Chapter 6

Cynthia

Still puzzled, and more than a little disturbed, I open the door, wondering if either my sister or father came in last night.

As far as I know, both of them have spare keys. I hide my worry behind a smile and accept my father’s hug as he steps through the door.

Other than looking a little tired, I don’t see anything to suggest he’s aware I spent the night elsewhere.

As always, my sister, Trudy breezes in, the very picture of a good daughter, wearing a smile that’s always in place, and a pair of baggy jeans, an overlarge sweater, and sneakers.

Nothing to suggest she has curves and big boobs hiding under the mountain of fabric.

Even her hair is pulled back into a boring ponytail, and like our mother, she considers make-up forbidden.

“Morning, sweetheart, did you get the totals finished?” My dad asks.

My smile grows even more wooden as I go for a half-truth. “I’ll finish it today.”

Trudy’s eyes narrow. “Where were you working on it?”

I frown a little. “At work. Why?”

She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I hope they don’t mind you doing that?”

I shake my head. “I asked my boss, and she said it’s fine as long as I keep it to breaks.”

My father’s brow wrinkles in concern. “I hope you aren’t taking on too much?”

Trudy doesn’t let me get in a reply. “She has me to help,” she says.

I hide my annoyance neither of them think I can manage my life, and look at my watch. “Didn’t you have a home visit?”

My father nods and gives me a hopeful smile. “You’re welcome to join me? I’m dropping Trudy at the office first.”

The last thing I have the energy for is putting on an act and spending time with one of the very people who judge me. And I doubt they’d appreciate me showing up either.

I gesture to the Bible lying open on the coffee table. “I’d like to get through a little more study. Then I need to go grocery shopping and clean.”

I hate that his posture reveals just how relieved he is at not having to explain my presence. “Of course. Well, then, we’ll head out.”

Trudy seems as eager as he is to leave. She near throws a boxed phone at me in her haste to get out. “I upgraded mine a while ago. I kept it, and I figure you’d want an iPhone,” she says.

I take the phone and force a smile. “Thanks.”

“Good thing we could come to your rescue,” she says.

While dad chuckles, all my muscles tense at the condescension in her tone.

“I didn’t need rescuing, I was going to buy a new phone anyway,” I snap at her.

Trudy’s lips twitch but she just smiles benignly. “No need to be rude. I was just joking,” she says brightly.

Her eyes shift to our father, and she bows her head slightly. “I’ll wait in the car. I need to make a quick phone call anyway.”

I’m still simmering when my father leans in closer. “Is everything alright? You seem a little out of sorts.”

I try to smile for his sake. “I think maybe I should start looking for somewhere else to live? I don’t want people thinking I’m taking advantage of you.”

I don’t bother to add I’m also sick of people thinking I’m a charity case. Living here has given me the ability to save a little, it’ll be tight, but after last night, and after the disappearing trash incident, I’m not sure I could stay here even if I wanted to.

His lips tug downward as if he’s disappointed. “You’re paying the same amount of rent as anyone else would be. This is a halfway house, sweetheart. You may be my daughter, but you’re also a member of my congregation, and entitled to a hand up when you needed it.”

I swallow hard as guilt starts to close my throat over. Pressure starts to crush in as I think of the probing questions the elders of the church, and housing committee subjected me to before approving me.

The wayward daughter of their beloved pastor Matthew. “And I appreciate it. But I think it’s time I let someone else live here.”

His eyes narrow, and in that instant I know he still doesn’t trust I’m not going to mess this all up for him.

“You would tell me if you were in trouble, or if you weren’t coping, wouldn’t you?”

I smile and wish I really could tell him everything including the reason I want to move away from the church’s prying eye and intrusive litter collections.

But most of all I want to prove to my father and to my sister I’m not the breakable little girl they think I am.

“Of course,” I lie.

***

Becker

Saturday 10.23am

I pull into a parking space outside the church and stare at the whitewashed building beside the office.

I mentally steel myself, grab the briefcase from the passenger seat, and jump out of my truck.

Briefcase in my hand, I push the door to the office open, I’m still not sure how I’ll stop this from going tits up.

