Chapter 14
Silas
Loretta Evers’s dining room smelled like ambrosia.
I stood in the kitchen and scooped another helping of the fruit salad onto my plate, listening as June chatted with the group we had started officially referring to as “the church ladies.” They’d invited us over for brunch—and of course, with Loretta Evers, that meant bread pudding, coffee, and a bowl of ambrosia so full of marshmallows it looked like it had been touched by God.
Loretta’s house was cool and tidy, featuring old pieces of furniture kept immaculately clean and tastefully decorated with family photos.
The center of the kitchen held a green and gold formica table that probably could have fetched a small fortune from some Savannah hipsters, a bouquet of fresh zinnias at its center.
The kitchen was just where the food was served, though—the ladies were talking in “the parlor,” which Loretta had announced with a great deal of pride…as if we were at some fancy party or something.
I felt entirely out of place.
June, though? She took to it with the same kind of grace she brought everywhere she went.
She was currently regaling the ladies with the story of her snakebite, especially since word had gotten around about me frantically carrying a half-naked woman into the clinic in Perry.
At first, June had thought she might have to do damage control; church people, after all, weren’t often big fans of making a fuss where the reverend was involved.
But this was Willow Grove, and these ladies were absolutely intrigued.
…even if they wanted more details than I necessarily would have given them.
“Oh honey,” Francine was saying, propping her chin in one hand, “I would’ve let that man carry me anywhere.”
June’s mouth twitched. “I was unconscious at the time, Miss Farber.”
Francine waved that off. “Still.”
Birdie made a little tutting sound, but she was grinning into her coffee. “She’s lucky she didn’t die, Franny.”
“And yet she didn’t,” Francine shot back. “So I got to enjoy the romance of the moment without the tragedy, thank you very much.”
Loretta, seated in a high-backed chair with her ankles crossed and a strand of pearls around her neck, gave June a once-over. “And how are you now, baby?”
June smiled. “Healing. Inside and out.”
That seemed to satisfy her.
I hovered in the doorway, plate in hand, unsure if I should sit or stand. I wasn’t even entirely sure why I was here; June was the one planning all this stuff, and the ladies wanted to see her. But they’d invited me, so I came…and now I was wondering if they just intended on ogling me.
If that was what it took to get the church up and running again, I would do it.
For June.
“You plannin’ to stand there lookin’ pretty,” Francine called, looking up at me, “or are you gonna come join the conversation?”
I gave her a dry look, but it didn’t have much bite. “Didn’t want to intrude on the snakebite recap.”
“You were the one who saved our dear preacher,” Birdie pointed out. “Sounds like you’re part of the story.”
“And part of the plan,” June added, giving me a look that felt too intimate for this room.
Loretta cleared her throat.
“Sit down, Silas,” she instructed.
“Yes, ma’am,” I chuckled, and obeyed. I brought my plate with me and sat on the floral-print loveseat beside June, where she immediately picked up my fork and helped herself to a bite of ambrosia.
Loretta folded her hands in her lap. “Now that we’ve all had our fun—Reverend, we’d love to hear what you have in mind.”
June nodded, swallowed—then put on her Serious Reverend Face.
“I want to hold an open house. Potluck, music, maybe a little community blessing if people are comfortable with it. Just…something casual to bring folks in and make it clear this isn’t going to be a fire-and-brimstone operation.
This church…it’ll be a refuge. The kind of church Willow Grove has always deserved. ”
Francine leaned in toward me. “Oh…I like her. You have good taste, Silas.”
Birdie gave a little nod. “A welcoming church. That’s long overdue.”
Loretta hummed, but she didn’t look quite as hopeful as the others. “We have a problem though, don’t we?”
Francine’s smile faded into a grimace. “Right…those damn Trents.”
“June said you recently got some kinda…fake legal document sayin’ Abel Trent was comin’ back to reclaim the church,” Loretta said to me. “And I heard at Mabel’s this snakebite may have been a threat?”
“Or worse—an attempted murder,” Birdie chimed in.
I shifted in my seat, moving to put down my plate on the side table. “We don’t have proof,” I said carefully, “but yeah…I’m startin’ to think it wasn’t a coincidence. The snake, the timing, the fact that Abel’s suddenly sniffin’ around again? It lines up too neatly.”
June glanced at me, and her hand found my knee—natural, like she’d done it a thousand times before. She always had this tendency to read me, even when I hadn’t given any sign I needed her touch.
Although…if I was being honest, I always needed her touch.
Francine folded her arms, leaning back in her rocking chair. “I knew that boy was trouble even back when he was still a kid,” she said. “Too slick by half. Always had that performative kind of righteousness, like he was puttin’ on a show for God.”
“I don’t know if he’s even got a god,” Loretta muttered, “but he sure as hell believes in power.”
