Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Game on, missy.
I grinned and took another swig, deciding a cold shower was just the thing to refresh me before evening classes started. I was surprised at how much variety there was. Computer skills. Tai Chi. Dance. Choir. And the usual spread of twelve-step meetings.
I decided that I would pop in and visit all the classes and then circle back to whichever one she was in. I grinned, suddenly looking forward to my duties. If nothing else, I could get lots of fantasy material.
Oh, yes, Miss Cynthia had no idea what was coming for her. No idea at all.
Chapter Six
Cynthia
“Let’s take it from the top,” I said, clapping my hands together. The kids listened to me for the most part, but they were still teens and pre-teens. They had a lot of extra energy.
Come to think of it, I had a lot of energy for a change. Instead of being wiped out and exhausted from working all day and going to school, I was brimming with energy.
I hadn’t even brewed my customary cup of green tea before evening classes. It was a ritual I had with Reverend Paul. It felt disloyal to do it without him.
I was feeling very proud of myself for my approach with Preacher. I would run the church, and keep him from ruining it, all without saying a word to the man. Except over email, of course. He would lie low and not rock the boat. Reverend Paul would return, healthy and whole, and Preacher would be on his disreputable way.
I pressed Play and watched as the kids ran through the new routine. I stopped them and went back to the beginning, marking each move while they watched. I went over the first eight beats a couple of times and then went back to my iPhone where I had it plugged into portable speakers.
I must have been dancing when the door opened earlier. If not, it would have been impossible to miss the large form that slipped into the room, standing still as a statue in the corner. My eyes were not on the kids performing, where they should be. They were locked with the cool blue eyes across the room.
Preacher was also not watching the kids perform. He was watching me. Had been for a while, I realized.
My pulse suddenly felt erratic. The room was hotter and somehow smaller. The sound of music and voices seemed far away.
“Cynth? Can you show us the second part again?”
I nodded stiffly and crossed to the mirror, stiffly going through the motions. I turned back and watched them try it. I nodded and started the music again.
The kids lived for this. The routines gave them something to practice, to think about, to focus on when things were tough. And they frequently were. Not enough food to eat, or their parents were having problems. Sometimes, it was a whole lot worse than that, too.
We tried to focus on doing what we could to help, not taking on every single kid in the community and fixing their problems. Paul had taught me that. It was better to make the quality of their lives better. Now and then, we got a whiff of a kid suffering more than a little. Abuse. Severe neglect. Then we did take drastic measures. But we helped the whole family whenever possible. The Reverend didn’t believe in throwing people away.
We did the routine a few more times and then I taught them the end. We worked on that a bit and then put it all together. Preacher was clapping by the end, earning wide smiles from the kids. I ignored him as the kids dispersed, going to collect my stuff before making my rounds and shutting the church annex down for the night.
“You got moves,” a gravelly voice said from behind me. I stiffened and slowly turned around.
“You’re still here,” I said.
He just looked at me, waiting for me to take another stab at him, do doubt. I was ready to insult him, almost itching for a fight, I realized. It wasn’t exactly nice of me. But something about the guy rubbed me one hundred percent the wrong way.
“Thanks for the schedule.”
“When I gave you the schedule, I didn’t mean that you had to attend every class.”
“Oh, but I want to,” he said with a warm smile. “Especially any that you are teaching.”
In that moment, I knew. I knew that he was doing this on purpose. He knew I didn’t like him, and for some sick reason, it amused him to mess with me.
“I teach sexual health and abstinence, too. Would you like to come to that?”
I stared at him, shocked at what I had just said. Why was I poking the bear with that particular stick? But he wasn’t offended. Preacher just threw back his head and laughed.