Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“You aren’t wearing robes?”
“That’s not me, hellcat.”
I squinted my eyes at him, still not ready to admit that I had just sucked face with Preacher. Sucked face and liked it.
I’d liked it a lot.
My whole body was awake and alive. I was tingling, for goodness’ sake. I had never, ever felt anything like it before. It was like fireworks and Christmas and a cool breeze on a hot day, all at once.
My goosebumps had goosebumps. I felt amazing and very, very concerned at the same time. I stepped outside, crossing my arms to cover my suddenly hard nipples.
He locked the door, and we walked silently across the courtyard and around the side of the church. He waited for me to go in first and take my seat. I did so in a daze, ignoring the questioning look on Clarice’s face. Preacher stalked through the suddenly silent church, his heavy motorcycle boots echoing in the rafters.
He stepped behind the pulpit and stared out at the congregation.
“I see you. I see your faces today, and I see you in the neighborhood trying to live your lives. Trying to be good. I want you to know that God sees you. He believes in you. He believes in your goodness. And so do I.”
My mouth opened. This was not what I had been expecting at all. There was no bible lesson here. Although, to be fair, he was just getting started.
“So, let’s talk about what it means to be good—not perfect, just good. Good to each other and good to ourselves. Let’s talk about how to heal this community and heal our hearts. We’ve all had heartbreak. Sometimes, we might even blame God for allowing terrible things to happen. I don’t believe God is up there spinning a web where everything that happens has a purpose. We are the purpose.”
He stepped out from behind the pulpit and walked down the steps.
“The courage is in facing those things and still believing that doing good matters. Still taking risks. Still loving each other and ourselves and the Lord. He is not perfect. He was never perfect. If we are made in his image, how could he be?”
I could have sworn he looked at me when he talked about love. I was struggling to get a deep breath. Preacher was not who I thought he was. Not even close.
The man was deep.
“Now, if you want to believe in some perfect old man in white in heaven, you are still welcome here. If you think God is a woman, you are smarter than most, and you are welcome here. If you think God wears a tutu and eats Captain Crunch, you are welcome here. If you have done bad things but want to atone, you are especially welcome here.”
He walked through the church, making eye contact with everyone. Shaking hands. Touching shoulders. I gave him a tremulous smile when he came to our row.
“We need a plan in this community. We need more businesses like Mike and Doris’s bistro.” He nodded to them as he passed. “I could quote scripture until the cows come home, but I don’t want to do that. I want to talk about practical things. I want to hear your ideas. I want a revolution.”
He came back to the pulpit.
“I need volunteers to come up with a plan. We need a neighborhood watch program. We need a pipeline to spread information. We need to keep each other safe.” He smirked. “Well, don’t worry about me, but I want the rest of you safe. I want to put together a committee to raise money to fund small businesses. Maybe we can only launch one a year. I don’t know what we can do. But we won’t know until we start.”
He looked out at the rapt crowd. He had them in the palm of his hand. He had me in the palm of his hand.
“You can call me Preacher, by the way,” he added with a wry smile.
The tension broke as the entire congregation laughed. He had charmed them. He had shown them he believed in them. He had ideas and he wanted to hear our ideas. I was floored.
“I’ve talked long enough. Anyone have any questions?”
Arms shot up. I watched in awe as Preacher worked the crowd, taking time to consider everyone’s ideas. He moved them seamlessly into the courtyard for coffee and cake. I watched him puff on his cigar as he continued talking to everybody. Then I hustled downstairs to get the kids into Sunday school.
I was in a daze as we went through our lessons. The kids were very curious about Preacher. I told them I didn’t know the answers to most of their questions and realized it was true. I didn’t know anything about Preacher.
I knew he was caring and chivalrous.
I knew he was dangerously sexy.