Call Me Irresistible (Wynette, Texas #5)(23)

The glare of the headlights sent her shadow shooting grotesquely up the simple wooden facade. As she turned back to her car, she spotted a roughly carved stone frog perched underneath a shrub. She picked it up and found the key beneath. Tucking it deep in her pocket for safekeeping, she parked the Rustmobile, retrieved her suitcase, and climbed the five wooden steps.

According to Lucy, the Lutherans had abandoned the tiny country church sometime in the 1960s. A pair of arched windows bracketed the double front doors. The key turned easily in the lock. The inside was musty, the air hot from the day. When she'd last visited, the interior had been washed in sunlight, but now the darkness reminded her of every horror movie she'd ever seen. She fumbled for a switch, hoping the electricity was turned on. Magically, two white wall globes sprang to life. She couldn't leave them on long for fear someone would see-just long enough to explore. She dropped her suitcase and locked the door behind her.

The pews were gone, leaving an empty, echoing space. The founding fathers hadn't believed in ornamentation. No stained-glass windows, soaring vaults, or stone columns for these stern Lutherans. The room was narrow, not even thirty feet wide, with scrubbed pine floors and a pair of ceiling fans hanging from a simple stamped-metal ceiling. Five long transom windows lined each wall. An austere staircase led to a small wooden choir loft at the rear, the church's only extravagance.

Lucy had said that Ted had lived in the church for a few months while his house was being built, but whatever furniture he'd brought here was gone. Only an ugly easy chair with stuffing showing through a corner of its brown upholstery remained, along with a black metal futon she discovered in the choir loft. Lucy had planned to furnish the space with cozy seating areas, painted tables, and folk art. All Meg cared about right now was the possibility of running water.

Her sneakers squeaked on the old pine floor as she made her way toward the small door positioned to the right of what had once been the altar. Beyond it lay a room barely ten feet deep that served as both kitchen and storage space. An ancient, silent refrigerator, the kind with rounded corners, rested next to a small side window. The kitchen also held an old-fashioned four-burner enameled stove, a metal cupboard, and a porcelain sink. Perpendicular to the back door another door led to a bathroom more modern than the rest of the church with a toilet, white pedestal sink, and shower stall. She gazed at the X-shaped porcelain faucets and slowly, hopefully, twisted one handle.



       
         
       
        

Fresh water gushed from the spout. So basic. So luxurious.

She didn't care that there was no hot water. Within minutes, she'd retrieved her suitcase, peeled off her clothes, grabbed the shampoo and soap she'd pilfered from the inn, and stepped inside. She gasped as the cold splashed over her. Never again would she take this luxury for granted.

After she dried off, she tied the silk wrap she'd worn to the rehearsal dinner under her arms. She'd just located an unopened box of saltines and six cans of tomato soup in the metal cupboard when her phone rang. She picked it up and heard a familiar voice.

"Meg?"

She set the soup can aside. "Luce? Honey, are you all right?" It had been almost two weeks since the night Lucy had run away, and that was the last time they'd spoken.

"I'm fine," Lucy said.

"Why are you whispering?"

"Because . . ." A pause. "Would I be . . . like . . . a total skank if I slept with another guy now? Like in about ten minutes?"

Meg stood straighter. "I don't know. Maybe."

"That's what I thought."

"Do you like him?"

"Kind of. He's no Ted Beaudine, but . . ."

"Then you should definitely sleep with him." Meg spoke more forcefully than she'd intended, but Lucy didn't pick up on it.

"I want to, but . . ."

"Be a skank, Luce. It'll be good for you."

"I guess if I'd seriously wanted to be talked out of this, I'd have called somebody else."

"That tells you a lot, then."

"You're right." Meg heard the sound of water being shut off in the background. "I have to go," Lucy said in a rush. "I'll call when I can. Love you." She hung up.

Lucy sounded frazzled, but excited, too. Meg thought about the call as she finished a bowl of soup. Maybe this would all turn out okay in the end. At least for Lucy.

With a sigh, she washed the saucepan, then laundered her dirty clothes with some dishwashing detergent she found under the sink amid a scatter of mouse turds. Every morning, she'd have to wipe out the signs that she'd been here, pack her possessions, and stow them in her car in case Ted stopped by. But for now, she had food, shelter, and running water. She'd bought herself a little more time.