The Preacher's Daughter

by Fiona Wilde

  The entire thing had been a set up from the start.

  Jasper had targeted her and pursued her like prey. Now he wanted her back. Hanging up on him wouldn't get him out of her life, no matter how much she wanted to think it would.

  Naomi began to cry. Jasper had pretended to care and she'd fallen for it because she'd never been around a man who really did. Now she had that man in her life, but if she was honest with him he'd end the relationship. After all, what good Christian man would want to be with a former stripper?

  Naomi got off the bed and sunk down beside it. How many years had she been since she'd gotten on her knees in prayer? Ten? Fifteen? Twenty? She'd told herself she'd never pray again. Now she couldn't think of anything else to do.

  Chapter Six

  "Are you all right, Naomi?" Eric looked up into the driver's mirror of the bus, a concerned look on his face. They were heading with the youth group to a local farm to pick strawberries and Naomi was having a hard time staying awake.

  "I'm OK," she said. "I just didn't sleep well last night."

  "Something on your mind keeping you awake?"

  "No." Naomi looked out the window. "Just couldn't sleep."

  It was a lie, of course, and Naomi knew it would lead to more and more. But the truth of her past would extract too high a price. People who said honesty was the best policy didn't "stripper" on their resumes.

  "Well you'd better summon some energy somehow," he said. "Carson's Farm is a big place and picking berries in the heat isn't for the faint of heart."

  Naomi tried to muster a laugh but all she could manage was a weak smile. She felt frustrated with herself for losing sleep over Jasper. It was only her second day as Eric's assistant; she wanted to do a good job.

  Beth slid from the seat behind Naomi to sit beside her.

  "You know you're not supposed to change seats when the bus is moving." Eric glared at the girl.

  "Sorry," Beth said. "I won't move again."

  Eric glared at her a moment more before turning his attention back to the road. When he did the girl turned to Naomi.

  "So I heard Chelsea's dad was over at your place," she said.

  Naomi wasn't sure whether she should respond. She was supposed to be an authority figure and instinct told her talking about her personal problems was the wrong move. But at the same time she wanted the kids to like her.

  "He kept her out today, Chelsea's dad did," Beth continued. "He said he's not going to let her take part in any youth activities until you repent."

  Naomi became angry enough to ignore her instincts. "Hell will freeze over before I stand up before all the hypocrites in that church and apologize," she said quietly. As she spoke she cast a wary eye on Eric, who was now pre-occupied with navigating the dirt road the bus had turned onto.

  Beth's eyes widened. "You're not going to do it?"

  "No." Naomi's voice was adamant. "It's nothing but a show, Beth. It's all a show."

  Beth grew quiet. "You really think so?"

  "Yeah, I do," Naomi said. "Religion is about control."

  "Wow," Beth said. "I've never heard a grownup say that before." She sounded impressed.

  "Well, adults should be more honest," said Naomi, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. She looked up at Eric, thinking how much easier things would be for her if he were in some other line of work. If he were a mechanic or an accountant or anything else it would be easier for him to overlook her past. But the only reason he was with her was because he thought she'd done nothing more than pan-handle.

  It was probably good that they'd pulled into the farm, because Naomi didn't want to say any more. The deacon's attitude was maddening. She didn't care that his fat, petulant daughter was being kept away from the group. What did bother her was that he apparently still thought she'd be giving some ridiculous confession, which she had not intention of doing. Naomi wondered if her father had come to his senses in that regard sense their talk.

  "Here we are!" Rev. Eric Feagans cut the engine to the bus. The door hissed as he opened it and warm air rushed in from outside. Even so early in the day it was already hot, and Naomi knew that the heat would only serve to make her sleepier.

  She kept her seat as everyone filed out. Once outside, Eric took her hand but Naomi pulled away.

  "Eric," she said. "Are you crazy? They'll see!"

  "So?" he said, taking her hand again. "I'm not ashamed of you, Naomi."

