Preacher in Her Garden

She now had no doubt that in his own love starved and sex starved body, mind and heart, was dangerously close to coming apart at the seams if she should tempt him so much as even once more with her full, lush, glossy lips. Her gigantic breasts and tiny waists were being forever elevated by long, breathtaking legs strapped into five inch spiked heels that had tortured every ounce of his resistance into oblivion. He was hers for the taking if she were brave enough to merely push his buttons one more time.

The thought both excited and scared her at the same time. She now could well imagine what one of those scientists must have felt like that created nuclear bombs. Just one press of a tiny button would plunge both parties into an unending war that neither side could ever step back from! And she knew, in her heart of hearts, that if she should dare push Steve's button even one more time, his passion would ignite into an unravelling of his suppressed emotions and pent up desires, leaving her to let him take her all the way. All the way! Certainly such a sexual explosion would call for a wedding ring. If he was no longer able to control himself around her, then it would be up to her to either calmly get him to buy her a ring first and then hop into bed, or hop into bed and then go shopping at the jewelers. Either way, she would be getting no argument from him. Unless of course, she was contemplating the unthinkable, which was just walking away from him altogether. His stubborn stance over her miracle prayer club had left a rather bitter taste in her mouth.

Still, it was something she needed to really think over by herself. She told herself she really needed to take a sacred moment and step back from the abyss. And so, as the judges and hundreds of onlookers stepped hurriedly back into their cars, she stepped inside her living room and called for Madeline and Melanie, who were leaning back on a sofa, soaking up the day's cartoon offerings.

"Your dad is ready for you now," she blurt out, her bottom lip still quivering. "It's time to go."

"Can't we stay some more Miss Lynn?"

"Yeah, can't we stay some more? Our mom use to let us watch cartoons and eat ice cream as long as we wanted?"

"Yeah, and you're just as nice as our mom was," offered, Madeline.

"Even nicer," added Melanie, holding out her empty bowl with gigantic hopeful brown eyes that were digging deeply into Lynn's already broken heart.

The twins! The twins!! How could she ever consider leaving a preacher who hated her prayer club if it also meant abandoning the adorable twins when they had their little hearts set on Lynn becoming their mom? How could Steve not see that before backing her into a corner? Did he even care? Or perhaps, his tough medicine take it or leave it approach was actually the right thing to do? If she continued to pussy foot around, the two darling girls were only going to become more enamored with Lynn and believe with all their hearts that she was surely going to become their mom. If she and Steve were going to part their separate ways, then to continue to act like their mom would only devastate them in the long run.

"You can't stay," Lynn whispered, her voice hopelessly choked with emotion.

"You crying Miss Lynn. Did daddy make you cry? He makes us cry sometimes too."

Chapter Five

The news that Lynn was to be featured on the cover of the next month's issue of 'Home And Garden' for the second time in a row, had swept through Forest Grove and the entire county like wild fire.

Steve pushed the news of her fame and fortune into the back of his mind and pulled up his grey socks, wondering just how they might be scrutinized when in such close proximity to the blue pant cuffs that still needed ironing. He had spent the last thirty days cooling off his once burgeoning relationship with Lynn, sticking true to his word that he would not be the one to start anymore fireworks. Neither would he be the one puckering up for more kisses, even though her full lush lips were inevitably always plastered with irresistible, glossy red lipstick. He was very casual in his dealings with her, not coming over to her house, neither phoning her. He no longer conducted all his church business with her, as she had abruptly resigned as his church secretary. He had begged her to reconsider, knowing the church would be hard pressed to run without her administrative skills and dedication.

Still, he could hardly blame her for resigning her post, especially after letting her know that if she was hell bent in stirring up a relationship that he would gratefully follow like a lamb to the slaughter, but it was going to be her call to make, not his. Such a declaration shifted the responsibility and guilt to her shoulders, and she was not willing to shoulder such a burden. She therefore resigned as secretary with the idea that it would give him breathing room to think about the speech he had made.

At the same time, however, it made Lynn full of sorrow. Whatever closeness might develop would only develop if she started it. She hated to be the one to start anything. In a way, she supposed Steve's bizarre ultimatum to back off or dive all in did have its advantages. From here on in it would make them both cautious and reflective. And her declaration about stepping away from church work would effectively sever their relationship to the point where he would have to take the first move if he wanted to win her over.

