Little Sammy’s concerned face brightens immediately. “Okay! Can I eat now?”
“Dig in,” my mother says as she sets the last platter on the table and takes her seat. “I hope there’s something here you like, Kingston. And please, let me know if there’s anything special I can pick up for you the next time I’m at the store.”
“The spread looks and smells wonderful, Mrs. Kelly. Thank you.” He lays it on thick, and I duck my head to hide my rolling eyes.
“Please, call me Julie.”
I wasn’t aware she even knew how to make the sound I hear next: a slight giggle that catches in her throat.
Oh, this wanker (you bet I did my homework—mainly to make sure Sebastian would at least be able to ask for a toilet, a phone, and/or the police) is quite the schmoozer.
“Well, Miss Echo.” I raise my head when my father addresses me. “I assume you used the time you couldn’t spare to join us at the airport or dinner yesterday to practice?”
“Yes, sir. Savannah and I worked on our new routine—the idea I told you about.”
“And how’d it go?”
I don’t make a habit of lying to my parents—or anyone, for that matter. I never do anything that needs hiding. But I can’t very well admit that Savannah hasn’t been catching on and that my time may have been wasted, so I structure my answer accordingly.
“It went better than last time, so I’m hopeful that it’s coming along.”
“Glad to hear it. Now I know you can afford to skip a session today to clean the risers of all debris and give them a good scrubbing.”
And there’s my punishment: cleaning the bleachers in the pavilion all day. Disgusting, not to mention Clay’s job, but better than what I was expecting.
“Yes, sir,” I answer obediently before filling my mouth with food, hoping to end the conversation.
My mother jumps in to squash the awkward silence. “So, Kingston! Tell us a little more about yourself. We spoke so much about our kids last night, we barely heard from you.”
“What would you like to know, Mrs.—eh, excuse me—Julie?”
My gaze darts his way, and he catches it. A small, fleeting smirk plays on his lips.
“Anything, really. John?” she asks, enlisting my father’s help.
“Well, I still don’t understand why my boy would want to sign up for this switching thing, so maybe you can offer some insight on the appeal?” My father’s timbre takes on a rough, slightly hurt edge. “Why’d you want to change places, and with Sebastian?”
“I didn’t,” Kingston states contritely, and my head snaps his way. He notices my sudden movement and peers at me from the corner of one eye before directing his full attention back to my dad. “My father sorted this on his own, and gave me a day’s notice.”
My mother gasps, and her brows crinkle in sympathy. “Why would he do that? You seem like such a good boy. Your papers said you have the equivalent of a 4.0, and plan to go into the seminary after graduation.”
Seminary? I choke on my juice and immediately bow my head for what seems like the umpteenth time this morning to hide my disbelief. Kingston’s no more suited to be a priest than I am a showgirl; of that much, I’m already sure. That was no “man of the cloth” in-the-making holding me captive against his bare chest (or, more pointedly, his erection) last night.
I dare a peek at Kingston and have to struggle not to burst out laughing. His face is pinched tightly, no doubt in an effort to hide his own shock. I’m absolutely certain that my mother just informed him of a big surprise in how falsely his father portrayed him on the application. He’s probably shaking in his Don Juan shoes right now, picturing himself going up in flames if anyone dares comes near him with holy water.
“Yes, well...” His words get lost, so he shoves a piece of egg into his mouth and looks toward me, as if I’ll have the answer.
My eyes widen in challenge as I wait anxiously to see how he plans to charm his way through a reasonable explanation.
When he swallows, I can see the confidence regained in his posture.
“I should be honest with you both,” he says to my parents. My father leans in, instantly suspicious. “You’ve welcomed me into your home and made me feel like a part of your family in less than a day, so I feel I must confess: I’ve not always been on a path the church would agree with. There’s been a fair share of acts of what you might call ‘teen rebellion’ in my past. And my father, always the diplomat in any situation, felt it best for me to have what he considers the ‘debauched influences’ in my life removed, so I could return to the proper track. I hope to finish uni after this experience, and make my father proud.”