AllFreeNovel
Share Us
* * *
The sanctuary was a packed house,and the message from the pastor resonating.
Ironically, the theme centered around winning, and what the definition of winning was to different people and how to determine that for yourself. All of which was tied around relevant scripture.
It was clever, thought-provoking. Not in-your-face evangelism but a message that made you think through how you might define and pursue a successful and happy life.
Mia noticed a common structure in the communication of the weekly message and found it repeatable in other areas of life. When you were trying to get your point across in a way that made others stop and think, rather than telling people what to think.
That’s what she liked most about attending this particular church and listening to the pastor.
Conversely, Bernadette’s church was more about community and prayer circles. Coming together and holding hands, and basking in one another’s love with more of a singing and chanting vibe, where people were emotionally swayed and spiritually transformed.
Mia found it fascinating how two completely different approaches to religion could be so engaging.
As she and Oliver stepped out of the narthex and into the bright Sunday afternoon sunshine, the south coastal heat enveloped them, making sweat pop up on their foreheads and arms.
The air was humid and smelled salty, the breeze from the nearby coast providing just the right amount of respite from the heat.
To their disappointment, the teen Sunday session was cancelled due to so many people being on vacation. They weren’t so much disappointed at not getting to hear yet another classmate complain about their oppressive parents, which they weren’t, as to having to return to Bernadette’s an hour early.
Mia was enjoying being out and about without a parent or Angus watching over her.
She waved at Cindy Wahim and stopped to coo at Cindy’s baby, who looked to have three chins and then spit up a river of what looked like diluted Elmer’s Glue. And then she waved at Casper Nutley, who owned the coffeehouse in town and made the best lattes ever, and called out “mi a more” in broken Italian and a play on words to her name.
To her surprise, she spotted Fenton Fester, the town drunk, for lack of a better term. Fenton was standing next to a younger version of himself and she assumed it was his son, who she had heard lived in Atlanta.
Good. Maybe his son was here to help Fenton. Poor guy seemed heartsick and hopeless. Seeing him cleaned up, sober, and at church was a good sign.
Then she spotted Mary-Lou, Erma’s daughter, and turned her back to her and leaned into Oliver, who was talking to one of his friends from school he had introduced her to a couple Sundays ago.
She didn’t know how she felt about Mary-Lou after reading what part she played in vilifying her mom back in the day. Maisie turned on her and then Mary-Lou found a target on her back, as well.
Even more difficult was reconciling that your mother, the person with whom you share the most genes, was such a narcissistic and evil troublemaker. So not only did Mia have to worry about shared genes with her grandmother, a religious fanatic who committed suicide while next to her feckless husband, her grandfather. But her mother, as well, who purposefully drugged her father in order to have sex with him, thereby conceiving her.
Not necessarily the meet-cute you wanted to hear about and share with your own grandkids, regarding how you came to be.
If she thought about it enough, the weight could become overwhelming. Suffocating.
It would help if her parents would just come back home.
She missed her mom so much, there were times it felt like she had a gaping hole in her chest. To her surprise, considering she’d only just met him, she missed her dad just as much.
It helped that he called her every night, assuring her that her mom was okay and they were working together to come home.
She’d ask what that meant, but he was so damned evasive, simply saying the whole thing was complicated and he’d tell her the details as soon as he could.
So she waited.
“Excuse me, Mia?”
Turning, she saw Mary-Lou with a hesitant look on her face. For a minute, she felt sorry for her. Then she didn’t.
“Yes?”
The woman was nervously twisting her fingers in front of her and Mia found that interesting. She couldn’t recall making an adult feel timid or shy, or repentant. It was always the other way around.
“I heard that you found Maisie’s diary.”
