Page 3 of Tempting God

“A little. They won’t miss me, though, so it’s fine.”

“And why won’t they miss you?”

I don’t answer because it’s hard to put the hurting deep inside my chest into words.

Besides, grown-ups don’t ever believe kids.

I peer at the man. “How old are you?”

He snorts. “Twenty-two. Why? Do I look that old?”

Twenty-two means he’s still an adult, but I look him over. He has light brown hair and brown eyes. His beard isn’t as long as Dad’s and looks nice. He’s wearing a black suit, like most of the men in the room. My gaze narrows.

“Are you in the Brotherhood?”

“I am. Why? Does that mean we can’t be friends?”

I weigh my options, but finally say, “We can be friends.”

“Good. Now I’m going to need some help to finish my chicken.” He looks down at me. “You do like chicken, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Excellent.” He cuts his chicken breast in two, putting my half on my plate. “Veggies?”

“It’s vegetables, and no, thank you.”

His lips twitch. “So polite.”

“Thank you. Momma says a lady has to be polite.”

He cuts into his chicken, so I do the same. We’re both silent as we eat, even though I can’t help bouncing in my seat. We really do have the best chef in the world.

“Does your Momma send you off to bed without feeding you a lot?”

I glance at the man, who’s still eating.

“Sometimes.”

“I had a mom like that, too.”

“What happened to her?”

“She passed away.”

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t answer, but I don’t have to, either, because the last course is brought out. It’s chocolate cake. The same cake I got in trouble for eating earlier. My stomach feels heavy, like I’m going to be sick.

“Don’t like chocolate cake?”

He’s looking at me with his kind brown eyes.

I make sure Momma isn’t watching me before answering, “I had a piece of cake earlier. I’m not supposed to have more than one.”

“But your dad said you could, remember?”

Sometimes Dad says one thing while Momma says another. Momma is always right.

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