Cindy and Fred of course would not allow me to go back to the Simmons' to spend the night alone. After some whispered debate in a corner of the kitchen, they decided to stash me in Bethany's room for the night. They had two guest rooms, but somehow they thought I'd feel more 'comfortable' sleeping on the trundle in a six-year-old's room.

"But I don't have my pjs," I said, flailing around for any excuse to get me out of this sleepover of the damned.

"I'll lend you a nightgown," Cindy chirped, and scurried off, leaving me alone with Fred in the kitchen.

For a long moment, we stared warily at each other.

"So Wiccan, huh? Is that what your mother was?"

"No, sir."

Fred laughed a big, booming laugh that bounced off the shiny walnut cabinets.

"Oh, you teens do know how to make a fellow feel old. Call me Pastor Fred, or just Fred if you don't feel comfortable with the pastor part."

Fred flashed his perfect pastor smile. His white teeth in his tanned face reminded me of Kaiden, and suddenly I felt lonely in a way I hadn't all evening. The resemblance ended with the perfect teeth, and I'm sure that Pastor Fred had the same source to thank for that perfection. I stood there gawping, thinking about looking up Fred and Mark and Cindy in the old yearbooks in the school library. Ann Simmons had moved in from another town after marrying Mark, so she wouldn't be in there. The others, though. I wondered about their olden days in high school.

"So, not your mom then. Your dad? Was he a Wiccan?"

"I don't know, sir. Pastor Fred. I don't remember him. He left when I was three." The strain of keeping a polite smile on my face was getting epic.

"Do you know his name?"

"Something Mator." I shrugged.

"Isn't Mator your mother's maiden name, Kelsey? Your dad would have had a different last name," Fred explained to me as if I were six like Bethany and didn't understand how surnames worked yet.

"My mother's maiden name was Gillespie," I snapped, the last of my smile finally gone.

"It was? But she went by Mator when she lived here."

"Because she married some dude named Mator," I interrupted before he could go on with his stupid assumptions. "Everyone likes to pretend like she was never married. But I saw their marriage certificate and my birth certificate and all that stuff before the social worker took it away for safekeeping." I took in a ragged breath and tried to keep from shrieking. "If it makes you feel better about me to pretend that I'm a bastard, then fine. Go ahead and think that and feel all superior and holy and stuff."

Fred seized both of my hands, closed his eyes, and started praying. I could only hear about every fifth word in his muttered tirade to God, but it didn't matter. I felt the prayer was more for him than for me. Probably he was praying for patience to be able put up with me better. It was a common prayer of Ann's over at the Simmons household, after all.

While he prayed, I looked around. The walnut cabinets with their pale granite tops gleamed in the warm task lighting. It looked like a set from the home improvement store. I breathed in the left-over smells of their Thanksgiving dinner, so similar and yet so different than my mom's. The scent of gravy and floral dish soap blended together with the remains of a nearby pumpkin pie.

If I closed my own eyes, I could almost pretend it was our old rental with the turquoise walls and ancient white metal cabinets with red countertops. I missed the Formica dinette set that mom pretended that she bought because it matched the ancient kitchen. "Retro!" she'd said with a twinkle in her velvety brown eyes. But really it was because we couldn't afford anything better. I remembered the beat-up red glitter chairs and a tear slid down one cheek.

Cindy cleared her throat and I jumped, but Fred didn't let go until he got to "In Jesus' name, amen!"

"Amen!" Cindy said in a saccharine tone as she wrapped one arm around my shoulders. "Everything okay in here?" Her eyes seemed sympathetic when they met mine.

"I was just praying for inspiration about Kelsey's father," Fred explained. He gave my hands a distracted squeeze that left my knuckles tingling, then finally let go.

"Oh? Do you know his name, Kelsey?"

"There's only one other Mator in town, and it's not possible that you're related to them. They just moved here," Fred continued as though Cindy hadn't spoken.

"Me and my mom only moved here five years ago, so it's not like I am likely to be related to anyone."

"My mother and I," Cindy corrected as she hugged me a little tighter.

"Oh, there are tons of Gillespies here," Fred said, his cheerful tone returning. "Problem is, most of them are passed on. You being a Wicca and all, I'm surprised you have noticed them while you were strolling around the cemetery. They've got headstones going back almost to the Revolutionary War!"

"Nobody moves to a place like this unless they have roots here," Cindy added.

"Well, it's getting late. I'm glad we had this time to talk, Kelsey," Fred said. "I'll be in my office if you need anything," he added to Cindy. He pecked a kiss onto her cheek, snatched up the lone piece of pumpkin pie still in its pie tin, and hurried away.

"That man," Cindy said with an exasperated sigh. "At least take a fork!"

"Got one already" came the muffled reply as his steps faded away.

"Well, look, I found you this." Cindy shook out a long flannel nightgown with a high neck and long sleeves. It was off-white with little sprigs of purple flowers on it. It was hideous but very soft.

"Thanks a lot, Mrs. Crompton," I said. She, of course, interrupted me.

"Pastor Cindy!"

"Thanks a lot, Pastor Cindy, but couldn't I just call an Uber or something? I don't want to put you out."

"Don't be silly. I'll drive you home first thing in the morning. Now, let's get you settled. Bethany woke up and she's waiting to play you the Unicorn song! She just loves sleepovers."

Bethany's room was everything I expected. Everything was super girly, from the sugar plum walls to the pale pink canopy over the white wrought iron daybed. A trundle was pulled out and loaded down with so many extra blankets and pillows that I wasn't sure if I'd fit on it with all the stuff. Bethany gave a little squeal when we came in.

"Well, Bethany's bathroom is through that door. Let me know if you need anything." Cindy closed the door with a soft goodnight.

"Let me play you the unicorn song!" Bethany said in a raspy whisper. She hauled a large stuffed unicorn from under her covers. It was white with a purple and pink mane to match her room, and when she squeezed it, it started playing a tinny little unicorn lullaby song.

"I gotta put on this nightgown, okay?"

I shuffled off to the bathroom while Bethany hit the repeat on the unicorn. I had a horrible feeling that we might be listening to it all night. By the time I got into the granny flannel and scrubbed my makeup off with bubblegum scented facewash, Bethany was out cold. I watched the rotating stars of her nightlight on the ceiling for a while, thinking about Gillespies, Mators, graveyards, and yearbooks until I too finally dropped off.

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Header from Pixabay by Victoria Bordonova