Son of a Preacher Man (2 page)

Even though she’d known how he felt—in fact felt the same way—the words still hurt. Before she could form a reply, a familiar crunch caught her attention. “Listen. Someone’s coming up the drive.” Nadya scrambled into her tank top as J.T. fumbled to zip his pants. “Hurry,” she whispered urgently. A bad feeling coiled in her gut like a snake about to strike.

“What’s the big deal? Someone else is just coming to call.”

“No one but your father comes to see us. Unless they want something. Come on. If we cut through here we’ll come around the back of the cabin.”

Prickers and sticks scratched her legs as she ran through the woods toward the cabin. She didn’t know why, but a sixth sense was telling her something bad was on the way. Her hair stuck to the back of her neck but she didn’t take the time to tie it up. She had to get home.

J.T. pulled in front of her as they burst through the bushes at the edge of her mama’s garden. A shiny, white car that could only be Mrs. Campbell’s pulled in the drive and stopped behind Pastor McBride’s Buick. Orleane Campbell was one of the church ladies who made comments about Nadya and her mama every time they went into town. Her daughter, Pansy, was two years younger than Nadya, and well on her way to becoming the most obnoxious girl in a school full of them. What were they doing here?

J.T. ran around the front where Mrs. Campbell and Pansy were getting out of the car. Nadya headed for the back door of the cabin, intending to clean up before her mother saw the tell-tale grass stains on her shirt and shorts. As she passed under the window to her mama’s room, she shot a quick glance in to make sure the coast was clear before she snuck in. What she saw stopped all thoughts of a quick change in their tracks.

Her mama had obviously just heard the car doors slam, because she was scrambling buck naked across the bed to where her skirt and blouse lay tossed on the footboard. Pastor McBride had his pants halfway up and was pulling on his button-down shirt that had the sleeves inside out.

Nadya’s first thought was,
Wow, he’s pretty hot for an old guy.
Her second was,
Aren’t they too old to be doing it?

Before she could sneak in the house, she heard Mrs. Campbell’s voice raised in anger. “What exactly is going on here? I want to see your daddy this instant!”

Nadya gave up stealth for speed and burst through the back door. Her mama had managed to get dressed, but there was no disguising her tousled appearance. The thought that she might have the same look crossed Nadya’s mind when her mama gave her a knowing glance.

Tala visibly collected herself before strolling through the front door like she didn’t have a crazy woman screaming on her front stoop. “Good afternoon, Orleane, Pansy. What can I do for you today?”

“I want to know what is going on here. Why is Pastor McBride’s car in your drive? What gypsy tricks are you plying on him?”

“And why are you here too, J.T.?” Pansy asked, moving in front of him.

J.T. leaned against the porch rail, trapped between that and Pansy. Sweat trickled down his neck and stuck his dirt-stained shirt to his chest. A scowl darkened his face as he tried to move away from Pansy.

“What gypsy tricks would those be, Orleane? Love potions? Isn’t that what you wanted me to make for you? The pastor is here preaching the good word, trying to bring me into his flock.” Tala’s voice dripped sarcasm like warm honey.

“Then why is his Bible out here and he’s in your shack?”

“And why is Nadya covered in pine needles and has her shirt on inside out? Slut.” Pansy shot a glare at Nadya.

“Like mother, like daughter.” Mrs. Campbell stepped towards Tala.

“That’s enough!” Pastor McBride shouted as he marched out onto the porch. Mrs. Campbell and Pansy jumped back, and J.T. quickly moved next to Nadya. “What gives you the right to come to this woman’s house and cast aspersions on her character?”

“I was just trying to find you to talk about the bake sale on Sunday. When I didn’t find you at the meeting house, I asked around, and Mabel Jones said she saw your car headed out on Deer Creek Road. Well, everyone knows the only things on Deer Creek are trees and the gypsy whore.”

“And her whore daughter,” added Pansy.

Nadya made a move toward Pansy. If that little bitch called her or her mother a whore one more time, she’d be looking for her teeth. J.T. grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back against him.

