“Because he’s my friend,” I clarify.
“Everyone thinks you’re crazy bein’ friends with him.”
“I don’t care.”
“For a woman who needs time to say yes to me, you’re plenty quick to defend him.”
It throws me because it’s true. Once again, the desire to see Everett, to tell him everything that’s happened and hear what he thinks, hits me hard.
Barry picks up his glass and chugs the bubbles in one go. When he’s done, he wipes his mouth and leans over the table. “Your daddy’s grooming me, Ruth. Now that Holy Fire’s grown so big and there are so many people comin’ to Bottom Springs ’cause of it, he’s practically running this town. And he wants me to be next. I’m already part of the family, according to him. So say yes, and let’s make it official.”
I glance around. Jo, our waitress, hovers by the kitchen, too shy to come over. The rest of the diners still eye us, but their expressions are no longer anticipatory. Now they’re hungry. Watching what passes between Barry and me so they can report it all over town. We haven’t even ordered yet. This dinner has gone off the rails on the breadstick course.
I rise from my chair. “I’m really sorry, Barry. I promise I’m excited about the ring. I don’t mean to fight. I just need some time, and some air.”
“We’re going to your parents’, Ruth. They’re expecting us.”
“I’m not feeling well.”
“You know your daddy suspects Everett used to steal money from thechurch?”
I freeze.
Barry wears the satisfied expression of a man who knows he’s got me on the hook. He waits until I’ve dropped back into my seat before he spreads his hands over the table. “The money was in a safe and everything, but somehow Everett got in. The only way a person could’ve done that is through black magic.”
“Why does my father think it was him?”
Barry gives me an incredulous look. “Who else? Your daddy says Everett was only friends with you for information. He knew the church collected tithes and wanted it for booze or worse. Like father, like son.”
I’m silent against the crush of surprise. I’ve never heard my father accuse Ever of this, and it’s a weapon he would’ve used against me, surely.
“The reverend was thinking of pressing charges a few years back.” Barry leans over the table, his face hovering over the empty vase. I remember I’m wearing the rose that belongs there, like some sort of woman in a love poem. I pluck the flower from my hair and drop it on my plate. Barry’s eyes linger on the thorn. “That’s who you’re so devoted to, Ruth.” He slams his hand on the table, and I jump. “ASatanist.”
“No—”
Bam.His hand smacks the wood. “Acriminal.”
I open my mouth to protest, then stop.
Because that accusation is true. In more ways than one.
15
JULY, EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD
Everett folded his arms over his chest and shot me a dubious look. “I think you’re really setting yourselves up for disappointment here.”
From behind the folding table, I wrapped an arm around Samuel Landry’s shoulders and squeezed. “Ye of little faith. The football team makes so much money from these things.” I glanced at the empty pavement behind us. We were camped right next to Dale’s Country Corner, the only gas station on Main Street. This little concrete lot was where countless school teams had held their car-wash fundraisers, car washes being a town tradition. On past car-wash Saturdays, you could barely drive down Main Street, it got so packed with cars waiting in line. “I heard the football team madetwo thousand dollarslast time.”
“Even half that would be a godsend,” Sam said modestly. He was small for seventeen, with a mop of blond hair and curious eyes that telegraphed intelligence. “I really can’t thank you two enough for helping me.”
“Are you kidding?” I said, at the same time Ever shrugged and muttered, “It was Ruth’s idea.”
“You’re going to Durham if I have to wash a million cars to get you there,” I said, and Sam beamed.
He leaned over the folding table to get a good look at Main Street. I was proud of the table: I’d hung a poster that read, “Send Sam Landry to College! Car Wash: $10. Cause: Priceless,” and had even roped Everett into helping me decorate it. “You think they’ll start coming soon?” Sam asked.
I followed his gaze. It was a bright, beautiful Saturday, mild for July, and there was ample traffic, people traipsing in and out of the Piggly Wiggy and the bait shop and hairdresser. We’d gotten a few curious glances but no takers. “Any minute now. Adult Bible study just ended, so we’re about to see a rush of people.”
