Wicked Little Secrets by Ives Susanna

Author:Ives, Susanna [Ives, Susanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Eleven

Her aunt rose from the hard wooden pew on the sixth row in Wesley Congregational Chapel. “I still think it’s exceedingly odd that Mr. Vandergrift didn’t come.”

“Perhaps he is ill,” Vivienne replied, as the first notes of “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling” wheezed from the old pipe organ in the balcony above. The song leader stood by his place on the front row and raised his hand. The congregation launched into a joyful noise unto the Lord that resembled a chorus of screeching, lovesick alley cats and cows giving birth.

Vivienne duly mumbled the words to the hymn, but her mind was on John. In truth, she was glad he didn’t come to take them to church. She couldn’t face him, not yet. Everything was too raw, too close to the surface, like a tiny volcano that could erupt at the wrong word or look and spew forth the burning, destructive truth. And the truth would ruin everything.

She studied the stained glass windows filling the back church wall. Pious biblical men in flowing robes, humbled on their knees, crowded about their Savior’s feet. Jesus, clad in white, stood with one hand on his heart, the other with two fingers raised, as if imparting one of his wise parables. The morning light made the window glow with luminous tones of gold and red.

She felt safe here, away from Dashiell. If only she could inhabit this hard wooden pew until her wedding day, eat and sleep and pray like a chaste nun under the watchful blue eyes of Jesus.

Blue eyes. That was peculiar. Jesus must have been easy to spot in Jerusalem. Judas didn’t have to kiss Jesus; he could have just said, “Arrest the blue-eyed one.”

What are you thinking? Your very soul is in danger and you’re worried about artistic representations of Jesus. You really don’t have any sense!

The organ pumped and heaved its way through the hymn as the congregation stumbled along at least a measure behind the song leader.

Even before the last flat note died away, the minister, Mr. Charles, all decked out in austere black, rushed up the curving steps of the pulpit, rising like a miniature Mount Sinai.

He opened his massive Bible with a booming thud, silencing the congregation—except for Mrs. Lacey, who sat beside Aunt Gertrude. Happily unaware, she continued chirping out another hymn verse until Aunt Gertrude gave her a sharp elbow in the ribs and issued a loud “Shhh!”

The gaslight dangling on a chain strung from the ceiling reflected on Mr. Charles’s bare, round forehead. He took a deep breath, filling himself with the power of the Lord. His jaw started to tremble, causing his flabby jowls to swing back and forth. Slowly, he swept his sharp gaze over the congregation, searching for any signs of new sins committed since the prior Sunday. His eyes halted on Vivienne, and his bushy brows slanted down on his forehead like gray lightning bolts.

Oh God. He knew. He could see past the deceptive armor of her modest, buttoned-up-to-the-collar

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