Dream A Little Dream

7

After the incident in the snack shop, Rachel dreaded having to face Gabe again, but for the next few days, he did nothing more than bark out orders, then ignore her while he performed his own jobs. He spoke little, never met her eyes, and in general, reminded her of a man doing hard penance.

At night, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep brought on by exhaustion. She had hoped the regular exercise would make her feel better, but the dizziness and weakness continued. On Friday afternoon while she was painting the interior of the ticket booth, she fainted.

Bonner's pickup turned into the drive from the highway just as she dragged herself back to her feet. Her heart thudded as his truck slowed. She tried to figure out how much he'd seen, but the inscrutable expression on his face gave her no clue. Grabbing her paintbrush, she scowled at him, as if he were interrupting her work, and he drove on.

Kristy volunteered to keep Edward on Saturday while Rachel worked, and Rachel gratefully accepted. At the same time, she knew she couldn't keep imposing on her housemate. If she were unlucky enough to still be in Salvation next Saturday, she would bring Edward along whether Bonner liked it or not.

Unfortunately, Rachel's plans to climb down the mountain and break into her old house the next evening after she'd tucked Edward in bed were thwarted by a torrential rainstorm. If only she could have driven, everything would be so much easier, but the locked gates made that impossible. On Monday, exactly one week since her car had broken down across from the Pride of Carolina, she promised herself she'd make the descent that night.

The day was cloudy, but dry, and by late morning, a few threads of sunlight had appeared. All morning, she'd been applying gray enamel paint to the metal walls of the rest-room stalls and thinking about how she would get into the house. The work wasn't hard, and, if it weren't for her dizziness and constant fatigue, even after her day of rest, she'd be enjoying it.

Leaning down, she used one hand to hold her blue chambray dress back as she dipped her paint roller in the pan. Painting in a dress was awkward, but she didn't have a choice. On Saturday, her jeans had finally given out in the seat, and they couldn't be patched.

"I brought you some lunch."

She spun around to see Bonner standing in the rest-room doorway, a fast-food sack in his hand. She regarded him with suspicion. He'd stayed away from her since that nasty scene in the snack shop last Wednesday. Why had he sought her out now?

He scowled. "From now on I want you to bring a lunch. And stop working long enough to eat it."

She, forced herself to meet his dead silver eyes straight on so he would know right away that his Jack the Raper performance hadn't intimidated her. "Who needs food? Your smile alone is enough to nourish me for weeks."

He ignored her jab and set the sack in one of the sinks. She waited for him to leave, but instead, he came over to inspect her work. "It'll take two coats," she said, doing her best to hide her wariness. "That old graffiti's hard to cover."

He nodded toward the door she'd just finished. "Make sure you keep the paint away from those new hinges. I don't want them binding up."

She set the roller in the paint pan and wiped her hands on the piece of terry cloth she was using as a rag. "I still don't see why you couldn't have chosen a nice eggshell-white instead of this drab old gray." She didn't care about the color. She only cared about keeping her job and not letting him suspect for a moment how little energy she had left for even simple tasks.

"I like gray."

"Matches your personality. No, I take that back. Your personality is about ten shades darker than gray."

He didn't tense up. Instead, he leaned back against the unpainted side of the stall and studied her. "Tell you what, Rachel. I might consider giving you a raise one of these centuries if you start restricting yourself to four words when I talk to you. Yes, sir. No, sir."

Let it go, her mind pleaded. Don't bait him. "It'd need to be an awfully big raise, Bonner. You're the best entertainment I've had since Dwayne. Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do, and you're a distraction."

He didn't budge. Instead, he openly studied her. "You get any scrawnier, you won't be able to pick up that paint roller."

"Yeah, well, don't worry about it, okay?" She bent down to pick up a rag, but her head began to swim, and she had to steady herself on the edge of the door.

He caught her arm. "Grab your lunch. I've just decided I'm going to watch you eat it."