Just like Matthew said she’d be, Trudy his eldest daughter and soon-to-be missionary is waiting for me.

She smiles widely and opens the door. “Nice to see you again,” she says.

I nod my head and step through the door as she keeps smiling. “This won’t take long. Just a few questions and a briefing on what to expect then I’ll get out of your hair.”

If I’d not already figured her out, it would be confirmed as she sits behind the secretary’s desk and gives me a placid smile.

“I didn’t realize Global Hope would send someone to oversee my application. You must travel a lot?”

I open the briefcase and pull out the questionnaire I concocted. “I do.”

She smiles wider. “So, you’ll be visiting me again? When I’m at the boarding house with the other aid workers?”

I smile back and examine her a little closer. Physically she bears no resemblance to her younger sister.

She’s larger, bigger boned, fair hair, blue eyes, freckles. So far the only thing she seems to have in common with her sister is their father.

Since the best way to get someone to open up is to get them talking about themselves, I push the paper towards her.

“That’s part of my job. Make sure you’re informed of what to expect, what’s expected of you, and how you can best do your job in the time allowed.”

She glances at the sheet of paper and dutifully picks up a pen. “Wow, this is a lot of questions,” she says.

I keep my smile relaxed as I sit back in my chair. “It’s just to make sure we cover everything. The last thing your father and I want is your getting over there and not understanding what you’ve committed to. Have a read through and I’ll answer any questions you have.”

She nods slowly, an earnest expression on her face as she reads. I keep my eyes on her as she reaches the section I figured she’d have an issue with.

“I’m not sure I understand the question. How do I deal with conflict?”

I nod. “It’s to get a general gauge on how you react under pressure. Do you have any experience with handling drunken or disorderly people?”

Her eyebrows rise and she looks down at her hands. “Well, a little.”

I already know where’s she’s going to take this, so I sit back and wait. “My sister,” she says.

I know I need to push her a little, so I nod. “Tell me about that.”

She looks at me, and behind the smile, I see something that makes my internal warning system fire. “She used to get in a lot of trouble. When we were younger.”

“What kind of trouble?”

Her mouth twists into a frown and she issues the words with about as much veiled contempt as I’d expected. “She used to go out with boys that were no good.”

I motion for her to continue and she does, with relish. “The police even showed up one night. They told dad he needed to keep a closer eye on her. He made all kinds of excuses, but we all know Cynthia is just easily led astray.”

She laughs brightly, but there’s so much maliciousness behind it, I bristle as she hurries to cover her ass. “She’s the female prodigal son.”

I smile even though I know the story well enough to understand her reference.

“But she came back to the church?”

She nods. “After mom died. She said she wanted to turn her life around.”

I already know about that and I don’t feel like opening that can of worms, so I ask her an easier question. “What’s it like working with her now?”

Her fake smile stretches even wider. “Forgiveness is a wonderful thing.”

I smile back and look at the form on the desk. “Your father tells me you’re handling a lot of the revenue gathering for the church?”

She nods. “Yes. I’m in charge of all church fundraising.”

“Along with your sister?”

Her smile wavers but she keeps it glued in place. “Our father thought it would be a good idea if she helped me.”

I frown like I’m trying to remember something. “I think I recall your father saying you handle the money and your sister keeps the records?”

Her smile falters before it’s wedged firmly back into place. “Yes, It’s, um, safer that way.”

That’s a slip. A big one. “Safer? Because people think she’d steal it?”

“Well, she does have a history,” she says easily.

Trudy’s face blanches and she seems to realize she’s just made herself look less than forgiving.

When I cock an eyebrow, she scrambles to fix what she said. “I mean, that sounds terrible. It’s just she’s, well, even as a child, she was known for her bad judgment.”

I wave my hand like it’s not a big deal. “People have long memories. I get it. Let’s move on to cultural expectations, shall we?”

I barely listen as she answers with all the over-the-top enthusiasm I’d expected.

I have what I came for. It could still be an error or an oversight and I’ll know that as soon as I have all the records.

What I do know for sure, is that despite talk of forgiveness, Cynthia will always be known as the bad daughter.

As I listen to her sister say all the right things, I know for sure that is exactly what Trudy wants her to be.