Iris was having none of it. She drew back against Rhetta, her chin tucked into her chest like a turtle trying to retreat into its shell. He tried again. This time she turned her head, burying it in the crook of her great-grandmother’s shoulder.
Rhetta flashed her grandson an imploring look. “She’s just had one of her nightmares, Ray. You know how she is after. She doesn’t—”
Ray silenced her with a look, clearly bent on having his way. “Iris,” he barked again. “I’m talking to you.”
It was Christy-Lynn’s turn to bolt to her feet. Ray Rawlings might be Iris’s uncle, but she wasn’t about to sit there and let him browbeat a little girl. Before she could open her mouth, Iris had scrambled off Rhetta’s lap and ducked behind her legs.
Ray feigned amusement, but his patience was clearly wearing thin. He cleared his throat, his cajoling smile beginning to fray. “Now, sweetheart, there’s no need to be shy. Don’t you want to see your uncle Ray?”
Christy-Lynn found herself gritting her teeth. Who did he think he was fooling? Certainly not Rhetta, who was sitting frozen in her chair. Or Iris, whose grip on her legs grew tighter with every word her uncle uttered.
Ray glared menacingly. “When someone tells you to come, young lady, you come.”
Christy-Lynn bent to scoop Iris up into her arms. It was the last straw. Apparently it was the tipping point for Wade too. He took an abrupt step forward.
“That’ll do, Reverend.”
Ray puffed out his chest, his face the color of a ripe plum. “Who the hell are you to tell me what will do in my own house?”
Wade didn’t blink. “I’m a guy who’s smart enough to know when a kid’s being bullied. And I believe this is Rhetta’s house not yours.”
Rhetta fixed her grandson with pleading eyes. “Please, Ray. You’re scaring her.”
And just like that, Ray’s bluster vanished, as if he’d suddenly remembered the part he was supposed to be playing.
“Forgive me,” he said softly, folding his hands before him. “It’s been a trying time. But I’ve come to share some news with Rhetta, and I suppose you should hear it too. After much prayer and soul searching, my wife and I feel led by the Lord to take my sister’s child into our fold, to love and raise as our own.”
Christy-Lynn wasn’t sure if she was more stunned or horrified. “You feel led . . . by the Lord?”
Ray dipped his head piously but said nothing.
Christy-Lynn laughed, a brief, sharp chuckle. “I must say I find your sudden change of heart a bit surprising, especially for a man who, two weeks ago, was throwing around words like abomination.”
“The Lord works in mysterious ways, Mrs. Ludlow. As a man of God, I’m bound to do my Christian duty and to do it with a glad heart.”
“That glad heart wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that your niece is about to come into an inheritance, would it?”
Ray took an abrupt step forward and would have taken another had Wade not checked him. “Exactly what are you accusing me of, Mrs. Ludlow?”
“Just what you think I’m accusing you of, Reverend. I can’t help wondering if you’d still be eager to do your Christian duty if I were to change my mind and tear up the trust papers. Somehow, I don’t think so.”
Ray’s man-of-God facade abruptly fell away. “In that case, I suppose we’d have to see what the courts have to say on the matter. I’ve spoken to a lawyer, and he feels the girl has a claim in her own right, which means your husband’s money isn’t yours to dole out as you see fit. Judges tend to frown on strangers poking their noses where they don’t belong. Family should look after family.”
“Except you refused to look after her!” Christy-Lynn shot back, eyeing him with open contempt. “Now, suddenly, you’re willing to bear your sister’s sins dutifully. Forgive me if I find your sudden compassion suspicious.”
The corners of his mouth turned up slowly. “The Lord has shown me the error of my ways, Mrs. Ludlow. Like Saul on the road to Damascus.”
“Spare me the Sunday school lesson, Reverend. And know that I meant every word I said just now. Iris will be taken care of, if it means I have to pay for every barrette and ice-cream cone myself, but my attorney will make sure you never touch a dime of Iris’s money. Still, if you want to go to court and air all of this publicly, I’m happy to take my chances.”
Rhetta looked at her with wide eyes, visibly horrified by the prospect of a court battle. But Ray seemed to be considering the words carefully. After a moment, he cleared his throat, his expression back to the chilly shrewdness Christy-Lynn had glimpsed earlier. “Perhaps an agreement might be reached. A sort of . . . compromise?”
“A compromise?” Christy-Lynn echoed warily, wishing she had listened to Wade’s warning about unscrupulous relatives. She had misjudged the reverend—or at least misjudged his motives. He wasn’t just a pious ass; he was a sharp and cunning bastard.
She’d been a fool not to see it or to think a handful of papers could right all the wrongs in Iris Rawlings’s life. Poverty was hard on a child, but it didn’t compare with the pain of being invisible, unwanted, unloved. And for Ray Rawlings, Iris was all three.
Christy-Lynn fought down a shudder of revulsion. He was watching her now, through narrowed eyes, trying to read her thoughts and planning his next move. “I might—” He paused, clearing his throat, then flashed a wheedling smile. “That is, my wife and I might be open to some form of compensation.”
“You mean money,” Christy-Lynn flung back.
“I mean a token of goodwill. Iris is, after all, the only child of my dear departed sister. Surely that’s worth some small consideration, a modest sum agreed on by both parties—paid discreetly, of course—for the loss of our darling little niece?”
Christy-Lynn stood speechless, still clutching a confused and terrified Iris. Rhetta looked equally speechless, though not quite surprised by her grandson’s suggestion. “Why do I have the feeling this was where this was heading all along? You knew I’d never give you control of the trust, so you put on this little show, hoping I’d pay you to go away. Am I right?”
Ray dipped his head, not quite an acknowledgment but close enough. “Come now, Mrs. Ludlow, it isn’t the means but the end that matters. This way everyone is happy. Rhetta keeps the girl and the bulk of the money, and I go away a few dollars richer for my sacrifice.”
Christy-Lynn was sickened to realize she was actually considering the proposal. “How do I know that’s the end of it, that you’ll just . . . go away?”
Ray smiled, exposing small, sharp teeth. “I’m a man of God, Mrs. Ludlow.”
It was Wade’s turn to react. He stepped past Christy-Lynn and grabbed Ray by the arm.
“Why don’t we finish this outside, Reverend?”
“Get your hands off me!”
Christy-Lynn took an abrupt step forward. “Wade, don’t!”
But Wade was already shoving the good reverend toward the door, his expression one of barely suppressed fury. If she didn’t step in, there was a good chance Ray was going to end up in an ambulance and Wade in the back of a police car. By the time she handed Iris off to Rhetta and caught up, Wade was already jerking the reverend down the steps and out into the yard.
Ray’s face was the color of a beetroot, his arms swinging wildly without landing a single blow. “You’ll end up in jail for this!”
To Christy-Lynn’s surprise, the very pregnant Mrs. Rawlings suddenly emerged from the family van, loping toward the fray as fast as her swollen belly would allow. “Let him be!” she bellowed sharply. “That’s a man of God you’re assaulting!”