Free The Pastor's Wife Wears Biker Boots by Karla Akins Page A

Jennifer popped a chip in her mouth. “She doesn’t have the figure for it.” Bothsnickered, and I think I heard a snort.
    “And you know what else?” Jennifer leaned into Nola’s ear. “Someone told me that she has a tattoo—in a private place.”
    “If it’s private, how do you know, Jennifer?”I reached between them and across the table for a carrot, bit into it, smiled, and moved on. The jaw-dropping, eye-popping look of horror on their faces almost made enduring their gossipworth it.
    Too soon, the time came to ride out to Lake Wawasee for ice cream. I kissed Aaron good-bye, plunked on my helmet, and rode my bike to the back of the line with Lily and Opal. We would make up the tail end. I’d asked Reba and Trace to lead.
    “I hope Reba gave her heart back to Jesus today.” Lilybuckled her helmet as we waited for everyone to get started.
    “Me, too. I hope she’ll give the church folks another chance. The ones who judged her mother for being divorced and remarrying aren’t even attending church anymore.” Opal pulled on her leather gloves.
    “What happened to them?” I flipped my helmet’s visor up. Reba had left the church long before Aaron and I had moved to town.
    “The gossipers got divorced. Ironic, ain’t it?” Opal shook her head.
    “Just goes to show, you should never go around pointing fingers.” Lily turned on her bike.
    I revved my engine. “Very true. Although, I must say, sometimes I get confused between true mercy and false mercy.”
    “False mercy?” Lily flipped up her kickstand.
    “Yes. Winking at sin because you think you’re showing mercy. It’s complicated, isn’t it?” I shook my head.
    Opel nodded and started her engine. “That’s why we have to pray about stuff before we open our mouths.”
    “Or not open our mouths.” Lily had to shout above the engines.
    We were all eager to roll, engines started, kickstands up.
    Finally, the call came from the front.
    “Let’s ride!”
     
     
     
     

12
     
    “Calm down, Lily.” I looked at the clock. One o’clock in the morning. Through my tired haze, I heard her sobbing. I shook Aaron awake and sat up in bed. “I can’t understand you. Try to slow down and tell me what’s wrong.”
    “It’s Milo. He hit me.”
    “What?”
    “He doesn’t know what he’s doing, Kirstie. It’s the Alzheimer’s. It’s getting worse.”
    “Where is he now?”
    “He’s in the living room yelling at the imaginary children he says are crawling all over the furniture. Can you come over and sit with me until he falls asleep?”
    “Of course,” I said. “I’ll be right there. Do you want Aaron to come with me?”
    “Yes, please. He can help me put him to bed again.”
    “OK. Listen to me. If you can, stay in the next room where you can see him but he can’t see you, OK?”
    “OK.”It hurt to hear the pain and fear in Lily’s voice. She was normally strong and self-assured.
    Aaron called Opal to come watch the kids. I dressed, and we were in the car in less than ten minutes. Lily only lived five miles outside of town.
    “Poor Milo.” I rested my hand on Aaron’s shoulder as he turned down her long driveway. “I hate to see Lily going through this. Milo was always difficult but never violent.”
    Aaron simply nodded. We let ourselves in the back door to the kitchen where Lily collapsed into tears as I held her.
    Aaron rushed to calm Milo, who yelled and paced in the living room.
    I lifted Lily’s head off my shoulder and looked at her. “Let’s get some ice on that bruise.” I brushed the hair out of her faceand saw cuts and bruises on her jaw and forehead. Milo’s voice carried to the kitchen as I made an ice pack and helped Lily to a dining room chair.
    “Get those rotten kids out of my house!”
    “Milo, it’s Aaron.”
    “Aaron who?” Milo glared straight at Aaronwith a blank stare. Spittle rested on his beard and his red face shone with perspiration.
    “Aaron Donovan, Pastor Aaron from church.”Aaron