“He’s not getting the church,” June said firmly. “Not while I’m here.”
That earned a nod from all three women, and a hushed amen from Francine.
“So what do we need to do?” Birdie asked, already pulling a notebook and pen out of her purse. “If this is war, we’ll get our ducks in a row.”
A smile ghosted over my lips at the idea of organizing ducks for a war. None of the women noticed; they had more important business at hand.
“We’re holding the open house,” June said, resolute. “Make it loud, make it warm…make it ours. Let the whole town see what we’re building, and let the people of Willow Grove choose.”
“Well, we ran ‘em out once before, and we’ll do it again,” Loretta said.
“And it was well-deserved,” Francine added
June nodded, listening—then she frowned. “Silas has told me a little, but…would you mind sharing more details? Just so I know what kind of minefield I’m walking into with folks who were harmed by the Fellowship.”
Birdie took a long sip of her coffee. “We were already goin’ to the church in Perry when the worst of it started. Didn’t like how things were changin’ in Willow Grove…too much heat in the sermons, too many girls bein’ singled out for ‘temptation.’”
I moved to take June’s hand, remembering what she’d told me at the clinic: they asked if I had kissed a boy. I said no. But they didn’t believe me, and they kept asking, and they…they kept me tied up and starved me and…
Amelia had never said anything…but had the Remnant done that?
Had they done that to her?
Francine picked up the thread next, and I could tell from the look on her face it wasn’t good. “There was this…cruelty,” she said. “You remember that girl, Sara? Got caught holdin’ hands with a boy from out of town and they made her confess in front of the whole damn congregation?”
“She was thirteen,” Loretta said quietly. “And she wasn’t the only one—they told folks not to trust outsiders, not to seek help. Said doctors were false prophets, social workers demons in disguise.”
June gave a small, tight nod. “I know the type.”
Loretta peered at her. “You’ve walked through your own fire, haven’t you?”
June didn’t flinch. “I have.”
“And you’re not scared to stand in that pulpit?”
June met her gaze, calm and collected. “That’s exactly why I have to stand up there.”
And there it was.
The moment it hit me…not like a lightning strike, but washing over me like a wave, like a fact that had been quietly, inevitably true the whole time.
I was in love with this woman.
I didn’t just want her. I loved her. And that love was full and terrible and brighter than any light I’d seen in years.
I barely knew anything about her—there were a million little facts and habits to learn, a whole lifetime of history—but I knew that she was someone who stood up for people who needed help.
That she was someone who’d walked through hell herself and come out on the other side like a goddamn avenging angel.
That she was someone who would have protected Amelia from the men who wanted to hurt her…that if June had been the reverend in this town fifteen years ago, Amelia might still be here.
Francine was saying something, but I wasn’t listening anymore; I was looking at June, staring at her, because I couldn’t get over how beautiful she was. Not just her face, her body…but her soul.
I hadn’t believed in God in a long time, but God was most certainly in her.
Given that I was speechless, the rest of the conversation carried on without me—talk of flyers and casseroles and folding chairs, of who had the right connections to borrow an amplified from the county high school, and of who got the privilege of baking my Grandma Hazel’s pineapple upside-down cake.
Plans were made. Names were written down.
Birdie pulled out a highlighter and started quoting scripture, for fuck’s sake.
And all I could do was sit there, useless, stunned.
Completely in love.
It wasn’t until we were lingering by the door in a true southern goodbye that Loretta stepped up beside me, watching June talk with Francine and Birdie. Loretta didn’t look at me right away—just adjusted the hem of her cardigan and gave me a long, considering sort of look.
“You know she’s the real deal, don’t you?” she said.
I didn’t stop looking at June—couldn’t. “I think I do.”
She nodded. “You’ve both been through hell,” she said. “But it seems you might be able to heal each other’s burns.”
I swallowed against the lump in my throat, forcing myself to nod. “She’s already startin’ to.”
Loretta gave me a soft smile. “You remind me of Hazel in that way. Took her a long time to believe she was allowed joy, especially after she lost your grandfather. But once she did…Lord, that woman lit up this whole town.”
I let out a breath. “I miss her.”
“I do too,” Loretta said—then she turned to look at me fully. “But I gotta tell you, baby—if Hazel could see you right now, with that look on your face? She’d be over the moon.”
I ducked my head, heat crawling up the back of my neck.
“She would’ve loved June,” Loretta added, giving my arm a pat. “Not just for who she is, but for what she brings out in you. Now…don’t you dare let that girl slip away.”
June met my eyes like she knew exactly what we were talking about, and the heat crawling up my neck spread across my whole face.
“You ready to go?” she asked.
I nodded, though I wasn’t sure I was ready for anything.
And then, with a tupperware stuffed full of ambrosia, we stepped out into the Georgia sun.