Mammoth Secrets (11 page)

A rise of joy in his soul, he heard the murmurs even as he finished the verses.

She settled in and raised a daring eyebrow to him while dragging a Bible from the pew rack, fluttering pages.

“Good morning, Mammoth.” He un-pocketed and palmed a flat river stone to the podium's surface, and as he'd hoped, drew questioning looks.

“Why did ancient cultures partake in such a brutal punishment of those who broke God's law? Did the Lord bless this Old Testament practice?”

He looked everyone in the eye as he spoke, praying all the while for direction. He explained about stoning as punishment in ancient Judea, and how the Romans added it to their own methods of dealing with thieves, traitors, and liars. “Our Lord ended it, there on that day, when he asked the blameless to step forward. Not one among them could. A stone tossed in a pond, or a river, does nothing but make waves. Not one of us on this earth is without sin, without a past.”

Gazes darted to Lilah, sitting stock-still.

Here goes
.

“And that includes me.” His words evoked gasps and whispers from the audience.

Tom Steadman shifted in his seat, while his wife fanned herself with the day's announcement.

“There's a misconception about me that must be cleared up.”

Whispers surged.

“I am not a widower. My ex-wife is very much alive and still in southern California.” Murmurs and discontent rose in a wave as he held up hands for silence. “Now before you go gossiping, here's what you need to know in accordance of our church leadership. We divorced for reasons that don't concern anyone here, but as the Lord reminds—divorce shouldn't burden anyone with an eternal shroud of shame.” But it did. And they will judge you, just as they did in California; just as they judged Lilah, now.

His heart died a little at their stone-faced expressions. Still, he went on, “I want you to ask yourselves something before you go writing Hot Springs and asking for my replacement.” He stared back at each eye that remained trained on him. Many looked down, closed in prayer, or looked away. He allowed the silence to drag. “Who says divorce is a greater sin than lying or omission? Who would cast the first stone my way?” He clenched the rock in his fist and raised it, an offering. “It's right there. And I'm guilty.”

That brought a nervous chortle.

“There was a time I'd have thrown it myself,” Jake went on, giving the rock a toss-catch. “So, I have another question for you...” Palms slick, he fought the urge to wipe them on his pants. He cocked the stone toward the stained glass window like a Cardinal's pitcher and paused for effect.

“No!” someone shouted.

More gasps, he turned to show them the palmed chunk of Ozark chert. “What if Jesus Himself closed His hand over yours? What if He stopped you from flinging that stone just in the nick of time? Before you had to ask for His forgiveness?”

Some of the teens blinked.

Scott and Emma's teenage daughter looked near tears.

He sighed, continuing through his message, though his heart sank faster than that un-skipped stone at the river. They'd never allow him to stay now, so he segued into his plans. “God doesn't want us standing around congratulating ourselves for being pure or forgiven. He wants to be there, to stand in front of the one being stoned.”
Please
, he prayed, and glanced around the room again.

An almost imperceptible chuckle filtered through the crowd.

Good. Still have them.
“People are coming to Mammoth in a few short weeks. They want the joy of the roller coaster, the excitement of the tilt-a-whirls and shooting galleries. I say we give everyone the chance to experience eternal joy. Let's move the Revival to the park, near the carnival. We can open those tents to everyone, just up the hill—catch the curious, like in the days when Earl Dale was a young man.”

All eyes turned to the white-haired man nestled beside his wife and granddaughters.

Nods and thoughtful tilts of the head indicated he'd caught their attention.

Naomi Dale's cheeks flashed a hot flush of red.

Some of these fish had swum right past, pretended not to notice, but most were circling now. Soon, they'd bite, especially the younger crowd. Raymond, the dishwasher from Earl's Kitchen, gave a fist pump as he nodded, mop of black hair falling into his eyes. There were more reasons for relocating the Revival to within stumbling distance of the Carnival Reunion than any of them realized.

“We're here to be the light. So, let's go down there and shine. I filled out the paperwork with the city parks, and we're just waiting for an answer.”

