Page 41 of If You Give a Grump a Christmas Tree Farm
“Thank you.” She gives me a sweet smile. “I need to go change. It’s at Holy Family Catholic Church, so you may want to put on a sweater or dress shirt or maybe the outfit you wore in the couple’s ad.”
I nod, and we both move off to get ready.
She comes out wearing a burnt orange sweater tucked into a flowy floral skirt that falls to the top of her knees and some black leather knee-high boots that about make me drool. The couple of inches of bare skin that peek out from between where the skirt ends and the boot begins just make me want to see more.
“You look gorgeous.”
She smiles brightly. “You don’t look too shabby yourself.”
It’s not long before we’re pulling in at the church—a place I haven’t stepped foot in for years.
“Do you go to church?” Rebecca asks as we climb out of the car.
“Not this kind.”
“Will you burst into flames?”
“Ha ha.”
“And what do you mean ‘this kind’ of church?” She puts her fingers up, making air quotes.
“I go to church all the time. Club church.”
“Ahh, the club.”
As we approach the door, the priest’s eyes connect with mine, and he makes a beeline straight for us.
“This should be good,” I mutter.
Rebecca follows my gaze.
“Hello, JJ.”
“Father Tom.” I nod in greeting.
“I just want to remind you that the holy water is not for drinking or pouring Kool-Aid into.”
“Understood.”
Father Tom turns and walks through the door.
Rebecca raises her brow. “I thought you’d never been to this church.”
“My grandparents—well, mostly my grandma—dragged us to church every Sunday when we’d visit. But I haven’t stepped foot in here in years.”
“And you messed with the holy water?”
“I may have turned the water red when I was young.”
“You didn’t!”
“Technically, it was me and David, but it didn’t go over well. It looked like blood. Father Tom tried to play it off as if nothing was wrong, but when he dried his hands on the towel it came out looking like he’d smeared blood on it.” I chuckle, and tears form in the crinkles of my eyes. “My grandma about fainted. Father Tom’s hands were dyed pink for a week. Grandpa throttled me good that night. David too. That was the thing about Grandpa. He didn’t give David special treatment. We both got off, or we both got a whooping. Package deal.”
“Let’s not mention that to my sister.” She shakes her head at me like she doesn’t know what to do with me.
“Rebecca!” A woman with shoulder-length brown hair waves from a pew.
We slide in. Rebecca hugs the woman and then leans forward and waves at the tall man sitting next to her.