"Miss Lynn's gonna be on the front of a magnasine."

"Are you proud of Miss Lynn daddy?"

Steve didn't answer, his attention still solidly focused on how futile it seemed to be to dress himself with the expectation he'd be appropriately fashion co-ordinated. What would be an appropriate tie for his fifth sermon? One that matched his blue shirt, or one that was arrayed in the tell tale crests of his former bible college? And what would be an appropriate color suit for his fifth sermon, grey or black?

"Miss Lynn was cryin' daddy last week in Sunday School. She won't be our teacher anymore. Did you make her cry?"

"Course he made 'er cry. He's like that."

"I'm like what?"

"You're like the kinda person that would make a lady cry."

"Even a pretty black lady, daddy. Even a very pretty black lady like Miss Lynn."

Steve refused to engage further in the conversation. He had already spent the night before tossing and turning in anguish. Lynn had spent the last thirty days not phoning him, not initiating chats to him on msn, and not sending him any emails. She had no more reason to be in his presence or call him on the phone now that she had given up her secretarial post. The only time they now saw each other was in the house of God on Sunday mornings.

He had once thought of driving over to her house, to tell her that he missed their dating, and friendly banter, and that he so very desperately needed her back as church secretary, but had found the lights in Lynn's house dimmed and the curtains drawn. If she was home, she obviously wasn't in the mood for any visitors. He had simply turned his car around and left without knocking at her door. He then suddenly realized that even he had of knocked, and even if she had of been glad to see him, there was still his declaration left hanging in the air that she turned him on too much, and that he wasn't to be trusted alone with her.

He sighed at his predicament. Shooting himself in the foot and then shoving that same foot deep into his mouth seemed to be a common occurrence with him, especially when around Lynn. And his unprepared speech from thirty days earlier had still left his foot lodged firmly in his mouth.

Still, enough time had been wasted trying to mope over spilt milk and dress himself to preaching Sunday standards.

He smiled wryly at himself. If Lynn and he were married, then she would have checked up on his clothes wearing progress, and would have undoubted laid out an appropriate wardrobe and encouraged him about the validity of any well rehearsed message he might be vocalizing. As it was, he was late in leaving and no sooner confident of the clothes he was trying to select then when he had first awakened.

"You keep tryin' on different suits daddy. If Miss Lynn was here she could show you which one to wear with which shirt and which tie."

"Yeah, just like mommy used to do."

"Yeah," Steve whispered, echoing his daughter's sentiments. "Just like mommy used to do."

The twins words stung and he was in no mood to prolong the verbal torture. He therefore slipped the belt into his grey pants and put on the crest covered tie he had bought from the bible college. All things considered, he felt he wasn't dressed too disorderly. He beckoned to the twins, who had been ready and waiting for over an hour. They left the house without saying another word.

It was just Steve's fifth Sunday as the new pastor, and yet whispers of his sensational preaching abilities over the first few Sundays were beginning to waft throughout Forest Grove and the entire county like an ascending scent of freshly baked goods. Other churches and other pastors were already entrenched in uncharacteristic trembling, hunkering down for what was certain to be a sure fire exodus of valuable members from their congregations if they could not counter Steve's fiery, inspired and riveting sermons. Many such pastors had spent the four weeks since Steve's first sermon, in anguish. It was doubtful his first four spectacular sermons were a mere fluke. If anything, his fifth was bound to be even better. Still, the love in his heart for his beloved yet self-exiled Lynn burned frustratingly brighter than ever.

Steve pulled up into the church parking lot and noted that there were even more cars assembled there then had been on the first four Sundays, with many parked illegally to squeeze in. The weather was comprised of heavenly sunshine, but gone were the two giant TV's to be given away.

The giveaways had been Lynn's idea, and had caused Steve to have a gloriously large congregation to preach to in the midst of what would otherwise been a dreary, attendance dampening day, with nary a soul to listen to him speak.

Instead he was now the talk of the entire county, firmly established as one who could bring excitement, passion, fire, understanding, revelation and inspiration to the word of God.

Steve swung open the large, aging oak doors and held them ajar long enough for Madeline and Melanie to scamper through.

