Page 5 of Buried Beneath Sin

I thought once I turned eighteen and left this place, I’d never have to deal with the people of Chasm again. It was never my intention to take over Bright Starr. But then Mom called me during my freshman year of college and pleaded with me to help her turn everything around here. She promised that, by the time I graduated and came home, she’d be clean and well enough to help me run Bright Starr once more.

Like a fool, I believed her.

My only true friend is currently waving Trudy Williamson off as she pulls out from the parking lot. When her car is out of sight, Pastor Michaels turns and heads toward me.

In his early sixties, Pastor Michaels still looks good for his age. His messy mouse brown hair is just now starting to fade and turn gray. Despite the shallow wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, his skin has remained smooth. He’s of average height and weight, is soft spoken, and carries with him an infinite amount of patience and compassion. I’ve never met anyone as wholly good as this man.

“I might have to add to this weekend’s sermon to remind people about beingkind,” he says ruefully as he comes to a stop in front of me. He shoves his mittened hands into his pockets with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, Beatrix. You don’t deserve any of that.”

I hate the sheepish smile he wears. It’s not his fault that most of his parishioners are assholes. I shrug.

“I appreciate you coming to help guide her in the right direction.” I let my arms drop from where they sit across my chest. “I’m glad Samuel was smart enough to put in his will to do the cremation. She really couldn’t afford any other option, and she would’ve tried if he hadn’t.”

“Her pride was what had her dragging her feet more than her faith,” he shakes his head, a frown tugging at his mouth. “Anyway, are you done for the day? I have beef stew in thecrockpot at home. You’re more than welcome to join me and Trevor for dinner.”

It takes everything in me not to cringe at the sound of his son’s name. Trevor Michaels, the coolest guy back in high school. He was the quarterback that led our football team to victory in the championship all four years. He’s Chasm’s golden boy—loved by all. According to rumors, Trevor will take over his father’s ministry in just a few short years.

But what only a few people seem to remember is that Trevor’s also the biggest bully in Chasm. How many times had he gotten a class full of students to turn on me throughout my school years? Or shoved me in my locker? Or picked on me for my looks? Too many times. But Trevor wasn’t just the give-you-a-swirly type of bully. Oh no, I was never that lucky. Trevor Michaels was the type of bully who would corner you and force himself on you while his friends watched and laughed… then took their turns with your bruised and beaten body.

Bile creeps up my throat just thinking about him. He never once got in trouble for it. I don’t even think his father knows about the police report I filed just before I left for college when Trevor had, for a second time, gone too far. Even after all these years, I don’t have the heart to tell myonlyfriend what his son did to me.

“Thank you, but not tonight,” I manage to get out evenly. “I think it’s going to be a late one. It’s a full moon, which means I could get as many as seven death calls so I need to be here.”

I can feel his gaze on the back of my neck as he follows me back into the funeral home. My hands twitch at my sides as I fight the urge to wipe at the back of my neck. Everyone is alwayswatchingme, as if I might do something horrible like my mother or like I’m some terribly ugly creature from the Black Lagoon.

We stop just inside the foyer. The warmth from the heaters is almost stifling after hanging out in the November chill.Immediately, I peel off my jacket and toss it onto the console table. As I turn to face Pastor Michaels, I catch him looking away from me, his gaze landing on the carpeting.

For a second, I panic. Can he see the bruises on my face? Or my split lip? I’ve done my best to cover up the signs of Patrick’s abuse with a load of makeup, but there’s a chance it’s worn off throughout the day. If it’s not that, maybe he noticed the limp? Had I slipped up and forgotten to hide it?

“I hate that you work such long hours,” he grumbles. “Have you thought about hiring someone to help you around here? I haven’t seen Patrick or Lauren around town in ages. Are they even coming down here to help anymore? Running a business and helpingthem… When do you get a break, Trixie?”

Oh. Relief releases the tension from my shoulders. Ok, so this is about my general well-being and not something specific. Good.

I shrug. “It is what it is. When I have the finances, then maybe I’ll hire someone. Until then, it’s just me.”

“It’s just so much for one person—oh!” Pastor Michaels snaps his fingers as his eyes brighten with an idea. “I can see if I can get any volunteers from my parishioners!”

At this, I can’t hide my grimace.

“You and I both know that even if you managed to get people to show up here, it would make more work for me than it’s worth.” I soften my objection with a smile. “But thank you for trying.”

My friend sighs. “You’re probably right. I just want to help you, Trixie. You do an important job for the community, and you deal with so much with your mother and Patrick. I feel so helpless watching you juggle it all.”

“I’m fine,” I lie easily. “Really, Pastor Michaels, you don’t have to worry so much. At first it was a lot, but I think I’ve found my footing.”

Pastor Michaels had come around a lot since I returned home. He’d helped me here, and a few times, he even tried to visit Mom when Patrick wasn’t around. Given that he was her pastor for a while during her ‘I found Jesus, he will keep me clean’ phase of her life just before I left, I thought it would help to have her start seeing him again. Unfortunately, that didn’t pan out the way any of us intended. Now Pastor Michaels only comes to the funeral home to see me.

“How is your mother doing?” His head tilts to the side in concern.

Before I can placate him, my cell phone rings. I dig into my pocket to see the hospital’s number on the caller ID.

Saved by the bell…

“Hey, I got to take this, but we’ll talk again soon, ok?”

“Of course, take care, Trixie. If you need anything, you know to just holler,” Pastor Michaels says before turning and heading out.

I don’t watch the door shut. As I pivot to head back to the office, I answer the phone, “This is Bright Starr Funeral Home, Beatrix Starr speaking. How can I help you?”

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