“Don’t let her get to you. She’s a jealous cow and not worth you getting arrested over.”

“Like mother, like daughter,” Nadya bit out.

Pansy let out a scream of fury and lunged toward Nadya. Before Pastor McBride could stop her, Pansy slapped Nadya across the face.

“That’s enough!” Pastor McBride shouted again, hauling the rather chunky Pansy off the porch. “Orleane, take your daughter home until she can control herself.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I know what shenanigans were going on here. It’s my God-given duty as a member of the church board to make sure our pastor isn’t preaching one thing on Sunday and sinning the rest of the week.”

“Unless it’s with you. Isn’t that right, Orleane?” Tala said as she stepped in front of Nadya. Her black eyes blazed with fury. “You came to me last week asking if I had any gypsy potions to make someone fall in love. When I turned you away, you came back looking for the reason why. It wouldn’t have mattered if the good pastor was baptizing me in the creek, you were bound and determined to find something dirty out here.” She stepped off the porch and got right in Mrs. Campbell’s face. “You can say what you want about me. I’ve been called whore before, but you leave my daughter and the pastor out of your jealous temper tantrum.”

Mrs. Campbell was several inches taller and many pounds heavier than the petite Tala, but she stepped back from the naked fury on the smaller woman’s face.

“Or what?” she said with false bravado. “Will you put a curse on me?”

“I don’t need to. Your pettiness will stamp itself on your face without any help from me. That will be your curse and your fate.” Tala spun around, her skirt flaring around her calves, and glided up the steps.

“Thank you for your
…
guidance, Pastor McBride,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “But I think I’ll stick with my own faith. Nadya, go on inside. I’ll put a cold compress on your cheek.”

Nadya slipped out of J.T.’s arms and went to her mother. They locked the door behind them and didn’t bother to look as two cars pulled out of the drive.

Chapter One

New York City, Present Day

“I cannot believe you are wasting your vacation time going to Deliverance, Georgia. If
I
had a month of vacation, I’d go to the Caribbean.” Sandra Goldstein, Nadya’s best friend and co-peon in the gigantic law firm where they worked, knocked back her vodka martini and signaled the waiter for another one.

“If you put in as many billable hours as I did trying to pay off college loans, you’d have a month of vacation to use before the end of the fiscal year too. Besides, it’s Dale, Georgia, not Deliverance, and I won’t spend the whole month there. It should only take a week or two to get the last of the estate through probate. It’s not like my mother had that many personal assets.” Nadya sipped her martini a bit more slowly. It was perfectly chilled and smooth as silk.

“Dale, Deliverance—same difference. It’s filled with flannel and butt cleavage and there’s not a chance you’ll find anyone with their own teeth, forget working brain cells.”

More like judgmental bigots and rednecks
.

“Don’t remind me. It’s not like I want to go. It’s something I have to do.”

“Whatever,
bubele.
I still think you’d be better off on an island somewhere.”

“It’s not like you’re going to the Caymans—you’ll be in Miami.”

“
Oy,
don’t remind me. I get to spend my one week of vacation with my family. Maybe butt cleavage isn’t all that bad.”

“Depends on whose butt.” Nadya laughed.

“Was there a particular butt you wanted to see again?”

Memories of a hot, steamy day with breathless kisses and awkward caresses flashed through her brain. “No.”

“I sense a certain wistfulness in your answer. Come on, give.”

Nadya heaved a sigh and finished off her drink quicker than the quality vodka called for. “You know that old Dusty Springfield song about the son of a preacher?”

“I think so. It was in a movie, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Anyway, there was a guy, a boy really, who was the preacher’s son, and he and I were together for a hot and heavy month before I left. I guess you always wonder what could have been, you know?”

“The only time I thought that was with Michael Schmitt, my boyfriend in eighth grade. I saw him at a cousin’s wedding and felt like I dodged a bullet. So, you think you’ll run into your teenage crush again?”

“Not a chance. The last time I saw him he was headed to the military and wasn’t coming back to Dale ever again.”

