“Good Lord, Chris, is that your school?” Fox pointed at the tiny A-frame schoolhouse.
“That would be it,” Chris murmured. “K through twelve all in the same place.”
Emory was glad for Alex’s strong arm around her shoulders as she watched children playing in the yard of the white clapboard building. It looked exactly the same as it had the day the twins had left town.
“Oh, God.” Emory couldn’t choke back her whimper as they drove by her father’s church.
The pristine stone structure shared the quaint style of the schoolhouse save for the whitewashed cross firmly planted in the neat green square between the buildings and gravel parking lot. A flat-roofed structure sat slightly behind the church building. The fellowship hall had been the site of many potluck dinners, youth activities, and her father’s torturous revival meetings.
“It’s just a building, love.” Alex’s soothing tone helped her to breathe. “There’s no power in a building. It’s just a pile of stone and wood.”
“Your young man is right, Emmy Lou,” Aunt Maude added. “It’s your daddy that thinks that place has power. And we all know what he’s full of.”
The buildings abruptly stopped just beyond the church, the town giving way to the encroaching wilderness. Chris slowed as they approached a break in the thick trees. A wide clearing opened up to their right, and he turned the SUV onto a lane between two crumbling stone pillars. They drove beneath a wrought-iron archway, and Emory could see acres of cleared land studded with tombstones.
“Looks like we’re right on time.” Maude gathered up her handbag and smoothed her floral-patterned skirt.
Chris parked Fox’s SUV alongside the road at the tail end of a long line of dusty cars. Alex climbed out of the vehicle, and Emory was hit with a wave of admiration. He looked amazing. His suit fit as if it had been tailored to show off his gorgeous physique. He’d opted not to wear a tie, the neck of his bright blue dress shirt open to show a hint of the glorious tan chest she knew so intimately. His golden curls were artlessly tousled, and his blue eyes were alight with concern directed at her.
“You look amazing, Emory.” He took her hand and helped her down.
She’d agonized over what to wear to her mother’s burial. Her desire to wear a dress to please her mother and yet thwart her father’s sexist views had made it almost impossible to choose anything. In the end she had opted to wear a skirt for the first time in years. The clingy pastel blue material swished lightly around her thighs, resting above her knees. Her top was snug, the neckline showing a hint of her cleavage. Her yellow cashmere wrap covered the dainty cap sleeves of her blouse. Bare of any jewelry, she’d secured her hair into the semblance of a ponytail on top of her head, intentionally letting the mass curl wildly around her shoulders. It was a style guaranteed to make her father grind his teeth.
Alex took her hand and pressed his lips against her palm. “Since we don’t have a proper ring, I thought we might make do with this.”
He’d removed the thick carbide ring from the middle finger of his right hand. As she watched, he slid it down over the third finger of her left hand, where it sat, a little loose, below her knuckle.
Things had happened so fast between the two of them. It was so important that she understand what this meant. “But I thought this was a connection to Gabriel, to the no-strings-attached life the two of you shared.”
“You’re right. The rings were meant to be a reminder not to give a fuck what anyone thinks.” He cupped her face and stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “But I’ve realized that I might not care what anyone else thinks, but your opinion of me matters a lot. I love you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I want everyone to know it.”
Her heart was thumping out of control. His declaration had swept away all of the tension and horror of this day and turned it into something beautiful. She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him for all she was worth.
“I know it isn’t on the correct finger, but I’ll be damned if I let you go without something marking you as mine.” He gave her a hard kiss.
“As if my heart doesn’t have your name tattooed on it.”
“I want something that bastard father of yours can see plain as day,” he muttered. “Other than the fist I’ll plant in his face if he pisses me off.”
Emory clasped his hand tightly as they followed Chris, Fox, and Maude toward the decent-sized crowd gathered at her mother’s gravesite. Part of her was still in total shock that she’d come back at all. It was a little bit like walking into the fiery furnace featured in one of her father’s Bible stories.
An unwelcome tingle slid down her spine as they drew closer to the group. A man stood at the head of the open grave. The Reverend Jonathan Banks still carried himself as though he were God’s mouthpiece on earth. His hair had once been the same burnished copper as Chris’s, though it was now shot through with strands of silver. He stood with his spine ramrod straight, a closed Bible in hand as he spoke to his congregation.
“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.” The reverend’s eyes swept the assembled group.
Emory’s skin began to crawl. She knew the verse from Ecclesiastes. It had been one of her father’s favorites, something he pulled out whenever he wanted to back up one of his decrees with a bit of Scripture, mostly because it could be twisted to any purpose. Her grip on Alex became so tight that he shifted to put an arm around her shoulders. His warm presence kept the demons at bay, but just barely.
The reverend continued his recitation. “A time to be born, and a time to die. A time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted. A time to kill, and a time to heal. A time to break down, and a time to build up. A time to weep, and a time to laugh. A time to mourn, and a time to dance. A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together. A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing. A time to get, and a time to lose. A time to keep, and a time to cast away. A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak. A time to love, and a time to hate. A time of war, and a time of peace.”
