The Preacher's Daughter (11 page)

"I'm out of here," she said.

"No." His hand clamped over hers. "You're staying."

"The hell I am."

"Naomi..." His voice held the threat of correction. She settled back in her seat, reluctantly. She was fuming now. Her father's voice was almost apologetic as he sent the unspoken message to his congregation. "I tried to get her to confess," it said. "But she's too sinful." And beside her there was Eric, his hands in his lap again, as he'd only taken hers long enough to make sure she stayed in her seat.

Her father was giving the altar call. She felt eyes on her again, boring into her back. Even Eric was staring at her.

She looked at him and her eyes were filled with tears.

"Do you feel the call?" he asked, his voice hopeful.

"I think I do," she said, nodding. Her voice fell to a whisper. "This has all been an act, hasn't it. You've just been getting close to me to keep me in line for my father. You're just like him. You'd like nothing more than for me to go up there and fall on my knees, even if I don't feel it."

She shook her head. "You people are all the same, you know that?"

She stood now before he could stop her and pushed from the pew. Her father's face was hopeful and for a brief moment she felt a sting of pity. He'd not been able to extract the confession certain members of his congregation wanted. Getting her to the altar was the next best thing, the consolation prize. And he thought she had her. But instead of going to the front she turned and walked down the aisle and out past the puzzled or smirking faces of the other church members.

"Just as I am..." The words of the song that drew guilty Christians to the altar chased her in the opposite direction now.

"Naomi!"

She did not turn at the sound of her name.

"Naomi!"

"Stay away from me!" She didn't look back as she picked up her pace.

"Naomi!" His voice was closer. She began to run.

"Naomi!" He was on her now and she felt herself pulled back as he called her name. She jerked free violently, her face as mask of emotional pain.

"Don't fuck with me, Eric," she said. "If I'm not worthy of your acknowledgement in the church I don't want it when we're alone."

"It's not that!" he said. "It's just..."

"Just what? Embarrassing?"

"No!" His voice carried an edge of frustration she'd never heard in it before. "It's...delicate."

"Delicate?" She shook her head in disbelief.

"I've only just admitted to you and to myself how I feel," he said. "And we've not known each other very long. I haven't even told your parents!"

"You've told me," she said. "Doesn't that count?"

"That's not it," he said. "I kind of thought after today, if you went to the altar. I thought that would make it easier."

"For me or for you?" she shot back.

He looked down. "For me," he admitted. "I won't lie. No one knows what happened with you in L.A. I mean, I know, but they don't. And the rumors are worse than the reality."

Now she did feel guilty. He was wrong about that. But she wasn't about to tell him the truth now. She was too angry, and felt betrayed. He didn't deserve the truth.

"That's why I say you're all alike," she said with disgust. "You and Dad both want me to go to the altar to make things easier for you politically. It doesn't matter if I repent so long as everyone watching thinks I have."

Eric look liked he'd been punched and Naomi knew right away that her words had resonated. Finally.

"I'm sorry," he said and then held out his hands to her. "Naomi, I love you."

"Yeah? Well if you mean that you'd have shown me in there and now out here in empty churchyard where it feels safe. You saw how Marcy treated me. You saw what my father tried to do. And you let it happen."

Tears rolled down her face now as she sought to try and tame the catch in her throat.

"You know what really sucks, Eric?" she continued. "I really believed in you. For the first time in my life I thought I had somebody I could trust, someone I could truly follow. I've needed that, you know. I've needed a light to walk towards. You were that light."

"Naomi..."

"No!" she said. "Don't even. You were that light. But it was just an illusion."

This time when she turned and ran it was so swift he could not catch her before she was in the parsonage with the door locked behind her.

She went down the hall to her room, where she stripped herself of the dress with shaking hands and replaced it with faded blue jeans and a sleeveless top that showed her tattoos and hugged her thin frame.

