Sixty Nine (Payne Brothers Romance Book 4)

by Sosie Frost

  I’d been terrified before, lost in a swirling hailstorm that separated families and destroyed communities. But I’d left those feelings behind, shoved them deep into a gaping maw that starved for hearts, souls, and the last blessing of goodness a man possessed.

  And it had done nothing.

  All it’d taken was two words—two miserable, murmured words—and that eternal pit of damnation erupted everything back to life.

  The pain.

  The confusion.

  The suffering.

  Lulu’s missing.

  I couldn’t lose another little girl.

  I parked at the base of the stairs, car askew and still running as I bolted from the seat and raced into the church. The doors were closed to the chapel, most of the town still inside and unaware of the chaos in the wings. The guest minister continued his sermon, his voice echoing from the pulpit.

  “Today’s verse is Psalm Sixty-Nine…”

  I’d heard it many times before, but never had any scripture clawed at my gut and beat at my brain. The church darkened around me, lashing me in the shadow of terrifying memory.

  I’d rushed through these halls before.

  Panting. Praying.

  Shocked.

  “V!” Glory raced from the hall, cell phone in one hand, purse in the other. Her hair had fallen from the conservative bun, trailing over her cheeks. Her eyes were wide—frustrated and frightened. “Can you help—”

  I shouldn’t have grabbed her, but the woman’s words had broken in panic. I hauled her to my chest, burying my fingers in her hair.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “She was right there.” Glory swore. “I looked away, and she must have chased after the music—”

  “I’ll find her,” I said. Cassi rushed in after me, followed by two of the wise men and Rudolph still in costume. “Check the basement, the door doesn’t lock and she could push it open. Cassi, take the reindeer to the annex. Glory, my office.”

  She squeezed my hand. “V, what if someone came in, what if…”

  “She’s just hiding. That’s all.”

  “There’s something I haven’t told you…” Glory wiped away the tear that dared to streak her cheek. “Lulu’s father—”

  The terror in her voice crashed around me like falling rubble. I didn’t let myself hear it. Couldn’t. Not now. Not while the past threatened to bury me in the debris once more.

  “She’s just hiding.” I pushed her away, darting down the left hallway. “We’ll find her.”

  The preacher began to read from scripture, his words booming through the empty halls. I clattered passed the first administrative office, slamming the door into the wall.

  “Save me…O God…”

  “Lulu?” I called. Nothing. Darkness.

  A sudden nausea roiled through my gut. I ignored it, racing into the office, searching under tables, behind curtains.

  “For the waters have come up to my neck…”

  It took only an instant for my world to shatter and the memories to overwhelm me. Only a second for the winds to rage, the rain to tear at my skin, and the groaning clatter of ripping wood and shattering glass to tunnel deep inside my mind.

  “I sink into the miry depths where there is no foothold…”

  The storm had come from nowhere and everywhere all at once, haloed with lightning and blackened by rolling clouds and thick hail. The walls had collapsed. The roof caved in.

  And the crying had begun.

  But now?

  Silence stole the church save for the preacher’s words. No terrified screams. No pained cries.

  No pleas for God’s mercy.

  Just quiet.

  I clattered into the hall once more, chilled with sweat and panting in desperation. Flashes of forgotten memories and haunting images clouded my vision until I no longer knew where I was—in the present…

  Or in hell once more.

  Chasing the softening cry.

  Lost in a faithless, unfathomable solitude.

  “I have come into deep waters…”

  Where would the child have run, if she had the chance? If the walls hadn’t fallen and the rains hadn’t pelted the earth?

  “The floods engulf me…”

  Crying echoed in my head. It wasn’t real. It was never real, but I heard it, deep in silence, any time I prayed. Those same cries.

  “I am worn out calling for help…”

  But Lulu wasn’t in danger, wasn’t hurt, wasn’t alone. I repeated the words, swore them to myself, and bound them into the pit where my soul belonged because I wouldn’t believe in anything so cruel as to destroy this church twice.

