Riverbend Reunion by Carolyn Brown EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Author: Carolyn Brown
- Genre: Small Town & Rural Fiction, Women’s Divorce Fiction
- Publish Date: 14 June 2022
- Size: 2 MB
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Avail for Download
- Price: Free
Uncle Elijah, why did you build a church out here in this Godforsaken
place, and why didn’t you get rid of the empty eyesore before you
died?” Jessica asked as she stood in the middle of the sanctuary and looked
around at the mess she’d inherited.
Dust was as gray and thick as fog on the floor, the pews, and the blades
of the ceiling fans.
A huge bunch of hair hung on the back of two pews. A closer look
revealed millions of daddy longlegs huddled together.
Jessica sneezed and sent dust and spiders going seven ways to Sunday.
The only light in the huge room came from the setting sun shining
through dirty windows and gave the whole place an eerie look. Jessica could
imagine spooky music playing in the background as she turned around to be
sure ghosts weren’t floating toward her.
Paint had peeled from the walls, and the place smelled like an old attic
full of sweaty clothing with a little mold thrown in.
This was her life in a nutshell—her future looked as grim as the dust
that coated the pews and the pulpit. Just like the dim light coming through the
windows, nothing seemed clear to her. Ideas had filtered through her mind
like all those baby spiders wiggling together, and yet nothing—not one
blessed thing—seemed to take hold.
She looked up and noticed a wallpaper border around the room
depicting angels with white wings and halos, but even that hung in long
“Where’s my guardian angel when I need one?” she groaned. “What in
the hell”—she glanced up at the ceiling fan with cobwebs hanging from
every blade—“am I supposed to do with a decrepit old church building?”
Dust boiled up all the way to the knees of her camouflage pants as she
headed down the aisle, leaving footprints behind her.
“Do those impressions in the dust mean something? If so, I’d sure like
someone to explain it to me,” she muttered when she reached the foyer and
glanced over her shoulder.
She locked the door, brushed the dust from her pants, and made sure she
didn’t have any spiders hanging on her anywhere. Gravel crunched under her
feet as she walked from the porch to the motor home that had been her home
for the past two weeks. She slung the door open, grabbed a washcloth, wet it
with cold water from the sink, and cleaned her face. Then she took a beer
from the tiny refrigerator, twisted the top off, and took a long drink.
Sweat still ran down her neck and into her bra, but the cold beer helped
some. “My church,” she mumbled, and then a smile covered her angular face.
Thank goodness no one was near enough to hear Jessica Callaway belt
out Maren Morris’s song “My Church.” Jessica had shot the eyes out of a
horned viper during her tours in the Middle East, but she couldn’t carry a
tune in a galvanized milk bucket.
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