The Preacher's Daughter (4 page)

"Are you sure Dad won't flip out?" Naomi asked as she surveyed herself in a pair of new Levi jeans and t-shirt.

"I'll have Rev. Feagans talk to him," she said. "But you will need something appropriate for church."

That took some effort. Covering the shoulder tattoo wasn't a problem, but the cross of thorns on Naomi's lower calf was visible no matter what she wore.

When her mother was close to tears, Naomi found a sweeping tie-dyed skirt that went to her ankles.

"Look, Mom," she said. "This is cute. I could wear a nice little top with it and it's so long no one could see my ink."

"Ink?"

"It's slang for tattoos."

She tried the skirt on for her mother, who smiled. "I like it," she announced. "Your father won't care for the bright colors but maybe that's what the church needs, a little...brightness."

They walked out of the shop with two more of the flowing skirts, some tops and a pair of sandals. At another shop they found a modest one-piece bathing suit, some shorts and a pair of sneakers.

When they got home, Naomi found her father sitting in his easy chair reading the newspapers.

"Hi, dear," Lilly Kindle said. "Anything interesting in the news?"

"No," the Reverend Fred Kindle replied. Those heathen liberals are still trying to destroy the country. As usual."

His wife dropped a kiss on his head. "We'll pray for them."

Naomi suppressed a smile.

"How was the shopping trip?" he asked. "I assume that you were able to find the appropriate clothing for our daughter, or do they not make ladylike fashions anymore?"

"We got everything she needed," Lilly said as her daughter went to her room. Naomi shut the door behind her and began to put her new clothing away. She was dying to get out of the ugly floral dress she'd worn to the mall, but worried that going into the living room in a new pair of blue jeans would set her father off.

She hoped that her father would talk to him soon, then wondered what would happen if things went badly. What if he and Rev. Feagans argued and her father sent him away.

"Cigarette," she said. "I need a cigarette."

She found the half-pack of Marlboros still in the bottom of her bag. Somehow the youth minister had missed them when he found her stash.

Tucking them into her bra, she went out of the room and down the hall.

"I'm taking a walk," she informed her mother without waiting for permission.

It wasn't much cooler outside, although there as a slight breeze now. Naomi scanned the yard for safe places to smoke. There weren't many. Then she remembered the old garden shed out back. Her father had said every year he was going to tear it down but he never did. Her mother never went there due to her firm belief that the dilapidated structure was full of snakes or - as she called them - serpents.

Lilly pushed her way through the woods a short distance before she found the shed. It was overgrown as ever, but the little stone stoop was clear of vines, so she sat down and lit up.

Leaning back she inhaled, dragging the pungent smoke into her lungs, where she held it before slowly exhaling it in a pale stream.

She wondered if she'd get paid for her gig helping out with the youth camp. She hoped so. This was her last pack of cigarettes and she would need more.

Naomi as taking another drag when she heard a snap. Sitting up she turned around.

"Hello?"

No answer.

She heard another snap and hurriedly stubbed her cigarette out, covering the butt with a handful of leaves. She'd just finished waving the last of the smoke away when Eric Feagans stepped into view.

"Naomi?" He peered at her. "What are you doing back here?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Just thinking."

"Really?" He walked over and looked down at her, crossing his arms. "You wouldn't lie t me, would you."

"No!"

He looked around and then sniffed the air. "Have you been smoking?"

"Smoking?" She acted like the suggestion was absurd. "No. I don't smoke."

"Really? So you don't smell something burning?"

"No."

He looked down then and then, taking her by the arms, pushed her to the side. By her feet a tendril of smoke was curling up through the mound of leaves. Naomi's heart sunk as she realized she'd not put the cigarette out. She watched helplessly as kicked the mound of leaves with his foot, exposing the still burning butt.

He ground it with his foot until it was extinguished then looked at her, irritation on his face.

"You did lie."

"I was afraid you'd be mad," she said.

"I wouldn't have been," he said. "I am now."

He paused. "Turn around."

It took her a moment to comprehend what he meant. Then she saw him reach up and snap a short, springy branch from a tree.

