Page 31 of Playing With Fire

Hattie slipped through the back door, once more engulfed in her apron.

“Coming back for late tea at the rectory? Please do,” she said. Jodie hesitated, and Hattie clasped one of Jodie’s long narrow hands briefly with her own petite hands. Her nails were pearly pink against the mocha skin, and her grip was surprisingly strong.

“Ricky is keen to come, and he explained that he was with you tonight, so...” Hattie leaned forward, bringing a comforting waft of baby shampoo and hot chocolate. “He’s a beautiful soul, I think, but troubled.”

Jodie bridled. She opened her mouth but closed it again.

Yes. Ricky was troubled, she thought with dawning awareness. There were shadows behind that quick smile and the flashes of warmth in his eyes.

Jodi wrenched her brain back on track before the preacher could read too much in her eyes. And Hattie was a hard person to say no to, though she looked weary. Her long slender neck and prominent collar bones had the delicacy of a young woman, and Jodi knew for a fact that Hattie always pretended to eat more than she actually did.

No one knew, except her husband, what terrors Hattie had left behind in her war-torn African country of birth.

“Of course,” Jodi said with a smile. “In fact, why don’t you head off now and put your feet up for a minute? There are more than enough of us to finish the clean-up.”

She physically steered Hattie towards the door. “Go. We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Hattie nodded and disappeared.

Jodi finished scrunching paper tablecloths and went into the kitchen only to discover that Ricky was gone. So were the twins.

A niggle of worry snaked through her mind. What if the boys had run off again, disappearing into the night, with Ricky on their heels? She poked her head out the back door and was reassured by the sound of low male voices.

To be exact, one low, intense adult male voice and a couple of teenage mumbles. The hubbub from the kitchen faded as Jodi walked towards the corner, suddenly tense. It was truly dark now, the moon hidden by clouds.

Ricky’s voice was crisp. “I asked you a simple question, boys. And believe me, I know when someone is lying to me...”

Jodi swung around the corner, heart hammering. The faint light from the hall windows threw the trees into deep shadow and cast a wan glow over the three faces.

Ricky looked up from his stern lecture. The twins, who were lounging with fake nonchalance against the back wall, immediately brightened. They both spoke at once.

“Jodi. He was accusing us...”

“He’s going to arrest us. Send us back to reform school...”

Jodi hushed them with one hand and then, drawing herself up to full height, glared at Ricky’s grim face.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed. “I don’t know what you imagine these children did, but you have no right...”

Waves of shock and sick disappointment surged through her, leaving her breathless.

Another voice cut through the air. Silas, whose barracks-room tones had been honed on the selling floor of the New York Stock Exchange (and more recently in the rectory when a firm paternal hand was required), stepped into the half-light.

Everyone froze.

“Boys, home. Now.”

The words were brief, but the effect was instant. Josh and Judah bolted away as though Satan himself was on their tail.

Silas looked gravely at Ricky, who was quivering with frustration.

Ricky raked one hand through his dark hair.

“I really need—”

Silas clearly didn’t give a hoot what Ricky needed.

“You just stepped over the line, buddy.” Silas’ eyes drilled into the other man, igniting an instant bristle of male aggression. “We need to talk. But first I need to try and undo some of the harm you just caused.”

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