Hey, all! Please remember to vote and comment to support this work! Feedback is always welcome!

It weren't much longer that I began to realize that I might be here a while. The little one beside me had already started dozing off, little lashes fluttering as his eyes drooped. I didn't count myself an expert on church services but I didn't think no sermon was 'posed to be as long as this 'ne. Preacher man Marsellas looked all kinds off worked up. Face red, voice raised; reminded me of Mama. But there was somethin' else to it that I couldn't name. Something deep.

I felt the babe beside me jerk slightly as he caught himself, weight shifting to rest on my side. I hoped his mama wouldn't skin me for pattin' his little back and helpin' him drift off a li'l more.

"The devil knows the bible. Brothers and sisters, I said - thee devil knows the bible. Jus' like every good lawyer knows the law, or like those criminals know - he knows!. He knows the Bible so he can exploit it. He knows it so he can take all that knowledge and twist it around to take our children."

There was a certain kind of calm to preacher man that left me uneasy. For a moment, I thought he might have been looking right at me. But it could ave been a trick of the light. I hoped it was a trick of the light. A real difference though from that hellfire look he'd ad the first time i'd seen him. This was his element; Rivka weren't around to ruin it.

"These chil'ren don't know." A pause. "These chil'ren don't know what's out there. All these kidnappings and shootin's and killin's - they don' know how they get into it." His voice strained with emotion, almost like he was gon' up and cry in front of the congregation. I weren't so sure I could put it past him.

"Tha's why - we protect 'em. You get them to read their Bibles - you know how they say knowledge is power? Tha's what they're talkin' about. Knowledge is power."

Each word of the last sentence was ended with a slap on the pulpit. Now he was red in the face, teary-eyed and like he was gonna keel over and weep. Now he was spittin' that hellfire he had before. But it was gone soon after, his face returning to its regular beige color. He leaned up on that pulpit, one finger poking at the fine wood of it.

"Can I come down there and talk to y'all?"

The answer was immediate. Old ladies and young ladies and their beaus thundering a reply and preacher man smiled as he stepped down from the pulpit. He put on hand in his fine pocket and the other dragged along the pulpit as he came down. The railing that separated the altar from the rest of us was where it went next, fingers tapping as he got his words together.

"The devil don' show you nothin' you don't want." The air was filled with affirmations and musings of understanding. "He's an expert salesman. He puts things in pretty, neat packages. He makes sure you want that thing so bad you ain't gonna think twice about it when he offers. 'What's the cost? At what price?' Oh, no, you not gon' be thinking about that. S'why they say you should trust your mother's judgment when they say that boy or girl you with ain't no good.

And like he knows the Bible, he thinks he knows you. He think there ain't no one that know you better than him. He knows best, he says. Now, when you get to denying him of that, that's when he really whips out that 'well, God said this.'" Here, he snickered. The congregation followed his example.

Now I weren't no expert on how a sermon was supposed to go. I guess he was making a good argument - but I weren't no expert on that either. I prolly squired something terrible during the sermon. Too pointed; too directed. Uncomfortable is what it made me feel. But I reckon that was what hhe was going for. When he put those green on eyes on me, I had a feeling. The old ladies crooned again, giving their firm appraisal. They judged his words and tey saw them fitting what they thought so they agreed.

It was acceptable, of course, for him to go so far as talk about someone but not name them.

"Sometimes, these pretty packages, they look like friends. They come on all nice and clean; don't steer you wrong in those first days. Nah, why would they? They're a good influence, they wanna seem like. But then they get fun. The kind of fun that makes you feel like you're somebody.

Brothers and sisters, do you know what I'm talkin' about? They make you feel big and bad. Like you the talk of the town like that's supposed to be a good thing. The who that everyone knows. 'Well she did this or he did that and ain't it a shame? Ain't they something?'" His brow creased, confusion in his eyes. He posed the scenario; why don't he get it? But it was a ploy, a trap; he knew what he was doin'. Least he looked like he did.

"They ain't nothin'!"

The slam of his palm down on the railing vibrated through the hall and startled me. I jumped a little, and the little boy by my side shot right up. Sleep was replaced with fear which lead to tears and I could feel the sharp gaze of somebody accusin' me in they head of somethin' I didn' do. A few quick pats on his back got him quiet, but he didn't go back to sleep just yet. Not when the Big Noise could be comin' again. He must have learned this as his own little routine.

"They ain't nothin' with all that nonsense they do and soon enough that friend is tellin' em the same thing. They wastin' no time with these kids now, with their smartphones and laptops. Soon enough, it's all over the social medias that he did this and she did that and everybody's talkin and it ain't good talk. No; t'ain't."

He paced, moving away from that damn railing and I breathed a sigh of relief. No more bangin' on objects like his life depending on it. But it didn' mean I could breathe easy. My relief was gone soon after. That pacing turned into a prowling and he might as well have been talking about himself throughout this entire sermon.

Scary. Mighty scary.

