AllFreeNovel
Share Us
16
Mia liked church.
No. She loved church.
When she walked into the narthex—Oliver had taught her all the churchy words—for the first time with him by her side and then into the sanctuary, she thought everyone was staring at her. Waiting for her to begin to quake or speak in tongues.
After all, she was the granddaughter of Shelby Wellborn. Maybe she had inherited some sort of weird gene that made her a religious fanatic? Or at least, mentally unstable?
After a while, she realized the congregation wasn’t judging her, they were simply smiling at her. Not really paying her any more attention than anyone else. Lowering her shoulders as she sat in the pew, she told herself to sit back and relax. Chill.
A few Sundays in, she was smiling at people and waving to them, saying hello to the pastor and commenting on his new robes. Telling him they were fly but not thirsty and giving him a high five.
She wished her mom were here so she could share the experience. Maybe convince her to give it a try. It was so uplifting and comforting to see people and to be accepted.
She found she enjoyed going to Bernadette’s church, as well. It was smaller, but it was equally as heartwarming to hear the Geechee neighbors referring to one another as brother and sister, as if they were all part of a much bigger family.
Spending so much time in the neighborhood where her father grew up, she was slowly picking up on the Gullah-Geechee language, understanding more of Bernadette’s mutterings when Angus entertained some of his lady friends. And some of hers.
Frankly, they weren’t complimentary.
But today was special.
Today, for the first time ever, a boy, Oliver, was going to pick her up in a car to drive her to church.
Without an adult.
It wasn’t a date, per se. But it was still a super big deal. She had never been in a car driven by someone so close to her own age and without parental oversight, except for maybe one or two Uber drivers, or Angus’s threatening scowl.
Which is why she was shocked when Angus gave her the okay. With a number of conditions, written down on paper and with what he called a blood oath where she had to prick her finger and press it onto the page, but permission nonetheless!
She was pretty sure the only reason he reluctantly agreed to it, after hours of persuasion mixed with a little strategic gaslighting, was because he wasn’t feeling well and decided to stay home that Sunday. Probably a good thing as it gave Bernadette a break from pushing him around in the wheelchair, only to stop to say hello to half a dozen women before making it out of the parking lot.
To his credit, Oliver had been the consummate gentleman when he arrived. Walking to the front door and shaking Angus’s burly hand the size of a shovel, managing to survive the intense hand gesture with only a red face and quick rub of his knuckles.
Before making it out the door, the old coot still managed to threaten Oliver with, “If ye misbehave wif me lass, ah’ll pawn ye an’ sell the ticket.”
Mia wasn’t altogether sure Oliver understood her elderly nanny’s deep Scottish brogue, but the look on his face after noting Angus’s caterpillar-thick reddish eyebrows coming together in a sinister V read “message received.”
As they walked out of the kitchen door, her in a sundress and Oliver in slacks and button-down shirt, she overheard Angus grouse to Bernadette, “Got no idea why she fancies the boy, he’s got the face ova well skelped arse.”
According to Angus, the number one requirement for a handsome and manly chin was having the pelt of a furry woodland creature attached to it.
“I don’t think your nanny likes me,” Oliver whispered, running his hand over his smooth jawline.
Mia patted him on the back. “It’s a Scottish thing. They’re all about protecting the womenfolk and handing out death threats. Given that, making it out the door without having to somehow prove your manhood is as good as it’s gonna get.”
As she slid into the passenger seat, Oliver held her door open. “Oh, and if he ever asks you to arm-wrestle, don’t do it. Trust me when I tell you nothing good will come of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s just say, when I was in fourth grade, a kid at school was being mean to me, pushing me around. I think he had been held back a couple times. Anyway, I came home one day with a bloody nose. The next day, we were all called into the principal’s office, along with our parents. This kid’s mom stepped out of the principal’s office to take a call, and the principal had to leave to address a fire alarm that had been suspiciously pulled, so Angus took the opportunity to challenge the bully to an arm-wrestling contest. The kid ended up with his arm in a cast and Angus with a restraining order against him. Mom had to put me in another school.”
As they pulled out of the driveway, they both turned toward the front of the house and spotted Angus, sitting front and center in his wheelchair behind the front door screen, holding a weapon in one hand and tapping it onto the palm of the other.
Oliver craned his neck as they drove past. “What is he holding? Omigod, is that an axe?”
“Broadsword, some call it a claymore. Keep driving.”
