Read Online Children of the Earth by Anna Schumacher - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anna Schumacher
Ads: Link
but that was because of Pastor Ted’s new TV show, his charismatic personality, and his predictions that Carbon County would be the epicenter of the Rapture. Not because of her.
“It’s true.” Hilary nodded emphatically, her curls shivering. “Actually, I don’t know if you know this but I started a youth group in the church. We’re helping out with the new building, and we’re starting a community outreach program and teen center and all sorts of stuff.
Anywa
y
, the kids in it are crazy about you, and they’re
dying
to meet you. If, you know, you have a minute.”
“You mean, now?” Daphne asked. “Are they here?”
“No, the Christian youth group decided to skip church this Sunday.” A sly smile started to spread across Hilary’s face, but she stopped it with a quick smack to the forehead. “Crap, I’m trying to stop being sarcastic, too. Pastor Ted says sarcasm is like a veil that hides your soul from God. But anyway, yeah, they’re here, and they would
love
to meet you. They talk about you all the time. You’re like a celebrity to them.”
Daphne swallowed the urge to turn and run. She’d been enough of a celebrity in Detroit, when her unsmiling mug shot appeared in the paper with headlines like
Teen
Killer Says, ‘Not M
y Fault,’
to know that life in the spotlight definitely wasn’t for her. She reminded herself that she had a responsibility to her church and her community, whether she’d asked for it or not. “Okay,” she finally said.
“Great!” Hilary bounced to her feet and led Daphne through the crowd of picnickers to a group of teens occupying a series of overlapping blankets on the edge of the lawn.
“Guys, I want you to meet someone really special.” They stopped talking at the sound of Hilary’s voice. “This is Daphne Peyton, aka Carbon County’s hometown prophet.”
A collective gasp spread through the group. In moments they were on their feet, plates of food forgotten as they fixed her with wide smiles.
“Hi, everyone.” Daphne forced a grin, raising her hand in a limp wave.
“Wow, Daphne Peyton!” The guy closest to her extended a flannel-clad arm, offering a firm handshake. His face was square and friendly, with twin dimples framing a sculpted chin. “It sure is a pleasure to meet you. I’m Mark, from Cincinnati. I can’t tell you—I mean, wow, this is such an honor.” Thick blond hair gleamed in the sun as he shook his head, the broad smile never leaving his face.
“You’ve inspired all of us.” The girl next to him beamed. She wore a vintage ’50s housedress printed with cherries and had braided her hair into a complicated crown that circled her head. “The relationship you have with God—it’s just amazing. It makes us all want to lead better lives.”
One by one, they approached her with hearty handshakes and words of praise, words that sounded like they ought to be about someone else, someone who wasn’t anything like the person she felt like inside. Their Daphne was strong and brave, devout and righteous and special. She was a guiding light who brought out the goodness in others, inspiring them to follow their beliefs across the country and start organizations to help those in need. She was anything but the real Daphne, who lived on a diet of guilt and fear and looked over her shoulder with every step. Honestly, she liked their Daphne a lot better. She wished there was a way for her to actually
be
that person instead of just coming across that way.
The youth group invited her to sit, ran to fetch her lemonade, and passed her a plate of chocolate butterscotch blondies. “They’re my grandma’s secret recipe,” giggled Monica, the girl in the vintage dress. “I put most of them out for the potluck, but they always go quick, so I kept a secret stash just in case . . .” She smiled and glanced at her knees, then back at Daphne.
“They’re delicious,” Daphne said honestly. She let the sugar and the youth group’s chatter lull
“It’s true.” Hilary nodded emphatically, her curls shivering. “Actually, I don’t know if you know this but I started a youth group in the church. We’re helping out with the new building, and we’re starting a community outreach program and teen center and all sorts of stuff.
Anywa
y
, the kids in it are crazy about you, and they’re
dying
to meet you. If, you know, you have a minute.”
“You mean, now?” Daphne asked. “Are they here?”
“No, the Christian youth group decided to skip church this Sunday.” A sly smile started to spread across Hilary’s face, but she stopped it with a quick smack to the forehead. “Crap, I’m trying to stop being sarcastic, too. Pastor Ted says sarcasm is like a veil that hides your soul from God. But anyway, yeah, they’re here, and they would
love
to meet you. They talk about you all the time. You’re like a celebrity to them.”
Daphne swallowed the urge to turn and run. She’d been enough of a celebrity in Detroit, when her unsmiling mug shot appeared in the paper with headlines like
Teen
Killer Says, ‘Not M
y Fault,’
to know that life in the spotlight definitely wasn’t for her. She reminded herself that she had a responsibility to her church and her community, whether she’d asked for it or not. “Okay,” she finally said.
“Great!” Hilary bounced to her feet and led Daphne through the crowd of picnickers to a group of teens occupying a series of overlapping blankets on the edge of the lawn.
“Guys, I want you to meet someone really special.” They stopped talking at the sound of Hilary’s voice. “This is Daphne Peyton, aka Carbon County’s hometown prophet.”
A collective gasp spread through the group. In moments they were on their feet, plates of food forgotten as they fixed her with wide smiles.
“Hi, everyone.” Daphne forced a grin, raising her hand in a limp wave.
“Wow, Daphne Peyton!” The guy closest to her extended a flannel-clad arm, offering a firm handshake. His face was square and friendly, with twin dimples framing a sculpted chin. “It sure is a pleasure to meet you. I’m Mark, from Cincinnati. I can’t tell you—I mean, wow, this is such an honor.” Thick blond hair gleamed in the sun as he shook his head, the broad smile never leaving his face.
“You’ve inspired all of us.” The girl next to him beamed. She wore a vintage ’50s housedress printed with cherries and had braided her hair into a complicated crown that circled her head. “The relationship you have with God—it’s just amazing. It makes us all want to lead better lives.”
One by one, they approached her with hearty handshakes and words of praise, words that sounded like they ought to be about someone else, someone who wasn’t anything like the person she felt like inside. Their Daphne was strong and brave, devout and righteous and special. She was a guiding light who brought out the goodness in others, inspiring them to follow their beliefs across the country and start organizations to help those in need. She was anything but the real Daphne, who lived on a diet of guilt and fear and looked over her shoulder with every step. Honestly, she liked their Daphne a lot better. She wished there was a way for her to actually
be
that person instead of just coming across that way.
The youth group invited her to sit, ran to fetch her lemonade, and passed her a plate of chocolate butterscotch blondies. “They’re my grandma’s secret recipe,” giggled Monica, the girl in the vintage dress. “I put most of them out for the potluck, but they always go quick, so I kept a secret stash just in case . . .” She smiled and glanced at her knees, then back at Daphne.
“They’re delicious,” Daphne said honestly. She let the sugar and the youth group’s chatter lull
Similar Books
