“The church going to be in Costa Rica, son?” Dad chokes out.
“Give me those.”
“Paul?” mama whispers. Her face falls as Papa hands her the papers, and she gasps sharply. “Honey, what… what is this?”
“It’s a land deal in Costa Rica, isn’t it,” Papa growls quietly, looking at Paul. “Son, what is this?”
“It’s nothing!” Paul snaps.
“Son,” Papa whispers quietly, his face pale. “You’ve told people—good, working people who gave you their hard-earned money—that the church would be here. Your mama and I gave you money, because Canaan needs a—”
“Give me that!”
Paul lunges and snatches the papers out of papa’s hands before reaching out and plucking the other one’s from mama’s. He furiously stuffs them back into his file folders and snaps them shut.
“Paul!” Papa roars.
“Fuck off!”
My father blinks in shock, and my mother starts to cry. I feel numb, like I’m watching this on TV or something, and I reach over to hold my mother.
“You wanna talk about the wedding? That it?” Paul yells. “Fine! It’s tomorrow, at Gabriel Marsden’s tent. Come if you want, I don’t fucking care anymore.”
With that, he turns, and he marches off the porch and around the side of the house towards his car. I squeeze my mother before I jump up and bolt after him.
“Paul!” I yell, chasing him. “Paul!”
“Don’t,” he hisses, suddenly turning on me in the driveway. “Just don’t, Delilah!”
“Paul, just why are you—”
“Oh go run off to your preacher, Delilah,” he snaps.
I stiffen. “What?”
He rolls his eyes. “You think I’m an idiot like them? As if I didn’t sneak out and go meet up with girls all through high school?” He snorts a cruel laugh. “I know what a walk of shame looks like, Delilah.”
I turn crimson, and I start to stammer. “That’s not—”
“I don’t care,” Paul says flatly with a shrug. “I really, truly don’t care.”
I swallow. “And Gabriel’s really marrying you tomorrow?”
“Yep.” He smirks. “Guess he didn’t mention that, did he?”
I chew at my lip, eyeing my brother. “Are you building a church in Canaan, or aren’t you, Paul.”
He looks away. “Delilah—”
“Answer me!”
He turns back to me, scowling. “No. I’m getting the fuck out of this fucking town, and if you’re smart, you will, too.”
I balk at him. “By ripping people off? By ripping mama and papa off?”
He laughs. “Cast the first fucking stone. Go talk to Preacher Gabriel about ripping people off, he’s more of a pro that I’ll ever be.”
“Paul, that’s not—”