Sunday

June 11th

Savannah screeched to a halt in the middle of the road, squeezing down on her front brake with her right hand. She checked her right mirror. Her lips pressed together as it confirmed what she’d barely saw on the way by and her wolf’s nudging had made her think about.

Rebels, on a residential street corner, on a Sunday.

She sucked her cheeks inwards and did a U-turn. Who were the prospects on duty again? They were supposed to report this and get someone to escort them back out. She stopped her bike by the street corner and dismounted. Her chin jerked and her helmet retracted into her computer.

The group of boys, and they were boys, they all looked like teenagers to Savannah, they looked at each other and slapped their arms and grinned at each other.

“Don’t you look fine,” one said with a wink.

Savannah didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at her clothes. It was Sunday. She was supposed to be going to Church. She was wearing a nicely draped cowl neck gray blouse under her kutte and good pair of slacks because you were supposed to look nice while going to Church. “You boys look lost,” she replied.

They looked at each other again. “We lost?” one asked.

“Nah. We ain’t lost,” one of the others replied.

They snickered.

Savannah crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “You need to make yourselves unlost and take yourselves back to where you came from, out of Jasper,” she ordered.

“But we said we ain’t lost.”

“We’re exactly where we wanna be.”

The church bells rang in the distance and Savannah repressed a growl. She reached up and tapped her computer, turning on the phone function. A quick glance at the Lunatic told her who was supposed to be on duty. She dialed the four numbers at once. “Good morning,” she said. “Am I the only one with eyes?” She rattled off the street number. “And I need an escort for young rabble who need to get out of town, as fast as you can.”

“Shit,” she heard in her ear.

“Sorry, Savannah,” a second said.

“We’re coming,” said the third.

“On it,” said the fourth.

Savannah snorted and shut her phone down. She glared at the boys. “It’s Sunday, boyos. We don’t do this prodding on a Sunday. It’s against the rules.”

“Rules,” one of the boys said. “I ain’t never heard about no rules.”

Savannah winced. Even she didn’t mangle English that badly. “There are and you need to learn them. Sunday is the Lord’s Day. It’s a day of rest. Go home. Go to church. Spend time with your families.”

“Aww, you mean, you ain’t dressed up nice for us.”

She heard the motorcycles and she turned her head. She looked back at the boys. “That would be your escort out of here. This is your one warning. I see you again, in my town, on a Sunday, I’ll stop caring about it being the Lord’s day and feed you pain. Do we have an understanding?”

One of the boys took a step closer to her. He put his hand out. “You see, we don’t give a damn—”

She reached out, grabbed it, spun about and pulled his arm behind his back, shoved his knee out and wrenched it, squeezing on a bundle of nerves. She leaned down and put her lips near his ear. “I said, do we have an understanding?” she asked again.

The motorcycles pulled up and seeing that she had one of them kneeling on the ground, guns appeared in hands and were pointed at the others.

Savannah squeezed his hand again.

“Yeah, yeah, we understand,” he said and whimpered.

She let him go with a shake of her head. She glared at the escort. “One of you needs to find the prospect on duty and deliver the lecture,” she said. She looked at the boy still kneeling and the guns in the escorts’ hands. Yeah, she might leave that part out of her report.

“Yes, Savannah,” one of them murmured.

Savannah walked back to her motorcycle and mounted it. She jerked her helmet back on and put on speed towards church. She pulled into the parking lot less than five minutes later.

She looked up at the sky and bit the inside of her lip. The church bells had already rung. She was late. She hated being late.

She slid off of her motorcycle and shrugged out of her kutte, carefully folding it and putting it over arm. She didn’t dare leave it with the bike for fear of someone stealing the bike and getting her kutte with it. She grabbed her other shoes and her Bible out of her storage compartment and walked sidewalk to the church, opening the doors and hoping against hope that no one noticed her.

