Peaches

The Wink

That Sunday, after entering the Church late, Mr. James Montgomery led his family to sit right behind Jean's. The preacher and the rest of the congregation had come to expect the interruption by then, and no one turned to watch them enter. Still, Jean could hear the titters and complaints coming from the surrounding rows. Their little whisperings and dirty looks inspired a pang of pity in Jean. She knew no one liked the Montgomerys besides her family. They had done nothing wrong, except proudly showcasing their wealth, something no one else in town really had. When she saw Mrs. Bernet mumbling to her son, Jean felt embarrassed that she was even slightly associated with her.

Jean had all but forgotten what she was thinking when she felt Mr. Montgomery sit behind her. She immediately stiffened, her back becoming achingly straight. She couldn't look back or move an inch. Jean was suddenly painstakingly aware of the sheen of sweat on her shoulders and the frizz of her hair. She hoped, almost prayed, that he didn't notice these things, but she knew he did. He was memorizing every detail of her from his pew, storing every blemish, every blessing, in his mind.

Through the service, all Jean could think about was how terribly wrong it was. She had spent her whole life listening to the rules and guidelines that God had decreed and she knew that this was not what God wanted. Yet, Jean didn't think that he cared what God wanted. She also had a hard time telling if she cared as well. It was wrong, and terrible and somehow it still made her turn red. She would always forget how much more experienced he was than her. He was a father, and she was still a child. Yet she didn't ever think about him as a father, and something told her that he never thought about her as a child. He shouldn't look at her at all, and he should love and care for his wife, and he should think Jean was a silly little thing. But he didn't, and she was very glad.

As she began to sing along to the hymn, the man behind her strangely quiet, she formed her hands into fists. She wouldn't dare look back at him, but she felt his breath on her neck, despite how apart they were. Instead she pushed her fingernails into her palms until it hurt.

...

After the service was over, Jean walked out as quick as she could. She was dying for some fresh air. Sometimes, the church got so stuffy she felt like she was choking and with Mr. Montgomery right behind her, it was more stuffy than usual. She had to get out, and take a breath.

When she got out, George Thomas was waiting for her, leaning against the church. As soon as she walked out, he jumped on her, holding an all too familiar buttercup in his hand. He shoved it in her face, but Jean pushed it away. Before, the buttercup was originally such a kind and happy thing, but now the droopy yellow flower made her sad. George then stepped away and wiped the grin away from his face. "God had a thing for forgiveness." He said, looking up at the chapel. "As a good christian, don't you think you have it in your heart to forgive me?"

It wasn't that Jean hadn't forgiven him, she just didn't care. Jean was also beginning to realize that she may not be such a good christian. "I have." She crossed her arms and, she couldn't believe it, he pouted. He definitely wanted something. "What is it?"

"I know that our last date was not so pleasant." He harrumphed, rocking back on his feet. "I feel bad, truly, I do. Can we try again?"

"Are you going to take me back to that place?" Jean guffawed, disgusted. She shriveled up her nose.

"No, never again." He said, smiling. "We will go to an actual place, a restaurant, and sit down like an actual couple." Jean thought about it momentarily, and she considered it. After all, even though she was beginning to question the very idea, she still had the strongest desire to get married. It was worth another try, so she smiled back and nodded.