“So give it to him, Mayor!” Someone he didn't recognize elbowed the late fifties woman in the dark blue pantsuit, front pew, center.

She surveyed the others, let out a laugh, and nodded. “Is that what you all want?”

Subtle mumbling at first, then murmurs.

“If that's what y'all want, that's fine with the city council members?” Three nodded. The mayor stood up, giving her a head over the crowd, her voice strong and sure. “Mammoth's fiftieth reunion will take place at the Cherokee Spring City Park.”

Applause peppered the crowd, the atmosphere lightened. Their expressions were open, receptive to his idea. Including Lilah's, lips pursed in silent wonder.

Others sat, still as statues, as he called them back to silence, offered the benediction.

But Naomi Dale's challenging blue eyes chilled his blood like twin icicles.

He'd wrangled a fair share of the crowd to his line of thinking, but not all.

Not yet. And maybe, not ever.

 

 

 

 

14

 

Eden swept the floor on Monday afternoon, before the dinner rush began. The lunch crowd had cleared out, except Luke Traynor, who apparently decided this was a good spot to wait for someone to need emergency services.

Kimmy was late with the mail today. The soda cup left a water ring on the counter and Eden wiped it away. If only all messes could be cleaned that easy.

“What's spinning around in that brain of yours, Eden Dale?” Luke asked.

Same dopey look, buzzed blond hair, but for that stubble of gold on his face, he could be seventeen, prom night, in that ill-fitting tuxedo.

“I'm wondering why you park that infernal thing right in front of my window every blasted afternoon.”

“I didn't know you minded.”

“You've gotta park it somewhere, I s'pose.” She swept up a pile near his feet. “But why here? Why not in front of the furniture place, or over across from the hardware store?”

Luke's gaze bored into hers, his deep, resonant drawl thrummed as he spoke. “I park it there because I need to keep it close. And, because I like to come in here and talk with you for some reason, though you hardly ever look me in the eye anymore.”

He spoke the truth, like a stone to the heart. Just like Pastor Gibb's sermon. His boyish adoration, the puppy-dog look she'd gotten so used to over the years, now transformed into something different. Something she didn't like nearly as well.

Blunt, focused, and sharp, he continued, “You're so worried about those letters you write, about getting your mail, that you can't even see what's right in front of your face.”

“What do you know about it?” She gave another halfhearted sweep.

“Plenty.” Still seated, he lifted the small notepad out of her pocket.

“Give that back!” She snatched for it, but he held it aloft, scanning the half-starts of letters to both Anthony and Eli.

“You're playing a dangerous game with those guys, Edie.” He circled an arm around her.

“I'm not playing anything.”

“So, the almost-homecoming queen still needs her court.” Luke tossed the pad to the table, retained his hold on her waist. “This isn't high school. Those are real men, fighting over in some God-forsaken place, looking forward to a letter from a pretty girl. Hoping to meet her someday, maybe.”

“I—”

“Not everyone who joins the military's exactly stable, Eden.” Luke's warning jarred her.

“Who's gonna be around to protect you when you get yourself in a heap of trouble?” He let her go and pushed back his chair.

Luke towered a head taller and a lot stronger as he captured her shoulders with broad hands. Why hadn't she noticed how handsome he looked in his paramedic's uniform? “Luke, listen...”

“Don't speak, Eden.” His look matched his dead-serious tone. “The carnival opens next week, and I know the Dales don't usually go—but consider coming to watch the fireworks with me next Friday night.”

“That's my birthday, y'know.”

“Well, who better to spend it with than me?” His mouth set in a confident grin. “Don't say yes, and don't say no. Just think about it. I'm not gonna ask again. And that's a promise.” Luke left the restaurant, a gust of wind blowing in at his back, pressing the door open.

She had a full view of his leaving and a sour taste of wanting more.

 

 

 

 

15

 

Lilah hadn't seen Jake after church.

Now that the gossip mongers had someone else to pray for, Eden's group dropped her like a bad habit.