She changed her shoes, put her kutte on a shelf over the hangars, and snuck into the back of the sanctuary, her eyes skimming the crowd. Everyone was standing for the first hymn and she relaxed a little. Now, all she had to do was find a seat and hope no one commented on her tardiness. Her eyes lit up when she saw Gideon seated in one of the last rows with no one on the other side. She walked down the aisle and tapped his shoe with hers as she stood next to him.

He jumped and looked down.

‘Move over,’ she mouthed at him.

His eyes narrowed and he looked back at the clock.

She sighed and elbowed him. Yes, she was late. Inwardly she cringed. She hated being late. Would he move over so she wouldn’t stand out more than she already did?

He moved over. She pushed his hymnal down. She wanted to see it instead of getting her own. He rolled his eyes and continued to sing. Savannah found where they were in the hymn and joined in on the next stanza. His eyebrows rose. She was a soprano, an unrefined soprano, as if she didn’t practice often, but a voice sweeter than her speaking voice.

The hymn ended and everyone sat.

Savannah crossed her legs and leaned back into the pew, her Bible between her leg and the armrest.

One of the laymen got up to read the Bible passage and was waylaid for a few seconds by Padre sitting in his chair behind the pulpit. The layman nodded and went up to the pulpit and opened his Bible on it.

He announced the verses and Savannah glanced at the wall board where the hymns and this week’s Bible passage were posted. The passage the layman had announced and the one on the board were not the same.

She smiled. Padre had changed his mind again.

Gideon opened his Bible. Savannah leaned over to read with him. He glared at her and leaned his head down. “You have your own,” he said. He’d seen it.

She tugged the edge of his over. “Share,” she murmured back.

He rolled his eyes and shared. Though he didn’t know how Savannah could read the fine print from far away.

The layman announced another hymn. Savannah glanced at the board again. Yes, the number was different. The organist started, banging heavily on the keys of the organ to express her displeasure over the change of tunes. Standing, the members of the church who had been there for several years ducked their heads and grinned. Gideon glanced at the board and his brow furrowed. He’d already had the next hymn marked out. Savannah rolled her eyes and flipped to the correct page. He’d get used to it.

After the hymns were sung, the choir sang, and children’s church was done and the children were sent to Sunday School or nursery, Padre stood up behind his pulpit and started his sermon. He started off with a story, referencing a point of history and then meandered into personal memories before coming back to the Bible passage and wandered off again on another tangent before coming back to the Bible passage and what the words meant in Greek.

Gideon glanced at the church bulletin. The sermon title had nothing to do with what Padre was talking about. He set it aside with a small sigh and settled in to listen. Flipping between books of the Bible as Padre cross-referenced and expounded on his point, whatever his point was, it could be difficult to tell between the stories.

The church as a whole seemed more amused than anything else, at points laughing where Padre made a really witty turn of phrase or a point buffered in a joke. Padre wound down after an hour and announced the next hymn. Once again, the organist pounded on the keys for the first few stanzas as if to make a point. Padre and the choir moved to the back of the church and he pronounced the benediction.

Gideon made to leave as others started to file out of the pews. Savannah stood but didn’t move. This forced Gideon to stay put. He thought about pushing her and changed his mind. She slowly picked up her Bible. Brand stopped by their pew and Gideon wanted to shrink back. Brand’s gray eyes were hard.

“Grandfather,” Savannah said, went up on her tiptoes and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Savannah,” he said. He hugged her back and bussed her cheek.

She smiled at him.

He wasn’t finished. “You were late.”

“The—” she started.

Brand held up a hand.

She snapped her mouth shut and flushed.

“The church is less than a quarter mile from your house,” he said. “And yet, two times out of three you manage to find trouble between here and there.”

Savannah winced and looked at her shoes. “Yes, Grandfather. The Rebels were in town again.”

“I don’t care. It’s Sunday. You’re to be at church.” Brand looked up and met Gideon’s eyes. “You have an auto, Prospect. From now on, you will be picking Savannah up for church and the two of you shall be punctual.”