She drew away. "I'm not hungry. I'll eat later."

He pushed the paint pan out of her way with the toe of his boot. "You'll eat now. Wash up."

She watched in frustration as he walked over to pick up the food sack. She'd planned to hide it in the back of the snack-shop refrigerator so she could save it for Edward, but she couldn't do that with him watching.

"I'll meet you at the playground," he said from the doorway. Then he disappeared.

She stomped over to the sink, where she scrubbed her hands and lower arms, splashing water on the paint-splattered skirt of her dress at the same time. Then she made her way to the playground.

He sat with his back propped against one of the jungle-gym bars and a can of Dr Pepper in his hand. One leg was stretched out, the other bent. He wore a Chicago Stars cap, along with a navy T-shirt tucked into jeans that had a small hole near the knee, but were still a thousand times better than the ones she'd had to throw out.

She found a place a few yards away next to the concrete turtle. He gave her the lunch sack. She noticed that his hands were scrubbed. Even the Band-Aid around his thumb was fresh. How did a man who worked so hard manage to keep himself so clean?

She placed the sack in the nest of her skirt, and pulled out a French fry. The smell was so delicious she had to resist cramming an entire fistful into her mouth. Instead, she took a nibble off the end and licked the salt from her lips.

He popped the top of his Dr Pepper, looked down at the can, and then over at her. "You deserve an apology for what I did the other day."

She was so surprised that she dropped one of the precious French fries in the grass. So that's what this cozy little lunch was about. His guilty conscience had finally caught up with him. It was nice to know he had a conscience.

He looked wary, and she suspected he was waiting for her to get all hysterical and go after him with both barrels. Well, she wouldn't give him that satisfaction. "Don't take this the wrong way, Bonner, but you were so pathetic that day I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing."

"Is that so?"

She expected his scowl to deepen, but instead, he relaxed slightly against the bar of the jungle gym. "It was inexcusable. Nothing like that'll ever happen again." He paused, not quite meeting her eyes. "I'd been drinking."

She remembered the way his breath had fallen on her-clean, with no hint of alcohol. She still had the feeling his attack had more to do with his own demons than hers. "Yeah, well, maybe you should give it up. You acted like an ass."

"I know."

"The king of asses."

His gaze flicked back to her, and she actually thought she detected a spark of amusement in those hard silver eyes. Was that possible?

"You're going to make me grovel, aren't you?"

"Like a worm."

"Does anything put a cork in that mouth of yours?" His lips curved in something that almost resembled a smile, and she was so stunned it took her a moment to muster a response.

"Disrespect is part of my charm."

"Whoever told you that lied."

"Are you calling Billy Graham a liar?"

For a moment, the curl of his mouth grew more pronounced, but then the familiar scowl returned. Apparently his time for groveling was over. He gestured toward her with his Dr Pepper can. "Don't you have any jeans? Tell me, what kind of idiot does manual labor in a dress?"

Somebody who doesn't have anything else to wear, she thought. She wouldn't spend a penny on clothes for herself, not when Edward was growing out of his. "I love dresses, Bonner. They make me feel all cute and feminine."

"With those shoes?" He regarded her big black oxfords with distaste.

"What can I say? I'm a slave to fashion."

"Bull. Those old jeans of yours gave out, didn't they? Well, buy yourself some new ones. I'll buy you some new ones. Consider it a uniform."

He'd seen her swallow her pride again and again, but that had been for Edward. This was not. She made no effort to hide her scorn. "If you buy 'em, you wear 'em."

Several seconds ticked by while he seemed to take her measure. "You're tough, aren't you?"

"The toughest."

"So tough you don't even need food." His gaze moved to the food sack in her lap. "Are you going to eat those fries or just play with them?"

"I told you I wasn't hungry."

"That must explain why you look like a skeleton. You're anorexic, aren't you?"

"Poor people don't get anorexia." She pushed a second French fry in her mouth. It was so good she wanted to stuff the entire package in. At the same time, she felt guilty for robbing Edward of even part of a treat he'd enjoy so much.

