Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
“I’m a grown man, dad. You don’t get to speak to me like that.”
“Grown man, huh? Then how about you start acting like one!”
“Fuck you.”
The porch goes pin drop silent. My mother pales, and heck, so do I. My father’s face turns red, and then crimson, and then purple, before he slowly blows air out through his clenched lips.
“You need to leave this table, Paul,” he says icily.
Paul rolls his eyes. “Gladly.”
He stands, picking up his laptop and files, and he reaches for his sandwich before my father suddenly reaches out and slaps it out of his hand. Paul swears.
“What the fuck was that for?”
“You didn’t say grace, and you disrespected me, and your mother who made you that food,” Papa growls deeply.
Paul looks livid and slams his stuff down. He jabs a finger at my father’s chest, his teeth bared. “You’re not God, you know.”
“Lord knows I’m not,” dad hisses. “But you will respect me as your father.”
“Good luck with that.”
Paul grabs his stuff and starts to shoulder past my father, but Papa grabs his arm and yanks him back. “We are not through here!”
“Yeah, we fucking are!”
Before anyone can even react, Paul suddenly shoves my father square in the chest. Rage like I’ve never seen flashes over Papa’s face, and with a roar, he shoves back. Paul gasps and stumbles back, and the files in his arms tumble to the ground, scattering papers across the porch.
Instantly, the fire goes out of my father’s eyes as he realizes what he’s done.
“Lord help me,” he whispers hoarsely, closing his eyes before he shakes his head and opens them again. “Son, I had no right—”
“Fuck you!” Paul screams.
Papa looks broken, and he frowns as he stoops and starts picking up the papers. “Let me—”
“Don’t touch those!” Paul yells. “Don’t—”
“Paul.”
My dad freezes, his eyes glued to the piece of paper in his hands. He blinks, and then picks up another paper, and his face pales. Slowly, he looks up, staring at Paul.
“What is this, son?” he whispers hoarsely.
“None of your business.” Paul goes to snatch the papers, but my dad pulls them out of reach and stands. He blinks as he stares at them again, and then looks at my mother, and then back at Paul.
“It’s just church stuff,” Paul mutters.
“The church going to be in Costa Rica, son?” Dad chokes out.
“Give me those.”
“Paul?” mama whispers. Her face falls as Papa hands her the papers, and she gasps sharply. “Honey, what… what is this?”
“It’s a land deal in Costa Rica, isn’t it,” Papa growls quietly, looking at Paul. “Son, what is this?”
“It’s nothing!” Paul snaps.
“Son,” Papa whispers quietly, his face pale. “You’ve told people—good, working people who gave you their hard-earned money—that the church would be here. Your mama and I gave you money, because Canaan needs a—”
“Give me that!”
Paul lunges and snatches the papers out of papa’s hands before reaching out and plucking the other one’s from mama’s. He furiously stuffs them back into his file folders and snaps them shut.
“Paul!” Papa roars.
“Fuck off!”
My father blinks in shock, and my mother starts to cry. I feel numb, like I’m watching this on TV or something, and I reach over to hold my mother.
“You wanna talk about the wedding? That it?” Paul yells. “Fine! It’s tomorrow, at Gabriel Marsden’s tent. Come if you want, I don’t fucking care anymore.”
With that, he turns, and he marches off the porch and around the side of the house towards his car. I squeeze my mother before I jump up and bolt after him.
“Paul!” I yell, chasing him. “Paul!”
“Don’t,” he hisses, suddenly turning on me in the driveway. “Just don’t, Delilah!”
“Paul, just why are you—”
“Oh go run off to your preacher, Delilah,” he snaps.
I stiffen. “What?”
He rolls his eyes. “You think I’m an idiot like them? As if I didn’t sneak out and go meet up with girls all through high school?” He snorts a cruel laugh. “I know what a walk of shame looks like, Delilah.”
I turn crimson, and I start to stammer. “That’s not—”
“I don’t care,” Paul says flatly with a shrug. “I really, truly don’t care.”
I swallow. “And Gabriel’s really marrying you tomorrow?”
“Yep.” He smirks. “Guess he didn’t mention that, did he?”
I chew at my lip, eyeing my brother. “Are you building a church in Canaan, or aren’t you, Paul.”
He looks away. “Delilah—”
“Answer me!”
He turns back to me, scowling. “No. I’m getting the fuck out of this fucking town, and if you’re smart, you will, too.”
I balk at him. “By ripping people off? By ripping mama and papa off?”
He laughs. “Cast the first fucking stone. Go talk to Preacher Gabriel about ripping people off, he’s more of a pro that I’ll ever be.”
“Paul, that’s not—”
He laughs. “You really want to defend him? C’mon, Delilah. Ask him about Lockton, South Dakota. Ask him about Worthington, Minnesota. Oh, see if he wants to tell you all about what happened in Jessup, West Virginia, that’s a fun one.”