As he stepped inside the vestibule, Melanie suddenly turned, her saddened big brown eyes ripping his heart out.

"You think Miss Lynn will show up to teach us dad? She came last week but wanted someone else to teach us."

"I should think that will be up to Miss Lynn," sighed a bewildered Steve. "She said she was going to maybe give the Sunday School teaching a break for a while. We'll see what happens."

Steve sighed at his words as he walked away from his daughters. There was no need to wait to see what would happen. Obviously, Lynn felt it inappropriate to cause the twins to love her more and become more attached if she were unsure of where her relationship with their father might end up. Steve was bitter at the thought. His love for her was still burning ever so brightly, but perhaps her love for him was dimming, and only a mere infatuation after all.

He suddenly caught her chatting with the wondrously hunky and handsome Jeff over in the corner. He was jealous, yet relieved. Perhaps it was good if she checked out her true feelings. Being married to a Steve, when you actually loved a Jeff, would certainly not be wise. Still, he found it hard to believe she could actually fall for Jeff, not when dark sunglasses and reddened eyes betrayed the fact that her heart was telling her that Steve was the one she needed to get close to.

Having resigned as church secretary effectively took her out of the many conversations and daily meetings they once used to have. All that now remained for Lynn was tallying up the days receipts sent in by her store managers, and attending to weeding in a garden that had already been proven to be the best in the entire state of Texas, if not in the entire United States.

Steve suddenly felt a tug on his suit jacket. He turned and was shocked to still see his daughters behind him. He had left them close to their Sunday School class and didn't realize they had merely followed him.

"If you were nice to her dad, she would come back," offered Madeline, standing next to Melanie, trying desperately to present a tiny united wall of reason that might penetrate their father's thick skull. "She might even be yer sectrary 'gin!

"You should talk to her dad, and get her back to teaching our class too!"

"And letting her invite us over for apple pie."

"Yeah, don't let her go out of our lives dad...mom HAD to go. But Lynn...she doesn't, not if you don't want her to."

"Yeah dad, not if you don't want her to. Ya gotta go talk her dad. Tell her you want her to be our new mom. Ya jus' gotta."

"You're going to be late for your Sunday School class if you just stand here any longer girls. Please, just get going!"

The smell of heavily sauced, mouth watering chicken wings once more permeated the church building. The scent was amazing, accosting parishioners nostrils until they all began whispering about how Suzan could produce the most heavenly wings in the whole state of Texas, despite her sister Frances having produced the most devilish children in that same state.

"Ya missed 'im last time," whispered David, his pot marked cheeks swollen with wads of gum stolen from Danberrys Grocery Store.

"The wood's too hard. I gotta make a deeper cut, to cradle the shooter lower. It will help my aim."

"It better, ya just grazed his ear, last time. Ya let 'im preach a whole message. Let 'im git a standin' ovation, even. Get it down 'is throat this time, like ya did wid ol' man Perkins. Ere's some wads of paper. I used the bible pages dis time. Softer and can git more into a ball. Use dis one here, I chewed it for five whole minutes. And it's harder 'en a bullet."

"Wow, dat is hard. This one 'll sling off the back of 's throat like a rock. Dat'll stop 'im from preachin' for sure."

"Keep your pee shooter steady when you fire, and make sure it does, bro, make sure it does."

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Oh Heck, if it isn't the new dumb daughters of the new dumb pastor. We're sittin' up 'ere in the balcony dumbo, what does it look like we're doin'?"

"Being up ta no good by the looks of it. And why you two carvin' up the church railing like dat. Don'tcha know ya's suppose ta care 'bout God's church, not cut it up?"

"If you twins wasn't so ugly we'd ask you to join us, but yous is ugly so buzz off."

"Whatcha doin' cuttin' up the railin'? You're tryna use yer pee shooter 'gin, aren't ya?"

"Whatcha doin' not mindin' yer own business? Twins is so stupid. You two were born wid only one brain 'n 'adda share it. Isin dat why yous two is so stupid?"

"We're tellin' yer mom your up ta no good."

"My mom is makin' chicken wings ya idjiot. She's not gonna care wot you tell 'er."

"We're tellin' the teacher then."

"Yeah, we're tellin.'"

"Ain't no one ta tell stupid. We ain't gotta teacher dis mornin'.