"Kristy says you hardly eat anything."

It bothered her to discover that Kristy was reporting to Gabe behind her back. "She should mind her own business."

"So why don't you eat?"

"You're right. I'm anorexic. Now let's drop the subject, okay?"

"Poor people don't get anorexia."

She ignored him and savored another French fry.

"Try some of that hamburger."

"I'm vegetarian."

"You've been eating meat at Kristy's."

"What are you, the food police?"

"I don't get it. Unless…" He studied her with shrewd eyes. "That first day when you fainted, I gave you a cupcake, and you tried to pass it off to your kid."

She stiffened.

"That's what's going on, isn't it? You're giving your food to your kid."

"His name is Edward, and this heads the list of things that aren't any of your business."

He stared at her and shook his head. "You're acting crazy. You know that, don't you? Your boy's getting plenty to eat. You're the one who's starving to death."

"I'm not talking about this."

"Damn, Rachel. You're nutty as a fruitcake."

"I am not!"

"Then explain it to me."

"I don't have to explain anything. Besides, look who's talking. In case you haven't noticed, you crossed through that padded cell between normal and psychotic a good hundred miles back."

"That must be why we get along so well."

He spoke so pleasantly she nearly smiled. He took a sip of his Dr Pepper. She gazed beyond the far edge of the screen toward Heartache Mountain and remembered how much she'd loved these mountains when Dwayne had first brought her here. It used to be, when she'd gazed at the green vista out her bedroom window, she felt as if she were touching the face of God.

She looked over at Gabe and, for the briefest moment, she saw another human being instead of an enemy. She saw someone as lost as she and just as determined not to show it.

He rested the back of his head against the jungle-gym bar and gazed over at her. "Your boy… He's been eating a good dinner every night, hasn't he?"

Her feeling of kinship vanished. "Are we back to this again?"

"Just answer the question. Has he been eating a decent dinner?"

She nodded begrudgingly.

"Breakfast, too?" he asked.

"I guess."

"They have snacks at the day-care center and a big lunch. I'll bet either you or Kristy gives him another snack when he gets home."

But what about next month? she thought. Next year?

A chill passed through her. She was being pushed toward something dangerous.

"Rachel," he said quietly, "this business of starving yourself has to stop."

"You don't know what you're talking about!"

"Then explain it to me."

If he'd spoken harshly, everything would have been all right, but she had few defenses against that quiet, measured tone. She mustered the ones she could gather and went on the attack.

"I'm responsible for him, Bonner. Me! There's no one else. I'm the one who's responsible for his food, his clothes, the shots he gets at the doctor's office, everything!"

"Then maybe you should take better care of yourself."

Her eyes stung. "Don't you tell me what to do."

"The inmates at the asylum need to stick together."

His words, coupled with the clear understanding she saw in his eyes, took her breath away. She wanted to go after him again, but couldn't frame her thoughts. He was exposing something she should have examined long ago, but hadn't been able to face.

"I don't want to talk about this."

"Good. Eat instead."

Her fingers convulsed around the paper sack in her lap, and she made herself face the truth she didn't want to acknowledge.

No matter how much she deprived herself, she couldn't guarantee that Edward would be safe.

She experienced a surge of helplessness so powerful it nearly crushed her. She wanted to stockpile everything for him, not just food, but security and self-confidence, a healthy body, a decent education, a house to live in. And no amount of self-deprivation would do any of that. She could starve herself until she was a skeleton, but that still wouldn't guarantee that Edward's belly would stay full.

To her dismay, her eyes clouded, and then a tear slipped over her bottom lid and rolled down her cheek. She couldn't bear having Bonner see her cry, and she regarded him fiercely. "Don't you dare say a word!"

He held up his hands in mock surrender and took a swig of Dr Pepper.