Gideon swallowed hard. “Yes, sir,” he muttered.

Brand nodded.

Esme looked between them. “Now that we have that sorted,” she said in a light tone. “Gideon, since you don’t have any family in town, you are welcome up to our house for Sunday dinner.”

“I am?” Gideon asked. It might not have been an order, but he still didn’t think he was getting a choice.

Esme smiled at him. “Savannah can show you the way.”

Brand tugged on Esme’s arm and they walked towards Padre to say hello.

Gideon stared after them.

Savannah had her shoulders about her ears. She stared after them, clutching her Bible in both hands. Gideon followed after her.

“Good morning, Padre,” she murmured.

“Good morning, Savannah.” He paused. “Punctuality is the respect we show for others by being on time.”

Savannah flushed again. “I’m sorry.”

“And I forgive you, yet again. Though I see no change in your behavior,” Padre said gently and then kissed her forehead. “Be absolved of all sins.”

Savannah sighed. The Rebels had been in town again. What was she supposed to do? Let them run amok? “Thank you, Padre,” she murmured.

“It is no sin to ask for help,” Padre said. There were members of the Club specifically assigned to solving Sunday troubles. “You do not have to solve all the Club’s problems on your own.”

Savannah rolled her eyes. She didn’t try to do that. She didn’t!

Padre turned to Gideon. “And good morning to you, Gideon,” he said.

“Good Morning, Padre,” Gideon said with a smile. “Interesting sermon.”

Savannah grinned, a quick flash across her face.

“I felt inspired by God this morning while looking out over my congregation, even my tardy members.”

Savannah wrinkled her nose. They wouldn’t let this go until at least Wednesday. “If I am late again, Padre, you may blame Gideon. Grandfather has assigned him as my escort.”

Padre raised his eyebrows. “Are you as much of a troublemaker as she is?”

Savannah tilted her nose in the air. “I do not make trouble,” she said and flounced off.

“I hope not,” Gideon said.

Padre winked at Gideon, shook his hand and turned to the next person in line. Gideon shook his head and followed Savannah towards the door. She set her Bible above her kutte between her motorcycle boots and headed out the door.

Gideon looked over his shoulder at the stream of people headed down the hall towards the large room they used for social hour. “Savannah,” he said.

She paused by the door and held it open. “I left my cookies in my motorcycle,” she said and darted outside.

Gideon raised an eyebrow and headed after her. “When did you find time to make more cookies?” he asked as he caught up with her.

“When did you find time to launder your shirt?” she riposted.

“Last night.”

“It’s not like I made them at different times,” Savannah said and opened the storage area of her motorcycle.

Gideon opened the door of his auto and stuck his Bible on the passenger seat. He straightened up and looked up at the sun and sighed. He wanted to take this jacket off but didn’t dare. He straightened his tie using the side mirror of the auto and shut the door again.

Savannah pulled a plastic box full of cookies out of the storage area and a metal platter. She shut it and hurried back towards the church door. Gideon caught up with her and as she wobbled in her heels, grabbed her arm.

“What’s the rush?” he asked and grabbed the cookie box. She held onto him better.

“I’ve already been late once today,” Savannah said and flushed.

He got the door for her. “The Rebels were in town again,” he said. Hunter had said it wasn’t a hot war, but it was beginning to feel like to him it wasn’t going to remain cold for long.

Savannah looked around. “Not so loud,” she hissed. “Yeah, they like making jabs on Sundays when most of us are in church.” They knew it was a weak point. Though she thought more of them should be attending church. “It’s turned into a tradition,” she growled. They walked down the hallway.

“Some tradition.” He eyed her. “Is there something wrong with my shirt?”

“It’s long sleeved and didn’t you wear that last week?”

“Week before last,” he corrected. “We were in Africa last week.”