Naomi threw the duffle bag on the bed, ignoring the sounds of Eric pounding on the door as she stuffed the bag with her belongings. She had to get out, had to leave. What had she been thinking, coming back here. What on earth had made her think her family and the church would offer her anything real.

On the bedside table the phone began to buzz. She picked it up and looked down a the screen, expecting to see it was Eric calling from outside in the hopes of calming her down. But it wasn't. It was Jasper.

Naomi closed her eyes. She'd swore she'd never talk to him again. But did she have a choice? The idea of returning to her old life had been painful just a day ago. Now it felt more painful to stay.

"Hello."

"Hello, angel. I knew you'd answer."

"What do you want?" she asked.

"Your voice is shaking. You been crying, baby?"

She wiped a tear away. "No," she lied. "I just woke up."

"On a Sunday? I thought you'd be in church?" he said.

"I don't go to church." The words were out before she could stop him.

She heard his silky laugh on the other end of the line.

"I knew my fallen angel wouldn't make the climb back up," he purred.

New tears slipped down her face as her hand went to her shoulder. A mental image of her on her belly in the tattoo parlor, Jasper's hand on her bottom as he watched the artist ink the angel onto her back and shoulder.

"Sounds like someone's ready to come home and go back to work," he coaxed.

Naomi stood and looked out the window. She could see that Eric had given up. He was walking back towards the church, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Maybe," she said. "As long as you agree to my conditions, Jasper. It's just temporary."

"Oh, of course," he said, and the amusement in his voice made her want to reach through the phone and slap the smugness off his face.

"Don't act like you're humoring me or I won't do it," she said. "I'm serious."

"OK, angel." He sounded more serious. Or at least was pretending to.

"I'll, um....I'll need fare back."

"No problem. Just give me the number of the nearest Western Union and I'll wire you some spending money and buy you a bus ticket online."

She hesitated, closing her eyes against the tears threatening to fall anew. Her heart thudded in her chest.

"Alright," she said.

"I'll text you with the bus information."

"Thanks."

"No," he said. "Thank you. Do you have any idea how many men ask about you at the club? At least a dozen every day. They haven't forgotten their angel. They can't wait to welcome you back."

She laughed at the irony. A genuine welcome. Fancy that.

"I'll look for the text," she said.

"You do that." He clicked off and she sat there in silence. Naomi put the phone down on the table. When she did her hand came in contact with the Bible her mother had placed on the bedside table. Picking it up she flung it across the room and then lay on the bed to allow herself one good, last cry before leaving home for good.

Chapter Eight

Naomi didn't let on that she was leaving. She knew if she did Eric would try to stop her. Her parents she wasn't so sure about. There was a luncheon after the church service, but neither her mother nor father came to the house to check on her or ask her to attend. Eric did, letting himself in the through the kitchen and then coming down the hall to knock on her bedroom door.

"Naomi, please."

She'd heard him through the Walkman blasting strains of Slayer through the earphones. Pulling them off she considered opening the door, inviting Eric in, hearing him out. But she didn't. She'd been ridiculous all along to think they could work. This was the best for everyone.

"I..I need time to think, OK?" she said. "Could you just give me that?"

"Naomi, I love you."

She closed her eyes, feeling her heart twist. The pain was palpable. She felt a lump form in her throat and swallowed it. He didn't. He didn't love her. If he loved her he would haven't been so afraid to show it.

But she wasn't going to argue that point anymore. And she wasn't going to let on that she was planning to leave.

"If you love me you'll give me my space," she said. "I need time, Eric. We'll talk tomorrow, OK?"

"Promise?"

She closed her eyes. By tomorrow she'd be gone, but what was one more lie from someone as sinful as she.

"Promise."

"I'll hold you to it, Naomi."

"Yeah, you do that."

She waited. She could sense him still standing outside her room. Finally she saw the shadow outside her door move away. A moment door the kitchen door shut. She turned her headphones back on.

