Chapter Twenty-Eight

When Dodd entered Ansel and Velma’s living room, I was about to start stringing lights on the tree and wondered what I’d gotten myself into. Admitting my feelings to JohnScott and Grady—and indirectly to Dodd—didn’t begin to solve the problem of what to do about them. I sighed. “Want to help?”

“Sure.” He reached for a cord, then wove lights through the branches without hesitation. We had them installed within minutes.

“I noticed you were eavesdropping again.”

He stretched and placed the angel on the top branches. “I’m sorry about that. You’re proving to be a challenge.”

I laughed as I retrieved the box of ornaments from the kitchen table, placing them on the floor between us. “Don’t blame me.”

“I’ve never had this much trouble fighting the temptation to read someone’s lips.”

Good gracious, Momma would have a fit if she could hear this conversation. When I thought about her, my stomach cramped as if I’d swallowed a chunk of cactus, but there was no going back now. Was there? “So I guess you heard what I said to Grady out there.”

Dodd peered at me from between the branches of the tree, the twinkle lights transforming him into a Hallmark greeting card. He raised one eyebrow and smiled. “You like me.”

This man affected me more than I wanted him to know, but I shrugged as though I hadn’t put much thought into it. “Oh, I don’t know. I had fun with your mother the other day.”

He nodded knowingly. “So it’s Mom you like.”

“And Grady.”

He crossed his arms. “You like Mom and Grady.”

“I’d like to get to know them better.” I reached for another ornament. “Gradually.”

“They can work with gradual.”

I secured a Coca-Cola polar bear to a branch, then dropped my hands to my sides. “Dodd, I’m afraid this is a huge mistake.” I had an overwhelming urge to bolt out the door and sprint home.

He shook his head. “I don’t see it that way.”

Of course he didn’t see it that way. He stood on the other side of the problem, where everything was rosy. I moved away from him, escaping across the room where I plopped into a chair at the kitchen table, right in front of the ping-pong-ball choir. “Momma won’t understand.”

He followed and sat down across from me, straightening the two lines of ornaments. “Has your mother always been unhappy?”

“Before Daddy left, she laughed a lot. And wore makeup and nice clothes. I remember them swinging a jump rope for me in the driveway. Like real parents.”

He flinched. “But now she’s bitter toward the church, isn’t she?”

“Bitter? She despises the church.” I searched for words to convey the magnitude of what I was considering doing—what he was asking me to do—to my mother. But I was at a loss for words. I shook my head hopelessly.

“I know more or less what happened—I talked to Charlie Mendoza about it—but it doesn’t make sense. I feel like there’s something I’m missing.” Dodd frowned. “They should’ve told me about it from the start, and I wanted some answers.”

“I bet you didn’t get any.”

“Well, no. Not really.”

Footsteps traveled across the roof above our heads, and I peered at the ceiling. “After Daddy left, the church branded Momma an adulteress. She always blamed Neil for the church’s actions, but I don’t know why.”

“Neil Blaylock? But he wasn’t even an elder then.”

“His daddy was. Same difference. The Blaylocks have had it out for us ever since we left the church. They go out of their way to be rude.” I picked a chunk of glue off a ping-pong ball. “Usually they just ignore us, but sometimes Neil talks to Momma.”

“Well, that’s something, right?”

“No.” I’d seen Neil appear out of nowhere and stand too close to her, saying things I could never quite hear. “Whatever he says makes her pretty angry.”

Dodd’s brows bunched. “That seems out of character.”

The naivety of Dodd’s attitude annoyed me. “People aren’t always what they seem, or have you not noticed that?”

He smiled. “I know you’re not what you seem.”

My nerves relaxed, and I rubbed a hand across my face. “I admit you’re not either.”

“You weren’t expecting to trust me.”

“I’m still not sure I do.”

But I knew the day would come when I did. Already it seemed I could talk to him about things. For crying out loud, I couldn’t remember ever having discussed that horrible Sunday with anyone except JohnScott. And here I was telling the preacher about it.

Dodd leaned forward. “So … Neil’s father suggested you and your mom go to another congregation?”

“Um … no.”

“Charlie thought that’s what happened.”

“Charlie Mendoza isn’t a liar, but it’s odd he remembers it that way. Shows how little he’s thought about it since then.”

Dodd massaged the back of his neck. “How old were you?”

“Seven.” I twirled one of the handmade choir members. “At the time I didn’t understand it, but I remember it like it was last week. It was a few months after Daddy left. Momma kept taking me to church. Her friends were there, you know? She and Pamela Sanders did everything together. And Fawn and me.” Thinking about that day made me sad and angry, but Dodd’s eyes urged me on. “We entered the building on Sunday morning, and Momma took a program. Everything seemed normal. We sat behind the Blaylocks, and Fawn turned around and made faces at me while Momma opened the handout to read over the announcements. But all of a sudden, she crumpled it, grabbed my hand, and dragged me out the door. Fawn’s parents never even turned around.”

Dodd waited. Swallowed. Whispered. “What did she read in the program?”

“That morning’s sermon topic.” I snickered. “Adultery. I still have it at the house. I figured I’d keep the silly paper, since it made such an impact on our lives.”

He ran his index finger along the edge of the table. “And your mother? She assumed the sermon was directed at her?”

I huffed. “The congregation is small, Dodd. It was no secret what everyone was saying.”

“Sorry.” He raised his palms. “Remember, I’m not from around here.”

