Page 45 of Son of a Preacher Man

“Please,” she begged him, tears staining her cheeks. “For God’s sake, just do it.”

He nodded, laying her down on the old gym mat.

Violence cleanses evil. It purifies the heart. People think it’s the flames that make Hell unbearable, but it’s not. It’s the absence of love.

No one will take your joy from you.

Drawing a breath, Seth entered her.

“I’m so sorry.”

Kelly tossed the stack of papers onto the coffee table. Personal financial statements. Profit and loss statements. Income. Cash flow. Projected balance sheets. Jeez, what else are they gonna need—a blood sample? The soul of my firstborn? The list of documents required just to apply for the loan made her brain hurt, along with the football game Kevin had blasting on the TV.

She couldn’t focus anyway. Pulling her feet up onto the sofa, Kelly got comfy and opened Google on her phone. Kodiak’s story was stuck in her head. She had so many questions, but she didn’t dare ask him. First, she was almost too afraid to know the answers. More importantly, though, she didn’t want to cause him any more pain.

He’d already endured more than a lifetime’s worth.

What he’d shared with her was just the tip of the iceberg, sanitized for her consumption, she was sure. Hidden beneath a bear tattoo, scars laced his back. She’d felt the raised ridges, tracing her fingers over each and every one. There had to be more.

“I’ve done horrible things, Kelly. Unforgivable things.”

Kodiak was the victim here. She understood that. Why didn’t he?

Settling back against the cushions, Kelly entered some search words and clicked go. She didn’t have to scroll very far. It was so much worse than he’d told it. So very much worse.

Seven years after Kodiak left that godforsaken place, Reverend John was arrested outside a mini mart in Missouri. Maybe the police and the parents had turned a blind eye, but an investigative reporter did not. He exposed the things that had been going on there for decades. And the beatings, the Friday night ‘tests’, the reminder jar—all under the guise of therapy—were the least of the horrors.

The reporter took a camera crew to film the now-abandoned camp where Kodiak had spent one terrible summer. Run down, desolate, and overgrown with weeds, the faded wood signs with bible verses remained. A closet they’d lock a transgressor in for days—no light, no water, no food—the door hanging off its hinges. Desks, covered in layers of dust, sat empty.

Kelly quietly wept, gazing upon the very floor where Jeffrey knelt and was beaten. Where Kodiak had been forced to take a girl’s virginity to save her from an even worse fate at the hands of that twisted bastard. Corrective rape. She hadn’t known there was an actual name for it. Right, like forcing people to have sex with the opposite gender would ‘cure’ them.

How is this even legal—like how?

Because the government is not allowed to tell a church what it can and cannot do, especially if people like Jeffrey consented to it, or parents gave permission to save the souls of their children from eternal damnation by any means necessary. Ain’t that some outrageous level of fucked uppery?

At least the fucker was in prison where he belonged. Bet you’re someone’s bitch now, Reverend. How’s it feel? An old man, it was likely he’d never walk free again. But there were others just like him still out there. Taking place in church basements, secluded camps, and weekend retreats all around the globe, conversion therapy, with all its lasting repercussions, continued.

Somehow, with sheer will and his own fortitude, her Kodiak had survived it. Scarred, and a little bit broken, maybe, but then Kelly was too. She had this urge to wrap him up in a fuzzy, warm blanket, keep him safe, and heal all his hurts.

Swiping beneath her eyes, she sniffled. And since when did you start thinking of him as yours?

By her own design, he wasn’t, but nevertheless she did.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing.” She closed out the app on her phone. Typically, Kelly was not a crier. Kevin must be thinking she’d lost her damn mind. “Hungry?”

“Aren’t I always?”

Yup.

Kelly got up, speaking as she sauntered over to the kitchen, “I’ll fix us something.”

“Mom keeps asking if we’re coming for Thanksgiving.”

“Can’t. Black Friday is only the busiest shopping day of the year.” Need to show the bank all that positive cash flow.

“Cool with me.” Stretching his arms out over his head, Kevin’s gaze returned to the TV. “We’re not gonna get out of Christmas, though.”

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