The ghosts of sin

Torment the priests

Their altar will soon be destroyed

Heave's palace

Turning black

The church now belongs to the dead

Blackened magic

Lucifer rules supreme

The crystal ball shows unknown fate

The last thing that's heard is screams

Naomi had started listening to Slayer when she'd first left home. The lyrics were too angry. But she listened because she saw it as another expression of her rebellion against the church and family she felt was trying to stifle her. It had motivated her, reminded her that she wasn't the only one who felt betrayed by religion. Mood music.

The cell phone sitting on her stomach vibrated. She picked it up and looked at it. The text message from Jasper had arrived. Her bus left at 11 p.m. from the Greyhound station. He'd prepaid her ticket. One way to L.A.

Another text arrived a moment later.

Pinnacle awaits return of its angel. Knew u would not last long at home. LOL.

Naomi took a ragged breath and threw her arm across her eyes. Everything about Pinnacle came back to her in an ugly rush - the pulsating beat, the stale smell of smoke, the leering catcalls of the audience, the bright lights so hot they left a sheen of sweat on her skin, the ache in her calf from the high heels....

By the end of the night she'd be exchanging this world for that one. Again. She closed her eyes and tried to find something in her situation to look forward to.

There were the other dancers, Candy and Marcia. They didn't judge her. They could relate to her because they had to endure the same things - the crazy hours, the rude, lascivious customers, the unappreciative bosses.

And then there was L.A. itself. She was practically drab compared to some of the characters she encountered on a day-to-day basis - men and even women with orange mohawks, full-colors sleeve tattoos and all-leather wardrobes. No one looked at her askance; on the days she didn't have to work no one even looked at her at all.

But ultimately Naomi didn't need to talk herself into leaving. Her parents convinced her, by not coming to her room to check on her or ask her to join them for dinner. It was clear to their daughter that her worth to them - and theirs to themselves - lay not in Christ but in being perceived as Christians by those around them.

And Eric? Naomi promised herself she'd hold on to the positive memories, while reminding herself never to fall for a preacher again.

She got tired of listening to Slayer but still lay on the bed, listening instead to her parents' predictable evening routine. The door to her father's office open and shut several times. In her mother's room, the sewing machine whirred. The evening news played on the television and then they went to bed.

Naomi had already packed her duffle bag, only leaving with what she'd brought. The rest she left behind, even the jeans she'd been so excited to have her mother buy for her.

Ten o'clock. The house was quiet. Naomi dared not risk going out the door so she went out the window, opening it first and listening outside before dropping her duffle bag into the bushes and following it with a soft thud.

She hated the idea of hitch-hiking. It was dangerous. But she really had no choice. She wouldn't borrow her parents' car without permission. They may not be the most caring parents, but they deserved better than that.

Naomi cut through the neighborhood, padding quietly so as not to alert people's dogs. Some barked anyway. A man yelled for his to be quiet. A sprinkler system came on in one yard, forcing her to sprint away from the jet of water.

Branford Park lay between the neighborhood and the highway. The moonlit nature trails gave Naomi the creeps. She jogged quickly, not looking up when she heard things rustling in the leaves.

She thought of Eric and how safe he'd made her feel. Then she stopped, put on her headphones and pumped up the Slayer to drown out the noise and her own lingering sentimentality.

When the hum of the main highway became loud enough to compete with the music Naomi pulled off her headphones and emerged from the woods, careful to avoid the beer bottles and litter on the ground. She'd never understood how people could be so wasteful or disrespectful of the earth, but this was the Bible belt. Most felt they had dominion over it. They could throw their crap all over the place and once there got to be too much, well then that's why God made prison work crews.

She hated sticking her thumb out but did it anyway. When a car slowed down with more than one occupant she dropped her arm and stepped away. One person she could deal with if things got out of hand. But two? No way.

After stepping away from the side of the road to avoid several sketchy vehicles Naomi allowed herself to seriously consider the green sedan driven by what looked to be an elderly woman. But when the car pulled over Naomi could see it was an older man at the wheel. He was slight and wore wire-rimmed glasses. He looked like a retired librarian or teacher.