“What she means, Pastor, is that people around here take church seriously, and I happen to be one of Treepoint’s citizens who isn’t very well liked,” Cash tried to explain his grandmother’s lack of manners. Rachel, personally, thought Mag was the only one in town who had the nerve to call Brooke out.
“‘We’re all God’s children in the search for salvation,’” Pastor Merrick quoted.
“Some need salvation more than others,” Mag agreed.
Rachel wanted to slide under the table, praying Brooke would be wise enough not to set Mag off again. Luckily, Cash changed the subject to fishing, which was one of the pastor’s favorite topics. Rachel was able to relax until the Pattersons rose to leave.
At the door, Cash shook the pastor’s hand as he went out.
“It was nice meeting you, Cash.” Brooke waited until her husband stepped out the door, blatantly ignoring the two women also by the door, taking Cash’s hand in hers. “If you need any help getting caught up in your Bible studies, give me a call.” She then released his hand, following her husband out the door.
Rachel had to grab onto the handlebars of Mag’s wheelchair to hold her back.
“Let my chair go, Rachel. That good man needs to know what kind of woman he’s married to.”
Cash quickly closed the door, standing in front of it with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Calm down, Mag. You’ll give yourself another stroke.”
“That’s okay. The good Lord will reward me for shining a light on that bitch’s behavior. No Christian woman would behave like that.”
Rachel rolled Mag into the living room before getting her some tea. It took several minutes for the old woman to calm down. She sat down next to her until the anger passed and Mag decided to go take a nap.
“Don’t forget to pray,” Cash said as she rolled herself out of the room. Mag turned to face him, pointing a long, bony finger at him.
“You stay away from that skinny bitch; she’s trouble. That God-fearing man has no idea what he got himself tied to.”
“I’ll stay away,” Cash said solemnly with twinkling eyes.
Rachel had learned that Cash liked to rile his grandmother and couldn’t help her own lips twitching in amusement at Mag’s anger.
“You should be ashamed of yourself. If she had a stroke, it would be your fault,” Rachel accused as soon as Mag left.
Cash leaned back against the couch, putting his booted feet up onto the coffee table. “I couldn’t help it. When she gets like that, it reminds me of when she was younger and she was like that all the time. I’ll never forget when two drunks got in a fight in her back room on moonshine. She broke them up by beating them half to death with a mop handle. Even drunk, they didn’t want to hit a woman, and she took advantage of it. She’s got a mean streak a mile wide. Don’t let her fool you.”
“I won’t. I remember her before she had her stroke, too. My brothers are scared to death of her. They broke her window out one time when Dad took them to her house, and she wore them out with a switch. They never went with Dad again; they were too scared of her.”
Cash laughed until he couldn’t breathe at the idea of his grandmother spanking Rachel’s brothers. Mag had been the biggest bootlegger in the county for decades until the county went wet. Shortly thereafter, she’d had a stroke. She had barely survived, only to be left in a wheelchair, but her fighting spirit had accepted it and had adjusted.
Rachel went into the kitchen and began cleaning up the table, washing the dishes before putting them away. Cash watched television as she worked, aware she was trying to ignore him, but occasionally, he felt her eyes on him.
“You done?” he asked when he saw her put the last dish away.
“Yes.”
“You want to go for a ride on my bike?” He saw the refusal on her face. “You scared to ride with me since I wrecked?”
“No, everyone in town knows that the wreck wasn’t your fault. The driver crossed the center lane. Knox said anyone else less experienced would have died on impact.”
Cash shrugged. “Been in a couple of them. That one was the worst.”
“Why do you keep riding, then?” She came farther into the room, taking a seat in one of the chairs.
“Because there’s nothing else like it on earth. It gets in your blood; the freedom of movement, how it feels when you ride it. It’s hard to explain. Go for a ride with me and you’ll see,” Cash prodded.
“All right. Do I need to get changed?”
“No, your jeans are fine. Grab a jacket, though.”
Before she could change her mind, he led her outside to his bike. Handing her his helmet, he climbed on.
“What about you?”