by Kathryn Shay
Silence.
“As I said, I’m not happy about having to explain a perfectly innocent event, but we’ve never run across an accusation like this. In the future, I’d like you to come to me, one-on-one, if you have an issue with my behavior.” He waved his hand to encompass all of them. “This spectacle could have been avoided.”
“I won’t allow him to talk to us like that. We’re the spiritual leaders of the church.”
Herman waited, then said, “As chair of the elders, I have a comment. Brady, I’m sorry this accusation happened. Of course, I believe your explanation.”
“He hasn’t told us who the fourth person was.”
“I’m not going to. It’s none of your business.”
“I…”
“Stop!” Herman raised his voice. “Carlton, we’ve heard your objections about our pastor.” There had been a lot of criticism from the man both at meetings and one-on-one, but Brady didn’t mention that. “I’m going to let the others speak.”
The elders gave their thoughts…
“This is ridiculous. We know Reverend Brady.”
“I’m offended by the accusation.”
“Brady’s entitled to a private life.”
“Carlton, you’ve never liked his ministry.” This from April again. “But this is really none of your business.”
“The moral integrity of our minister isn’t my business?”
“What does that mean?” Herman asked.
“I found out who lives there. A woman named Lynne Lucas. She’s a married woman who left her husband and came to Crystal Corners to be a firefighter.”
“How on earth did you find that out?” Janine asked.
“In my research on the ownership of the house, I found a formal agreement from the owner to rent the place to her. Her address was still in Dannerville, so I went there.”
Oh, no, the man had stirred all this up for Lynne? Brady became infuriated. So he stood. “I’m going to leave this meeting now because I’m afraid I’ll say something harsh, cruel and insulting. I don’t want to do that.” He cleared his throat. “But, to defend Lynne’s name, she is a firefighter. She helped put the fire out at St. Francis Church last week. She’s also legally separated and I won’t go into why. She’s the mother of Emma’s friend Melody, and a lovely person. I’m sorry she got tangled up in your viciousness, Carlton.”
With that Brady left the room. He had only one thought. He needed to see Lynne to apologize. And she needed to know about this.
Chapter 8
* * *
“Mom, come on.” Phillip spoke the words impatiently, but teasingly, too.
“Hold your horses.” Lynne adjusted Emma’s and Melody’s goggles and Izzy checked her sister Maria’s eye gear too. Mel had invited Brady’s daughter. Lynne was overjoyed that all the boys had been excited to come here, including Phillip.
“We’re ready.”
Fully dressed, everybody met in the roped off area of Paint Your Wagon, a playhouse for paintball. Bleachers were set up on one side for observers. It was also used as a dead box, where eliminated players would be painted out. Brooke had researched all the paintball terminology and sent it to everyone.
Trish and Tess approached them. Tess kissed her girls’ heads. “You ready for this?”
“Yes, Mommy,” they answered in unison.
Lynne asked, “Sad you can’t play?”
“Nah.” Trish touched her two-month pregnancy belly. “I’m gonna pump Tess for motherhood advice.”
“My pleasure.” Tess wore a long, tight T-shirt, her own belly protruding. Trish, of course, wasn’t showing. “And thanks for taking Izzy and Maria under your wing.”
A siren sounded. The two women left and Lynne smiled. “Let’s find our team.” Which was easy. Team 1 wore neon blue shirts, team 2 neon green, team 3 red. Lynne’s group was made up of both of her girls and Tess’s daughters, Brooke and the swoon-worthy Nick Barrows. The second team consisted mostly of adults, and she was sure Annie and JJ were experts at this. The third in red were the four teenage boys. Ahead of time, the adults and older kids decided to be unwavering with each other but give the girls a pass. Nothing sexist, but age related.
They crossed into the tape, the huge space they would play on, the sandy section cushioning their feet. Lights were up so they could study the field. An employee passed out the guns and Lynne showed the girls how to handle them.
