Mistletoe And Wine

In God's House

Sunday passed by very slowly. Marge made us all go to church with her and we sat in the front pew. The Reverend seemed to know Marge quite well because they conversed between the times he was at the podium and when someone else was up speaking. He seemed to flirt with her a bit too, but Marge wasn't interested. I suppose older men with a beer gut and a huge bald spot on the top of his head wasn't her type.

The choir sang the closing hymn of angels and loving the Lord and we walked out. Marge walked up to me, looking less stern than she had all week, but still, she looked sick. "You ought to join Young Women. They do all sorts of adventurous things. Camping out doors and the like."

"Thanks," I wrinkle my nose. "But I'll pass."

"Let me reiterate for you. Young Women's class is down the hall there. Go with Lindy. It's her fifth week there."

Will wrapped his arms around my neck, clinging to me. "Don't go," he pouts. I frown at him and sigh. There was no way I was going to get out of this, was there?

"You're brother will be taken with Griffon to the nursery. He will be fine."

"Okay," resigning, I set my brother down on his feet.

"No!" Will refused to let go and got his fingers tangled up in my curled hair, accidentally pulling on it, and making me flinch.

"Little boy, let go," Marge demanded, and I wasn't fast enough backing away to stop her from swatting his butt with her clutch.

"Owie!" Wills face scrunched up and turned red as the tears welled in his eyes. He had jumped back from me fast and clutched his diaper.

"Shh," I hushed him, putting my finger on his lips. "It's okay." He sniffles and nods slowly, wrapping his arms around me once again.

"Come on let's go," Lindy says as she grabs my hand and starts walking away briskly. "Paul and Emma will take the boys to the nursery on their way to primary. We get to play with the big girls." Excitedly. She pushed open the white wooden door to a room with several foldable plastic chairs on a blue carpet, a TV and vhs player on a stand with wheels, a whiteboard with pink writing all over it, and pictures badly drawn, and a small desk with a big bowl of candy sitting on top of it.

A woman sat at the desk cutting paper with some green scissors. She looks up at our arrival and a smile spreads across her pretty young face. She had green eyes and curly red hair, white strait teeth, and dimples in her cheeks. Her nose had a light spray of freckles across it and her skin was so pale it matched the paper in her manicured hand.

"Hello, Lindy," she said kindly. "You've brought a friend this week. Welcome, I'm Madison. I help my mom with the class."

"Hi," I respond, shaking the hand she extend towards me. "I'm Stella."

"That's pretty! I'm so glad you're here. We have a lot of fun."

"Looking forward to it," I lied. The truth was this whole God thing wasn't for me. If there was one, I guess he had turned his back on me. What kind of loving God would let one of his "children" go through the crap Will and I have been through?

Other girls from ages 13 to 18 filed in through the doors. The younger ones sat in the first row and the eldest sat in the third, and last row. I noticed several seats were empty, and wondered if this was normally a big class. My question was answered shortly as boys entered as well of the same age group and took seats mingled with ours. Some of them immediately began to chatter and laugh. I was sat next to a dark skinned girl with short cut hair to her scalp and warm dark eyes rimmed in liner. She wore a white puffy shirt with a cream and gold threaded vest and black jeans that looked nice enough for church, but not dressy by any means.