Vicious Cycle (Vicious Cycle #1)(25)

“I can teach her.”

“You?” he asked incredulously.

I drew my shoulders back. “Yeah, me. I started ballet at the age of three. I taught at the local dance studio to put myself through college.”

“That makes sense. You have a dancer’s body,” Rev said.

My gaze jerked from Deacon’s to Rev’s. Bishop slapped Rev on the back. “Oh, man. You’ve been checking her out, too, huh?” he teased with a grin.

“Just an observation,” he replied softly, without meeting anyone’s eyes.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Deacon cleared his throat. “Okay, then, Miss Twinkle Toes. Guess you’re getting your precious dance lessons.”

Willow squealed with excitement, her body bouncing in her chair beside me. “I want a pink leotard, Miss Alex.”

I grinned. “I think I can make that happen.”

Beth set down a large platter of ham. “Well, now. I think that’s everything.” After she dropped down into the empty chair at the other end of the table, she nodded at Deacon. “Will you return thanks, son?”

My mouth gaped open when Deacon laced his fingers together and bowed his head. It took me a moment in my stupor to bow my head as well. Deacon’s deep voice boomed through the silent dining room. “Bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies and our bodies to your service. Amen.”

“Amen,” echoed around the table.

We then started passing around the bowls of food. “This all looks so delicious,” I said, spooning some green beans onto my plate.

“Thank you,” Beth replied with a pleased smile. After she offered me some corn bread, she asked, “Now, where is it you’re from originally?”

“Marietta. I moved here when I was seventeen to live with my aunt and uncle.”

After nodding her head in acknowledgment, Beth chewed thoughtfully on her corn bread, and I could see the questions about my past whirling through her mind. Deciding to put her out of her misery, I said, “My parents were killed in a car accident when I was seventeen. My brother and I came to live with my mother’s brother.”

Beth’s face fell at my admission. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. Such a terrible tragedy for one so young.”

A knot formed in my throat, and I could only nod my head in acknowledgment. Although almost ten years had passed since my parents died, there were still times when I found it almost unbearable to think about, much less talk about. Most of my initial grieving had gotten pushed aside to be strong for Charlie.

“I believe your uncle is a lifer here?” Deacon asked, bringing me out of my thoughts.

“Well, for most of his life, I suppose. He was twenty when he got married and moved here to be with my aunt’s family.”

“He’s a former state trooper.”

My brows rose in surprise at all of Deacon’s knowledge about my family. “Yes. He retired two years ago with forty years with the Georgia State Patrol.”

“Ah, God’s Special Police,” Bishop said with a grin.

I laughed. “A lot of his local PD buddies teased him with that.”

“Does he still have ties to the GSP or the local PD?” Deacon asked.

With a shrug, I replied, “I don’t really know. I think he’s enjoying his retirement a lot. He has a cabin in Blue Ridge, and he and my aunt spend a lot of time there.” Gazing down the table at him, I smiled. “Why all the interest in my uncle’s law-enforcement ties?”

Deacon swiped his mouth with a napkin. “I was hoping he might help me with a speeding ticket.”

“It’s judges—not patrolmen—who fix tickets.”

He winked at me. “Good to know.”

Something told me he didn’t have any tickets that needed fixing. He was more concerned with how Uncle Jimmy might affect his club. Wanting to steer the subject away from Uncle Jimmy, I said, “This is delicious. You’re a wonderful cook, Mrs. Malloy.”

“Call me Beth. And thank you so much.”

“I should probably hire you to teach me to cook. I’m afraid that I’m not very good at it.”

Beth smiled. “I would be happy to teach you. But there would be no charge. It would be a pleasure.” Gazing around the table, she said, “Since I wasn’t blessed with daughters, I’d love to be able to pass on my knowledge.”

“You got a granddaughter,” Deacon protested.

“That’s right. I do. But it’s going to be a few more years before she’s ready to be unleashed in the kitchen.”

Willow paused in gnawing on a piece of ham to eye Beth. “But you said I’m your bestest cooking helper.”

“And you are, sweetheart. But you’re going to stay a helper for now rather than the cook.” At Willow’s crestfallen expression, Beth said, “You need to put all your energy into your schoolwork and being a ballerina.”

Tilting her head to the side, Willow mulled over Beth’s response. Then, as she perked up, Willow turned to me. “Can my leotard have sparkles on it?” she asked.

“I don’t see why not.”

“And I want a pink tutu. Do I have to wear white tights or can I have pink?” As she rambled off more and more questions, her plate remained untouched.