Page 94 of Breaking the Sinner

“Mother what does ‘cool’ mean?” Mary stage whispered. “Why does he use different words?”

“It means ‘fine,’” Cobra offered, his heart hammering. He needed the spotlight off him. And fast. “Like if I asked you, ‘Hey, Mary, how you feeling today?’ you might tell me, ‘Aw, I’m cool.’”

“I’m cool,” Mary repeated, beaming at Cobra.

“You are,” Cobra confirmed.

“Mother, how are you feeling today?” Mary asked, fidgeting at her mother’s side.

“Quite full with the Lord’s grace,” Mrs. Gingham said in a clipped tone. “Mary, sweet daughter, pass me the salt. Hurry now.”

Chapter 37

Cobra had never felt so useless in the kitchen, even worse than before he knew how to cook. He offered a few more times to assist. The only thing they’d let him do was head into the backyard and gather firewood. The crisp fall air shot through him like the rest of the coffee he wanted to drink. Communion with nature. At least one highlight of his time here.

Even so, time slogged on toward lunchtime. At this point, he counted the seconds until he and Gen could break free. He hadn’t figured out if they were spending a second night. He’d convert to Christianity if it meant leaving sooner rather than later. He’d even wear the khaki skirt.Just get me the hell out of here.

Hope set the table, moving between place settings with a sepulchral air, like adorning a corpse for a funeral. Abigail finally showed up in time to whisk the cream into a froth for the pies. Gen tried to make small talk where she could, but nobody except Mary really responded.

The whole situation was a volcano, damn close to erupting. And Cobra could see it coming from a mile away.

Once the turkey had cooled and all the casserole dishes were out of the stacked ovens, Mrs. Gingham started setting the dishes out one by one. The sisters took their aprons off. Mr. Gingham stopped poking the fire. Cobra watched like he’d shown up to the wrong movie.

“Let us be seated,” Mrs. Gingham announced ceremoniously. The family migrated to seats that had probably been assigned and utilized for time eternal.

“Son, you sit here.” Mr. Gingham pointed to the seat diagonal from his, at the front of the table. Farthest away from Gen, which made him feel like he’d been pushed out to sea. “Prudence, would you like to lead grace? If you still remember, that is.”

Gen nodded, the barb apparently flying over her head, and everyone at the table clasped their hands. Cobra followed suit, but instead of bowing his head and closing his eyes, he watched the others.

“Give us grateful hearts, O Father, for all thy mercies, and make us mindful of theneeds of others. Through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.”

Everyone’s heads snapped up at the same time.

“Thank you for grace,” murmured Mrs. Gingham. “Prudence, dear, have you continued showcasing your talents for spreading the good word where you are now?”

“Clearly not,” Abigail said softly.

A polite smile flashed on Gen’s face. “Abigail, what might you be referring to? Without any knowledge of how I spend my time in LA?”

“You’ve brought back a nonbeliever. Doesn’t sound like someone spreading the good word very well at all.” Abigail’s indictment stormed through him.A nonbeliever. An innocent insult that struck a hard blow. Honestly, he kind of liked it. Might start calling Klay and Tylernonbelievers.

Gen’s lips thinned. “Cobra’s his own man. He can figure out what he believes. I don’t need to change him.”

A bloated silence settled over the table. Cobra reached for a slice of bread, holding his breath, waiting for someone to break the tension.

“Son, your mother…” Mr. Gingham paused while forking a slice of turkey onto his plate. “That’s the name she gave you to honor our Lord and God, Jesus Christ?”

He rubbed at the back of his neck. There had to be a way to answer these questions with the least amount of backlash. But hell if he could figure out the best way forward. “No. She named me something else. I don’t use that name anymore.” He glanced over at Gen, who sent him a private smile.

“What was that name?”

Cobra balked. “I said I don’t use it anymore.”

Forks clinked as dishes were loaded up with green bean casserole, sweet potato casserole, turkey with gravy, piles of macaroni and cheese. Cobra ground his jaw, seeing the food in front of him without reallyseeingit.

“And you thought ‘Cobra’ was the most professional choice?”

The sarcasm leaked from his words. Cobra grimaced. All eyes were on him.

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