A long shudder passed through her. Bonner was right. Holding herself together these last few months had made her crazy as a loon. And only someone equally crazy could have seen the truth.

She looked her own insanity squarely in the eye. Edward had no one in the world but her, and she wasn't taking care of herself. By starving her body, she was making their already precarious existence that much more fragile.

She dashed at her eyes and grabbed the hamburger from the sack. "You're a son of a bitch!"

He slouched against the jungle-gym post and tilted the brim of his navy Chicago Stars cap over his eyes as if he were settling in for a nice long nap.

She stuffed the burger into her mouth, swallowing it along with her tears. "I don't know how you have the nerve to call me crazy." She stuffed in another bite, and the taste was so delicious she shivered. "What kind of moron opens a drive-in? In case you haven't noticed, Bonner, drive-ins have been dead for about thirty years. You'll be bankrupt by the end of the summer."

His lips barely moved beneath the brim of his cap. "Ask me if I care."

"I rest my case. You're a dozen times crazier than me."

"Keep eating."

She swiped at her damp eyes with the back of her hand, then took another bite. It was the most delicious hamburger she'd ever tasted. Globs of cheese stuck to the roof of her mouth, and the pickle made her saliva buds spurt. She spoke around a huge bite. "Why are you doing it?"

"Couldn't think of anything else to occupy my time."

She sucked a dab of ketchup from her finger. "Before you lost your mind, how did you make a living?"

"I was a hit man for the Mafia. Are you done crying yet?"

"I wasn't crying! And I wish you were a hit man because, if I had the money, I'd hire you right this minute to knock yourself off."

He tilted up the brim of his cap and regarded her levelly. "You just keep all that good, honest hatred coming at me, and we'll get along fine."

She ignored him and began eating the fries three at a time.

"So how'd you fall in with G. Dwayne?"

The question came out of nowhere-probably a diversion-but since he hadn't given her any real information about himself, she wasn't giving any in return. "I met him at a strip club where I was an exotic dancer."

"I've seen your body, Rachel, and unless you had a lot more flesh on your bones then, you couldn't buy chewing gum with what you'd earn as a stripper."

She tried to be offended, but she didn't have enough vanity left. "They don't like to be called strippers. I know because one of them lived across the hall from me a few years ago. She used to go to a tanning salon every day before she performed."

"You don't say."

"I'll bet you think exotic dancers tan in the nude, but they don't. They wear little, thongs so they get really sharp white tan lines. She said it makes what they show off seem more forbidden."

"Tell me that's not admiration I hear in your voice."

"She made a good living, Bonner."

He snorted.

As her stomach began to fill, curiosity overcame her. "What did you used to do? Truth."

He shrugged. "It's no big secret. I was a vet."

"A veterinarian?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" The belligerence was back.

She realized she was curious about him. Kristy had lived in Salvation all her life, and she must know some of Gabe's secrets. Rachel decided to ask her.

"You don't seem like the type a televangelist would fall for." He conducted his own bit of probing. "I'd have figured G. Dwayne would pick one of those pious church ladies."

"I was the most pious of them all." She didn't let a trace of her bitterness show. "I met Dwayne when I was a volunteer at his crusade in Indianapolis. He swept me off my feet. Believe it or not, I used to be a romantic."

"He was quite a bit older than you, wasn't he?"

"Eighteen years. The perfect father figure for an orphan."

He regarded her quizzically.

"I was raised by my grandmother on a farm in central Indiana. She was very devout. Her little rural church congregation had become her family, and they became mine, too. The religion was strict, but, unlike Dwayne's, it was honest."

"What happened to your parents?"

"My mother was a hippie; she didn't know who my father was."

"A hippie?"

"I was born on a commune in Oregon."

"You're kidding."

"I stayed with her for the first couple of years, but she was into drugs, and when I was three, she OD'd. Luckily for me, I was sent to my grandmother's." She smiled. "Gram was a simple lady. She believed in God, the United States of America, apple pie made from scratch, and G. Dwayne Snopes. She was so happy when I married him."