A second siren. Lynne and Brooke and the little ones hid behind a bunker that was a six-foot high inflatable square, taller than all of them. Nick chose one next to them. “This is gonna be so fun,” Melody said to Izzy. Emma and Maria were holding hands.
The final siren. When everybody hid behind bunkers or bags, Lynne did a head check. “Nobody in sight. Let’s move forward. Remember, the object of the game is to hit the other teams without getting hit by them.”
As soon as they were visible, a paintball zipped between Mel and Emma. The girls squealed. Brooke immediately popped up to see the shooter—Nathan—and aimed at him, missing only by inches.
After fifteen minutes, Lynne decided to go after the boys. Nobody had hit the girls yet, but Izzy surprised Grayson and tagged him out. Vinny jumped up to blast the others and Lynne pointed the barrel at him, shot, but the ball bounced instead of breaking. He ducked back down. Nick, however, took aim at Colin and got him out. JJ promptly blasted him. Dead zone for them all.
Mel and Emma attacked David who, she was sure, let the girls clobber him with paint. Jordan and Vinny snuck up on the girls and gently tagged them, too. Brooke blissfully took Jordan down.
Hmm, soon there were only the four Sisters of Fire left.
For ten minutes, they played a merciless game of cat and mouse. Neither group could manage to paint the other. Time was running out. Lynne ducked around one of the bags as a ball whizzed by her. But another shot came fast on its heels.
JJ jumped up out of nowhere, and Brooke bulleted her in the chest. Lynne got off a shot then and Annie joined the dead. All four of them dropped to the ground, laughing their heads off.
When they rolled to their feet and trudged to the dead box, Brooke caught a glimpse of Brady. He’d come to pick up Emma. He’d insisted she not drop the girl off. Unfortunately, she was thrilled to see him.
* * *
Brady stood in the spectator area of Paint Your Wagon and watched them. He’d caught the end of the game and all the players were happy and raucous. Too bad he wasn’t. He’d been up almost all night with Adam, whose father had never called to check on him. And the accusation from the man during the elders meeting kept Brady’s mind churning.
“Daddy!” Emma ran toward him and threw herself at him. “I did good. Lynne said so.”
“I saw a bit of it. You got somebody out!”
Over her head, he could see the women gathering their things. But Lynne and Melody approached him. Mel dragged Emma off to the side and whispered something to her.
“Brady, hi.” Lynne’s hair was damp from exertion and up in a ponytail. Her green eyes were full of mirth…until she got a good look at him. “What’s wrong?”
“A lot of things. I need to talk to you.”
She frowned.
The girls returned. “Mom, can Emma come with us to get pizza? Brady, you can come too.”
“I’m sorry I can’t. I have a meeting. We have to go, princess.”
The princess pouted.
“You know, sweetie, Lynne and Melody have a life outside you.”
Tears filled her eyes.
He dropped down. “Geez.”
Lynne knelt, too. “We love having you with us, honey. Your dad’s just being careful. Sometimes we do have plans and Mel can’t play.” She raised her brows to him. He nodded. “But we’d love to have you for pizza today.”
Annie jogged over. “Hi, Brady. Lynne, we’re leaving.”
“Could you take Emma and Melody to the Pizzeria? I need a few minutes with Brady.”
“Of course. Come on, ladies.
”
They left, one kid holding each of her hands.
“Let’s go out to my car. We can talk there.”
Lynne grabbed her coat and followed him out the door. It was a sunny December day but icy cold. The poor guys who were on shift tonight when it was predicted to go down to zero.
Once in the front seat of his Bronco, she said, “Is this about us on Friday night?”
“It is. But not in the way you think.” He stared through the front window. “I, um, someone from my church saw me leave your house that morning. He’s an elder, and he confronted me at our meeting last night. He said some awful things about me.” He held her gaze, hating this. “And you.”
“Me? How would one of your parishioners know me?”
