back to Critter. "I still don't understand why she didn't stay. She could have fought him off or escaped and come back to you. Instead she stayed with him. For...over twenty years. Why?"
Critter held up his hand. "Richard threatened her with the death of her child. You. With killing me. He told her if she tried to escape he wouldn't stop until she watched us both die in front of her. I know what you might be thinking but your mother wasn't no coward. She did what she had to do and she stayed because she thought that was the best way to keep us both alive. She's not a coward. Not even close. That woman waded through the waters of hell with the devil himself to keep us safe." Critter shifted in his chair. He glanced up at the house.
"She's the bravest woman in entire damned world."
Finn placed his hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. I loved how he always seemed to know when I needed to be reassured and at that moment I needed it more than ever. I'd been wrong. My gut and my head and my heart had all thought the worst.
I'd been wrong.
So very very wrong.
"I never...wow," I said, instantly feeling hurt and shame at ever suggesting my mother was selfish.
"There are only two things I regret in this life. Not finding you two, getting to you sooner is one of those things."
"What's the other?" Finn asked, twirling his beer around in his hand.
Critter didn't hesitate when he glanced up at us with cold hatred in his eyes.
"Not killing that son of a bitch, Richard, twenty-two fuckin’ years ago."
Chapter 6
Finn
When my phone rang I left Sawyer and Critter on the porch to talk to answer it. "Hi, Mom."
"Honey, how are you? It's been days and you haven't called."
"I talked to you yesterday, Mom," I reminded her.
"Are you sure? It seems like longer."
"I'm sure," I said, smiling into the phone.
"You sound a lot different. Does this have anything to do with the girl I've heard all about from everyone in that town except my own son."
I looked to where Sawyer was talking with Critter and my heart warmed. "Yeah, something like that."
"Finn Hollis, you bring that girl up here for a visit the very second you get a chance. We'd come there but your father's asthma has been acting up. It’s a little too humid this time of year."
"Stop making me sound like an old man," my father grumbled in the background.
"Then stop doing old man things like sucking on your teeth after breakfast," my mother scolded.
"You two haven't changed," I said.
My mother's tone turned serious. "Finn, we haven't seen you in a long time. Well, not since…” She paused like she was waiting for something. A reaction of some sort.
"You can say her name, mom. It's fine. Jackie. Her name was Jackie." I was downright proud of how far I’d come. Saying her name used to bring nothing but pain. Now it was a name associated with a girl I’d once loved and lost.
And that was okay.
She let out a sigh of relief. "Thank Christ himself. It wasn’t long ago you treated her name like a swear word. A bad one. Like the one you called your English teacher in the third grade. What nine-year-old calls their teacher a cu— “
My father interrupted. "Son, are you coming up here or do we have to bribe you? We've only been asking for two years now," my dad yelled to the phone.
Phone calls with my parents used to be stressful. I’d spend every moment trying to convince them I was okay when I wasn’t. Lately I hadn’t even had the urge to hang up and throw my phone in the swamp.
I crossed my arms. "That depends. What have you got to bribe me with?"
"Cobbler and your favorite fried chicken sandwiches?" My mother asked. My stomach growled at the thought of my mother's famous chicken. "And I'll have Ethan come get you then you won't have to drive."
"And you'll bring that girl of yours so we can meet her?" She asked hopefully.
I looked to Sawyer and our eyes met. She smiled.
"Definitely."
Chapter 7
Sawyer
Ever since Critter and I had spoken a few days ago I felt better. Lighter. But the lingering dread over an uncertain future was starting to weigh on me. I felt drained. My eyes were tired as was my mind. The thought that lingered with me the most, the one that whispered through my ears like an unseen mist was that Richard was still out there. There was a possibility he'd come for me. After all, I'd stolen from him and he hated me because he blamed me for my mother's death. Any other man in the world would have no reason to come find me, but Richard Dixon wasn't any other man. I knew sooner or later he'd come. I'd always known that. But one thing had changed.
Mom.
If Richard came for me and found her instead...I hated to think of what would happen. Maybe if we left Outskirts, just for a little while, just until the tent service packed up and left, then we could keep him from discovering she was alive.