"She obviously didn't know him well."

"She thought he was a great man of God. Luckily, she died before she found out the truth." With the food gone and her stomach so full it ached, she turned to the shake, picking up a thick chocolate curl on the end of her straw and raising it to her mouth. So far, she'd offered all the information and received nothing in return. "Tell me. How does it feel to be the black sheep of your family?"

"What makes you think I'm the black sheep?" He actually sounded annoyed.

"Your parents are leaders of the community, your younger brother is Mr. Perfect, and your older brother's a multimillionaire jock. You, on the other hand, are a surly, bad-tempered, impoverished misfit who owns a broken-down drive-in and antagonizes small children."

"Who told you I was impoverished?"

She found it interesting this was the only part of her description of him he seemed inclined to challenge. "This place. Your mode of transportation. Those slave wages you're paying me. Maybe I'm missing something but I don't see any signs of big money around here."

"I pay you slave wages so you'll quit, Rachel, not because I can't afford more."

"Oh."

"And I like my pickup."

"So you're not poor?"

For a moment she didn't think he'd answer. Finally, he said, "I'm not poor."

"Exactly how not-poor are you?"

"Didn't your grandmother teach you it was rude to ask people questions like that?"

"You're not people, Bonner. I'm not even sure you're human."

"I've got better things to do than sit here and let you insult me." He snatched his empty Dr Pepper can from the sandy soil where he'd propped it and stood up. "Get to work."

As she watched him stalk away, she considered the possibility that she'd offended him. He definitely looked offended. With a satisfied smile, she returned to her chocolate shake.

Ethan stepped out of his office and followed the direction of childish squeals to the playground at the rear of the church where the children were waiting for their parents to pick them up. He told himself this was a good way to connect with the members of the community who weren't part of his congregation, but the truth was, he wanted to see Laura Delapino.

As he walked onto the playground, the Briggs twins abandoned their riding toys to run to his side.

"Guess what? Tyler Baxter barfed on the floor, and it got all over."

"Cool," Ethan replied.

"I almost barfed, too," Chelsey Briggs confessed, "but Mrs. Wells let me pass out straws."

Ethan laughed at the image that non sequitur conjured up. He loved kids, and for years he'd been looking forward to having a few of his own. Gabe's son, Jamie, had been the apple of his eye. Even after two years, it was hard for him to handle what had happened to his nephew and to Cherry, his sweet-tempered sister-in-law.

He'd almost left the ministry after their senseless deaths, but he'd gotten off easier than the rest of his family. The tragedy had pushed his parents into a midlife crisis that had nearly led to divorce, and Cal had shut out everything from his life except winning football games.

Luckily, after a brief separation, his parents' marriage had undergone a transformation that had left Jim and Lynn Bonner acting like lovebirds, as well as changing their lives. Right now the two of them were in South America, where his father was serving as a medical missionary while his mother set up a co-op to market the work of local artisans.

As for Cal, a genius physicist named Dr. Jane Darlington had come into his life, and now the family had another baby, eight-month-old Rosie, an impish blue-eyed darling who held all of them in the palm of her tiny little hand.

None of them, however, had gone through as tough a time as Gabe. Sometimes it was hard for Ethan to remember the gentle healer his brother had been. Throughout Ethan's childhood, there had always been an injured animal somewhere in the house: a bird with a broken wing in the kitchen, a stray dog to be nursed back to health in the garage, a baby skunk too young to survive on its own hidden away in Gabe's bedroom closet.

All his life, Gabe had wanted to be a vet, but he'd never planned on becoming a multimillionaire. His sudden wealth had amused everyone in the family, since Gabe was notoriously indifferent about money. It had happened accidentally.

His brother was insatiably curious, and he'd always liked to tinker. Several years after he'd opened his practice in rural Georgia, he'd developed a specialized orthopedic splint to use on one of the championship thoroughbreds he was treating for a local breeder. The splint had worked so well that it had quickly been adopted by the wealthy horse-racing community, and Gabe was making a fortune from the patent.

