Chapter Five #2
“Hey,” I narrow my brows playfully, “don’t knock bird watching, and you have no idea what I’m hiding under this collar. It could be a full-on forest under here.” I laugh and take the tray from her hands. “You came a long way for a donation. Are you staying for mass?”
“Mass?” She drags in a deep breath. “That’s the singy-dancy thing, right? The part where we praise the Lord and do the clapping?”
I grin. “Yeah, that’s the one, though I’ve been told my sermons could use some more life, so you might be disappointed if you’re expecting singy-dancy.”
“He’s not kidding,” my mother calls from behind, her voice light with playfulness.
“Hey,” I glance back to see her walking up the aisle toward me, “you just told me how much you love my sermons.”
“Of course I do, honeybun.” She kisses my arm as she reaches toward Wren, her shaking hand outstretched as though she wants to say hello, though we both know she’s being nosy.
My mother is the kindest woman in the world, but she’s also the biggest snoop.
“I’m just saying they could use a little spunk to keep the younger crowd interested. ”
Younger, like this woman in front of me that I haven’t been able to take my eyes off. Maybe my mother noticed the way I’ve been looking at Wren and she’s sending me a message that extends beyond my sermons.
Wren pays none of the conversation any mind. Instead, she steps forward with a bright smile on her face as she greets my mother like she’s known her for ages. “He doesn’t seem to like jokes much, does he?”
Apparently, everyone is ganging up on me now.
“This boy has been a stone since the day he was born.” My mother winks. “He’s a little honeybun deep down, though.”
“So, you’re the biker priest’s mom?”
“Biker priest? That’s great. He should get that tattooed.
He’s got everything else.” Mom holds onto my arm as she talks.
“Are you new to the area? They said on the news we might be getting some new folks settling soon, given that big shipping facility they’re putting on the outskirts of town.
It’s supposed to bring a bunch of new jobs, which we really need. ”
A strand of dark hair falls into Wren’s vision, and she sweeps it away quickly. “No, I’m from the Springs. Well, from Rugged Mountain originally, but living in the Springs. My husband is Zane Harlow—”
“The guy that’s running for mayor out that way. Yeah, I’ve heard of him. What brings you out here then? Is he doing some kind of community work?”
“Well, yes.” Wren glances toward me but looks away quickly as though she’s nervous about something.
“My husband thought it would be a good idea to do some outreach in small towns neighboring the Springs. We have a lot of commuters that live out here, and he wanted to give back.” She spins back toward me, breasts bouncing slightly as she moves.
Why the hell did I notice that?
“Which brings me to the roof,” she continues. “How much do you need to get that fixed?”
“Thank you,” I nod, “but I prefer to do things the old-fashioned way.”
A crack of a beam settling somewhere rings out with perfect timing.
“Which is why it’s taking so long to get everything done,” my mother presses.
“You don’t take big donations, and the church doesn’t get fixed.
You know ten thousand cupcakes won’t raise enough money to fix this place up like it needs to be. ”
I know that, she knows that, but I’m not taking money from this woman or her husband.
“That’s not true. We had plenty of donations from the bake sale last year. Enough that we were able to get the plumbing in the bathroom redone, and we had enough left over to put in the pot for this year.”
My mother gives me the same look she’s given me since I was a kid. The one that sort of looks like a cross between a rabid raccoon and a confused squirrel. She doesn’t have to say anything for me to know exactly how dumb she thinks I’m being.
“Well,” Wren says sweetly, “think about it. My husband is all about donations right now, and I’m sure if I go back and give a cute little report, he’ll write you a nice fat check for whatever you need.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I say, nodding toward the woman I can’t seem to stop staring at. “We’ll make do with what we have, but feel free to bring as many cupcakes as you’d like. Everyone in town loves cupcakes.”
She nods once and squeezes my mother’s hand. “I’ll wear him down. I have a knack for things like that.”
“Oh, I bet you do,” my mother says with a wink. “I can show you around if you’d like. There are plenty of things that need fixing.”
“Mom, we’re not giving her the tour of broken things. She’s a guest.”
“I show guests all the broken things too, honeybun. It’s okay.”
“Yeah, honeybun.” Wren grins. “It’s okay.”
My chest squeezes, and apparently, it’s two against one.
I shake my head as I watch the two of them walk toward the front of the church, my mother pointing to every nook and cranny that needs to be replaced, fixed, and repainted.
They can look all they want, but I won’t be taking any political donations.
I refuse to turn this place into a circus for a few bucks.
This is a small-town church, and as long as I’m running it, it’ll stay that way, creaking doors and all. Maybe that’s the stubbornness in me. I’ll pray on that as I prepare the altar for mass.
The white cloth, the candles, the chalices for communion. I place them on the side table with the bread and wine as I force myself to think of anything and everything but Wren and the way that dress hugged her curves.
What’s going on with me? I glance up at the cross and close my eyes. Lord, help me understand why these temptations are flooding me. What lesson am I set to learn?
I’m halfway through my silent prayer for guidance when the door creaks again, drawing my attention to the back of the church where Leanne steps in wearing a hot pink dress I’m sure she bought exclusively for today.