"What? No..." She shook her head, her hands instantly covering her bottom in a protective gesture.

"Yes," he said. "I told you. If you break the rules, there are consequences."

"You just spanked me earlier!" Tears sprang to her eyes.

"That's right," he said. "And I'm really worried about what seems to be a serious short-term memory problem. Turn around."

"No."

"If I have to turn you around you're getting ten instead of five. On your bare legs. Turn around. NOW!"

She jumped at his command but reluctantly turned. Eric took hold of her arm, drew back and brought the switch down on her bottom.

The looseness of the dress helped defray some of the impact, but not enough allow her to avoid the sting altogether. Naomi yelped and tried to dodge away but he put his leg out. She tripped, falling forward and he caught her just as he brought the switch down a second time. This blow hurt far worse, and caused her to give a little scream.

"Owowowowow!" she cried, dancing a little as he aimed and delivered the third blow.

"Move your hand," he commanded. "There are two more. The sooner you cooperate the sooner it will be over."

Naomi whimpered, feeling helpless and childlike in his grip. She moved her hand and he delivered the last two in rapid fire succession. She gave a little dance of pain, and rubbed her bottom as tears coursed down her face.

He tossed the switch away.

"The next time I ask you something, are you going to lie?"

"No sir!" she cried, wondering where the "sir" came from. She never said "sir."

"Good girl." He withdrew another handkerchief and Naomi wondered if he kept them on hand in case he needed to dole out a spanking at a moment's notice. "Here."

She took it and mopped her face as she rubbed her bottom. Her cries had turned to pitiful little hiccoughs.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked.

"Your mother called. She wants me to talk to your father. I was on the way up to the parsonage when I caught the scent of cigarette smoke. So I came to investigate."

"I see." She sniffed. "What does my mom want you to talk to my dad about?"

"Clothes," he said. "She apparently wants me to reassure him that you won't burn in hell for wearing Levis."

She smiled through her tears, which wasn't easy. Her bottom felt like she'd just sat down in a nest of fire ants.

"Yeah," Naomi sniffed. "We got some cute things. Jeans, some tops a couple of cool skirts."

"Cooler than that, I hope," he said, gesturing to the dress.

"Way cooler," she said.

"I'm glad," he replied. "Because you are too pretty to wear such an ugly dress."

She laughed now, dabbing her eyes.

Eric held out his hand. She put the handkerchief in it.

"No," he said, handing it back. "You can keep that. That's not what I want."

"What do you want?" she asked.

"You know. Hand them over."

She rolled her eyes. "No. Please? It's all I have left."

"Good," he replied. "Cold turkey is the best way to quit. Now hand them over. Or do I need to cut another switch?"

She reached into her bra and pulled out the pack. The lighter was tucked inside. With a sigh, she handed it over.

"Happy?" she asked.

"Infinitely so," he said.

"Now let's go back to your house. As soon as you get home you have my permission to change. And to burn that dress."

Chapter Three

Six o'clock came around all too soon for Naomi. Her body, which was used to keeping dancer's hours rebelled at rousing itself at such an early hour and she groaned as she pulled herself from the bed.

Were she not going out with the youth group she could not have found the motivation to get up until her mother or father came banging on the door, but the idea of getting away for the day - even if it was with an overly strict minister and his merry band of Jesus Freaks - was far preferable than spending one more day with her parents.

She dressed quickly, pulling on a t-shirt and pair of jeans over her bathing suit. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her favorite denim shorts, knowing if she donned them now her father wouldn't let her out of the house showing that much leg. As it was he'd probably even object to the fact that her mother had allowed her a swimsuit, even if every other girl in the youth group would be wearing bikinis today.

Naomi hoped she'd be up before her father. No such luck. The Reverend Fred Kindle was sitting at the kitchen table, munching over toast while glowering down at the morning headlines.

"Says here that the Millford school district has voted to completely ban corporal punishment!"

He tossed the paper down, red-faced.

"Godless liberals!" he boomed. "The Lord commands us to correct children. No wonder so many of them go astray. 'Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old he will not depart from it.' Says so right in Proverbs..."