“Apparently this guy did some digging and discovered that you lived in David’s house. Then he went to Dannerville, and I’m afraid he asked around about you.”
She scowled. “Who did he talk to?”
“We never got to that point. The other elders were incensed. They defended me. Told me I had a right to a personal life.” He reached over and took her hand. “At this point, I’m more worried about you.”
“Me? My reputation? The one that’s tattered beyond repair in Dannerville? He couldn’t do me more harm, Brady. But I’m sorry for you.”
He gave her a little smile. “Leave it to you to make this easy on me.”
“You look like hell.”
“I’m aware of that. There’s more, but that’s for another time. Go be with your friends.”
“I wish you could come with us. I wish things were different.”
“Me too.” He leaned over and kissed her lips, briefly, tenderly. “I’m sorry for that, too.”
“Life sucks sometimes.”
When she left, Brady felt hollowed out. He wanted this woman with a passion that seemed to grow every day, instead of diminish.
Despondent, he didn’t even ask God for help.
* * *
A week later, Lynne retrieved the mail and walked back inside the house, leafing through the letters. She stopped short. One thick envelope was labeled Erica Cummings, Attorney at Law. Her divorce lawyer. Knowing what was inside, she ripped the missive open. “Final Judgment, Order and Degree. “This matter having come before the court…”
She read the legalese of the decree that stated her marriage was dissolved. It covered all the terms: division of property, where she got the cottage, he got the house. Asset separation: she’d have enough money to buy her own home, with some left for a nest egg. Sharing the children: both would live with her. Poor Phillip never got a choice in the matter. Ken did have visitation rights spelled out. But now, he’d have to pay child support, which she’d save for the kids’ college funds. When she finished reading every word, she felt an overriding sense of relief and an under-riding depression.
She checked the clock. The kids were spending the night at the Davidsons. Mel loved the DiMarco girls and Phillip had bonded with Vinny at paintball and swimming.
To distract herself, Lynne went onto her computer and a reminder came up. Flying Solo, 7 p.m. Presentation: How to talk to your kids about sex by Brady Jamison.
So, he was giving the talk to parents. She’d heard from him in the intervening week only about getting the girls together but they’d done car drops offs and she hadn’t seen him. It had been pretty clear the night at Paint Your Wagon that they had no future. She caused him too much grief in his church and she couldn’t live within the confines of any religion.
Despite all that, she gazed at the screen, then at the divorce papers next to her. Without listening to common sense, she grabbed her coat and wallet and keys and headed to Elmwood, blanking her mind of the monumental event that occurred today in her life.
She walked into the Town Hall, found the room for Brady’s talk and went inside. He walked in from the side door and stood up front. Her mouth dropped.
Brady wore a clerical collar. She’d never seen him in it. He hadn’t told the group he was a minister so why had he worn that obvious manifestation of who he was?
He smiled at the rumbling. “Before I begin, I want you all to know why I wore this thing.” He touched the stark white ring around his neck. “I apologize if any of you feel duped. I didn’t reveal that I’m a minister before because I didn’t want to be judged as one here. I wanted to be a normal parent, flying solo, trying to find answers for raising my daughter. If anyone is offended, see me after this talk.”
Nothing. But they all quieted. But she couldn’t help staring. His hair had gotten longer than usual and his shoulders spanned the width of the black shirt he wore. She was glad to see his whole body relaxed.
“So, let’s begin. How do you talk to your kids about sex? And I’m not saying teenagers. Sex education begins long before that age. Starting around ten, tell them about male-female relationships. Don’t go into too much detail except for the biological differences, but research shows, kids take in only what they’re ready to hear. That research also recommends the specifics to start at puberty.”
He crossed to a computer and called up a screen. “Every sex talk with kids should include:
Masturbation, and all the literature I’ve read on that says never to shame them.
How babies are made.
How to prevent babies from being made.
Contraception: condoms and where they can get them.
