“Don’t talk toher every day. When she comes for the gala, chat with everyone but her.”
“And everyonethinks you’re the nice one,” my brother bit out.
“I’m the quietone,” I said. “Everyone thinks the quiet ones are nice.”
“Until they findthe bodies in your freezer.”
“I don’t keepthe bodies in my freezer, you bampot.” I grinned. “I put them in yours.”
“Fuck me.” Liamlaughed.
“There you are.No more mopey pants, yeah? Our mother’s trying to save the world. You justworry about who you’re going to dance with at the gala to make Libby jealous.”
“I hope yourmate is as big a psychopath as you are,” Liam said.
“If she’s evenborn yet, she’s probably off knitting in a corner somewhere, sipping tea.”
* * *
Lennox
“Can I get you anything todrink?” the flight attendant asked.
“Coffee?” Iasked.
“I’m sorry, wejust ran out,” she said, motioning to the group of men sitting with my fatherat the front of the plane. “How about tea?”
I hated tea.
“No, thank you,”I said with a grimace. “Water’s great.”
The church’sprivate plane had never been my favorite place, and this flight certainlywasn’t helping. I’d never been particularly close to my father, but over thepast few months I’d felt an even greater distance between us. I’d secretlyhoped that he’d invite me to sit with him so we could talk and catch up. Iloved my father even if I didn’t always agree with him. Every birthday I’dwished and prayed that I’d reached the age where he’d take interest in me. Andwith the passing of each year, came the bitter sting of disappointment when hedidn’t. And, as much as I hated to admit it, I still craved his approval andaffection.
Unfortunately,instead of sitting by my father’s side at the front of the plane, I’d beenseated in the rear with the other protestors. My father was busy up at thefront, holding court over the members of his security team and his new ‘guests’to even notice me. The bad feeling I’d had about this trip was growing worse bythe hour and I found myself praying for a mechanical failure on the plane thatwould force us to turn around and head back home.
“Would you likeme to pray with you?” Jacob, one of the protestors, seated across the aislefrom me, asked.
“Oh, no. I’mokay,” I replied.
“Are you sure?’Cause I know some folks really don’t like flying, and you look to me like youmight be one of ’em.”
“Thanks, Jacob.That’s sweet of you, but I’m okay. I promise.”
Jacob was in hisearly forties and ran the church’s singles group. He lived alone with hiselderly mother whom he took care of. He was softspoken and a sweetheart toeveryone.
“It’s exciting,isn’t it? Doing the Lord’s work,” he asked, his leg bouncing up and down like asewing machine needle.
I was suddenlyglad the plane was out of coffee because the last thing Jacob needed wascaffeine. His entire body was humming, and his face was lit up like he’d beenplugged directly into a 220-volt socket. I’d been to enough revival meetings,summer camps, and church services to know a spiritual high when I saw one, andJacob was a living textbook case study.
“Yes.” I gavehim two thumbs up. “Exciting.”
“You’re probablyused to this kind of life, having Pastor Gavin as your father and all.”
“I guess, so,” Ireplied.
“I’m just sohonored to have been asked to participate in this protest.”
“I’m sure myfather had good reasons for selecting you for service,” I said, having no ideawhatsoever why my father made any of the decisions he did.
