Chapter Five #3
Sun or rain, she’s always dressed like she needs attention.
A brightly colored dress, her hair curled, the whole nine yards.
The woman turns the phrase ‘Sunday best’ into an overly evocative fashion show that’s ridiculous for church, though I’d never say a word.
My job is not to judge. It’s to help my flock however needed.
That said, I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable giving Leanne the kind of help she’s looking for.
“Father Anderson!” Leanne tiptoes toward me with her arms outstretched as her breasts spill from the low-cut dress. “How are you feeling after that cold? Did that soup help? Must have,” she grins and draws her gaze down over me, “because you look very healthy this morning.”
“I’m feeling great,” I say, stepping back to create distance. “The soup was delicious. Thank you for thinking of me. Are you here early to get the bake sale organized?”
She nods. “You know me… always working.” There’s a little grin and bounce in her stance as she stares toward me.
“Plus, I know how important it is that we get the money for that new roof. I’m going to make sure this bake sale is the best one yet.
I’ve got flyers up all over and I know a few people who are coming from towns away to get a slice of my famous cherry pie. ”
I’m not sure if she’s talking about actual pie or not.
“That’s great,” I say, unsure of where else to take the conversation. “The church appreciates your help. There’s a tray of cupcakes I set in the last pew that need to go out on the table as well.”
“Wren still has a few trays in her car too,” my mother adds. “Wren owns her own bakery.”
“No, I just take orders here and there. It’s a word-of-mouth kind of thing.”
“Don’t be so modest,” my mother says, tapping her playfully. “You take orders for baked goods, so you own a bakery.”
There’s a physical shift in Leanne’s stance as she steps toward Wren. “I’m not sure I’ve met Wren before. Are you visiting family?”
“Oh no,” my mother adds. “She’s here to help the church. Her husband is running for mayor in the Springs.”
“And how are you here to help the church?” Leanne snarks.
Wren glances toward me with a smile, and my chest is set to implode.
How the hell could a woman be this damn beautiful?
It’s not fair to all the other women on Earth.
“If this guy will let me, I’d like to write a check to cover all the repairs needed.
I’m not a contractor, so I don’t know what that amount would be, but I have a few guys I can call to do assessments. ”
“And I appreciate that, but… like I said, we’re doing okay with the bake sales and donation boxes.”
This seems to straighten Leanne’s back. “Thank you, Father Anderson. I work very hard on these bake sales to make sure we get the maximum profit for the church.”
“Yes,” my mother chimes, “you do, Leanne, but still, we’ve barely made enough over the past two years to cover basic repairs. Right now, we need a big influx of money. More than whatever cupcakes and pies can make us.”
“Have you guys ever reached out to local businesses and asked for help?”
“No,” my mother says. “The priest is a proud man who believes he can do everything himself.”
Wren cracks another smile, this one with her gaze flickering toward mine.
“I can appreciate that. I don’t like it when people touch my things either, but most local companies are more than willing to help the community.
If you’re against donations, let me call around and see if there are any contractors that would be willing to donate some labor and parts.
You could have this whole place fixed up by the end of the month. ”
“Father Anderson already told you that he’s a DIY kind of guy,” Leanne snarls as her arms cross over her chest.
“I’m only trying to help,” Wren continues, twisting her long, black hair to the side of her shoulder.
“It has to be exhausting carrying the weight of trying to fix everything all the time. It might help you be more productive if you delegate some of the tasks you’re trying to finish on your own.
Like the painting, for instance. We don’t even have to call out for that.
We could put a flyer up and ask for volunteers right here at the church.
I’m sure you could get a group of ten to fifteen people who wouldn’t mind spending the afternoon with a paintbrush. ”
“You don’t know this congregation,” Leanne continues with disdain. “People aren’t—”
“Well, it’s not an entirely bad idea,” I say, leaning in toward Wren. “I’d be willing to talk about it after mass, if you’d like to meet me in the rectory.”
There’s an annoyed sigh from Leanne that I don’t think she meant for anyone to hear. “The potluck and the bake sale start right after church. Everyone comes to talk to you. You can’t miss that.”
“And I won’t. My discussion with Wren should only take a few minutes.
” The door creaks open again, and light filters through.
It’s the Hendersons. They always arrive twenty minutes early, so I’ve got to get moving.
“If you’ll excuse me, mass starts soon and I need to say hello to everyone.
Wren, I’ll see you directly after service. ”
She lifts her gaze and adjusts her dress before dropping her smile.
The whole scene sends an unholy pulse toward my groin. An electricity that renders me combustible. I need to get a grip, or this could get out of control quickly.