"Calm down, dear." Naomi's mother walked over with the frying pan and slid two pieces of bacon onto her husband's plate.

He looked up then to see his daughter, his eyes registering disapproval of her outfit. But he said nothing, and Naomi knew it was because Rev. Feagans had told him not to.

"Too many people reluctant to tan a little hide today," he said, looking back down at his paper. "If more authority figures would take up the rod then we'd have fewer crime. Less disrespect." He paused. "Fewer Democrats."

Naomi turned and rolled her eyes. She really wished she could avoid his diatribe, especially the part about spanking. Underneath her jeans her bottom was still a bit sore from Eric's spankings.

"Dad, not all Democrats are sinners."

He slammed the paper down on the table and over his shoulder, she could see her mother turn and offer a look that said, "Please don't go there." But Naomi ignored it, and eyed her father defiantly.

"Abortion. Gay marriage. Feminism. Do you stand for those things?"

"If I do, it doesn't mean God loves me any less," Naomi said. "And just because a person's a Democrat doesn't mean they necessarily do stand for those things. Are you trying to say that Republicans are perfect? Gosh, Dad, I didn't realize God even belonged to a political party."

Reverend Kindle rose angrily to his feet, pointing his finger at his daughter.

"Now you listen to me, you rebellious little..."

"Good morning!" Rev. Eric Feagans suddenly appeared in the doorway, halting Fred Kindle in mid-diatribe.

The handsome young youth minister smiled at everyone in the room, ignoring the blow-up everyone knew he'd witnessed.

"The door was open. I hope you don't mind my coming in without knocking."

Rev. Kindle dropped his hand and smoothed his hands over his too-tight vest. "No," he said. "Of course not. Have a seat."

"Don't have time, I'm afraid," Rev. Feagans said. "I just came around to see if Naomi was ready. I need a hand packing."

"Gladly." Naomi walked to the door.

"But you haven't even had breakfast," her mother objected.

"We were going to all stop at McDonalds on the way to the lake. I'll make sure she gets fed." Rev. Feagans smiled at Naomi's mother.

"Hopefully you'll feed us spiritually as well," Rev. Kindle said, "and return her to us with a less defiant attitude."

"Defiant attitude?" Eric looked at Naomi. "Are you being defiant?"

"No." Her tone was defensive, even a little frightened. This annoyed Naomi, but she couldn't help herself. As much as she loathed seeing anyone as an authority figure, Eric Feagans was fast establishing himself as just that.

"I was just expressing my opinion," she said.

"Opinions," he said lightly. "They don't always express the views of staff and management, do they?"

"Indeed they do not," Fred Kindle opened the paper again, snapping it as he did. He peered over the top of it and narrowed his eyes at his daughter.

"We'll be back late this afternoon, Fred." Eric put a hand on Naomi's back and steered her towards the door, saying good-bye to her mother as he did.

Outside he looked at her quizzically. "What on earth did you say to your father that got him so worked up."

"I failed to denounce a political party, which as we all know is the eleventh commandment," she said sarcastically. "He is such an ass..."

"Hey!" He said the word sharply. "I was in complete sympathy with you until you said that. That's disrespectful, Naomi, and I'd better not hear you talk about your father like that again."

She stopped, suddenly furious. "He's disrespectful!" she countered.

"He's your father," Eric said in a decisive tone.

"I don't care!"

"Well you'd better start caring unless you want to spend more time standing than sitting!"

Naomi's face went red with embarrassment. She'd been trying since last night - unsuccessfully - to forget the spankings he'd given her. And now to be threatened with more?

Folding her arms across her chest, she stalked towards he church.

"So this is how its going to be?" she asked over her shoulder. "Are you just going to beat me for everything I do wrong?"

"No. Not everything." He had caught up with her after just a couple of strides. "But you will be accountable, Naomi. Someone needs to look after you."

She laughed at the irony. In L.A. she'd often cried herself to sleep with the secret need to have someone care enough to take care of her, to stop her from her chain of self-destructive behaviors. Now she had someone in her life committed to doing just that, and she wasn't sure she wanted it.