Chapter 3

On a pew’s overstuffed, worn cushions, sandwiched between Adam and our son, I tried not to tremble. The former’s hand on my thigh atop the russet dress with delicate periwinkles and daisies wasn’t helping. Every gentle squeeze as we listened to the pastor should’ve been calming.

Bright and early the day before, my brain had resumed its spinning. With Barry at his buddy’s house, it’d been just me and his father. Errand running, having a pleasant lunch, then sitting on the couch with him watching college football while I enjoyed a cheesy, over-the-top romance novel. The usual coziness. Well, until a phone call tore him away for most of the afternoon.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

His whisper into my ear snapped me back to the church, and after a quick blink, I found his grin.

“Huh?”

“This morning.”

“Shh,” I placed a finger on his lips, “not in here.”

No sooner had my digit left him than he leaned closer again.

“Just sayin’ that was a pleasant surprise. Nice way to wake up.”

“Shush!”

He was silent for a while, and the service continued. But once more a lean brought his aftershave into my nostrils.

“How’d you learn to do that?”

“Bananas,” I tossed out.

“What?”

“Lotsa bananas.”

It was quiet for a while until he murmured, “Oh.”

That got me to turn my head. Mistake. Darn those same puppy dog eyes as our son. They tugged on the same wicked wiring. Lord, forgive me, my tongue glided around a lipstick of paler red, more appropriate for church. He shuddered but said nothing else for the rest of the service.

Yes, a luscious shiver raced through me. My secret. In all our years of marriage, he’d never asked for anything like that before. Perhaps guilt had drawn me to the little tower awakening beneath the sheets? Dunno.

Once the pastor fell silent, we joined the congregation leaving the rows. Barry placed a quick kiss on my cheek, nodded to his dad, and headed for the kids his age. Bible study awaited them.

Did I recognize a few of the older boys from Merrimont grinning my way? Yes. Did nervous shivers race through me? Sure. But spilled milk and such. What’s done is done.

A chirp from Adam’s phone and he peeled away to find a quiet corner.

Me? I sought Carol Sanders. However, a certain amount of wavering gave me pause. What was there to fear? Okay, a few texts and now a photo. Nobody at church had given me the stink eye. Pastor Coggins would’ve tugged me aside, forbidden me to enter.

So, a bunch of kids on a bus? Sure, hormone-infused teenagers, but they’d have far more important things on their mind than me ... and my son. We’re talking internet age; stranger stuff flitted across their phones every minute of every day. Besides, more than likely, most had girlfriends to hold their interest.

“As should Barry,” I muttered.

“Pardon.”

At the voice, I spotted a man with a confused expression. He wore a suit, was older, and gray eyes twinkled. Beside him, a woman in a dress of colorful blue and yellow swirls turned my way.

“Ah, my apologies.” I chuckled. “Just talking to myself.”

“Hmm, happens.”

His wife blinked at me. “Aren’t you Gregory’s daughter?”

“Um, yes.”

“Sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” I glanced skyward and crossed myself. “He’s in a better place.”

“Indeed.” The old fellow coughed; it was a phlegmy sound. “You’re still as pretty as ever. Leah, correct?”

“Uh-huh.” Heat flared up my cheeks. Years of no compliments, and now they were tumbling onto me. “Th-thank you again.”

“Married that Adam Poole?” his wife asked.

“Y-yes.”

“Smart man.”

“He is.”

“Hmm, the Poole boy’s been good for you,” her husband declared. “You’ve gained a certain confidence.”

“Um, thanks ... again.” Right then, Carol flitted past an opening. “If you’ll excuse me.”

After exchanging quick nods with them, I made my way to the doorway but froze. Confidence? Sure, okay, but not only because Adam had stepped into my life. Indeed, for years ... Well, I’d been the same quiet girl, just older.

However, with sin and shame as trusty handmaidens, a path had to be chosen. Call it acceptance or resignation. My chin would remain high.

Heart thumping, I abandoned the search for Carol and sought my husband. A chuckle escaped me at his earlier whispering. He’d ended up gaining a pleasurable surprise; one of the tricks I’d been forced to learn.

The beefy testicles of a teenage boy produce a lot of seed. While not that talented, our son possessed raw enthusiasm, and certain parts became sore. Hence, also discovering his love of messiness. Hadn’t imparted that new trick on his father ... yet.

Was a confident, pretty-as-ever, wanton whore smiling in church while her mind enjoyed both wicked memories and hopeful futures? Yes, I was. A smile so wide that both cheeks ached.