The Preacher's Daughter by Fiona Wilde Read Free Book Online Page A

room.
    "I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you," she said. "Deacon Watkins wasn't too thrilled to hear that you'd asked Naomi to help out today."
    Eric's response was to look at Naomi. "You know, I don't think the head deacon's even had the pleasure of meeting you yet. And you know what they say, there's no time like the present."
    "Reverend Feagans, I don't know...." Naomi objected, but he was already leading her to the sitting room where the Reverend Kindle sat with a tall, professional looking man with close-cropped blonde hair. It surprised her a bit; she'd expected someone short and dumpy like his daughter. This man was actually quite handsome, but that attractiveness was marred by the condescending look he gave her as Eric offered an introduction.
    "Reverend Kindle. Hello. I saw Deacon Watkin's car outside and thought this would be a good time to introduce Naomi to him since I plan to recommend the church find money in the budget to hire her as an my assistant. She's great with the kids."
    "Really?" Rev. Watkins pulled his glasses from his face angrily. "That's not what my daughter tells me."
    "Your daughter was extremely rude today, Merle," Rev. Feagans said pointedly. "I had to put her back on the bus. Whatever she tells you should be suspect."
    "Are you calling my daughter a liar?"
    "Deacon Watkins, I'm sure Rev. Feagans didn't mean..." Rev. Kindle was on his feet now, but the youth minister would not be deterred.
    "I'm not calling anyone names. She however, did, which is why she was put on the bus. If you want an honest opinion of what the youth think of Miss Kindle, then I suggest you has them individually."
    Chelsea's father looked at Naomi. Something in his prolonged gaze bothered her and she found herself crossing her arms across her chest in an attempt to cover her.
    "The decent people of this church have every right to express concern about the moral fitness of those working with their children. We all know Naomi strayed from the path and my wife and I are not convinced that the church has gotten a full accounting of just how far she strayed."
    "But you will, you will," Rev. Kindle reassured him. "This Sunday Naomi will confess her sins before the brotherhood of believers and repent before God that she might be accepted back into the body of Christ."
    "Dad..."
    "She should have done that before she was allowed around our children," the deacon snapped, "and what guaranteed do we have that someone like her will even be honest.."
    "Someone like me?" Naomi could stay quiet no longer. "Let me guess, you're sinless. You've never lied or cheated or maybe surfed the Internet for porn..."
    The deacon reddened at this and sputtered for a moment.
    "How dare you!" he said.
    "How dare you!" she shot back. "You're not Jesus. I don't have to confess anything to you or anybody else!"
    She stormed off then into her room, slamming the door behind her. She could hear Deacon Watkins' continued objections to her, and her father's placating tone. She hated her father at that moment for not standing up for her, for taking the side of the deacon. He'd never believe her, but the look the deacon had fixed her with was the same look she'd seen men give her hundreds of times before. It said, "I wonder what she looks like under those clothes."
    If Deacon Merle Watkins was curious about whether she was a whore it was probably because he was hoping she was one.
    "Naomi." She heard Eric knocking on the door. He probably was upset with her. He probably thought she needed to come out and smooth things over. He probably wanted her to apologize.
    No dice. She opened the window and slipped out. This time she wouldn't make the mistake of going to the shed; he'd find her there. This time she went across the street and through the woods to follow the stream to where it turned into a trickle in the forest.
    She sprinted through the trees at first, stopping ever so often to make sure she wasn't being followed. When she was sure she wasn't, she slowed