Ethan walked farther into the snack shop. He wore a neatly pressed blue oxford shirt, khakis that held a sharp crease, and a pair of polished loafers. His blond hair, blue eyes, and even features formed a marked contrast with his rugged brother's more brutal good looks. Ethan could have been one of heaven's chosen angels, while Gabriel, despite his name, could only have ruled a darker kingdom.
"G. Dwayne died about three years ago," Ethan explained, again using that solicitous sickbed voice. "You were living in Georgia then. He was on his way out of the country at the time, one step ahead of the law, with a few million dollars that didn't belong to him."
"I remember hearing something about it." Gabe's response seemed to be made out of habit rather than interest. She wondered if anything interested him. Her striptease certainly hadn't. She shuddered and tried not to think about what she'd done.
"His plane went down over the ocean. They recovered his body, but the money is still on the bottom of the Atlantic."
Gabe leaned back against the counter and slowly turned his head toward her. She found she couldn't meet his gaze.
"G. Dwayne had been playing it pretty straight until he married her," Ethan went on, "but Mrs. Snopes likes expensive cars and fancy clothes. He got greedy to feed her habits, and his fund-raising activities became so outrageous they eventually brought him down."
"Not the first televangelist to have that happen," Gabe observed.
Ethan's lips tightened. "Dwayne preached prosperity theology. 'Give that it may be given unto you.' Part with what you have, even if it's your last dollar, and you'll get a hundred dollars back. Snopes presented God as the almighty slot machine, and people fell for it big-time. He got Social Security checks, welfare money. There was a woman in South Carolina who was diabetic, and she sent Dwayne the money she needed for her insulin. Instead of sending it back, Dwayne read her letter on the air as an example for everyone to follow. It was a golden moment in televangelism."
Ethan's eyes flicked over Rachel as if she were a piece of garbage. "The camera caught Mrs. Snopes sitting in the front pew of the Temple of Salvation with her sequins flashing and tears of gratitude running through her rouge. Later, a reporter for the Charlotte Observer did some digging around and discovered the woman went into a diabetic coma and never recovered."
Rachel dropped her eyes. Her tears that day had been ones of shame and helplessness, but no one knew that. For every broadcast, she'd been required to sit in the first row all decked out in the teased hair, overdone makeup, and flashy clothes that had been Dwayne's idea of female beauty. When she'd first gotten married, she'd gone along with his wishes, but as she'd discovered Dwayne's corruption, she'd tried to withdraw. Her pregnancy had made that impossible.
When the corruption in Dwayne's ministry had become public, her husband had engaged in a series of emotional televised confessions in an attempt to save his skin. Using lots of references to Eve and Delilah, he talked about how he had been led from the path of righteousness by a weak and sinful woman. He was canny enough to take the blame himself, but his message was unmistakable. If it hadn't been for his wife's greed, he would never have strayed.
Not everyone had bought his act, but most had, and she'd lost count of the number of times in the past three years she'd been recognized and publicly berated. At first she'd tried to explain that their extravagant lifestyle had been Dwayne's choice, not hers, but no one had believed her, so she'd learned to keep quiet.
The door of the snack shop squeaked on its hinges, opening just far enough for one little boy to slip through and fly to his mother's side. She didn't want Edward to witness this, and she spoke sharply. "I told you to stay outside."
Edward hung his head and spoke so quietly she could barely hear him. "There was this-this big dog."
She doubted that, but she gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze anyway. At the same time, she regarded Ethan with all the fierceness of a mother wolf, silently warning him to watch what he said in front of her child.
Ethan stared at Edward. "I forgot you and Dwayne had a son."
"This is Edward," she said, pretending nothing was wrong. "Edward, say hello to Reverend Bonner."
"Hi." He didn't take his eyes off his sneakers. Then he addressed her in one of his very audible whispers. "Is he a charlotte town, too?"
She met Ethan's quizzical eyes. "He wants to know if you're a charlatan." Her voice hardened. "He's heard it about his father…"
For a moment Ethan looked taken aback, but then he recovered. "I'm not a charlatan, Edward."
"Reverend Bonner's the real thing, kiddo. Honest. God-fearing." She met Ethan's eyes. "A man who withholds judgment and is filled with compassion for the less fortunate."
Just like his brother, he didn't back down easily, and her attempt to shame him failed. "Don't even consider trying to settle here again, Mrs. Snopes. You're not wanted." He turned to Gabe. "I have a meeting, and I've got to get back to town. Let's have dinner together tonight."
Bonner tilted his head toward her. "What are you going to do with them?"
Ethan hesitated. "I'm sorry, Gabe. You know I'd do anything in the world for you, but I can't help you with this one. Salvation doesn't need Mrs. Snopes, and I won't be a party to bringing her back to town." He brushed his brother's arm, then headed for the door.
Gabe stiffened. "Ethan! Wait a minute." He shot out after him.
Edward looked up at her. "Nobody likes us, do they?"
She swallowed a lump in her throat. "We're the best, lamb chop, and anybody who can't figure that out isn't worth our time."
She heard a curse, and Gabe reappeared, a scowl twisting his lips. He planted his hands on his hips, and as he stared down at her, she grew conscious of his height. She was five feet seven, but he made her feel small and disturbingly defenseless.
"In all the years I've known my brother, this is the only time I've seen him turn anybody away."
"It's been my experience, Bonner, that even good Christians have a limit. For a lot of them, I seem to be it."
"I don't want you here!"
"Now there's a news flash."
His expression darkened. "This place isn't safe for a kid. He couldn't hang around here."
Was he weakening? She made up a quick lie. "I have a place to keep him."
Edward burrowed closer to her side.
"If I hired you, it would only be for a couple of days, just until I find someone else."
"Understood." She struggled to hide her excitement.
"All right," he snarled. "Eight o'clock tomorrow. And you'd better be ready to work your butt off."
"I can do that."
His scowl deepened. "It's not my responsibility to find you a place to stay."
"I have a place."
He regarded her suspiciously. "Where?"
"None of your business. I'm not helpless, Bonner, I just need a job."
The phone rang on the wall. He went over to answer it, and she listened to a one-sided conversation that dealt with a delivery problem. "I'll come in and straighten it out," Mr. Charm finally announced.
He hung up the phone, then crossed over to the door and held it open. He didn't do it as a courtesy, she knew, but only to get rid of her.
"I have to go into town. We'll talk about where you're going to stay when I get back."
"I told you it's taken care of."
"We'll talk when I get back," he snapped. "Wait for me over by the playground. And find something to do with your kid!"
He stalked out.
She had no intention of staying around long enough for him to find out that she was sleeping in her car, so she waited until he drove off then headed for her Impala. While Edward napped in the backseat, she washed herself, then laundered their dirty clothes in a small tributary of the French Broad River that ran through the grove. Afterward, she changed into her tattered jeans and an old melon-colored T-shirt. Edward woke up, and the two of them sang silly songs and told ancient knock-knock jokes while they hung their wet laundry on low branches near the car.