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She’d never stepped foot inside a church. Not a proper church, though while on the road, she could have tried. There was the church on the ranch, but she didn’t consider that real. She thought of Charla’s words one afternoon when the Deacon had left, not speaking to Valerie, not drawing her out. She’d said God had never been her thing, she never believed in an all-knowing man who lived in clouds.Everything happens for a reason? Bullshit.
Wanting to orbit the Deacon was laughable. She wasn’t sure why she was doing it. It was simple on the surface, if she left her wonderings there. It was his calm voice, the smile he wore.
Valerie was attracted to him. And she was rarely attracted to anyone.
The God and the Monster. We’d make a pretty pair.
She wondered if he could exorcise the demons writhing in her blood, wash away the sin from her hands. If anyone could, it was him.
The Deacon cleared his throat, and Valerie came back to the present with a jolt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, Valerie.”
“You—you didn’t startle me,” she whispered, wondering sometimes if he could see her.
“You just seemed a bit faraway for a moment there. Where did you go?”
Valerie smiled, placing her hands on the table, looking at the chipped polish. Her pretty hands had been waiting for him to show up, but the show was just for her. He could not see her feeble attempts to look beautiful. “Nowhere,” Valerie said, shaking her head.
“Well, I won’t keep you then, Valerie. I know you have to get back to work.” He smiled, and she was softened by it. The Deacon was handsome in all his sharp edges. “I just wanted to let you know the church doors are always open. My doors are always open. And my phone is ready.” He reached into his pocket and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. He scribbled his phone number and slid it over to Valerie, brushing his fingers against hers.
She blushed and couldn’t recall the last time she had touched someone willingly.
“Have a good day, Valerie. And a good Thanksgiving coming soon.” He saluted and smiled again. She watched him stand, taking his cane, taking sure steps out of the door. She watched him through the glass as he walked away along the sidewalk. Charla was likely watching her, but she didn’t care.
The Deacon was not a pretender. And she wanted to follow him.
She would follow him to Hell in search of Heaven.
TWENTY
Irespected closed books, those that begged to be opened slowly, revealed page by page. That’s who Nicole Clement was. And though I wasn’t the one she wanted flipping through the pages of her mind, I was the first to slip in that day in late November before Thanksgiving break.
“I’d like you to pair up. Find a partner,” our teacher said, earning a collective groan from my classmates as I stared out the window, watching leaves fall off the ever-watching trees. I glanced back at my classmates, watching their faces scrunch up in annoyance. It was a popularity test, a bullseye on those with few friends. I was one of those people, but it didn’t hit me the same way. I was happy to have the few friends I had. Even if our sole purpose for hanging out was to solve the town mystery.
I looked around the room, locking eyes with Nicole, and she gave me a small wave. It was the first time we had communicated directly, away from the others. She was the quiet twin, and she faded away in the room when Jessica was bulls-eyeing the attention. I nodded, and she picked up her books and came over to my table, sitting at the empty seat.
Her smile was less bright when I saw it up close. “Hey,” she said, sitting down.
“Tell me you’re not going to drop me as a partner if I fuck this up,” I joked, trying to ease her. Kyrie and I had been studying together since my first day, and though it was sometimes apparent that I had little high school history, I read all the time and penned every thought in my head, helping to make up for the experience I lacked.
“Does it look like I’m rolling in options for a partner? I think you’re safe,” Nicole said, opening her book before absently running a hand through her hair.
“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I replied, opening my own.
We followed along with the teacher for the first half of class, then huddled together when he assigned the chapter to study. I was eager to discuss our subject, and when Nicole looked at me, I could tell she felt the same way.
“Mythology fascinates and scares me. Do you think it was real?” Nicole asked, staring at a sketch of Odin.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I believe in anything,” I admitted. “Though I do enjoy the stories, and the way writers use the stories to create modern interpretations.”
Nicole stared at me, dumfounded, then blinked. “You’re not like the boys here.”
I smiled, not knowing how to take that. “Okay.”
She shook her head. “And you don’t believe in anything at all? Not even God?”
“No,” I replied, firm.
“Sometimes I don’t either,” Nicole said, brushing her hair away from her face. She was pretty in a way you had to study. Unearth. Her hair was often in her face, her clothes baggy. She smelled like soap and a flowery perfume.
