𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚅𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊

𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝙺𝚒𝚍

♡
1984.
Gary, IN
Word count:6.3K

It was a sweltering fall day in Gary, Indiana, the sun blazing down mercilessly even within the cool confines of the church. But the heat wasn't just from the sun; it was also from the pastor's son, Michael. Every girl in town seemed to be vying for his attention, even some of the older women who knew they were a bit past their prime. Yet, amidst the clamor, Michael had his eyes fixed on you.

"Quit lookin' at that boy and pay attention to the pastor, child," your mama hissed in your ear, her voice a sharp whisper that cut through the Sunday stillness.

"Mama, I wasn't-"

"I don't wanna hear another word. Hush your mouth," she gritted through her teeth, her gaze boring into you with the kind of intensity that only a Southern mama can muster.

It was hard being a church girl, especially down South, where Sundays meant stiff dresses and long sermons. Your mama had been a die-hard Christian all her life, strict as a ruler, claiming she was saved and a child of God. But anyone with eyes could see she had a devil's fire in her.

You weren't no saint yourself. Eyeing the pastor's son during the sermon, you felt a thrill that had nothing to do with salvation. He was a fine young man, too fine for his own good, you thought. He carried himself with a confidence that didn't stop at the church doors.

He caught you looking and didn't flinch. Instead, he bit his bottom lip and held your gaze, those eyes of his locking onto yours like a prayer. He winked, and you felt a flush creep up your neck, hotter than a July afternoon.

Had y'all ever talked? No, but his eyes did all the talking needed. And Lord, those eyes could write a book.

"Now, my son here," Pastor Joseph's words snapped you out of your trance, "while I'm gone, he'll be takin' over for me for the next few months. I'm invitin' all of y'all for lunch after the service is over. I want y'all to show my son Michael the same love y'all show me. Son, would you like to say anything?"

Michael stood up, smooth as honey, and approached the podium. "Uh, thank y'all," he began, a nervous smile playing on his lips. "I don't have many words to say, but growin' up in this church since I was a young boy, y'all have seen me grow up, and I've grown up with some of y'all. I hope I'll get the love and appreciation y'all give my father."

His voice was steady, but you could see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. The congregation watched him with a mix of pride and curiosity, nodding their heads in approval. You felt a flutter in your chest, your earlier fluster returning with a vengeance. There he was, right in front of everyone, standing tall and confident, even if his hands betrayed a slight tremor as he gripped the edges of the podium.

As he stepped down, your mama gave you a sharp nudge with her elbow. "See that, child? That's a boy with promise. Now keep your eyes on the Lord and off that boy."