He had always been the most complex of the three brothers. While Cal was aggressive and confrontational, quick to anger and equally quick to forgive, Gabe kept his feelings to himself. Still, he'd been the first person Ethan had run to when he'd gotten into scrapes as a child. His quiet voice and slow, lazy movements could calm a troubled boy just as well as they soothed a frightened animal. But how his gentle, pensive brother had turned into a bitter, cynical man.

Ethan was distracted from his reverie by the arrival of Laura Delapino, the town's newest divorcee. She'd tossed a gauzy lime-green blouse over a black halter top, which she wore with a pair of tight white shorts. Her long fingernails were polished the same deep shade of red as the toenails visible through the straps of her silver sandals. Her breasts were lush, her legs long, her hair big and blond. She exuded sex, and he wanted some of it.

Men of God who secretly lust after trashy women! Live today on Oprah!

He groaned inwardly. He wasn't in the mood for this.

But it was no use. The Wise God knew a ratings hit when she saw one.

Tell us, Reverend Bonner-we're all friends here-why is it you're never interested in any of the nice women who live in this town?

Nice women bore me to tears.

They're supposed to bore you. You're a minister, remember? Why is it only our more flamboyant sisters who catch your eye?

Laura Delapino bent over to talk to her little girl, and he could see the outline of a pair of very lacy bikini underpants beneath those tight white shorts. A shaft of heat shot straight to his groin.

I'm talking to you, Mister, Oprah said.

Go away, he replied, which only made her mad.

Don't you start with Me! Next thing you'll be whining about how you're not cut out for the job and how the ministry is ruining your life.

He wanted Eastwood back.

Pay attention to Me, Ethan Bonner. It's time you found yourself a nice, decent woman and settled down.

Could you please shut up for a minute so I can enjoy the view? Laura's breasts strained against the cups of her halter top as she leaned forward to regard her daughter's artwork. Damn it! He wasn't meant to be celibate.

He remembered those wild years in his early twenties before he'd gotten the call. The beautiful, busty women; the nights of hot free sex-doing it every way he could think of. Oh, God…

Yes? Oprah replied.

He gave up. How could he enjoy Laura's body with the Greatest Talk-Show Host of them all listening in? As he turned away, he found himself wishing he could counsel teenagers to celibacy and preach on the sacredness of marriage-vows without actually living those beliefs himself, but he wasn't made up that way.

He greeted Tracy Longben and Sarah Curtis, both of whom he'd grown up with, then he commiserated with Austin Longben over his broken wrist and admired Taylor Curtis's pink sneakers. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Edward Snopes standing off by himself.

Stone, he reminded himself, not Snopes. The boy's last name had been legally changed. Too bad Rachel hadn't done something about that first name. Why didn't she call him Eddie or Ted?

His conscience pinched him. The boy had been at the child-care center for three days, and Ethan hadn't once sought him out. It wasn't Edward's fault that he had dishonest parents, and Ethan had no excuse for ignoring him except misplaced anger.

He remembered the phone call he'd received from Carol Dennis the day before. His anger, was nothing compared to hers. She was furious that he'd let Rachel stay in Annie's cottage, and he'd been too protective of Gabe to tell her it had been his brother's decision.

He'd tried to reason with her, gently reminding her they needed to be careful about passing judgment, even though he'd passed it long ago, but she wouldn't listen.

He didn't like crossing Carol. Although her brand of religion was more restrictive than his, she was a woman of deep faith, and she'd done the town a lot of good.

"If you let her stay in that cottage, Pastor," she'd said, "it will reflect on you, and I don't think you want that."

Even though she was right, her attitude had irritated him. "I guess I'll have to deal with that when it happens," he'd replied as mildly as he could manage.

Now he made himself walk over to Edward and smile. "Hey there, buddy. How'd your day go?"