I inhaled deeply, regretting my tone. I hadn’t yet told him everything. “Besides, there was a notice about a business meeting to be held after services.” I made quote marks in the air with my fingers. “To discuss the need to withdraw congregational fellowship from a member of the flock. It was right there before the blurb about Pyrex dishes left behind from the last fellowship meal.”

He stared at me, disbelief etched on his face.

“Gerald Blaylock came by the house a few days later.”

“Oh. Ruthie, I’m so sorry.”

His compassion made me uncomfortable as I felt the intimacy of all I’d shared, and I rose, taking two ornaments to the tree.

He followed with more, and after three trips back and forth, we had them distributed over the branches.

Dodd adjusted a string of lights, then returned them to their original position. “I know the church’s actions seem extreme, but I’m sure they thought they were doing the right thing.” He added quickly, “I don’t agree with them. But there’s actually a verse in the Bible about disciplining a sinner in the church.” He ducked his head.

“Give me a break. I doubt Momma ever did anything wrong. Besides, even if there’s a handy little verse about discipline, there’s also a verse that says sinners don’t have the right to cast stones at other sinners.” My face warmed as my voice rose. “Either the Christians down at your stupid church think they’re actually sinless, or they’ve scribbled that verse out of their Bibles with a Sharpie. Which is it?”

When I finished my backlash, he didn’t answer, only stared with his mouth hanging open.

“What?” I demanded.

He blinked twice, then looked at the tree and back to me. “I never expected you to quote Scripture.”

My anger dissolved in a silent poof. “Why … why not?”

“I didn’t assume you were one to read the Bible.”

Clearly I had misrepresented myself. “Only the New Testament and Psalms. And not very often. That one verse sort of stuck in my mind, you know?”

He looked at me as if he was seeing a completely different person. “Does your mom study the Bible?”

“Of course not.” He really didn’t get it. “And I wouldn’t call what I do studying. More like searching for ammunition. But no, Momma would never read. All the Bibles disappeared from the house years ago.”

His smile softened. “But she let you keep one. That says a lot for her.”

“Actually, I think she forgot about it. It’s just a baby Bible.”

“What do you mean ‘a baby Bible’? One is just as good as another.”

I laughed. “You know, a baby Bible. I got it when I was little, from a Bible-class teacher. It’s probably three inches tall, pink, with a lamb on the front.”

“Oh.” He grinned. “Gotcha. Mine was blue. Might’ve had Doddie engraved on it.”

Outside, Velma called to JohnScott, but Dodd didn’t seem to notice. His smile faded, and his expression became a mixture of confusion and pain. “I never knew anyone to actually read those little Bibles. They make them small for a baby’s hands. The print is tiny.”

“Yeah, well, I have good eyesight.” In the bottom of the ornament box, I discovered a Ziploc baggy filled with silver tinsel, and I pinched a few strands, then draped them on the tip of a branch. Dodd hadn’t moved in a few seconds, so I looked back at him.

“Ruthie, you’re fascinating.”

I froze. “Um … okay.”

“You work harder than anyone I know, you’re patient with obnoxious students and coworkers, and you’re fearless in the face of danger. But if that weren’t enough, you also read the Bible. I know countless Christian women who never even crack open their Bibles.” He reached for a handful of tinsel, then held my wrist gently. “How am I supposed to be gradual knowing all this about you?”

His soft voice shook my senses, but when I didn’t answer, he released my wrist with a grin and went to work on the tinsel.

I breathed again. “I work because I have to, and I’m patient because it makes life easier. I’m not going to acknowledge the Bible remark because I’ve already said I hardly ever read it. But fearless in the face of danger?” I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

“What about Clyde Felton? That day at the school?”

“That wasn’t fearlessness. That was terror.”

“But you were brave. You stood up to him.”

“I almost wet my pants.”

He laughed gently, and then we worked in comfortable silence for a while until he said, “I don’t know about Clyde. I think he’s teetering on the fence, trying to decide if he’s going to be a bad guy or a good guy. But either way, he’s got to stop scaring people like that. I’ve been talking to him.”

“Not about me, I hope.”

He chuckled. “You’re a little testy when you think someone’s talking about you.”

“Wouldn’t you be?”

“All right. You deserve to be testy.”

As he put the last sparkling strands on the tree, I stood a little behind him, suddenly wondering why I had shared so much. “You won’t talk about me, right?” I knew I whined when I said it, but there was no other way for it to come out.

He turned to face me, so close I could feel his warmth. “You can trust me, Ruthie.”

“I don’t really do trust.”

He pulled a strand of tinsel from my hair. “I know you don’t.” He flicked the foil toward the tree without breaking eye contact. Those beautiful eyes that were so tempted to eavesdrop now traveled around my face until they were staring at my lips. He fingered a strand of my hair and then lifted a corner of his mouth. “Ruthie, if I were to ask you out again, would you say yes this time?”

I sighed with the intensity of a leaf blower, knowing I was in so deep, I would eventually suffocate.

He chuckled but kept his voice lowered. “You really do like my mom better than me, don’t you?” He looked at my left earlobe, then inspected my bangs.

“It’s just that I need to get to know you gradually.” I lifted a shoulder. “And quietly.”

“You mean secretly?” His smile disappeared.

“Maybe at first, yes.”

His eyes clouded, and he stared at me intently, not quite frowning. I met his gaze placidly and held it a few long moments, but soon my resolve wavered, and I looked away.

After a silent pause, he exhaled. “All right, secretly.” He sounded as though he were giving in against his better judgment. “At first.”