Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22815 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22815 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Still, sometimes I wonder how she could have been so gullible. I mean, seriously, did she really believe that the Mormon Challenge existed? Then again, Bridge is a handsome man, so maybe Renee suspended disbelief because in her heart of hearts, she wanted to get naughty with him. I have no idea.
But now, my friend comes skipping over, her brown curls bouncing.
“Hey!” Renee burbles, hugging me tight. “I’m so glad to see you because it feels like it’s been forever!”
I giggle.
“No, I’ve been coming to church every week. I’ve just been coming late and leaving early. There’s too much to do, and I can’t stay for the coffee hour afterwards.”
“Oh?” she asks, a teasing smile on her lips.
I wink. “I’ll tell you all about it one of these days, but right now, we better get inside because you know how my dad gets when people are late.”
With that, we walk into Sanctuary, which really isn’t much more than a large meeting room connected to some administrative offices, as well as a furnished basement downstairs. We take seats in the back pew in case Renee needs to dash outside with her baby, and soon, the sermon’s underway. It’s not bad. Pastor Robert drones on about the importance of community, which I could swear he was speaking about not two weeks ago. Is he just re-using the same speech? It can’t be.
But soon enough, the sermon ends, and we go through the rest of the liturgy before saying one final prayer together. But as people begin to rise from their seats, my dad gets up to make a quick announcement. Mike bounds up on stage, looking respectable in his khakis and blue button down with a solid frame and a craggy face. My father has always been able to look presentable and trustworthy, even when I fear the worst.
Mike shoots a polite smile at the crowd.
“Good morning, everyone. Just one last announcement, if you don’t mind. We’re pleased to be starting a new Bible study group for the young women of our congregation called “Sunday Service,” and our first meeting is today. Now, in fact. If all the unmarried women could join me downstairs in a moment, there are fresh donuts and muffins for everyone as we contemplate the grace of our Father. I look forward to kicking off this blessed event with you.”
I glance at Renee but she shrugs.
“I’m married, so I’m out.”
I sigh. Oh god. I really wanted to go home but I guess that won’t be the case, and as I watch, a number of the single young ladies begin to file downstairs. Trying not to look too put out, I slink after then, making my way down to the basement. It’s a windowless room with fluorescent lighting and low ceilings, but there’s a ring of chairs pulled into a circle as well as a table by the side laden with the afore-mentioned snacks. My dad smiles when he sees me.
“Kaci, welcome. It’s nice to you see you.”
I merely nod in reply, going to the table to grab a cup of coffee. Soon enough, about ten young women are gathered in the small space, chattering and smiling like pretty birds. To my surprise, the young woman from Wild Dogs is here as well, dressed again in a long floral outfit with her hair pinned back in an intricate French braid. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised she’s here, seeing that this is probably her safe space. But then, my dad closes the basement door, subtly twisting the lock, before turning to face us.
“Thank you all for coming!” he announces, smiling broadly. “I know that you are all Godly women here at this church.”
“Yes, Elder Stott. Praise be,” the women say in unison. Oh god, I hate when they chant like that. It makes us sound even more cultish, but the women merely smile while taking seats in the circle. Meanwhile, my father stands at the head of the circle, still speaking.
“I’m sure you’re all looking forward to Sunday Service,” Mike says, his tone playful. “I know I am. Right now, the plan is to meet after services every Sunday, as well as at least once more during the week, to contemplate the gifts given to us by our Father.”
“Praise be!” the women murmur again, nodding with approval. I cringe because am I the only one who hates the monotonous chanting? Seriously, I can’t be right? Yet, when I look around the circle, I see fresh-scrubbed, eager and excited faces. The girls are pretty and young, and fortunately, there’s only the one woman who’s dressed like Laura Ingalls Wilder. Everyone else looks relatively normal, and I sigh internally. Seriously, I either need to find another congregation or leave Vegas entirely.
But then Lulabelle, a particularly pretty young blonde, pipes up.
“What will today’s worship consist of, Elder Stott?” she mewls. “I’m sure it will be wonderful.”