Page 27 of Wolf, Willow, Witch
Tehlor nodded. “Sure.”
The silence ballooned. Tehlor kept her chin lifted, smiling first at Amy, then at Rose.
“We take pride in serving our husbands,” Rose said, lightly, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to say. She rubbed Pastor Phillip’s back.Awkward, Tehlor thought. “It must be a treat to be doted on, Tehlor.”
Tehlor opened her mouth to speak, but Lincoln was too quick.
“Husbands, love your wives as Christ so loved the church,” he said, pinning Rose with a thoughtful stare. “Ephesians, right?”
Rose inhaled sharply. “I believe so.”
“Let each of you love his wife as himself.” Lincoln handed Tehlor a plate, two-toned eyes skimming her face. “We’re equal in everything except creation. In our relationship, only she can do that,” he tapped her chin with his thumb and winked. “But don’t worry, Rose, she dotes on me, too.”
The tension remained. Women glanced at their men while their men looked at Phillip, waiting for confrontation, acceptance, or a subject change. Tehlor forked a green bean into her mouth and stayed close to Lincoln. She met Amy’s eyes on a flighty pass and tried to send a mental signal, to channel calm and security. But Amy immediately looked at the ground and Tehlor thought for sure they’d blown their cover.
“To Lincoln and Tehlor,” Pastor Phillip said, lifting his whiskey glass. “New to our flock, but already channeling Christ-like behavior. Guys, take notes. Protect, provide, and spread the good word. That’s our duty.”
Tehlor exhaled, relieved. She beamed at Phillip and Rose. “We’re blessed to be here.”
Lincoln lifted his glass. “To Haven,” he said.
The room repeated, “To Haven.”
Risk assessment, complete.
Tehlor wanted to look at Lincoln, but she knew better than to meet his eyes. If she looked at him, the congregation might sense her relief. Might catch onto the diabolical magic sparking between them. She ate gingerly. Smiled and nodded at passing conversation. Someone talked about flower arrangements for a wedding. Another person chatted about a new car. She took the chance to glance at pockets and wrists, ankles and hands, assessing each person for weapons, charms, and scars.Who is capable?Daniel’s knuckles were chewed up. He’d fought before, punched walls or people.Who is carrying?Thankfully, she didn’t see a holster or dented waistbands, but given Haven’s origin and the reason for the internal split, she assumed they were armed.
“Here, honey, let me take this.” Amy appeared like a wraith and snuck her slender hand beneath the strap on Tehlor’s purse.
Tehlor jolted, slapping her free hand over the bag. “No, it’s okay. I’ve got it.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” she assured, nodding toward a short, wooden cabinet against the wall next to the open doorway, crowned with a pile of mini-backpacks and neutral purses. “I’ll put it with the others.”
Lincoln patted her hip. “Go ahead.”
Don’t move, she internally chanted, thinking of the rat hidden in her bag.Don’t you dare move.
Amy placed Tehlor’s purse on the table and swatted her hands together, striding back to Tehlor’s side.
“Lincoln, did you get a chance to connect with Daniel? I’m sure you two would get along,” Amy said.
Lincoln nodded. “I did. It’s good to meet someone else who served.”
“Oh, he’s army?” Tehlor asked.
Amy’s smile tightened. “Marines. He was honorably discharged a few months after we met.” She gestured to the sliding glass door that led to the snowy backyard. “I brought s’more supplies, by the way. Figured somethin’ sweet might be nice after dinner.” Her attention switched to Daniel, standing next to Phillip and Rose. “Dan, can you get the fire going?”
Intentional subject change.Tehlor snuck a glance at Lincoln. He inclined his head, acknowledging her silent note.
Daniel—tall, broad, and swathed in plaid and denim—finished his drink and made for the backdoor. Amy’s and Daniel’s obvious differences from the rest of Haven didn’t go unnoticed. Tehlor hadn’t seen it at first, but the closer she looked, the more she understood. Amy, who followed Rose like a puppy, wore a cheap, off-brand jumpsuit and knock-off Birkenstocks. Unlike the expensive attire and spotless Timberland hikers the rest of the men wore, Daniel dressed in Walmart jeans and old military boots.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but Rose’s strategic puppeteering and privileged control over herbestiefilled Tehlor with rage. She might’ve been a thief. She certainly knew how to manipulate a situation, hotwire an old car, and knock someone out with an herb combo. But Tehlor didn’t steal from the poor. Her moral compass worked that much, at least.
“Good idea, Mrs. De’voreaux,” Phillip said, loudly enough to prompt the rest of the group to finish their meals and step outside.
Eat, Tehlor thought, glancing between Rose, Amy, Candice, Meredith, and whomever the rest of them were. But the women hardly touched their food. Barely nibbled a corncob or munched an orange slice. She thought of dancing. How sustenance had been an exercise in self-control. She spooned more macaroni into her mouth and chewed, forcing herself to imagine a great feast, pitchers of ale, roasted meat surrounded by vegetables—Valhalla.
What a thing, Tehlor thought, remembering the weight of a dumbbell in her hand, how it’d lightened as she swung it,to love a God to the point of starvation.
