Rene Gutteridge - Listen

“Your sister and mother are taking it well,” Damien quipped, adding a smirk.

Hunter smirked back. “Yeah. I think Jenna’s going to light you on fire with her tongue. If she ever makes it down here.”

“Oh, she’s going to make it down here all right.” Damien waited patiently, his resolve building with each minute that ticked by. Yes, this was a good move. Taking your family to church helped build a foundation, and that was what they needed right now. Some help out of the quicksand they’d found themselves sinking in.

A loud thumping, like roofers were up top, caused Damien to look up. Jenna stomped down the stairs, glaring harder with each step.

Damien smiled. “You look beautiful. Thanks for getting up early for this.” She actually wore a dress that fluttered around her legs as if she were wrapped in a white butterfly.

“Save it,” she said, throwing open the door to the fridge.

“More of that talk and we might have to make this a weekly tradition,” Damien said, an eyebrow raised.

She peeked around the fridge door. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes.

“This is more for you than me,” Hunter said, casting an evil grin her direction.

“Shut up. Please shut up about it. I’ve got a headache. Probably because I had to wake up at the stroke of midnight.”

“You’re only eight hours off,” Hunter said.

Damien snapped his fingers at him. This could go on for hours if he didn’t run interference.

Jenna noticed the orange juice already on the table and grabbed a glass. She tossed herself into a chair. “You just don’t get it. I’m exhausted. I don’t need another day to wake up early.”

“You can take a nap later,” Damien said.

“Whatever.” She scanned the orange juice carton. “Can anybody say ‘pulp-free’? How hard is it?”

Kay hurried down the stairs, fingering her hair. “How do I look?”

“Really nice. Love the dress.”

“This old thing? Ugh. But I wear suits all week. Didn’t want to wear another.”

“Why do we have to dress up anyway?” Jenna moaned.

“Because that’s the proper way to dress,” Kay said. “Your bra strap is showing, by the way.”

“Just shoot me,” she said, laying her head on the table.

“Let’s save that for later,” Damien said, standing and grabbing his suit jacket. He smiled. “Now, off to the torture chamber.”

Otherwise known as church.

The two-mile drive was relatively quiet, except for an occasional grunt coming from the backseat. There was something different about Sunday mornings. The air sparkled with freshness. The noises all seemed subdued. People waved and walked their dogs. Maybe he should bring the Sunday morning drive back.

Better yet, write it as an op-ed piece! Perfect.

He remembered going to church with his parents. His father dressed in his best suit, an expensive fedora topping his head. It was the only time his dad wore a hat or showed his mother any affection. On Sundays they held hands and talked lightly.

The mood was quite different in his own car, but maybe it would change once they got there.

The church parking lot was crowded, and Damien hesitated, wondering if a two-year absence qualified him as a visitor.

“Right there,” Jenna said. “It’s wide open.”

Damien pulled in and parked. Everyone except him was slow to get out. Damien led his family to the front entrance.

A greeter opened the door and smiled. “Welcome.”

They stepped into the large sanctuary. A balcony loomed above them like an encroaching thunderstorm. Plenty of seats to choose from on the lower level. “Where do you want to sit?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jenna muttered, her arms crossed.

“Fine. Let’s just go down this aisle a few pews.”

As Jenna led the way, Damien noticed she seemed particularly self-aware, messing with her hair and glancing around. Suddenly she stopped and turned. “Let’s not. How about the other side? There are more seats over there.”

“There are plenty of seats here. Look, just up ahead is an entire pew.”

“No, I like the other side.” She pushed between all of them. “Come on. I see the perfect spot.”

“Oh, wait!” Kay said. “It’s Shannon and Susan! Jenna, Zoey and Caydance are with them. Come on!” She hurried forward, waving and smiling.

Hunter shrugged and followed.

Damien glanced back at Jenna. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure?” Damien caught the dread in the deepest part of her eyes. “You don’t look okay.”

Jenna’s gaze drifted down the aisle, then to him.

Suddenly a hand was on his shoulder. Damien glanced behind him.

A man with a gigantic smile was offering his hand. “Hi. Pastor Caldwell. I didn’t recognize you and your family. I just wanted to say hello and welcome.”

Damien looked down the aisle. Jenna was making her way to her seat.

“What was your name?”

“Damien Underwood. My family is down there.”

The pastor smiled, and Damien suddenly recognized him as the man whose cat was hung.

“I’m sorry to hear what happened in your neighborhood,” Damien said.

The man nodded, his welcoming eyes turning sad. “I am sorry to hear what is happening to our town.”

“Your friend Tim Shaw. Have you spoken to him?”

“Oh yes. Of course. He is ashamed of so much… what he was heard saying, what he did to his wife. I’m trying to help him deal with that guilt.”

“So you don’t think he did that to your cat?”

“No. I’ve known the man for a long time. My wife has had a hard time with what he said about me. It is a tough thing to hear a friend’s words. I pray for her. For all of us. There is going to be a lot to forgive when this is over.” His eyes turned cheerful again as he gently patted Damien on the arm. “I’m so glad you’re with us today. I must get up front. It’s almost time for the service.”

Damien nodded and joined his family, sliding into the end seat just in time to hear Kay address Jenna. “Honey, say hi to the girls.”

Jenna offered a half smile to the two girls sitting one row ahead. “Hi.”

“Hi, Jenna,” one of them said. Then the girls turned around and giggled.

Damien glanced at Jenna, who only stared forward, expressionless.

“I didn’t know you came here,” one of the women said to Kay.

“We haven’t come in a while. But glad to be back. This is my husband, Damien. Damien, this is Shannon Branson and Susan Sanders.”

Damien shook their hands. Shannon was overly made-up, as if she hoped that fresh-face youthful look would hold on, and when it didn’t, she’d freaked out. Damien was glad Kay didn’t overdo it. Susan’s sharp eyes studied Damien. She was smiling, but it looked scrutinizing, like how rich people greet everyone who is less rich. Damien gave a short smile, and the woman finally turned back around. He noticed Jenna again. Her eyes had glazed over, and she blinked slowly. Damien leaned into her. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

Jenna nodded. But it was the kind of nod that didn’t ring true.

Not surprisingly, the sermon was about gossip. Damien thought the pastor did a good job of not pointing fingers but rather showing the destruction of gossip and also the importance and power of truth in words.

Damien found himself uplifted. Even the family seemed in a better mood as the service ended. Jenna wrapped her arm around his waist as they left. Hunter saw a friend from school and hurried toward the foyer. Kay stayed and chatted with the cheerleading moms.

Damien held tight to his daughter as they walked. “Hey, what do you say we go eat at Chicken Annie’s?”

“Fried chicken, are you kidding me?”