I was about to voice the idea to Finn when he sat down beside me on the dock and distracted me with his bare chest and rippling muscles. When he smiled at me my stomach and something a bit lower did a little flip of happiness.
"What's that look on your face? Not a good book?" He asked, pointing to the book open on my lap.
MODERN RELIGIONS FOR A MODERN WORLD
Book?
"Oh. Yeah. It's not that it's not good. It's that I don't think it's really what I was looking for," I said, staring down at the title of the chapter and reading it again in case I'd read it wrong the first time around.
Nope. I'd read it right.
"What?" Finn asked, leaning over to glance at what I'd been reading. I breathed in his fresh scent and leaned back into him ever so slightly to better feel the warmth of his chest through my thin tank top.
I scanned the article quickly and gave him the stand out points. "There is a religion called Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. The basis for it is that the followers of this religion believe a being they call the Flying Spaghetti Monster created the world and everything in it. It's literally flying pasta and meatballs," I said, pointing to the picture below the caption. I closed the book and set it to the side, shaking my head in disbelief.
"How is that any stranger than believing that a man walked on water or rose from the dead?" Finn asked, leaning back on his hands. "Or that cows are sacred animals? Or that there are people who keep a piece of toast for decades because they swear they can see Jesus Christ’s the image of Jesus Christ burned into it by the toaster.”
"Well, now that you put it that way, Flying Spaghetti Monsters don't seem all that strange.” I replied playfully.
Finn grabbed my hand. “That makes sense, but the thing is, this all may seem crazy to us but to a lot of people it brings them peace, makes them feel whole. Gives them purpose. It’s not up to anyone to decide what’s crazy and what’s not. If it makes someone feel whole then more power to them.”
“What religion did you grow up in?” I asked realizing I had no idea if Finn’s family were people of faith or not.
Finn grimaced. “Uh, the kind that goes to church on Easter and Christmas but only if the parking lot wasn’t too full and we didn’t have to park in the mud across the street.” He sat up and pushed my hair off my shoulder, tracing my collarbone with his finger. "What’s really going on with the religious stuff, Say? You want to talk about it?”
I decided to go with the truth since anything else would sound even more strange. "I don’t know what to believe anymore. It’s scary not having a faith, but freeing at the same time. It’s like I’ve got this chance to live my life on my own terms and by knowing all there is to know I won’t feel like there is a small piece of me missing,” I confessed. “I'm not a hundred percent sure, though. Maybe, I thought that if I read more—studied up on the religions of the world, then suddenly everything would make sense to me. But it doesn't. None of them actually make any sense to me at all.”
"The people of those re
ligions think they make perfect sense," he countered.
"Yes, that's the thing. They all have faith in what they believe and they all think they are right and they call it faith. I know about faith. The dictionary calls it confidence and belief in something based on spiritual apprehension rather than proof. But with all the religions out there in the world, some of them must be wrong. Am I right? I mean, if there is one absolute than most of them have to be wrong."
Finn shrugged and rested his stubbly chin on my bare shoulder. "But what if they're all right?" he kissed the space between my neck and shoulder and I relaxed into his touch.
I smiled. "Then may the Spaghetti Monster bless us all."
Finn chuckled before his smile faded and his tone turned more serious. "Do you miss it? At least, parts of it? Your past, I mean?”
"No!" I said with a lot more force than I intended. "I mean, I felt like an outsider in the church because I was one. I couldn't fall in line and just blindly believe. And out here, as much as I love it, I still feel like an outsider. Every time Miller brings up a TV show or a reference to something I don't understand it's just a reminder that I didn't come from this world,” I explained.
Finn remained quiet for a moment, staring at the ground.
“What?” I asked, wondering what was on his mind.
He blinked and looked back up at me. “Just had an idea…”
“And…”
He waved it off. “I’ll tell you later. In the meantime, please don't base anything on Miller or what he says. He once called in sick to work to watch three days of a reality TV show about wives in Mississippi." He laced his fingers with mine. I loved how large his hand was compared to mine. His tanned against my pale.
"I just...I want to know things,” I said. “Arm myself with knowledge. Figure out where it all came from and make my own decision about what I want to believe. If anything."
Finn nodded and there was another look on his face. Pride? "I think that’s a great idea. Research it all and let me know when the Flying Pasta Monster service starts.” He planted a quick kiss on my lips.