"Miss Lynn might come."

"Miss Lynn. Yous two really is stupid. Everyone knows yer dad 'n Miss Lynn got into a fight. She ain't even secretary no more. They don't talk much either, in case you haven't seen it wid yer own stupid eyes. Or do you two need glasses as well as a new brain."

"Miss Lynn might still come teach our class. She likes me and Maddsie. She liked bein' our teacher, tellin' us 'bout Noah's Arc 'n such. She'll come."

"It's all over town how yer dumb dad argued wid 'er and she ran inta 'er house right in the middle of the flower judging. And she was cryin' and all red-eyed when she came out, sayin how she aint gonna be secretary no more."

"Yer lying 'bout some of dat."

"Lyin' notin.' Why she tol' prit near everyone 'at could hear her how she was goin' cool off talkin' wid yer dumb preacher dad. Now you two uglies go away 'n never come back 'ere neither. Me and Mats 'ere is busy."

"Busy cuttin' up church ya mean. Busy up ta no good ya mean. Busy...busy..."

Melanie stopped talking as the tears suddenly flowed down her face. The whole

town knew what she and her sister had been trying to suppress. Lynn had stopped talking with their father about anything, and was no longer even doing church work, which meant she was never going to be her mom.

Madeline stared at her sister's tears then shoved a finger into David's uncaring face. "You two are gonna rot in hell!" Then she turned to her devastated sister. "Come on Melanie, let's go. They's the ones that is stupid."

The twins sauntered angrily to opposite side of the balcony and sat down, awaiting whoever was designated to teach that day. Six other children sat with them, draped in boredom, their legs swinging aimlessly and their eyes rolling upwards to the cedar wood ceilings.

Mable Smithson wheezed as her flabby legs maneuvered strenuously up the rickety balcony steps. In her hand was the children's Sunday School Book. Chet Haughton had asked her to teach the children's class since Lynn was insisting she wasn't going to do it anymore. Chet didn't think Mable was right for the job, but only wanted her to do it until the brilliant, Caribbean teacher could be coerced into once again taking up the post.

"What you two boys doin' over in that corner?" Mable's voice was stern, evoking images of a persona uncompromising and harsh. Matthew and David took notice, with Matthew immediately stopping his whittling and shoving his penknife into his pocket. David stopped munching on the bible pages. Making paper bullets for the pee shooter would have to wait until Miss Smithson's inquisitive, watchful eye was no longer hovering over them.

"We ain't doin' notin' ma'am."

"Yous two is doin' something.' Yous two is always doin' something'."

"They was cuttin' up the railing with a knife. I saw 'em doin' it," offered Madeline."

"I saw 'em doin' it too," chimed Melanie.

"Git over here you brats. I'm startin' the lesson."

"We's allowed to stay in this corner each week on account of everyone knows we'es gonna be misbehaving.' Sooooo, we ain't gotta be in yer class," challenged Matthew, his tone rebelliously sinister and his face awash with swashbuckling confidence.

"I won't be askin' you nicely twice," countered Mable ominously, her horned rimmed glasses perching higher as her nose flared in seething anger.

David eyed her stoically, shrugging his shoulders in defiance, knowing it would serve to strengthen his brother's stance. He then raised the middle finger of his right hand, indicating that she could shove it where the sun don't shine. Mable was not amused.

She moved towards the boys and suddenly whacked David across the face with a thunderous slap. He stumbled to the floor but then quickly got up, rubbing the side of his face indignantly. "You...you...you can't do that. As a child I got rights. I'll call children's aid. They'll arrest you for slappin' me 'round."

"Let children's aid come, I got plenty more slaps where that came from. Now move your little backsides on over into that corner so I can teach some God into you or so help me I'll whip you both black and blue."

The boys still stubbornly didn't budge, astonishment and a loss of pride etched into their disbelieving faces.

"You all gonna move or not," she threatened, her fish breath hanging in Matthew's face like a putrid cloud.

"Stop breathin' on me. You stink! And you better not try hittin' us no more. We'll tell our mom."

"Your mom's the one that told me ta hit you, ya fool, now git over into that class now!" She sunk her chubby fingers into Matthews hair and lifted him out of his seat, dragging him by the hair of his head over into her class.