“You approached him?”
“Not exactly. But I wanted him, in a way, and he could probably tell. You have to know my family for it to make sense, maybe . . . My dad was a retired colonel—I mean, he still is. My parents are still back there, alive and married and probably trying real hard to pretend I never existed. Anyhow, they’re both hyperconservative Evangelicals, and it was just implied that I’d wait until I was married to have sex.”
“Right.”
“But I was always curious about that stuff. I was precocious, was how my grandma put it. Anyhow, my preacher seemed so . . . I dunno. He was handsome, and he was holy, so it felt like the attraction wasn’t as sinful as it could have been, somehow. I got completely infatuated with him. And he must have known it.”
“And eventually, he exploited that?”
She shrugged, not knowing the answer. “I couldn’t say. It wasn’t as though I didn’t want it, and it wasn’t like I ever told him no. Quite the opposite. I was fifteen, and so suppressed by my parents and the church . . . I know it seems like, oh, of course, it was the adult who’s to blame.”
“Well, yeah.”
“He was only human. We both were. He was weak, and I was curious. I only wanted the attention, and to know what sex was like, and to feel wanted by a father figure, maybe, because my dad was so cold and strict.”
“But he was still the adult,” Casey said. “The one with enough years and sense to say no.”
“You can make that argument, but I wasn’t the innocent one in it, either. I have that energy that does something to certain men—makes them want to save me. And even at that age, I knew it.”
He nodded grudgingly, letting her know he knew what she meant but didn’t like it.
“It attracts both savior types and also some real creepers.”
Casey smiled. “Which am I?”
She eyed him, curious. “I’m not sure. You tell me.”
He replied after a long moment’s consideration. “For me, it was never about that. It was partly about you being as pretty as you are, but I mean, when we met, you weren’t exactly an easy target—you must’ve turned me down two dozen times. I think it was just your smile, or your eyes. Both. And how you laugh. Wanting to make you laugh. It was never about thinking you needed saving or protecting.”
“Or corrupting.”
He shook his head. “Nobody winds up in Fortuity because they’re innocent. Well, almost nobody.” He glanced at the baby. “But anyhow, what happened with you and the preacher?”
“We carried on for six months or more, and I got in real deep with him. I thought I was in love, and maybe I was. It’s hard to know, at that age. I was so caught up in the feelings, I started losing track of my values—and I was a God-fearing girl, let me tell you. But I got this idea in my head that he’d leave his wife and we could run away and escape my stupid hometown and all those awful, small-minded people, but of course he told me that was impossible.”
“So?”
“So I told his wife. In my imagination, I thought that would drive them apart, and he’d have no excuse not to be with me.”
“But what actually happened?”
“She went a little crazy. I think she meant to just sweep it under the rug, but then she lost it in the middle of the Sunday service during a sermon he was giving about temptation. She stood up and screamed to the entire congregation what had been happening. The whole town was there.”
“And you ran away because you were humiliated?”
“Not entirely. I ran away after . . . I ran away because a week later, his wife killed herself.”