Page 42 of Weatherman

I snatched the stroller handle from him and started moving away. Pearl woke up and fussed at me, but I kept moving. Robert caught up to us a few moments later.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that.”

Back to the gentle Pastor Bobby whose love and concern rained over everyone. How would he feel if I told him Kimmie was my roommate? How would he react if he found out that I’d seen plenty of public blow jobs before? What would he think of me if I ever told him about my past and what I’d done to survive?

Memories swirled in my head. Ones I wished I could erase like chalk from a blackboard. Instead, they piled on, higher and higher, and my belly burned with the need to purge. My focus was so intense, I didn’t realize where I’d gone until I heard my name called in a friendly greeting.

“Opal! Over here!”

I turned to see two people near me, one in a wheelchair and the other behind it. Weatherman and his mom. Natalie didn’t have on the wig I’d styled for her. Instead, she was wearing a tall, elaborately braided contraption and a thick white robe like a Roman goddess. The wheelchair was disguised as a chariot, and the woman in it smiled with delight.

“It was Bryce’s idea. What do ya’ think?”

“It’s amazing. You look wonderful.”

She did look wonderful. Vibrancy shone from her face, and her energy level was higher than I expected a cancer patient would have. Tambre had mentioned that she was done with treatments, and things seemed to be going in the right direction.

My attention turned to the man behind the wheelchair, and I stopped dead in my tracks.

He was breathtaking in his biker regalia. The club colors were on full display, and something about them radiated an aura of dominance. Alpha male in every sense. It tingled my nerves, and I became hyperaware of him.

Right now, he was staring at me—or rather, at the man next to me—and the memory of our shared moment outside his house came to mind. He’d said it was between friends, but I felt weird with him seeing me out with another man.

“Pastor Bobby.” Weatherman gave a short nod as he growled the greeting.

“Bryce, nice to see you again, son.”

“Son”?I was confused. Weatherman was a few years younger than me and Robert, but not that much to be called “son.” Maybe it was a pastor thing?

I got even more uncomfortable when Robert put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me in close.

“Nice day for the festival. Your people did real good this year.”

“Your people.” Why did that sound like an insult?

Apparently, Weatherman thought it did too. His back straightened, and tension filled the air.

Thankfully, Pearl broke the awkward stand-off. She woke up and squealed with delight seeing two familiar people in front of her.

“Eh-da!” she exclaimed and stretched out her arms.

Weatherman relaxed and grinned at my little girl. He bent over and lifted her from the stroller without asking permission. “How’s my little peanut?”

When did my daughter become his “little peanut”?

Robert’s back stiffened, and his arm tightened around me. “Opal, do you know this man?”

I felt a little like a chew toy being pulled between two dogs. “Yes, I cut his hair, same as I do yours. I styled Natalie’s wig, although this isn’t the one I did.”

Natalie seemed unaware of the thick testosterone floating in the air. She smiled and reached up a thin hand to touch her towering hairdo. “I decided that while I’m still here on earth, I’m gonna have as much fun as I can. It’s been years since I dressed up for Halloween.”

Robert chuckled. “Amen, sister. We’ll leave you to your celebrating. Perhaps we’ll see you in church on Sunday.”

The use of “we” threw me. Was he implying that I’d be in church on Sunday with him? A quick vision of me standing in a choir loft, wearing a plain conservative dress to my knees with a high frilly collar and my hair tied up in a tight bun, almost had me laughing. My eyes darted to Weatherman and his fierce frown.

“I believe in the Almighty, but I’m already in one club, preacher. Don’t need to join another one.”

Natalie gave an indignant huff. “Bryce Turner! Church is church, not a club.”

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