a Tuesday. We aren’t going to run into anybody you know. Besides, everybody in Snope City’s forgotten you exist.”
“No they haven’t. They give me the evil eye every Sunday. In church . It’s like they expect the altar to melt or a million locusts to fly out of my butt.”
“You’re exaggerating. Quit feeling so sorry for yourself.”
“Why shouldn’t I feel sorry for myself?” Haven moaned, fighting to keep the tears from her eyes. “I think I have some pretty good reasons.”
Mae, who’d been waiting in the hall, took the opportunity to jump in. “Haven Moore! You stop giving this young man a hard time and get your bathing suit on. I’m tired of watching you mope around the house all day.”
“I’m not leaving this room without you,” Beau announced, dropping down on the side of her bed.
Haven knew there was no way she could win. “All right.” She groaned. “Give me a second.”
Mae marched off in victory while Beau grinned like a dim-witted kid at a carnival. “Meet you outside,” he said.
THE DECKERS’ OLD TRUCK struggled to climb the mountain roads, sputtering and backfiring at every hairpin turn. The air was cooler and sweet with the scent of honeysuckle. As soon as they had left Snope City behind, Haven had felt her tension ease. She closed her eyes and let the wind tousle her hair, twisting it into knots she knew she’d suffer for later.
Twenty miles out of town, the road narrowed and turned to dirt. Only a few ramshackle houses peeked out of the woods. They looked forlorn and neglected, but the mountain people who lived there didn’t care about appearances. In the past, Haven had spotted a few of the men walking along the road’s shoulder, dressed plainly in overalls or work clothes. They’d nod, but it was clear they didn’t much fancy outsiders.
Near the top of the mountain, a church appeared on the side of the road—a simple wooden structure with pristine white walls and a short, squat steeple. Beau pulled the truck into the tiny gravel parking lot and turned off the engine. Had there been another car in the lot, they wouldn’t have stopped. Though the building bore no sign, everyone in Snope City knew it belonged to the snake handlers. None of the Pentecostal kids who attended Blue Mountain had ever struck Haven as particularly frightening. But the thought of coming upon a group of Leah Frizzell’s uncles and brothers waving deadly snakes and speaking in tongues was enough to convince her to maintain a respectful distance.
Haven and Beau had been ten years old when Beau’s dad first showed them the way to Eden Falls, and they’d returned there countless times once they were old enough to drive. Yet it took the two of them a frustrating five minutes to locate the start of the steep path that led from the church parking lot and wound down the mountain toward the falls. At the end of the trail, they followed a wild, rocky stream until they reached an opening in the forest. In the center was a massive granite pool that had been carved out of the hills. Even with the bright sunlight sparkling on its surface, the water looked dark, and no one they knew had ever touched bottom.
Haven whipped off her sundress and dove into the pool. Her body shivered violently as she swam toward a shallow shelf at the far end. There, the water emptied out, plunging a hundred feet before reassembling itself in the form of a stream at the bottom of the waterfall. Haven stood on the mossy ledge, the water flowing around her toes, and peered down at the mist rising up from below.
“Damn!” She barely heard Beau over the roar of the water. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where you going?” she called.
“Forgot the cooler in the back of the truck!”
“Stay here, I’m not even hungry,” she shouted, but he’d already disappeared up the path.
HAVEN SPREAD OUT a towel and lay down in the dappled sunshine with her eyes closed. A pleasant heat rose from the rock beneath her, and
“No they haven’t. They give me the evil eye every Sunday. In church . It’s like they expect the altar to melt or a million locusts to fly out of my butt.”
“You’re exaggerating. Quit feeling so sorry for yourself.”
“Why shouldn’t I feel sorry for myself?” Haven moaned, fighting to keep the tears from her eyes. “I think I have some pretty good reasons.”
Mae, who’d been waiting in the hall, took the opportunity to jump in. “Haven Moore! You stop giving this young man a hard time and get your bathing suit on. I’m tired of watching you mope around the house all day.”
“I’m not leaving this room without you,” Beau announced, dropping down on the side of her bed.
Haven knew there was no way she could win. “All right.” She groaned. “Give me a second.”
Mae marched off in victory while Beau grinned like a dim-witted kid at a carnival. “Meet you outside,” he said.
THE DECKERS’ OLD TRUCK struggled to climb the mountain roads, sputtering and backfiring at every hairpin turn. The air was cooler and sweet with the scent of honeysuckle. As soon as they had left Snope City behind, Haven had felt her tension ease. She closed her eyes and let the wind tousle her hair, twisting it into knots she knew she’d suffer for later.
Twenty miles out of town, the road narrowed and turned to dirt. Only a few ramshackle houses peeked out of the woods. They looked forlorn and neglected, but the mountain people who lived there didn’t care about appearances. In the past, Haven had spotted a few of the men walking along the road’s shoulder, dressed plainly in overalls or work clothes. They’d nod, but it was clear they didn’t much fancy outsiders.
Near the top of the mountain, a church appeared on the side of the road—a simple wooden structure with pristine white walls and a short, squat steeple. Beau pulled the truck into the tiny gravel parking lot and turned off the engine. Had there been another car in the lot, they wouldn’t have stopped. Though the building bore no sign, everyone in Snope City knew it belonged to the snake handlers. None of the Pentecostal kids who attended Blue Mountain had ever struck Haven as particularly frightening. But the thought of coming upon a group of Leah Frizzell’s uncles and brothers waving deadly snakes and speaking in tongues was enough to convince her to maintain a respectful distance.
Haven and Beau had been ten years old when Beau’s dad first showed them the way to Eden Falls, and they’d returned there countless times once they were old enough to drive. Yet it took the two of them a frustrating five minutes to locate the start of the steep path that led from the church parking lot and wound down the mountain toward the falls. At the end of the trail, they followed a wild, rocky stream until they reached an opening in the forest. In the center was a massive granite pool that had been carved out of the hills. Even with the bright sunlight sparkling on its surface, the water looked dark, and no one they knew had ever touched bottom.
Haven whipped off her sundress and dove into the pool. Her body shivered violently as she swam toward a shallow shelf at the far end. There, the water emptied out, plunging a hundred feet before reassembling itself in the form of a stream at the bottom of the waterfall. Haven stood on the mossy ledge, the water flowing around her toes, and peered down at the mist rising up from below.
“Damn!” She barely heard Beau over the roar of the water. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where you going?” she called.
“Forgot the cooler in the back of the truck!”
“Stay here, I’m not even hungry,” she shouted, but he’d already disappeared up the path.
HAVEN SPREAD OUT a towel and lay down in the dappled sunshine with her eyes closed. A pleasant heat rose from the rock beneath her, and
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