  She said nothing as she bit her lip and blushed. She was ashamed of herself, that was the problem. But it felt so good to feel her small hand engulfed in his large one that the pleasurable sensation drove the negative feelings quickly from her mind.

  When Eric was by her side she felt like nothing could hurt her. She felt safe, protected, nurtured. By mid-morning Naomi's fatigue had fled, burned off by sun and good humor along with the fears she'd entertained the night before. Jasper was many states away, after all, and L.A. was full of pretty girls who would fall for his lines. He'd realize soon enough that she was replaceable and when he did he'd forget about her, right?

  By lunchtime the group was back at church, lugging buckets of red, juicy berries to the church kitchen where the plan was to turn them into ice cream. Conversation swirled as the girls began pulling out colanders, pots and other tools they'd need while the boys fetched ice from the ice machine in the storage room.

  "Did you hear that Melissa Raybon is moving?" one of the girls asked.

  "Why?" Beth asked as she began cutting tops off the berries and tossing them in a colander. "She and her parents just moved here something like three months ago. I thought they liked it."

  "They seemed to," the other girl replied. "But she said her parents had been having problems before the move and it's gotten worse. They're getting a divorce."

  "A divorce?" Beth said. "Mr. Raybon is on that Strength in Families committee thing that Rev. Kindle just started." She snorted then. "But it's like Naomi says. It's all a big show anyway."

  Naomi had her back to the girls and was helping Eric open a large bag of rock salt when she overheard the comment. She secretly prayed that Eric hadn't heard it, but one look up at him told her different. He was staring at the girls, his face somber.

  "What's all a big show?" he asked Beth.

  "Eric..." Naomi began, but he held up his hand, silencing her.

  "What's a big show, Beth?" he repeated.

  The girl turned to him and shrugged. "You know. Religion. It's all about control."

  Eric looked down at Naomi. "Naomi told you that?" he asked Beth.

  "Well yeah," she said, looking at Naomi. Her expression was suddenly apprehensive and apologetic, as if she knew she'd done something to get the junior counselor in trouble.

  "We were talking about Deacon Watkins and what a jerk he was..." Beth tried to explain.

  "You were?" Eric's face grew darker as he looked at Naomi.

  Naomi knew Beth was just trying to help, but with each passing word the girl was only making things worse. Her heart began to pound as the teen continued to explain.

  "Yeah, and she was telling me that they were going to try to make her do this stupid confession but she wasn't going to because they were all hypocrites."

  Beth forced a smile. "Come on, Rev. Feagans. You're cool. You know she's right. I mean, it's like she said, adults should be honest with kids."

  "Honest." He looked from Beth to Naomi and stood.

  "Well, I can tell you that I'm honestly disappointed in both of you right now," he said. "Beth, every is a hypocrite on some level, but we don't have the right to assume that all churchgoing adults are hypocrites any more than churchgoing adults have the right to assume that teens are all rebellious losers."

  He turned to Naomi then. "And as for you, I'd appreciate it if you'd go to my office. We need to have a word in private."

  "Now!" he said when she didn't rise immediately and Naomi stood, reluctant to argue with him in front of the kids. She'd screwed up; she knew it. She didn't need to
make things worse.

  The hallway was cool, but Naomi felt flushed and warm with shame as she walked down to the youth minister's office.

  She scolded herself as she went. What had she been thinking? She was supposed to be setting a good example, but instead she'd let her own bitterness infect one of the youth group. It didn't matter to Naomi that she felt she had told the truth; she had no right to do what she'd done.

  She told Eric this as soon as he walked in, her words tripping over themselves as she sought to explain.

  "I know it was wrong," she concluded as he listened. "I should have just said something nice or nothing at all."

  He'd sat down at his desk across from her, his chin resting on his tented hands as he'd listened. When she finished he didn't immediately respond.

  "And so you think that makes it OK?" he asked.

  She'd not expected this response.

  "Well, no..."

