reply.
Except from Foxy, who was watching us all from behind a curtain of red hair and caution. I felt a Nudge, a hard one. A deep one. One that pushed until it bruised me with a pain I’d come to recognize as God’s.
I know. Go another mile.
I felt like I’d gone a hundred already, and it was only eight thirty a.m.
We shared communion, all but Foxy, who refused the elements, though she did watch the faces of the Sisters as they relished every sip and morsel with their eyes closed. I wondered if she got that this was church. I was fairly certain it didn’t matter to her. As eager as she was to move on to the next thing, her only goal was clearly to stay away from herself.I found it shocking that she wasn’t strung out on something.
Afterward, Hank cleaned up, and the others all went off to their jobs except Gigi and Rochelle, who were scheduled to work in the Sacrament One garden with Owen that morning. He showed up clad in plaid Bermuda shorts and white socks pulled up to his knobular knees, with a floppy sunhat for each of them. Rochelle grunted and put hers on without further comment. Gigi looked at me, bug eyes pleading.
“Do I got to work in the garden?” she said, out of a small hole she formed with the sides of her lips. “I promised I’d do better, but does it got to be this?”
Although I was sure Owen didn’t hear her, his timing was precise. “Come along, ladies,” he said. “We have to toil in the soil before anything’s going to grow. If we stand and weep, we will not reap.”
“If I work with this guy, I’m gonna die ,” Gigi muttered.
“I like the similes better than the poetry,” Hank said when Gigi and Rochelle had followed him out the back door.
“Will you watch to make sure Gigi doesn’t go after him with a hoe or something?”
I left Hank in the kitchen and found Foxy stretched full length on the couch, legs extended straight up. She was in the process of pulling her feet toward her forehead when I sat on the table to face her.
“Impressive,” I said. “Have you studied yoga?”
“No.” She let her legs flop to the cushions. “But don’t try to trick me into telling you things about myself. Not gonna happen.”
“No tricks. No games.” I exposed my wrists. “Nothing up my sleeves.”
She appraised my denim jacket. “Why are you dressed like that, anyway? Aren’t you hot?”
“I always dress like this when I ride my Harley. You’re going to need a jacket. Do you have one here?”
“Why do I need one?”
“Because that’s how we’re getting to my house.”
“On a motorcycle?”
Her eyes bulged out further than Gigi’s could ever hope to, a feat I hadn’t thought possible with that amount of eyeliner and mascara. It was the first sign of fear this woman had shown that was visible to the naked eye. I could almost hear her pulse go into high gear.
“That doesn’t sound like fun to you?” I said.
“No. It sounds like you’re trying to get me killed.”
“Never killed anybody yet. Seriously, are you scared? We can always take the van and I can come back for my bike later.”
“Mercedes and Jasmine took the van,” Hank called from the kitchen. “They had to pick up some stuff Erin dropped off at India’s.”
Foxy jerked her head in Hank’s direction. “Can’t she take me?”
“She rides a Harley too.”
“What is wrong with you people?”
“We’re crazy,” I said. “But it’s the good kind of crazy. I peeled off my jacket and handed it to her. “I have an extra helmet. It’s my son’s, but I swear he doesn’t have head lice. We’ll use the back roads, and I absolutely will not freak you out.”
She stuck out her china chin. “I don’t get freaked out.”
“Good,” I said.
At least now I knew one thing about her. She was a really rotten liar.
CHAPTER FIVE
Foxy was like her predecessors in one respect. Once I got her settled into the room at my house that had been occupied by Geneveve, Zelda, Ophelia, and Gigi
Except from Foxy, who was watching us all from behind a curtain of red hair and caution. I felt a Nudge, a hard one. A deep one. One that pushed until it bruised me with a pain I’d come to recognize as God’s.
I know. Go another mile.
I felt like I’d gone a hundred already, and it was only eight thirty a.m.
We shared communion, all but Foxy, who refused the elements, though she did watch the faces of the Sisters as they relished every sip and morsel with their eyes closed. I wondered if she got that this was church. I was fairly certain it didn’t matter to her. As eager as she was to move on to the next thing, her only goal was clearly to stay away from herself.I found it shocking that she wasn’t strung out on something.
Afterward, Hank cleaned up, and the others all went off to their jobs except Gigi and Rochelle, who were scheduled to work in the Sacrament One garden with Owen that morning. He showed up clad in plaid Bermuda shorts and white socks pulled up to his knobular knees, with a floppy sunhat for each of them. Rochelle grunted and put hers on without further comment. Gigi looked at me, bug eyes pleading.
“Do I got to work in the garden?” she said, out of a small hole she formed with the sides of her lips. “I promised I’d do better, but does it got to be this?”
Although I was sure Owen didn’t hear her, his timing was precise. “Come along, ladies,” he said. “We have to toil in the soil before anything’s going to grow. If we stand and weep, we will not reap.”
“If I work with this guy, I’m gonna die ,” Gigi muttered.
“I like the similes better than the poetry,” Hank said when Gigi and Rochelle had followed him out the back door.
“Will you watch to make sure Gigi doesn’t go after him with a hoe or something?”
I left Hank in the kitchen and found Foxy stretched full length on the couch, legs extended straight up. She was in the process of pulling her feet toward her forehead when I sat on the table to face her.
“Impressive,” I said. “Have you studied yoga?”
“No.” She let her legs flop to the cushions. “But don’t try to trick me into telling you things about myself. Not gonna happen.”
“No tricks. No games.” I exposed my wrists. “Nothing up my sleeves.”
She appraised my denim jacket. “Why are you dressed like that, anyway? Aren’t you hot?”
“I always dress like this when I ride my Harley. You’re going to need a jacket. Do you have one here?”
“Why do I need one?”
“Because that’s how we’re getting to my house.”
“On a motorcycle?”
Her eyes bulged out further than Gigi’s could ever hope to, a feat I hadn’t thought possible with that amount of eyeliner and mascara. It was the first sign of fear this woman had shown that was visible to the naked eye. I could almost hear her pulse go into high gear.
“That doesn’t sound like fun to you?” I said.
“No. It sounds like you’re trying to get me killed.”
“Never killed anybody yet. Seriously, are you scared? We can always take the van and I can come back for my bike later.”
“Mercedes and Jasmine took the van,” Hank called from the kitchen. “They had to pick up some stuff Erin dropped off at India’s.”
Foxy jerked her head in Hank’s direction. “Can’t she take me?”
“She rides a Harley too.”
“What is wrong with you people?”
“We’re crazy,” I said. “But it’s the good kind of crazy. I peeled off my jacket and handed it to her. “I have an extra helmet. It’s my son’s, but I swear he doesn’t have head lice. We’ll use the back roads, and I absolutely will not freak you out.”
She stuck out her china chin. “I don’t get freaked out.”
“Good,” I said.
At least now I knew one thing about her. She was a really rotten liar.
CHAPTER FIVE
Foxy was like her predecessors in one respect. Once I got her settled into the room at my house that had been occupied by Geneveve, Zelda, Ophelia, and Gigi
Similar Books