  “My throat is parched…”

  She’d wandered. But why? The music or the lights? Distracted by something Christmasy?

  “My eyes fail…”

  I stopped in the hallway.

  The child did have a strange fascination with Christmas trees, and if they hadn’t checked the chapel since the service began…

  “Looking for my God.”

  I rushed to the chapel, throwing open the doors and interrupting the sermon. The congregation murmured, led by the thump of Agatha Barlow’s cane.

  “All these interruptions…” She shook her head. “And during the Christmas season…”

  I said nothing, leaping the steps onto the stage and ducking the guest minister with a quick nod. Harry Dryer. I hadn’t talked to him since the little girl’s funeral.

  Harry covered the microphone with his hand, eyebrows furrowed.

  “Uh…did you want to speak, Varius?” He closed his Bible. “The diocese said this would be temporary, but I didn’t think they meant only half a sermon.”

  I ignored him, the pulpit, the eager attention of the parishioners.

  The last time I’d searched the church, I’d removed glass and insulation, chunks of brick and broken timbers. My hands had bled as I bargained with my very soul for salvation.

  And I was still too late.

  But this time?

  This time…

  I found her.

  Lulu Hawkins was a bundle of chubby mischief with big brown eyes, a perfect little tutu, and enough of her mother’s personality to shake the very foundation of the rebuilt church.

  She also had a massive messiah complex.

  When the Christmas tree wasn’t exciting enough for her…

  She’d climbed into the nativity scene, tossed baby Jesus into the cold, and stolen his bed.

  I reached down, hands trembling as I wrapped the toddler in my arms and drew her away from the scene.

  Lulu gave me a timid smile. “Bastard V!”

  My knees weakened, but the sheer thrill of her warm little body, pudgy fingers around my neck, and confused yawn was a baptism in utter joy.

  Something I hadn’t felt for a long time.

  The microphone was open. The congregation waiting. But I had no words for anyone but the angel that was Glory, nearly falling to her knees in the back of the pews.

  This time, I answered my own prayers, wrapping the wiggling child tight against me as I slipped from the chapel, sweaty and relieved.

  “Lulu!”

  Glory reached for her daughter as the doors closed behind us, but I sank into a bench before my heart wrenched from my chest. Lulu puffed her cheeks and made a goofy face at her momma, waving her hand and accidentally swatting me in the nose as she greeted her terrified mother.

  “Lulu tree,” the toddler explained. Her finger poked me in the chin.

  And the visions of darkness and despair faded away.

  Lulu’s chubby cheeks, dark eyes, and curly little locks replaced every last shadow that lurked within my mind. Her grin was short-lived, broken by a yawn and the threat of crankiness from an interrupted nap, but the child…

  Was beautiful.

  And warm.

  And…

  So absolutely peaceful.

  Glory knelt at her side, finally able to untangle the most perplexing, lovely, and sou
l-warming creature from my arms. With a sigh, she cradled Lulu as long as she’d tolerate it before letting her wiggle around on her lap to play with the wall of pamphlets set out for the congregation.

  Nothing was as beautiful as this woman and her child.

  Glory so easily took the pain away. Why did I do everything I could to make it worse?

  “V…” Glory gave Lulu enough kisses to make the toddler giggle in glee. “You’re already a heartbreaker…do you have to be a hero too?”

  “I’m not a hero.”

  Her eyebrow arched. “You don’t know how I reward heroes.”

  Christ, this woman would bring me to my knees.

  She brushed her hair away from her face, set loose from her bun. The curls drifted over her cheeks and brushed her shoulders, teasing the soft silk of her blouse. Conservative. The blouse hugged her curves in ways even the church couldn’t forgive, and her dark legs teased from the skin-tight, knee-length skirt which was meant to appear prim, proper, and suitable for church.

  No matter the dress, this woman was made to wrap around a pole.

