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28
Maggie scanned the rows of cushioned chairs of the church for abandoned belongings and errant bibles, tidying up after her husband’s congregation. She loved to care for God’s temple with the reverence she knew it deserved.
Once everything had been picked up, she took a seat in the front row and glanced up at the ten-foot white cross on the wall as her thoughts drifted to her daughter. Chastity always had been a defiant child, emotional and difficult. Maggie remembered being beaten and punished for the same sort of outbursts when she was young, though it seemed her gentler style of parenting wasn’t the answer either.
Where Maggie would’ve been grounded, Chastity had only gotten verbally reprimanded. Where Maggie was shaken or slapped, Chastity was only ever sent to her room. It had taken every ounce of her patience for her to deal with her daughter’s antics as she became an adult, an adult who didn’t seem to shy away from sin and tumbled into avoidable pitfalls constantly.
Maggie, on the other hand, had always fought to remain on the right path. Chaste and modest, never so much as letting a boy touch her breast until her wedding night. When she had her only daughter, she thought she had done the right thing involving her so heavily in her husband’s ministry. She recalled the tantrums the child had frequently had out of boredom, ones that always left her in a pile of frilly lace and tears.
Maggie had grown up in the church, just as Chastity had. She recalled having the same sort of outbursts when she was a child. It was only when her beatings increased that she learned to numb herself, to disassociate from the feelings inside her, stuffing them down and locking them away where she could no longer feel them. She replaced them with an obsession to do right. To act right. To be right.
That lifestyle led Maggie on the path to Arnold and her daughter, to their beautiful home and a social status to be proud of.
Gone was the poor little child going to church with ratty shoes and second-hand dresses. She’d elevated herself to the kind of woman she would’ve looked up to as a child. Why her daughter refused to do the same, despite having every opportunity in life, completely baffled her.
Maybe Maggie had been too harsh lately. How many times had the Apostles spoken about forgiving sinners? The Bible said, ’ Seventy times seven .’ While she surely exceeded those numbers for her daughter, if God could love a prostitute, a drunkard, and the dead, she could surely find a path back to loving her own flesh and blood.
“Maggie,” a female’s voice hollered behind her.
Spinning in the chair, she saw Sue Thompson. The bleach blonde seemed like the perfect embodiment of desecrating God’s temple with implants, injections, tucks, and extensions. Nevertheless, Sue tithed consistently and seemed to show a real interest during their sermons, even volunteering to help with an event here and there.
“You’re still here?” Maggie plastered on her most genuine smile, a fake expression she’d perfected over the years.
“Yeah, I was looking for my house key. I took it off my ring the other day to give to my housecleaning staff, and I think the darned thing fell out of my bag during today’s service.”
Maggie fished the key out of the pocket of her beige blazer and smiled. “It wouldn’t be a Sunday service if someone didn’t leave something behind.”
“Oh, thank God!” Sue slapped her chest dramatically, but her boobs didn’t move. “I thought I was gonna have to go back to Starbucks, too. Glad I stopped here first.”
Maggie handed it back. “How have you been?”
“Great,” Sue said, overenthusiastic as usual. She held up the key. “You know… funniest thing about this new cleaning service…”
“Do tell.”
“Well, Barrett, you know that handsome man who came over during Bible study? Well, he actually works there.”
“Oh, well, that makes sense.”
“Well,” Sue laughed and sat down in the next row, two feet from Maggie’s chair, “he actually worked there before you all gave him all those tips. Remember how he said he ruined some towels? Those were mine.” Her laughter resonated through the cavernous building. “He exploded my bath mat, too.”
“Oh, you’re kidding.” Maggie tried to hide a big smile.
“No. And between you, me, and that podium, he does it almost in the buff .”
“What?” Maggie’s smile disappeared.
“Yeah, they’re like… sort of like Chippendales . You know Chippendales ?”
“Oh, yes, Chastity used to love those cartoons.”
Sue barked a laugh. “No, not Chip ‘n Dale . The male exotic dancers, silly. These men at Man Maid , they come and clean your house while they’re in sexy little costumes, sometimes wearing practically nothing.”
Maggie literally clutched her pearls, eyes drifting to the cross on the wall and back to Sue.
She suddenly remembered the stinging words of her daughter’s impromptu bible lesson. “Oh. Well, how he earns his money is hardly my business.”
“Well, I suppose it’s at least a little bit your business if he might end up being your son-in-law one day.”
Maggie was confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, him and Chastity, of course.”
Maggie still looked confused.
“Oh, don’t tell me in a town this small you haven’t heard.”
“Him and Chastity?” The revelation made her feel dizzy.
“Yeah! My dog sitter said they were out there playing putt-putt down off 191. He said Barrett had his arm around her neck, whisperin’ things in her ear, being all flirtatious and what-not.” She burst into another loud laugh. “He… said… Chastity and him kept whacking him… in the leg… with the ball.”
“You don’t say.” Maggie fought hard against the urge to grind her molars.
Sue howled louder, tears forming in her eyes. Any harder, and she was going to pee herself. “He… he showed me the bruises!”