Page 11 of Whispered Southern Secrets

“Maybe. I’d say ola and aloha, too, but might get a bit lengthy then.” She makes a noncommittal hum. I follow her to the register counter and wait until she’s situated in her chair before I speak. “Did you hear the good news?”

“As in the Gospel?”

“I’d hope you’d heard about that. Otherwise I’m going to have to assume you’d be sleeping during my last sermon.”

“I would never. So you’re referring to Livy and Landon?”

“Yes. Oliva and Landon.”

“Have they picked a preacher, yet?”

“I believe so.”

“Aw, did they ask your dad?”

“Nooo.” I draw the word out.

“Surely they didn’t pick someone from outta town. But I get it. If Brother Brewster was busy and already booked for that date. Not a lot of options in Magnolia Grove.”

“They did choose a Brother Brewster. Brother Johnny David Brewster.”

“I bet his calendar was wide open.” Her mouth twists into the most mischievous smile. My chest tightens with longing. I love our moments of banter probably more than I should. She catches me staring at her mouth and her lips part slightly.

The bell above the door rings and Honey jumps back from the counter like it zapped her. With the energy buzzing between us, maybe it did. Mrs. Lamshire hurries toward us with eyes alight with joy.

“Brother Johnny David,” she coos. “Anthony has been singing your praises with all the work you’ve been doing.”

“Um, I’m just filling a position that needed to be filled, ma’am.” I’m extremely uncomfortable with this attention. “How have you been, Mrs. Lamshire?”

“Good, good. You know, my daughter is moving back? She finished hermaster’sprogram. Did I mention she’s single? She’s single. You’re unattached as well, Brother Johnny David.”

I can feel Honey’s eyes on me. This isn’t the first time one of the women of the church have tried to set me up with a granddaughter, daughter, niece, cousin, or themselves. Apparently everyone’s been whispering about the rounds I’ve been making around town. Those were supposed to be done lowkey. I did it to build bridges between me and those individuals, not for recognition or to be considered a worthycandidate for a future husband. I have to tread this carefully. The last thing I need to do is have an offended mother on my hands.

“I am unattached, ma’am. Work has kept me busy.” I’m bombing. My father never mentioned these kind of encounters in our talks.

Mrs. Lamshire beams at me. “Busy doing the Lord’s work. You have grown up to be a fine young man.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I sure do appreciate that.” I gulp and turn pleading eyes to Honey.

She rolls her eyes and reaches behind her to grab a to-go box. “Here’s your order, Brother J.D. Hurry along and get it to your mama before it gets cold. I don’t want Mimi getting on to me because you’re standing here yapping.”

Mrs. Lamshire huffs. “Hello Honey. Since when do you care about what your poor grandparents think?”

Her words are clipped and fueled with anger. I want to shove myself between Mrs. Lamshire and Honey to shield her from her harsh tone. If I know anything about Honey Beaumont it’s that she thinks the world of Minnie and Millard Montgomery. I learned that from the first night we spoke and within in the first ten meetings. Honey’s pretty eyes narrow into slits. Anger swells in my chest on her behalf, but I have to remain level headed.

“Mrs. Lamshire. That wasn’t very kind, ma’am. You know as well as I do, Honey loves her grandparents. She’s here helping, isn’t she?”

“Because nobody else will take her,” she mumbles. In a voice filled with mock sweetness she says louder, “I only came in here for a sweet tea, but I remember someone telling me that the last time they had tea from here it tasted soured.”

Honey’s jaw drops, her slitted eyes look murderous, and rage radiates from her. I rush around the counter and grab her by the shoulders before she climbs over. “Hey, hey.” I whisper in her ear. “Let it go. Let it go. C’mon.”

“I’ll see you Sunday, Brother Johnny David. My Peggy will be there.”

I don’t release Honey until Mrs. Lamshire drives away in her car. “Don’t let her have that kind of control over you,” I whisper to Honey.

“If she’s so eager to have a relationship with Jesus I can assist in her meeting him.”

“I doubt that.” I tell her. She’s just upset.

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