  Or to have men wrapped around her finger.

  She rested her cheek on Lulu’s head, heaving a sigh. “So, how bad will it be?”

  My heart had yet to return to normal, especially as Lulu busied herself by waving at me.

  “How bad will what be?” I asked.

  “I just made a total idiot out of myself…” Glory said. “All I wanted was a quiet Sunday with my sewing.”

  My laugh surprised me, so easily offered. “Your sewing?”

  “Figured it was a good, wholesome excuse for skipping the sermon.”

  “I never imagined you as wholesome.”

  “Of course, you haven’t.” Her smile faded. “I’m just a fantasy to you.”

  “Makes it all the more jarring.”

  “They’re starting to ask questions,” she said. “What church I attended in Ironfield. Who my family is. If I want to join the women’s group.” She hesitated. “Doesn’t help that I’m a single, unwed mother who lost her only child in the middle of rehearsal.”

  “Could be worse…” The memories threatened me then instantly faded, chased away by Lulu’s grin. “But you know they’re only curious. Not often we get a newcomer in Butterpond.”

  “That’s the problem. Really think I can tell them I belong to the Church of the Neon Pussy Cat?”

  “I won’t let anyone harass you.”

  “And I won’t let you defend me, V.”

  I frowned. “Why not?”

  Lulu wiggled from her mother’s grip, but she didn’t go far, only a few steps to retrieve a hand-sized Bible that had fallen beneath the chairs. She waddled to me, placed it in my hand, then lifted her arms.

  “Lulu up!”

  If Glory had captured my soul, Lulu with her chubby cheeks, Disney eyes, and ballerina bun wedged herself so hard into my heart, I wasn’t sure it could still beat.

  But my hands no longer trembled as I reached for her. I hauled the little girl into my lap and actually…

  Smiled.

  Been so long, I’d forgotten how it worked.

  Glory hummed. “See what I mean?”

  “What?”

  “Doesn’t matter what rent-a-preacher you stick on that pulpit. The town knows that you’re their rightful minister. You’re the one who belongs up there. You’re the one leading this flock.”

  Leading them where though? “I told you…I’m not coming back to the church.”

  “I don’t think you ever really left, V.” She tilted her head, watching as Lulu gripped my hands and clapped them before her. “You’re a natural with children.”

  “Maybe once.”

  “Maybe now. There aren’t a lot of men she trusts.”

  “Sounds like her mother.”

  Glory arched an eyebrow. “We’re talking about you now.”

  “Not much to talk about.”

  “Yeah. I suppose you know how screwed up you are.” She paused. “That can’t come as a shock.”

  “Only to hear it from you. My brothers say it all the time.”

  “Maybe it’s time to listen to them?” Glory crossed her legs, tightening the skirt around her perfect hips. “Think about it—you came to my club, seduced a stripper, met with her for weeks on end, had your way with her…” Her lips parted as if she had more to say, and I would’ve drowned in those honeyed words. But she simply lowered her voice. “And yet you used to be a minister. It’s amazing you aren’t more fucked up than you already are.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “I got a good idea at the meeting…” Her expression crumpled. “You let those terrible memories control you.”

  “It’s not the memories.”

  “Then what is it?”

  My burdens were not for a creature as lovely, as perfect, as Glory. I went silent, listening to the muffled voice of the minister rumbling in prayer through the chapel.

  “What do you think of the new pastor?” I asked.

  “The Rent-A-Preacher?” Glory snorted. “Why don’t you sit in on his sermon? Listen for yourself?”

  “I’ve heard them all.”

  “Seems like you could use a refresher.”

  I wouldn’t find answers to any of my questions in the church, especially since God himself knew how long I’d been searching for the answers.

  “He might be a good replacement for Miley,” I said. Glory made a face, and I shrugged. “You don’t agree? He seems like a good man. Went to my seminary actually. Married a lady from a few towns over. I think they have a son on the way.”