"Flying Spaghetti Monster," I corrected.
"That's so specific." Finn chuckled, pulling me up onto his lap.
"I was thinking of writing it all down in like a diary or journaling. That way I can remember everything I learn and make notes."
"What about a blog?" Finn suggested.
"A blog?" I wrinkled my nose, unfamiliar with the term.
"Yeah, it's like writing to a diary or a journal except you post it online that way more people have access to it. They can learn from it as you learn from it. I think you'd be pretty great at it and I can help you put it together if you want."
"You'd do that? For me?" I asked, my heart fluttering and my skin warming under his touch.
"Don't you know by now?" Finn breathed, his gaze locked on mine. "I'd do anything for you."
My entire body shuddered against him as he pressed a kiss to my neck. Then, ever so slowly, he traced the outside of my ear with the tip of his tongue. Everything within me came alive. "What are you doing?" I asked, breathlessly.
"I'm helping," he insisted. "You want religion?" Finn pushed back a lock of my hair. "Then I'll get on my knees and worship you for the rest of my life. You want to save someone? You've already done it. You saved me. You want heaven?" His hand skated up the back of my skirt. I shivered. His deep voice hummed in my ear. "I'll take you there right now."
I ached for him to touch me. To give me more than just his delicious words. "Yes. Heaven. Please.” I gasped as he hooked his fingers inside my panties and pulled them to the side.
"So wet for me," he groaned. He unbuckled his jeans and lifted his hips to push them down. He set me on my back making me brace myself on the edge of the dock. He didn’t take his eyes off mine when he thrust inside of me, sending my spine arching off the dock as a bolt of pleasure shot through me.
"Fuck that's so good. You're so good. Every time. Every fucking time," Finn groaned.
I pushed back against him as he took me quick and hard. It didn't take me long for the pleasure to burst inside of me. I saw stars. After a few furious strokes Finn followed me over the edge and I relished the feeling of his hot release filling me.
We collapsed on top of the picture of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. Finn rested his chest against my back without pulling out of my body.
"You know, I'm a sinner now. Probably even going to hell," I whispered, bringing his attention to the bible my hand was still pressed against.
"That's not true," Finn argued, still trying to catch his breath.
"How can you be so sure?"
Finn rocked forward and I was instantly reminded he was still inside of me. "Because, you feel like heaven to me."
"Tell me more about how you grew up. Tell me how it was so different from here." Finn said as he traced lazy circles on my back and over the globes of my butt cheeks.
"You know most of it already." I said, turning to him. We were in his bed in the cabin after moving inside from the dock and quickly deciding we were nowhere near done with one another.
"Yes, but I want to know everything. What makes you YOU. Good or bad it made you who you are and I, for one, love who you are."
"You do?" I asked, although he'd already told me I never grew tired of hearing it. With Finn, I felt warm from the inside out. My entire being reacted to him from my nose to my toes. From my heart to my soul.
"I do. I love you. Fiercely. Possessively. Crazily. Always."
"That was beautiful."
"You're beautiful," he said, leaning in to kiss my shoulder. He continued to trace every little freckle and mole on my body.
"You know, if you keep tracing them all then we are going to be here for a while," I pointed out.
His dimple appeared with his smile. "I'm counting on it. Now. Talk."
I thought for a moment. I felt vulnerable opening up to him. I’d left out most of the details about my life although he knew the short version. It was almost as if I were keeping it to myself because it was my cross to bear and I didn’t want to burden anyone else with it.
"I guess it was like living in a different universe. One where every day was the same. We didn't celebrate holidays or birthdays. I didn't understand if it was my house that was different because of my father's strictness and temper or if every family in the church was that way. Every day we lived the same lie over and over again. The lie that the church was about family. Family above all others. The most important thing in the world next to God himself. And who knows, maybe in other houses, in other families, they were different behind closed doors. Loving. Kind. Maybe they let the women eat at the same table or look them in the eye."
Finn's tracing paused then started again.
I continued. "Maybe their daughters could speak without having the man of the house's permission first. Maybe they didn't use physical force to discipline the poor dim-witted females whose only purpose in life was to have and raise the babies and serve their husbands."
I shuttered.