, and feeling sorry for every kind woman named Karen, before I turn back, lest my gawking gets weirder.
Once his sermon is over, Sire slings an electric guitar over his shoulder. Sorry, panties. Time of drench is now. That man could sing a drive-thru menu and win a Grammy. Instead, he sings a Christian rock anthem about a lion named Judah.
I glance back again, and the entire congregation is standing, some with their eyes closed and swaying with their hands in the air like it’s a rock concert.
But fake Karen? She’s chewing her bottom lip and obviously soaking her panties like me.
The blonde queen?
She’s hugging Sire’s brother by his waist. They look so in love and proud of him.
But I dread the end of the service, when I know Sire will have to spend minutes, if not an hour, talking to his adoring parishioners while I sit awkward and alone.
I’m used to it, so WWDD?
Whenever I feel out of place—which is usually all of the time, few in Tennessee or here look like me—I hum Dolly’s “Little Sparrow” to keep me company.
But Sire shocks me.
As soon as he finishes with a closing prayer, he leaves the pulpit and walks my way, his beaming smile aimed at me.
He takes my hand, giving me goosebumps. “What did you think?”
I lift on my toes, whispering in his ear, “I’m so inspired, I’m walking on the water in my panties.”
He snorts, laughing, before he leans down to whisper, “Behave, or I won’t spare the rod in my pants tonight.”
“Pastor Rutledge!” Why am I not surprised to turn and see AI Karen gushing? “I just loved your sermon today. I’ve decided to spend more time volunteering at my son’s prep school. Right, Dan?” She backhands the man, busy on his phone beside her. “We’re donating more to Cooper’s school.”
“Uh, yeah.” Surprised, Dan glances up. “More money to the school. Got it.” He winks at Sire. “Great sermon today, Pastor.”
“Thank you.” Politely, Sire shakes their hands. “I know a couple of other county schools that could use some generous donations, too. Let me know if you want their information.”
“Yes, we do.” Karen whips her plastic smile at me. “And who’s your friend, Pastor? She must be new. I’d never forget a face like hers.”
Oh, I know a coded insult when I hear one.
“She has a name and a voice.” I smile, speaking for myself, “I’m Wren Chapel. It’s nice to meet you.”
“And she’s more than my friend.” Gently, Sire squeezes my hand. He won’t let go. “Wren is my girlfriend. I hope you and the parish will welcome her warmly.”
“Girlfriend?” Karen looks aghast. I’m shocked, too, but in a heart-melting way. “Why, isn’t that a little unbecoming for a pastor?”
Sire opens his mouth to speak, but—
“I am sure it is very coming for them.” A rich, French accent turns our heads toward the winking blonde, who’s sneering at my new enemy, “God believes in love. Yes? So why should our pastor be denied love, too?”
Inwardly, I’m fist-bumping the queen I don’t even know yet. Without a formal introduction, she’s already stabbing a back that’s trying to stab mine.
And I love her accent. Even her insults sound elegant.
“Why, I just mean she looks too young for him,” Karen drawls. “A May-December romance is highly inappropriate for a man of God.”
“Meh.” The sweet blonde shrugs. “It is better than having a cold, dry January for a marriage. No?”
Eyeing Dan, Karen’s tuned-out husband, who’s back on his phone, the blonde queen scores another point for me.
“Mrs. Cabot,” Sire interjects. “I appreciate that you want what’s best for me, and I can assure you, I’ve prayed on this; Wren is what’s best for me. Despite our age difference, we have a lot in common.”
It flies all over me that Sire has to be the better man right now. I’d rather have him take out his Glock and tell her to stick her December up my May ass.
“What could you two possibly have in common, other than one immoral sin?” Mrs. Cabot, apparently that’s Karen’s name, isn’t backing down.
Clearly, she can’t have Sire, so no one else can.
I glance and see others gathering around. Sire’s brother, of course. Ms. Davis, the preschool director. A crowd of parishioners, whose eyes volley like they can’t decide which side to take.
Sire saved me, and my instinct will always be to save him, too. I won’t let him lose his parish because of me, because of us. In fact, I’ll be his partner in Christianity and crime.
I softly reply, “Judge not, lest ye be judged. The Book of Matthew. It’s one of my favorites. It teaches us to have compassion and self-awareness.” I smile. “God, Mrs. Cabot. Our Lord is who the pastor and I have in common. God is who we all have in common. Let us rejoice in him.”
Truth is, I know God is a woman. Watch a baby being born, and it’s obvious. But I’m playing the patriarchy card for the win.
“Amen,” Sire’s brother crows, and the others nod, agreeing.
“Why, of course.” Mrs. Cabot blushes. “Welcome, dear. And praise the Lord.” She grabs her husband’s elbow, hissing, “Come on, Dan. And put your damn phone away.”
Others approach me with warm greetings, but I’m floating. I’m smiling through a haze.
His girlfriend.
I guess Sire is serious. He meant it. He’s all in. It means everything to him to introduce me to his parish, so I remember my manners, shaking hands, and giving warm hugs.
Even Ms. Davis whispers to me with her hug, “I knew it, and I approve. If you get your childcare license, dear, I’d be honored for you to work with me.”
“Thank you, and I will.”
That would be my dream. I love kids. I love giving them all the hugs I wish I had gotten as a child.
Finally, it’s just Sire and me, standing with his brother and the blonde queen.
“Wren,” Sire lowers his voice, “this is my brother, Grant, and his badass queen, Delphine.”
“Well, hello, our little Phoenix.” Grant hugs me. He’s as big and warm as Sire. “You are a little bird, aren’t you? All rising fire and no bullshit.”
I shrug, smiling. “Mess with me and I’ll burn your ass.”
“Oui! I love you already.” Delphine yanks me into a tight hug. “Finally, I have another queen with me.”
“What about Zar?” Grant asks.
Sire winces, muttering, “Shit. I forgot that’s tonight.”
“What’s tonight?”
Grant cuts Sire a look. Delphine purses her perfect red lips like she can’t say. And I sense something going on.
“Sire?” I tilt my head. “What’s tonight? And who is Zar?”