  Glory flicked his business card from her pocket. “Think a good man would give the pageant coordinator his phone number?”

  A flare of searing jealousy surged through me, so abrupt that it shocked me into silence.

  It’d been a long time since I’d felt jealousy. Or anything.

  My jaw clenched, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt as I took the card. “Maybe he wanted to help with the pageant?”

  “Flip it over.”

  The message scrawled on the back broke more than a few Commandments. With a grunt, I ripped the business card into pieces. Glory smirked.

  “He leaves today.” My voice hardened. “Philistine.”

  “Phallic-stine.” Glory laughed. “Tell me, Pastor V, why do I attract the worst men? The ones who are hell-bent on destroying their marriages? The users, the abusers…the ministers?”

  “They’re looking for someone to make them feel whole again.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, they’re looking for some sort of hole.”

  Lulu grabbed the Bible, opened it wide, and stuck it over her head. She glanced up at me with a wide grin.

  “Lulu hat.”

  How could someone so little render me so helpless?

  How could someone so little…

  Chase away that nightmare?

  I’d learned to combat the memories—those flashes of fear and horror. But suppressing those events did nothing when a child cried or shrieked, when the thunder rumbled in the distance, or when the organ began its hymns. I’d avoided as much as I could, but still the shadows plagued my mind, twisting those thoughts and scarring me with guilt.

  So how the hell did a toddler wearing Proverbs for a hat, with a goofy smile and a bright pink tutu, bless me with…

  Relief?

  Forgiveness?

  Tranquility?

  “She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Glory’s voice softened.

  “You have no idea.”

  “She likes you.”

  And I had no idea what I’d done to deserve it.

  Lulu hopped off my lap and did a little dance, making a face at her mother before squealing with glee and taking off. She made it to the door, tagged the wood, and then raced back.

  “Don’t look so surprised, V.” Glory met my gaze. “You’re allowed to be happy.”

  Was I? “Don’t worry about me.”

  “Not so easy,
knowing what I know. You’re in so much pain.”

  “It’s not pain.”

  “Bull.” She leaned forward, reaching for my hand. When I didn’t take it, Lulu did, dancing a little wiggle in her mother’s arms. “You think I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through?”

  “No.”

  “Then tell me. Explain it to me. Talk to me, V.”

  And what would that do but infect her with that same darkness?

  Who could do that to another person?

  What merciful being could do that to a child?

  “Look at her…” My reluctant words chilled the room. “She’s happy. She’s beautiful. She knows nothing but joy.”

  Glory shook her head. “V…”

  “But this world isn’t joyous. It destroys beauty. Sin and violence shadow every hope and dream. But I’d accepted that darkness because I knew…” I pointed upwards. “Everyone could be saved.”

  “But?”

  “The storm.” The words slashed my throat. “I was there when that little girl died—when nothing made sense in this world anymore. An entire creation’s worth of misery and sorrow and rage pitted right here…” I slammed a hand against my chest, the slap nearly stealing my breath. “And that’s where it stays.”

  Glory arched an eyebrow. “So, let it out.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “You can’t let it well up inside of you forever.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  Her words sharpened, and she stood as I did, blocking my path. “Then make me understand.”

  The sorrow shredded me from within. “How? How could I make you understand without damning you as well?”

  “You’re not damned, V—”

  “It’s toxic,” I said. “This misery. The depression. The anger. It’s exhausting fighting it, day in and day out. I’m killing myself to keep from spreading it, but it always escapes. Leads back to me. I see it in my family. In the church. No matter what I do—this despair festers inside me. I can’t let it consume anyone else.” I clenched my jaw. “You are my salvation, Glory. You pulled me from that darkness. But now I’m protecting you. I won’t let this destroy you too.”

  I didn’t expect the slap across the cheek.

  Glory seethed, body tensed. “Don’t you dare assume you know better than me, Varius Payne.”