  "What do you think should be done, then?" he asked. "What do you think is an appropriate penalty for someone who sows seeds of doubt in a young Christian?"

  "Eric..."

  "Answer me, Naomi," he commanded. "Young people are impressionable and her parents send her hear to grow as a Christian, not to be discouraged or taught that anyone who goes to church is a hypocrite. So I'll ask you again? What do you think is an appropriate penalty?"

  Naomi looked at the floor. She already knew the answer he wanted, but she wasn't going to say it.

  "Tell me, Naomi." He voice carried an edge of warning.

  The room was silent save for the sound of the clock on the wall.

  "All right then," he said. "I'll answer for you. Just know that your silence has earned you ten more licks with my belt."

  She looked up, stricken. "Belt? No, Eric..."

  He stood and began undoing the buckle. "Save your breath, Naomi. You had your chance to speak. You should have taken it."

  She stared at him in disbelief.

  "You can't be serious!" she said. "The kids are here."

  "Yes, down the long hallway with a noise ice machine and air conditioning unit between us. They won't hear a thing. Of course, if you want to be sure of that you'll have to stifle your cries."

  "No!" She got to her feet and shook her head adamantly. "You can't! We're in a relationship, remember?"

  He folded the belt in half.

  "Yes," he said. "And you need to know that whether we're dating or married my word is going to be law and if you break my rules you're going to end up with a sore tail."

  He patted the desk. "Bend over."

  Naomi's heart was pounding. She was terrified. But a strange part of her was also relieved. Her handsome minister boyfriend was disappointed with her - disppointed enough to spank her with a belt. But he still wanted to be with her. His penalty for disobeying had not been to walk away from her, but to correct her.

  "Tell me, Naomi, do you feel anger from me when I've spanked you?" He'd asked her that just the day before and she'd told him no, she did not. Eric never tried to hurt her, only to heal her. He never corrected her without reason, and this time even she had to admit he had one.

  Tears streamed down her face as she looked up at him.

  "I'm sorry," she said.

  "I know, and as soon as this is over you can reflect on exactly how you're supposed to present yourself around these kids." He pointed at the desk again. "Over, young lady."

  Naomi walked on wooden legs over to the desk. She took a deep breath as she complied. She wore shorts and when she bent all the way over the desk they showed just the bottoms of her cheeks. That's where the belt made its first bite, and when it did she screamed into the arm she'd put over her mouth.

  "I deserve this," she told herself with every lick of the leather. But even though she knew this to be true it did not lessen the pain of the punishment. Tears coursed down Naomi's face, for Eric was not showing any mercy.

  "No more!" Naomi's hand flew back and she stood, whirling to face him as she pressed her sore bum protectively against the desk. It hurt, but she couldn't fathom even one more stroke of the belt.

  "Naomi..." He looked at her sternly. "Turn back around and get back into position. I'm not finished."

  "No!" she said, and desperate now decided to lie. "I heard someone in the hallway."

  She had not, of course, but couldn't think of any other way to make him stop.

  The handsome youth minister raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" he asked. "I didn't hear anyone."

  "I did."

  He walked over and put his hand on the door. "I'll look," he said. "If someone is out there then you can dry your eyes and we'll go back to the kitchen. If there's not, then that means you lied to get out of yours spanking. If that's the case your shorts come down for the last five."

  Naomi's heart thudded in her chest. Now what had she done? Even before she had told the desperate lie she knew she wouldn't get away with it. She stood rooted to the spot as Eric opened the door, his large frame filling the doorway as he looked first right and then left. After a moment he shut the door and turned to her.

  Drop those shorts and turn around.

  "Eric. Please. No." He sobbed the words.

  "Shorts down or I take them down. I'm not playing games with you, Naomi. The sooner you learn to mind me the better."

  She turned slowly, her hands shaking so badly she could barely manage the snap that held the front of her denim shorts together. As she pulled them down her hands skimmed the surface of her bottom. It was welted, sore and warm and now she'd lost the little protection she had against the belt.