--

By the time the service was over - the hellfire sermon passed and peace given - I needed to get out of there. Ain't no place 'supposed to make your skin crawl like that church made me feel. On my way to high tail it out, I could just imagine that nasty voice of my mother deriding me for just up and leaving Max. Only person I felt the need to say my farewells to for the day, but it was a mistake if I ever made one.

I was cornered right quick by the ladies of the church, all fixin' to get a question in and then some [more]. I had hardly turned to give the boy a smile and art on out before they were on me. Surely, they had to have some kind of power for this sort of thing. Soon enough I was being escorted to another hall, ladies cooing about how I'd love the tasty tea cakes. I didn't know much about what tea cake was; had to be a kind of cake.

"Well, ain't you just a doll."

I felt a finger poke at my arm and then another at my hip. "Thin and tall, you is."

"Your clothes don't fit too right, sweetheart. Maybe Ms. Scott could fix you up."

"That does sound real nice," a new voice chimed in.

The little sea of small old ladies parted to reveal preacherman. "Ladies." He greeted them with a tip of his head, not quite a nod. The smile on his face was friendly, though it was wilted a bit in the heat. A light sheen of sweat had touched his forehead and he dabbed at it with a handkerchief. Never thought I'd be seein' anyone other than Mama do that.

"Ms. Alma, how did you enjoy the sermon?" All eyes on me again.

"I thought it was nice, reverend." That was what I was 'posed to call him, weren't it?

They seemed satisfied with this answer, all these people lookin' at me. A few of the ladies went on their way, but one or two stuck behind because Marsellas was still there, watchin' me.

"I noticed you were sittin' with the Gable boy. A real cute one, he is. Said he wanted to be an altar boy when he got bigger."

'Pose it was cute. He looked dutiful enough. "Yes." But what had that got to do with me?

It was conversation, I figured. What other way to ease into whatever he really had to say to me than to find some small thing he could latch on to gain my interest in wanting to speak with him? What he really wanted to say - I had no clue. But it might have been about Rivka if his sermon was anything to go on.

"Now the Gables are lookin' for a babysitter. I was thinking of asking my nephew Max if-"

"He's your nephew?"

"Yes; it ain't polite to interrupt, you know. I was going to ask if he minded babysitting, but maybe you'd be willing to? Said they would pay a pretty penny so's they could go about their business during the week. They've fallen on hard times with a death in the family and need to work more while they still can. Leaves the little one home with no one to watch him."

So this had been for business. Or something of the sort. But I was stuck on how Max was supposed to be Marsellas' nephew. They didn't much seem alike to me. Maybe they looked like family if they stood close but Max was off somewhere and I hadn't been lookin for him to begin with. Now, I was.

Wasn't like I got much of a chance to, though. Marsellas continued on as if I didn't look downright gobsmacked. Someone came over, one of the church ladies. But a younger one. Her hair was brown and curled real nice. Pale as a sheet, but pretty in a thin, wide-mouthed sort of way. Her eyes, just as plainly brown as her hair, dropped down on me and there was nothing but distaste. I expected as much.

"This right here is Mrs. Ingraham. She's been meanin', also, to get to workin' on some clothes and she said her mother spotted you in the store on the way in. Best save your money; she's quite skilled."

Ingraham nodded, something smug on those flappy lips of hers. Not sure what she had to be smug about, but there it was.

"I think I might already have somethin' for you, sweetie." Her smile matched her words, but I didn't much like her tone.

I returned it, though. Tried for a nice smile and watched as hers wavered slightly. "That's mighty nice of you, ma'am."

"As I was saying." Preacherman didn't like being left out, it seems. "She can make you some nice new clothes if you head on over to her home this coming Monday. Ain't that right, Maybell?"

"Just right. If she comes down in the morning, I can see about getting her something altered from Lissa's closet. That girl's got more clothes than a mall, I swear."

This was obviously an exaggeration; even I weren't dumb enough to think someone could have that many clothes. But I didn't know who Lissa was and I didn't care to know. So I nodded and smiled 'cause I didn't know what else to do.

"It's just that, well, you've got to have church appropriate clothes." That was what this was about. "Lissa has plenty of dresses she don't like to wear anymore that would look nice on you."

I wanted to say that I didn't know much about church appropriate clothes, but that would be pointless. It'd just set her to talking more about giving on her daughter's clothes to me and I wasn't in no mood to be hearin' it from her. She pro'ly meant well. Maybe.

"That's mighty kind of you, ma'am." She seemed pleased by this, smile going a little wider.

"I'll see you in the mornin', then." She nodded, said her farewell to preacherman and then was on her way.

Marsellas seemed to consider me a moment, like he had somethin' nice to say at the tip of his tongue. But it never left him because he was being called off to bless the food and I found my means of escape.

Tomorrow was gonna be something.

It's Nano and you know what that means - me not editing anything I write lmao. Hope you enjoyed this long overdue update to the story. - Rem