Maggie Lee (Book 10): The Hitwoman's Act of Contrition by JB Lynn Page A

stuck-in-your-ways you, spending the weekend with people who are seeking inner-growth and spiritual enlightenment.”
    “I’m not close-minded.”
    “What would you call your obstinate resistance to change?”
    I pulled off the driveway onto a patch of dirt. If I was going to argue with God, it was going to be in private.  “I change.”
    “You’re defensive and resist change.” He clambered up out of the cup and scaled the dash so he was able to perch on top of the steering wheel and look me in the eye. “Something happens, anything happens, and your immediate reaction is ‘no.’”
    “Everyone resists change.”
    “Not everyone.”
    “Change means uncertainty,” I argued. “It’s scary.”
    “It’s a necessary part of life. Without it there’s no growth, no improvement.”
    I frowned. “Has my life improved with all my recent changes? Look at me, I live with my crazy aunts—”
    “Loving family,” he corrected.
    “Kill people for money.”
    “Restore the balance of good and evil,” he countered.
    “And talk to you,” I finished with an exasperated sigh.
    He flicked his tail and puffed out the orange flap of skin under his chin, signaling his displeasure.  “If that doesn’t improve your life, then don’t do it.” With that, he ran back and settled himself into his cup.
    I looked down at him. “Really? You’re going to sulk now?”
    He didn’t respond, just stared up at me with his unblinking eyes.
    When I knew I was about to lose the staring contest, I looked away and pulled back onto the driveway.
    A few moments later, I rounded a bend and found myself beside a white, clapboard structure that seemed to be the focal point of the parking area. Picking a spot on the outskirts in case I needed to make a quick getaway, I parked the car and grabbed my overnight bag off the passenger seat.
    “You coming?” I asked the lizard. “Or are you going to complain incessantly that I left you here to freeze to death?”
    He remained silent, but pulled himself up to balance on the lip of the cup. I extended a hand and he ran up my arm, rappelled down my bra strap and settled between my breasts without a peep.
    Bag in hand, lizard in bra, I climbed out of my car, maintaining what I hoped came across as the semblance of a smile.
    A tall, thin man practically tripped over himself in an effort to reach me. “You must be, Margaret.”
    “Maggie,” I corrected automatically.
    “I’m Father Vanpelt. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
    I squinted at him suspiciously. “Finally?”
    “Your aunt talks about you all the time, gushes really.”
    “Leslie?” I asked disbelievingly. Ever since she’d gotten clean, she’d been harder on me than Aunt Susan.
    “She’s very proud of you,” Vanpelt assured me. “Let me show you to your cabin. Your roommate is already there. She’s a little different than most of our participants, but I’m sure you’ll get along just fine.”
    “Different?”
    He didn’t respond.
    I followed him down a path through the woods, wondering how I’d ended up agreeing to stay in a cabin and how I’d ended up with a complete stranger as a roommate.
    “Dinner is in about thirty minutes,” Vanpelt told me. “There, the leader will give you an overview of how the weekend will progress.”
    “I printed out the schedule online,” I gasped, after twisting my ankle on a tree root. Nature is not my friend.
    “Well,” he said in a condescending tone, “that is the practical schedule.”
    “There’s an impractical one?”
    “That’s the worldly schedule, but since most of our work is on the spiritual plane…” He stopped in front of a cabin that looked like it had been built during the Revolutionary War.
    I worried that the cabin didn’t have electricity or running water. “So the schedule is more a guideline than a rule?”
    “Exactly.” He seemed relieved to find I wasn’t a totally spiritually deficient idiot. He gestured toward the cabin’s door. “Your