Knowing when you’re ready—peer pressure and what to do if one party isn’t ready. Both genders.
Porn—define sadism and masochism.
“I might also say here that you don’t have to share your sexual history with your partner or when you were a teen. Actually, I think this privacy is healthy until your kids are older, at least. Say that up front so if they ask you if you watch porn, you remind them of what you’re withholding. But I do believe if you talk openly about masturbating it will demystify the practice and make it sound healthy. Which, as I said, is true.”
During the entire presentation, he had command of his audience. He was professional, confident and knowledgeable of his content.
When he finished, he said, “Now it’s your turn.”
One guy asked how to not get embarrassed during these talks. Another if they’d be encouraging sex by talking about it. They bombarded him for an hour. Then when he called the session to a close, Carly raised her hand. “Boy, Brady, you aren’t like any other minister I’ve known.”
The reality of that made Lynne’s spirits plummet.
* * *
Brady noticed Lynne waiting in the back until everyone left. He’d seen her right away and forced himself to stay cool. Purposely leaving on his collar, he approached her. “So, how’d I do?”
“You get an A+.”
“Whew!”
Her brows raised. “The collar, huh?”
“I decided I needed to show them who I am. Be accepted for who I am.”
“And since they got to know you first, you can be an example for them.”
“That wasn’t planned, but thanks.” He edged a hip onto the table in front of her. “So, I thought maybe you’d give up on Flying Solo.”
“No. I was only afraid I’d come and drool over you.”
Brady laughed. She smiled. Today, she’d dressed in plain jeans and a navy wool sweater. Her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders.
“I got papers today saying my divorce is final.”
His pulse rate sped up. “Did it sting?”
“Some.”
“And?”
“And nothing. I thought you’d like to know. Maybe it can help you with the church people if they’re still giving you grief.”
“That was sweet of you.”
“Besides, you’re the person I wanted to tell first.”
“I’m honored.”
“Anything better at church?”
“Not with Carlton Matthews. He quit the elders committee. But the situation’s okay with the rest of them. We talked a lot about re-empha
sizing to the whole church that our denomination doesn’t judge—divorce, abortion, gay rights, sexual orientation. Each member of the UCC is free to create his or her own belief system.”
“Now that’s not like any church I’ve even known.”
“Ah, there are a lot of us around. The churches that don’t preach more liberal views are dying as we speak.”
“I’m so glad you have that in your life.”
Don’t ask, Brady. It will only hurt her. So, he didn’t wonder aloud if what he told her made a difference for them. He didn’t stir up those waters in her life again. But it almost killed him to let her go.
* * *
3 p.m.
When the rig came to a halt, she saw that Engine 2, Truck 1 and Truck 4 were on scene. So many of her favorite people were here to fight the fire at a local motel on the outskirts of Crystal City. The notion made her excited at first, then…uneasy.
She followed Harry Zander to Incident Command with the rest of the crew. JJ was at the helm because their rig was first-in. Zander, the most senior officer, asked, “You wanna run this or should I?”
“You take it, Cap.” She adjusted the strap on her white helmet. “I feel like getting my hands dirty.”
“Great. Go around back, make sure your hose has access from the ground. Don’t climb any back stairs.”
JJ and her crew disappeared around the corner, where her rig had parked, though her guys were waiting for orders.
Zander zipped out orders. “Blackfeather and Cortez on the 2’s engine hose.” Braxton would stay at the truck. “Lucas and Loder, tap the plug and lay a second line. This baby can get out of control in seconds.”
Colin O’Shea, the newly minted lieutenant on Truck 4, was heading over for orders and she passed him on the way, swiping a high five.
Lynne wrenched off the hydrant’s cover and screwed in the hose, then Loder laid a line, with the help of Braxton, and they trained them on the front of the building. Truck 1 stayed behind them, ready to assist.
The water consumed the fire but not before it ate its way to the roof. From the radio, she heard JJ say, “Almost out, Cap.”