"Okay."

The child gazed up at him with large brown eyes. He had a sprinkle of pale freckles across his nose. A cute kid. Ethan felt himself wanning to him. "You made any friends yet?"

He didn't respond.

"It might take a while for the other kids to get used to having somebody new around, but sooner or later they'll warm up."

Edward looked up at him and blinked. "Do you think Kristy forgot to come and get me?"

"Kristy doesn't ever forget anything, Edward. She's the most reliable person you'll ever know."

Kristy overheard Ethan's words as she came up behind them. Reliable. That's all she meant to Ethan Bonner.

Good old reliable Kristy Brown. Kristy'll do it. Kristy'll take care of it.

She sighed to herself. What did she expect? Did she think Ethan would look at her the way he'd been looking at Laura Delapino only a moment earlier? Not likely. Laura was flashy and perky, while Kristy was plain and uninteresting. She had her pride, though, and over the years she had learned to hide her painful shyness behind a brutal efficiency. Whatever needed to be done, she could do. Everything except win Ethan Bonner's heart.

Kristy had known Ethan nearly all her life, and he'd been attracted to flashy, easy women ever since eighth grade when Melodie Orr had gotten her braces off and discovered shrink-wrapped jeans. They used to make out every day after lunch next to the choir room.

"Kristy!"

Edward's face lit up as he spotted her, and warmth spread through her. She loved children. She could relax with them and be herself. She would have much preferred working in child care to her job as a church secretary, and she'd have quit years ago if she hadn't so desperately needed to stay close to Ethan Bonner. Since she couldn't be his lover, she'd settle into the role of his caretaker.

As she knelt down to admire the collage Edward had made that day, she thought about the fact that she'd loved Ethan for more than twenty years. She clearly remembered watching him through the window of her third-grade classroom when he went out for recess with the fourth-graders. He'd been just as dazzling then as he was now, the handsomest boy she'd ever seen. He'd always treated her kindly, but then he'd treated everyone that way. Even when he was a child, Ethan had been different from the others: more sensitive, less inclined to tease.

He hadn't been a pushover, though; his older brothers had taken care of that. She still remembered the day Ethan had fought D.J. Loebach, the junior high's worst bully, and given him a bloody nose. Afterward, though, Ethan had felt guilty and gone over to D.J.'s house with a couple of melting grape Popsicles to make peace. D.J. still liked to tell that story at deacons' meetings.

As she stood and took Edward's hand, she caught the whiff of a heavy, sensuous perfume. "Hey, Eth."

"Hi, Laura."

Laura flashed Kristy a friendly smile, and Kristy felt her heart curdle with envy. How could some women be so confident?

She thought of Rachel Stone and wondered where she got her courage. Despite all the horrible things people in town were saying about Rachel, Kristy liked her; she was even in awe of her. Kristy was certain she'd never have the courage to face people down the way Rachel was doing.

She'd heard about Rachel's encounter with Carol Dennis at the grocery store, and yesterday Rachel had stood up to Gary Prett at the pharmacy. The intensity of people's hostility upset Kristy. She didn't believe Rachel had been responsible for Dwayne Snopes's greed, and she couldn't understand people who called themselves Christians being so judgmental and vindictive.

She wondered what Rachel thought of her. Probably nothing at all. People only noticed Kristy when they wanted something done. Otherwise, she was white wallpaper.

"So Eth," Laura said, "why don't you come over tonight and let me throw a couple of steaks on the grill for us?" She rubbed her lips together as if she were smoothing out her lipstick.

For a fraction of a second Ethan's eyes lingered on her mouth, then he gave her the same open, friendly smile he gave the old women in the congregation. "Gosh, I'd love to, but I have to work on my sermon."

Laura persisted, but he managed to fend her off without too much difficulty. Kristy suspected he didn't trust himself to be alone with Laura.

Something painful twisted at her heart. Ethan always trusted himself to be alone with her.