She should've high tailed it to the river house. Spent the day fishing the falls, sitting on the dock in the sun, stayed until after the sun set. But carefree days were over, and she'd be danged if she let Jake off that easy. His manipulation of her predicament, while almost understandable, was unconscionable in every regard. And an unspoken truth was by definition a lie. She'd looked it up.

Cleaned up, changed, and bursting with righteous indignation, Lilah marched across the street with every intention of laying it into him.

But the door opened before she even had a chance to knock.

Jake stood, tall, lean, and worried by the look in his eyes. “You came.”

“Hmm.” Anger simmered as she darkened his doorway with crossed arms.

“Please tell me you're OK.” Jake folded her into a friendly hug. “Are we OK?”

His relief rattled her to the core. She was prepped and ready for ten rounds, and he'd already thrown in the towel. “How do you define OK?”

“I'm so sorry. About everything. I should have told you where I was going with the sermon, but it just kind of...came out.” His gaze so hopeful and so very vulnerable—how could she crush him? Her fury shut off as she noticed the little notepad. He'd filled every line.

“What's that?”

“My list of things to do.” He looked even more pitiable. “The elders are behind moving the Revival, as are the quilting guild and the ladies auxiliary, but I have to get it set up on my own.”

“The whole thing?”

At his nod, she understood the truth. They'd set him up, all right. To fail and fail big. No way she'd let that happen.

 

~*~

 

Hours later, Lilah cradled the phone. “That's it for folding chairs, tents, and tables.”

“And for our budget.” Jake tossed the ledger on his desk. “Somehow, every company in two hundred miles raised their prices since yesterday.”

“Well, that's what the collections are for, isn't it?” Lilah stood, stretched to loosen muscles sore from sitting.

“No, actually it's not.” He ambled to the window. “Feel like getting your feet wet?” He thumbed to the river.

“You want to go fishing?”

“No.” He pointed. “I want to try that.”

A trio of bright red canoes drifted toward the bend.

“Now, wait a second.” Lilah shook her head. “Locals don't canoe. It's—it's what people from out of town do. They go to Many Falls, rent canoes, drink beer, carouse, and call out to us locals to beg for a bathroom to throw up in, or worse.”

“Maybe in the height of summer, but there's hardly anyone out there.” He tilted a cheeky grin her way. “You scared?”

“I'm not falling for that.” She wagged a finger. “I'm not scared. Just practical. We've got a money crunch, and you might forget, but we're not allowed to date. Thanks to my birdbrained sister, I'm still married—and you. I don't even know what you are anymore.”

“Divorced.” He sighed.

She splayed hands, the victor, but feeling none too great about it. “Would you settle for a jog around the park? We can check out the site again, see if we missed anything.”

“Better.”

She raced home, changed, and found him waiting by her mailbox ten minutes later. No need to ask why he didn't come in. The ever-present house looming from the hill was reason enough. Naomi Dale sat out on her porch reading a paperback, or pretending to. Lilah knew her grandmother was a silent sentry, always watching.

“Hey, Nana!” Lilah called, smiled bright, and tossed a wave. She elbowed Jake. “Wave to my grandmother, Pastor Jake.”

“You're never going to forgive me for that, are you?” Jake laughed, bumping shoulders with her.

“Nope.”

“You two, be careful, now,” Nana called, her warning a bit stronger than it needed to be.

If not for the mail lady chugging up the road, Lilah might have delivered a barbed retort. “She doesn't care what I do.” Lilah stepped it up from a stroll to a jog. “Never has, never will.”

Jake fell into an easy, matching pace at her side. “Why'd you say that?”

“Eden's hers. I'm Papaw's.” She shrugged. “It's the way it's always been.”

“His and hers. A pair of bathroom towels, huh?”

“Like an old sixties movie.” Lilah had gotten used to it, but the dividing up of love caused more than a few heartaches.

They jogged past the carefully manicured front lawns, then down beyond the chain-link fenced houses.

Posters advertised the Reunion Carnival on street posts and the sides of old buildings. None of the carnies had yet ventured into the diner.