“Details, schmetails,” Savannah muttered.

“And I didn’t think you’d noticed me week before last.”

She glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh for God’s sake, this is a town of twenty thousand people,” he muttered.

“Yeah and you showed up to church.” Savannah sniffed. She nudged him into the small kitchen with her hip.

He turned into the kitchen. “The Club emblem is on the sign, I was curious.”

“Oh, someone is defensive,” Savannah said, her voice a singsong. She put the platter down on the counter and grabbed the box from his hands. She pried it open and started laying the cookies onto the platter. Gideon reached for one and she smacked his hand. He withdrew it and glowered at her, then reached in and snatched one before she could hit him again. “Gideon!”

He smirked at her and took a bite of the cookie.

She blew upwards and ruffled her short fringe of hair over her eyes. She glared at him and finished laying out the cookies. She sorted the one he’d taken out to look like it was the same number as the others. She picked up the full platter and walked away from him, her eyes on the platter and trying to keep an eye on the way in front her too.

Gideon finished the cookie and followed her. She set the platter of cookies onto a long table filled with other desserts. She dusted her hands off. “Good morning, Spring,” she said and went over and hugged her.

Spring, an older woman with faded auburn hair that curled around her ears and smile lines on her face, hugged her back. “Good morning, Savannah. Those look wonderful.”

Savannah smiled at her. “Thank you,” she turned on her heel. “Spring, this is Gideon, our new prospect and I guess you’ll have to see about getting him involved with the church. Gideon, this is Padre’s wife, Spring.”

Gideon held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

Spring knocked his hand away and hugged him tight. “Oh, I’m happy that you’re staying.”

Gideon hugged her back. He widened his eyes at Savannah. Everyone wanted to hug him. She grinned at him and belatedly hid it behind her hand. He wanted to sigh. “It seems like a good place to stay,” he said. He wasn’t about to say otherwise, though he was now holding a few reservations.

Spring let him go. “Jasper is a wonderful place. We have a nice young men’s bible study during the week, a good Sunday School class for young adults, and if you are interested, a Christian Singles Group in association with the other churches.”

Gideon almost choked. “I’ll keep those in mind, thank you.”

“And if you like children, we have a nursery and youth group that are always looking for volunteers. We have a rousing good choir.” Spring smiled at him. She winked at him and shoved him towards the line. “I bet you two are hungry. Don’t ruin Esme’s dinner but get something to tide you over.”

“Yes, Spring,” Savannah said. She saw someone wave at her and beckon her over. “Oh, one of the girls needs me.”

“I’ll get you something,” Gideon said. “A brownie? You didn’t make the brownies.”

“A brownie would be great!” Savannah smiled at him and darted across the room.

Gideon sighed. Even the older ladies were trying to fill his time and marry him off. He wasn’t ready to be married. Or at least, he didn’t think he was ready. He was twenty-five.

“Gideon!” a somewhat familiar voice said.

Oh God damn it! Gideon shut his eyes and cringed. He opened them and looked behind him. It was the blonde girl from yesterday, the one who had worn the red dress.

“We met yesterday.” She lowered her eyelashes.

“I remember,” he said and bit his tongue. He shouldn’t have engaged. He shouldn’t have engaged. And now it was too late, he was stuck in a conversation with a girl he didn’t want to talk to.

“I’m Diane,” she said and held out her hand.

“I’ll try to remember,” he said, reluctantly shook her hand and dropped it. He would remember to go in the opposite direction if he ever saw her again.

“You’ve been to Broadway. I’ve always wanted to see Broadway,” she said.

“Or be on Broadway?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

She flushed. “That too. I’ve got contacts in Los Angeles if I wanted to go to Hollywood, but the stage is the stage. I make do with doing local stuff.”

“I’m,” Gideon stopped and sighed. “I was a simple soldier, miss,” he said.

“Not Miss, Diane!” Diane beamed at him and curled the ends of her hair around her finger.

