Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“Markie, there you are.” I turn, irritated at the interruption, and find George Mathers peering down at me. He’s in the same blue shirt and black tie that he’s worn every single Sunday since at least 2000. “I was hoping to run into you this morning. We were getting prepped for the pickleball draft, and I noticed that you didn’t list a partner.”
“My bad.”
“You have one, don’t you? I mean, I figured it was just an oversight on your part.”
“Yes,” I say, trying to keep my head steady so a wave of vomit doesn’t roll in. “I must’ve forgotten. I’ll email his name to you when I get out of here.”
He smiles. “Very good.” He waddles off toward the back of the church, adjusting his tie as he goes.
I begin to finish my sentence to my friends but am cut short again by the chirping of my phone … and those around me.
“Ladies,” Brooks says as if he’s shocked. “This is the house of the Lord. The least you can do is put your phones on silent mode.”
Gianna leans forward, her voice hushed. “I’ve seen the texts you send from the house of the Lord. Shut it.”
A round of giggles erupts from my friends as I silence my texts and open the group chat.
Nettie: Anyone wanna go to brunch?
Audrey: We’re all at church. Wanna come?
Nettie:
Mira: We’re coming. Running late.
Gianna: Better hurry. Violet just started playing “Amazing Grace.”
Mira:
The notes of the hymn fill the air, lulling me into a sense of peace. I’ve always loved this one, as it was Pop’s favorite. And something about the melody pulls me out of the slightly perturbed mood that I woke up with. I almost crawled back into bed and said screw it, but church is like the gym. Getting there is sometimes like pulling teeth, but once it’s over, I’ve never regretted going.
“Good morning,” Pastor Reed says as the hymn ends. The light shining behind him is a colorful array, thanks to the beautiful stained glass windows on either side of the building. “It’s wonderful to see so many smiling faces this morning. I hope you’re ready to dig into the Word because I woke up today bursting with excitement to share this message. Can I get an amen?”
“Amen,” we all say, some of us more enthusiastically than others.
“Amen,” he repeats, walking around the pulpit. “Let’s start this Sunday morning by taking up the offering. And while we do that,” he says, motioning for the teenage boys who pass the plate down each row to get started, “let me take a second to go over a bit of church news with you all. Starting with the next potluck date.”
I pick up my phone.
Me: Are you here, Mira?
Mira: Just sat down in the back. Every seat up there is taken.
Me: Can you put some money in the offering plate for me? I have no cash.
Mira: Yup.
Me: I’ll pay you back. Thank you.
I smile at the boy who hands me the plate, pretending to drop money into it. Then I pass it to Astrid. I don’t know why we can’t modernize this practice. Remembering to bring cash on Sunday mornings is a struggle I seldom win.
My phone vibrates against my leg, so I pick it up.
Gianna: EXCUSE ME, MARKIE ST. JAMES.
Me: ??
Gianna: I just got a text from Bobbi, our real estate agent. She was in Piper’s this morning for breakfast and was told that you and Jory Plath were seen coming out of the bathroom at Patsy’s last night. CARE TO EXPLAIN?
Gianna: That’s not a question. EXPLAIN.
Oh no. Oh no, no, no.
I didn’t think about this. How did I never think about this? A line of women last night watched Jory and me leave. Of course, the town is going to talk. That’s what small towns do.
My stomach gurgles as a small burst of adrenaline fires through my system, upsetting the already unstable contents of my stomach.
Mira: Okay, we had to stop at the gas station on the way here because I drove the truck last and refuse to gas it up. Anyway, Lora said she heard the two of you were dating. Apparently, something happened between you, Jasper, and Jory last night? I was going to ask you about it after church.
Audrey:
Gianna: It would be wrong for us to all get up and leave right now, right?
I grimace, typing my response.
Me: Yeah, probably. But I’m suddenly nauseous, so I think I’m going to go.
Gianna: If you get up, I’m following you.
Astrid elbows me in the side, but I don’t look at her. Mostly because I don’t know what to say.
This just got seriously out of control.
Me: Look, it’s complicated.
Gianna: Let me uncomplicate it for you.
Astrid: She knows how to have sex, Gianna.
I stifle a giggle, grimacing as my brain feels like a knife sliced through my skull.