  It took a great amount of willpower to force herself to lean back over the desk and when the next blow of the belt came she already had her hand in her mouth to stifle the scream she knew would accompany it.

  The pain took her breath away. Eric kept a hand on her lower back to keep her from rising. All Naomi could do was wag her bottom back and forth as he aimed the belt with excruciating accuracy at the middle of her tortured cheeks.

  When he let her up she was beside herself.

  "Now," he said. "I want you to walk over by that bookshelf and stand in the corner."

  "Th-th-the corner?" she asked incredulously through her tears. "Why?"

  "Because you've behaved like an ill-mannered little girl and you need time to reflect on that. Now go, or do you want me to spank you some more?"

  She shook her head and reached down to pull up her pants, but he stopped her.

  "No," he said adamantly. "The shorts stay down. Yeah, I know it's embarrassing but so was your behavior. Now go."

  It was hard to walk with her shorts stuck around mid-thigh, but Naomi did so and placed herself in the corner per his command. She sobbed softly and stopped rubbing her sore bottom when he instructed her to keep her hands at her side.

  "I'm going back to the kitchen," he said. "I'll come fetch you when you've had adequate time to think."

  It turned out to be much longer than Naomi expected, and she felt sad and dejected when she heard the sound of car doors slamming as parents came to pick up their kids. He's kept her away from the group for the whole ice cream feast. A tear of shame and disappointment slid down her face and for a moment she considered pulling up her shorts and stalking away from the church and him forever. But she could not bring herself to do that, for deep down he understood why the penalty had been so harsh. He'd given her a position of authority and trust and she had misused it. He'd wanted her to understand that she could never do that again.

  Still, it hurt, and she was wiping away a fresh trail of tears when he walked into the office. Her legs were numb from standing in the corner and her bottom was still sore, but she'd held her place; it was the one thing she'd done right all day.

  "Good girl." His affirmation caused her hear to take a small leap, even if that leap wasn't enough to overcome the hurdle of sadness that still engulfed her.

  "You left me out," she said dejectedly.

  He walked over and pulled her shorts up, sign
aling that she could fasten them.

  "Yes," he said. "I left you out. The responsibility I've given you is something you must strive daily to deserve, Naomi. My job is the same way. If I'd done what you did today I'd get the axe, and I'd have no one to blame but myself."

  "But you," he said, "are more fortunate. I'm giving you a second chance, Naomi?"

  "What about Beth?" she asked, suddenly worried not for herself but for him. "If she goes home and tells her parents what I said it's going to reflect badly on you..."

  "Which is why I talked to her," he replied. "I told her you were on your journey back to a place of faith, and that can be hard to do when people think the worst of you. I told her that some people in the church thought you'd lived some sort of sinful life in L.A., that you'd done much worse than petty theft and panhandling. I told her that you had never been the kind of person they suspected you were and that it hurt you to feel you had to defend yourself against false accusations. And I told her that hurt can make us lash out at God, even when he loves us more than anyone else."

  Naomi knew his words were meant to soothe, but they were like a knife through her heart. She wasn't angry at God and his followers because they were wrong about her, but because they were right. She was angry that she couldn't tell the truth about what she'd been through for fear of being judged. She was angry because they were willing to accept her as long as she'd only been a little bit sinful.

  Naomi's heart screamed to share the truth. "Tell him!" it cried, for she felt that the longer she waited the harder it would be. But she'd already disappointed him enough for one day. Maybe she'd tell him tomorrow.

  He sat down and pulled her into his lap.

  "You know how special you are to me?" he asked.

  "No," she said. And that was the truth because without his knowing all of her past did he really know himself. It could all change in the blink of an eye. But as he took her in his arms for a hug she allowed herself to be comforted by his protective embrace. So she pushed her worries from her mind long enough to pretend that she really was just a little bit sinful, that she was good enough to deserve the man who held her so tightly against his broad chest as she wept into his shoulder.