He ought to call her Miss Diane to annoy the hell out of her. He grabbed two plates and snatched a couple of brownies and yet another one of Savannah’s cookies. “I promised Savannah a brownie. Excuse me,” he said and stepped out of line.

Diane bit her bottom lip and sighed. “Ask about him next time,” she whispered to herself.

Gideon scanned the room for Savannah and found her talking to Merle and Frankie. He didn’t make it three steps before one of the women of the church turned to him and smiled at him.

“Good morning, is it true that you’re staying?” she asked.

Gideon stopped dead in his tracks and inhaled. The woman wore a light flowery perfume and from her scents, he decided she was completely human. A quick glance at her left hand showed him she wore a wedding band. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m Mrs. Smith, Ladies’ Auxiliary. Have you met my daughter?”

Gideon repressed a growl and an ‘I don’t know, have I?’ for a politer, “I don’t think so, ma’am.”

“Julia,” Mrs. Smith waved a gloved hand. “Come over here and meet,” She paused with a raised eyebrow.

“Vonrothe, Gideon Vonrothe.”

“Gideon, from,”

Gideon wondered why he was answering her pointed pauses. “New York.”

“New York!” Mrs. Smith beamed.

“Owasco, New York, not the City.” Gideon added. Everyone thought that New York was nothing but the City and granted while the City was huge. It wasn’t the entire country. There was the Boston Megalopolis to consider, plus a lot of countryside filled with smaller cities and towns to little hamlets and stand-alone farms.

If Mrs. Smith was disappointed, she hid it. She put an arm on Julia’s back. “This is my daughter, Julia.”

Julia was slightly mousy and she pushed up her glasses and looked at her mary-jane shoes. “Nice to meet you, Gideon,” she mumbled.

Gideon looked at Mrs. Smith and her well-coiffed hair and her put together outfit and then back at Julia. He moderated his tone to polite and kind. “Nice to meet you too, Miss Julia,” he said. He’d been here less than a month. He wasn’t in the market for looking for a wife. And when he did get married, he wasn’t going to marry a human. None of this, however, was polite to say. Though he really, really wanted to.

“What brings you to Jasper?” Mrs. Smith asked.

“I’m trying to join the club,” Gideon said.

Mrs. Smith blinked. “Why would you do a thing like that?”

Julia looked up. “Do you like motorcycles?”

“I’m going to find out,” Gideon said to her with a wink. “Mrs. Smith, Miss Julia, Savannah is looking for me.” He nodded and walked away.

Mrs. Smith pursed her lips and looked after him.

Julia fiddled with her glasses again. “He’s really not my type, Mother,” she said. “He seems Savannah’s type though.”

Mrs. Smith narrowed her eyes and looked at her. “You won’t give him a chance and how do you know Savannah’s type?”

Julia didn’t quite roll her eyes. “We went to school together and I saw the boys she crushed on.”

“Maybe if you wouldn’t mumble.”

Julia took a step back. “I’m going to get punch.” She walked away.

He got three steps and Violet grabbed him. “Gideon!”

“It’s Sunday!” he said. “Stop making me want to swear.”

“Meet my aunt and uncle.” Violet grinned and eyed his plates.

“The brownie is for Savannah,” Gideon told her. “Get your own.” He nodded at her aunt and uncle. “Sir, ma’am.”

“You looked like a man on a mission,” her uncle said.

“Getting from point A to point B has become excessively difficult of late,” Gideon said.

Violet’s aunt laughed. “We won’t keep you then. It’s nice to see your face though.”

Gideon’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know how to answer that ma’am.”

Violet wrinkled her nose. “I’ll escort you to Savannah,” she said.

“And how will that help?” Gideon asked.

“You can meet my friends.”

Gideon reached over and picked Violet’s hand off of his arm. “Later, one at a time,” he said.

Violet pretended to pout and then giggled as Gideon walked away.