Oh, exceptperhaps this man’s son, Myron. Myron Kelly was a misogynist and a bully, andhe’d decided I was his conquest. He was five years older than me with rapidlythinning hair and the beginnings of a pot belly. I detested him. I’d begged mymother to veer my father away from him as a choice, but I didn’t hold out muchhope, considering Daddy and Guy were childhood friends, and I’d long suspectedthat Guy and my father had a connection that went much deeper than their sharedfaith.
One hour later,we were finally released, and I led Briar Rae to the bathroom before meetingour mother in the lobby. However, Myron intercepted me in the hallway.
“Blessed day,Lennox,” he said, his smarmy smile on eleven.
Briar Rae gavehim a little wave. “Hi, Myron.”
“Well, hi there,little one.”
“Hi, Myron,” Isaid. “Sorry, gotta go. I’m meeting my mother, and you know she worries ifwe’re late.”
“I’ll walk withyou.”
Oh, god,please don’t.
Of course, Icouldn’t say that, or word would get back to my father that I’d been rude.
“Ah, okay.” Isqueezed Briar Rae’s hand and we headed to where my mother was standing,surrounded by several other women of the church.
“There theyare,” Mama crooned. “My beautiful girls.”
“Delivered safeand sound,” Myron said.
“Thank you,Myron,” my mother said, picking Briar Rae up and giving her a squeeze.
“I wondered if Imight take Lennox out one night this week,” Myron asked.
“You know that’sa question you should ask my husband,” Mama warned, setting my sister on herfeet.
Or me sinceI’m standing right here.
“Right.” Myrongave a little bow. “My apologies.”
“It was good tosee you, Myron,” Mama said. “We should be going. Pastor will be home in a fewhours, and we want to be ready to welcome him.”
My mother led usout of the church and into the car. Briar Rae buckled herself into her boosterseat, and I settled into the front.
“Thank you,” Ibreathed out.
“Don’t thank metoo soon, sweetness. I can’t keep him at bay forever.”
“I know.” I saidwith a sigh. “Where’s Jed?”
“He’s meeting usat home,” Mother said.
I nodded.
Home.
A place thatshould signify peace.
For me, it didnot. The very thought of walking inside the place gave me a pit in my stomach.Our house was an overly large and gaudily decorated mini mansion paid for bythe parishioners of our church. It never sat well with me that Jesus talkedabout giving up everything to follow him and my mother wore close to a milliondollars’ worth of diamonds and gems on her body every week. Not to mention, herBirkin, Gucci, Louis Vuitton bags, and the Rolls Royce, all paid for by thechurch members.
Of course, I hadno say in how my parents earned or spent their money, so I stayed quiet. Asusual.
Pulling up tothe house, I saw a legion of cars parked at the top of the driveway. My motherfrowned. Briefly, of course, and had I not been looking right at her, I wouldhave missed it, but I could tell that she wasn’t expecting company.
“Okay, everyoneinside,” she said, putting on her best ‘happy’ voice. “Briar Rae, please getout of your church clothes before you play.”