To Emory’s left, Chris made a low sound in his throat as their father’s gaze settled on them both. It had been so long, but inside she knew it would never be long enough. Years of conditioning sent cold fear rushing through her veins. Her fingers grew icy where they rested against Alex’s warmth.
A smirk twisted the corner of the reverend’s mouth. “And t’would seem that this is the season in which a man’s prodigal children return to the fold.”
“Like hell,” Fox muttered darkly.
Emory had never seen her brother-in-law look so tense. It was ironic really, that her father had spent so much time ranting about how homosexuality turned men into women. There was nothing remotely feminine about her brother’s lover at the moment. Fox was ready to throw down and brawl in the tradition of every other angry male throughout history.
“We came to pay our respects to our mother,” Chris said.
She’d never been so proud of her brother. Everyone was staring at them. The expressions were varied, but most bordered on hostile. Her heart began to pound frantically against her ribs.
“Is that right?” Their father stared down, judging them with one look. “In light of the circumstances, I might offer you absolution for your sins if you repent and come back to a godly existence.”
Fox snorted and Chris laid his hand on his lover’s arm. “I didn’t come here to make peace with you, old man.”
“Are you certain you and your sister both feel that way?” Their father’s smile grew snakelike.
Maude puffed out her birdlike chest. “I’m nigh certain we all feel that way, you old windbag.”
“Don’t press me, old woman. You took my wife to the hospital against my will. It is for God to decide our fate, not men and medicine. Liza was made to suffer for her sins as we all should.” The reverend drew himself up as if he had been the one to su
ffer a slight and not their mother.
“Don’t you dare talk about my sister in such a way! Liza’s only sin was that she didn’t murder you in your bed.” Maude started forward, as if she might forge right through the crowd and smack the self-righteous reverend with her handbag.
Several of the men at the back must have thought she had ill intentions toward their religious leader, because they began to crowd Maude in an attempt to push her back. The Chrises took immediate exception to this, but Emory didn’t get a chance to see how it all played out.
Their father’s gaze settled on Emory, and she began to tremble. His eyes—she’d never forget his eyes. The way he would stare as he stood over her kneeling form while she prayed endlessly for forgiveness. Her breathing grew ragged. She tried to block it out, but the memories came fast, like a film she couldn’t stop. She recalled his hands, probing, prodding, and hurting her delicate flesh as he examined her relentlessly for signs of impurity.
“Emory Louise, come forward.”
The order sank into her consciousness, her feet jerking into action as she pulled away from Alex. Her legs carried her forward, through the congregation as they parted to allow her to go before her father. Tears stung her eyes as their collective venom scalded her with its derisiveness.
“Kneel, Emory. Pray for forgiveness, and I shall grant it.”
She sank to her knees in the wet grass. Tears burned hot trails down her cheeks. So many years, so much hurt and pain, and the darkness began to seethe and swirl like a living thing. She closed her eyes and squeezed them tight against the whisper of her mother’s song spinning so sweetly inside her mind.
Alex was stunned when Emory knelt before her father in utter humility. Chris tried to intervene but was rebuffed by several members of the church already in a huff over Maude’s forthright behavior. A few of the men in particular seemed more than happy to flex their considerable strength against Chris. Alex met Fox’s gaze, reaching an understanding. Fox nudged himself between Chris and the others, using his taller, muscular form to intimidate and giving Alex a chance to slip by.
Weaving through several layers of women dressed in prairie skirts with their hair pulled into tight buns covered with lacy caps, Alex didn’t hesitate to place himself right in the reverend’s line of fire. For the moment, Banks was too focused on his daughter to note Alex’s presence.
“Repent your sins, Emory Louise.” Her father took a step toward her tiny form kneeling in the grass. “We will welcome you back into our community. You will have a home and a husband here in the safety of the church family.”
Alex wavered, knowing he had to intervene but not quite knowing how to best approach the bizarre situation.
“You will be made clean again, a woman worth a man’s notice. You will gain a place here with a man, to be his helpmate, the mother of his children, as he will be your spiritual leader and disciplinarian.”
Anger snapped Alex from his indecisiveness. “You really think that’s what she wants?”
It was as if his words shattered some strange word spell. The congregation began to murmur, and he heard the men harassing the Chrises fall silent.
Reverend Banks focused away from Emory and pegged Alex with a hard stare. “Who do you think you are to come here and disrespect me?”
“I’m the man who is going to marry Emory.”
The murmurs grew louder, punctuated here and there by sounds of discord. The reverend held up a hand to quiet his followers. “And how do you propose to do that? According to church law she cannot marry unless I give my permission. Is that why you’re here? Do you think I would ever give my permission for you to marry my daughter?”
The undiluted arrogance of the man made Alex grit his teeth in irritation. Taking a deep breath, he remembered that the only important thing was Emory. “I realize that down here you think you’re the shit.”
Shocked whispers rippled through the gathering.