“Nice place. And you’re sure you have to go back there? You can’t get one of the clerks to handle probate?”

“Unfortunately, no. My mother left something for me, and the lawyer handling her affairs said I have to receive it in person. There might be some other complications since she died in California, but her papers were in Dale.”

“I can’t believe a hick town like that even has a lawyer.”

“Me either. It sure didn’t when I was growing up, but apparently my mother trusted him because he has her paperwork. He’s also older than dirt and doesn’t believe in faxes or email or other new-fangled technology.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Tons.”

“I’m only a phone call away if you need me. That is, if you get any cell service out there in the boonies.”

“Who knows? I’d be surprised if there’s a cell tower anywhere near Dale. It was just a tiny town on the edge of the state forest. For all I know, they don’t even have the Internet yet.”

Sandra shuddered. “Miami is looking better all the time. At least I’ll have air conditioning and access to wi-fi.”

“Don’t rub it in.”

On the road the next morning, Nadya plugged in her iPod and scrolled through until she found the song she was looking for. Hearing Dusty Springfield’s lament about the only boy who could ever move her brought all the memories of her month-long romance with J.T. McBride scrolling through her head.

In retrospect, she should have thanked him for being so honest with her when he told her he wouldn’t make any promises. Most eighteen-year-old boys would have happily screwed her and promised the world. At least she was spared the embarrassment of seeing him again after her failed seduction. She and her mama had packed up and fled in the middle of that night.

She still remembered their frantic rush to pack anything of worth into the beat-up station wagon Nadya had bought with the money she earned working at the general store.

Her mama’s words were burned in her brain. “
Puishor
, when the
gadzé
start throwing around words like ‘gypsy tricks’ and ‘whore’ it’s time to go. You don’t wait until you see the torches, you get out fast.”

“But, Mama, you’re not even a gypsy anymore. Your family disowned you before I was born.”

“Doesn’t matter. To the Outsiders, I’m still one of those filthy gypsies, and if Orleane gets the church stirred up about Pastor McBride, it’s me who’s going to get the blame.”

And her mama had been right. Nadya had called her friend Mary Ellen a few days later to tell her goodbye, and Mary Ellen filled her in on what had happened. Pastor McBride had been fired as the church’s preacher for failing to renounce Talaitha. J.T. had spent his last days in Dale in one fight after another. And someone had smashed every window in Nadya’s cabin and spray painted
Gypsy Whores
over the front porch.

Nadya wondered how the owner of the cabin had felt about that. It’s not like her mama had left a forwarding address. Hell, Nadya didn’t even know who the owner of the cabin was. All she knew was that her mother said the rent had been paid upfront years ago, and they could live there until Nadya graduated.

And now she was going back to Dale. Or at least stopping in. She’d decided against staying in the only bed and breakfast in town, and opted instead for a hotel an hour away. It would be less convenient if she had to spend any length of time dealing with the lawyer, but it would be far more comfortable for her peace of mind.

As she sped down the highway, she wondered what exactly her mama had left in the hands of a small-town lawyer. As far as she could remember, her mama had avoided contact with authority figures as much as humanly possible. The only thing she’d owned outright at the time of her death had been the RV she toured the country in. Nadya had co-signed the loan on that, and it had been handled in probate in New York.

Regret warred with guilt as she thought about her beautiful mother. Could she have done anything differently if she hadn’t been so busy trying to make it in New York City? Would she even have been able to make her mother see a doctor before the cancer had spread throughout her body? She should have spent more time with her at the end. Would it have killed her to take a few weeks off?

Nadya knew her mother had an extended family but had no idea how to contact them to let them know of Talaitha’s death. Not that she’d tried very hard to find them. When her mother had gotten pregnant by a
gadzé,
an Outsider, when she was sixteen, her family made her an outcast and shunned her. Virginity was prized among the Rom, and her mother had not only slept with a man without the benefit of marriage, but she’d compounded the crime by sleeping with an Outsider. The betrothal her father had arranged for her was broken and her family shamed.