Alex wasn’t finished. “Truth is, you can’t stop her from marrying me. In fact, you can’t stop her from doing anything. She’s her own person. Emory can choose what she wants, do what she wants, be who she wants, and has been doing so ever since she stopped believing you could tell her no.”
The reverend waved a hand at Emory’s hunched form. “Look at her. She’s only a woman. How can someone so weak possibly make good choices for herself? She needs a good man, a righteous man, to see that she behaves.”
“She’s got a man.” Alex growled to keep himself from shouting. “But I sure as hell don’t need to tell her any of that shit.”
“Then what good are you?”
“I love her. And that’s all that’s required.”
The sound of Alex’s voice penetrated the black hole in Emory’s psyche and fanned sparks into flame. The inferno built, scorching away her doubts, burning her inhibitions to ashes, and sending a pillar of fire through her soul.
Alex loves me. Unconditionally, totally, without any strings attached.
The thought gave her courage far beyond anything she’d ever thought possible. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she said the one thing that had been on her mind for so long. “I only ever wanted your love.”
The reverend seemed surprised. “I didn’t give you permission to speak, Emory Louise.”
The grass was damp and springy beneath her fingers as she pushed herself up into a standing position. “I said that I only ever wanted you to love me.”
“I did love you.” Jonathan Banks seemed surprised by his own admission. “When you were obedient to me.”
“Love doesn’t work like that.” Emory gazed at her mother’s simple pine casket. “She only wanted your love too, you know.”
“Your mother was an obedient woman and I loved her well.” Her father looked aghast at his own admission.
“Love isn’t about obedience. Even God knew we humans would fail at that. You told me all my life that we should try to emulate God, to aspire to be like him. God accepts everyone, the way they are. I hope in the future you’ll try to do the same.” Emory reached out blindly, feeling suddenly complete when Alex caught her hand and held it. “Maybe if you get down off that pedestal, you’ll appreciate how much my mother gave to you. She even loved you, you know, though it’s too late for you to really understand that.”
Feeling the telltale burn of tears, Emory bent down and swiped up a handful of rich earth. She held her hand over her mother’s casket, letting the soil sift through her fingers until it made a tiny mound on the wood.
“I’ll be waiting for you, Momma, down by the Greenwood Side.”
Chapter Twenty
“Where are you going? The party is over here.”
Emory laughed as Morgan literally skipped her way down the street toward the festival set up in the grassy area before the courthouse. Her friend’s bustier, black leather skirt, fishnet stockings, and combat boots were totally at odds with her carefree movements.
“I’m going to run in and see what’s taking Alex so long,” Emory answered.
“You can’t miss this party!” Morgan let her voice slip into a cute singsong. “You’re the guest of honor.”
“No, the mayor is the guest of honor.”
Morgan snorted. “Whatever. We all know this festival is really a celebrate-because-MacIntyre-got-indicted-for-blackmail-and-the-mayor-is-coming-out party. And you’re the girl of the hour who made all that possible.”
Emory sighed. Morgan was right. Things could not have turned out better where the saga of Captain Downtown versus Mayor Strand was concerned. “I still need Alex if I’m going to have a good time.”
Morgan stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and made a little shooing motion with her hands. “Fine then! Go screw his brains out. Have fantastically awesome sex with your seriously hot fiancé. I’ll just go suppress my sexual frustration with funnel cakes and cotton candy.”
Emory pushed open the heavy doors of Phoenix Rising. “I’m not going in here for a quickie, Morgan. I’ll meet you there in
just a minute. I promise.”
Morgan scoffed, “Whatever!”
Not that Emory had any intention of grabbing some afternoon delight before Mayor Strand’s big speech, but the idea did hold a certain appeal. She sighed and slid the latch on the unlocked cage door separating the front entrance from the main room. Alex had his back turned to her, dusting bottles of liquor, as he got ready to close early.
It was cool and soothing inside the empty bar. Emory always marveled that the bar itself could seem so seedy and yet be so very welcoming all at the same time. She supposed there was just a little bit of down and dirty in everyone, which was why having a place to let it all hang out was so important.
Alex spotted her over his shoulder. “I’ll be done in just a minute, love.”
Emory walked around the bar. She could remember a time in the not so distant past when another woman had done the same, right before kneeling in front of Alex and taking him in her mouth. Emory had wondered what it would be like to have that kind of confidence. There was only one way to find out.
Striding forward before she lost her nerve, Emory nudged her way between Alex and the back wall of shelves.
He turned, giving her the necessary access. “What’s wrong, love?”
Kneeling, Emory first unbuttoned and then unzipped his worn jeans. Already sitting on the tilt of his hips, the jeans parted to reveal that Alex wasn’t wearing underwear.
“Emory, love, what…”
His soft cock popped through the opening in his jeans. It was already growing when she took the entire length in her mouth. He tasted so wonderful, like a favorite treat you never got tired of. She made a little purring noise, letting it vibrate against his petal-soft skin as she pressed him against her palate.
“Fuck me.” Alex moaned as he relaxed back against the counter.
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