Read Online Midnight Crossroad (Midnight, Texas #1) by Charlaine Harris - Free Book Online
Authors: Charlaine Harris
Tags: kickass.to, ScreamQueen
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who nodded back. Without further ado, the Rev opened the pamphlet and began to read a very bare-bones marriage service. The depth and richness of his voice was a shock to Manfred, who’d expected something much rustier. “Lisa Gray, Cole Denton, you’ve come here to be joined in holy matrimony in front of these witnesses . . .”
In wavering voices, the two impossibly young people pledged to take care of each other for the rest of their lives. When the Rev had pronounced them man and wife, the kids kissed each other and smiled, full of a foolish happiness. From the fit of the bride’s tight jeans, Manfred suspected there was another person present in utero.
Manfred joined Fiji in clapping enthusiastically, and he was smiling because the kids were smiling; but his inner cynic gave this marriage two years, at most.
I’m the Scrooge of weddings,
he thought. Well, his mom hadn’t set a very good example; he’d never met his father. In fact, he didn’t know who his father was.
The Rev didn’t seem to be troubled by any doubts. He showed them their wedding certificate after he’d signed it. “I’ll mail this to the county clerk right away,” he assured them. “Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord.”
Wasn’t that from the Episcopalian prayer book?
Manfred wondered. He’d been to church a few times with his mom.
“Thanks, Reverend Sheehan,” said the girl, and her face passed into prettiness as she gave the old man a hug.
“We’re really grateful,” said the boy, and shook the Rev’s hand with enthusiasm. He bashfully handed the minister a ten-dollar bill.
“Thanks, son,” said the Reverend Emilio Sheehan, with genuine gratitude.
Then the young married couple left for whatever honeymoon they could manage, and the occasion was over. Fiji raised her hand in farewell. Manfred duplicated her gesture as he, too, turned away. He’d have liked to manage a conversation with the Rev, but the minister didn’t seem as interested in Manfred as Manfred was in him. Manfred took a moment to study the license on the wall, which proclaimed that Emilio Sheehan was ordained by the Church of the Ark of God to perform weddings in the state of Texas. So, this was the real deal. Manfred felt subtly reassured.
As he left the chapel, which was all of twelve feet wide and fourteen feet deep, he walked slowly to take a longer look around. He realized he was in an old building, at least in American terms. Except for the benches, the wood of the building was roughly cut, and when he looked at the planks closely, he could see that the nails holding them together were old and irregular. The heat was apparently provided by a wood-burning stove at the front of the church. To cool the space in the summer, there were fans hanging down from the ceiling, so there was electricity. There was not a closet or a bathroom: one room was what you got.
Manfred and Fiji descended the wooden steps, both watching their feet with some care because the boards shifted a little. Manfred cast a glance under the structure. Mr. Snuggly was peering out at him, and he waved at the cat. Mr. Snuggly pointedly looked in another direction. A pebble path ran the short distance to the rutted driveway, which led past the chapel to the gate in the fence surrounding the pet cemetery.
Manfred glanced behind him to see if the Rev was also leaving the gloomy building. But the door had fallen back into place, and it did not reopen. Did the old man stay there all day in the bare room, waiting for whoever might come? How did he keep from madness?
“So, you do that often?” he asked Fiji, because he didn’t want to think about the Rev going mad.
Fiji smiled. “Nah. And usually, when he asks me, I call Bobo and he walks over. But I could see he had a pawnshop customer this morning, so I called you. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No,” Manfred said, surprised to discover that was the truth. He hastened to add, “Some days I might be too busy,
In wavering voices, the two impossibly young people pledged to take care of each other for the rest of their lives. When the Rev had pronounced them man and wife, the kids kissed each other and smiled, full of a foolish happiness. From the fit of the bride’s tight jeans, Manfred suspected there was another person present in utero.
Manfred joined Fiji in clapping enthusiastically, and he was smiling because the kids were smiling; but his inner cynic gave this marriage two years, at most.
I’m the Scrooge of weddings,
he thought. Well, his mom hadn’t set a very good example; he’d never met his father. In fact, he didn’t know who his father was.
The Rev didn’t seem to be troubled by any doubts. He showed them their wedding certificate after he’d signed it. “I’ll mail this to the county clerk right away,” he assured them. “Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord.”
Wasn’t that from the Episcopalian prayer book?
Manfred wondered. He’d been to church a few times with his mom.
“Thanks, Reverend Sheehan,” said the girl, and her face passed into prettiness as she gave the old man a hug.
“We’re really grateful,” said the boy, and shook the Rev’s hand with enthusiasm. He bashfully handed the minister a ten-dollar bill.
“Thanks, son,” said the Reverend Emilio Sheehan, with genuine gratitude.
Then the young married couple left for whatever honeymoon they could manage, and the occasion was over. Fiji raised her hand in farewell. Manfred duplicated her gesture as he, too, turned away. He’d have liked to manage a conversation with the Rev, but the minister didn’t seem as interested in Manfred as Manfred was in him. Manfred took a moment to study the license on the wall, which proclaimed that Emilio Sheehan was ordained by the Church of the Ark of God to perform weddings in the state of Texas. So, this was the real deal. Manfred felt subtly reassured.
As he left the chapel, which was all of twelve feet wide and fourteen feet deep, he walked slowly to take a longer look around. He realized he was in an old building, at least in American terms. Except for the benches, the wood of the building was roughly cut, and when he looked at the planks closely, he could see that the nails holding them together were old and irregular. The heat was apparently provided by a wood-burning stove at the front of the church. To cool the space in the summer, there were fans hanging down from the ceiling, so there was electricity. There was not a closet or a bathroom: one room was what you got.
Manfred and Fiji descended the wooden steps, both watching their feet with some care because the boards shifted a little. Manfred cast a glance under the structure. Mr. Snuggly was peering out at him, and he waved at the cat. Mr. Snuggly pointedly looked in another direction. A pebble path ran the short distance to the rutted driveway, which led past the chapel to the gate in the fence surrounding the pet cemetery.
Manfred glanced behind him to see if the Rev was also leaving the gloomy building. But the door had fallen back into place, and it did not reopen. Did the old man stay there all day in the bare room, waiting for whoever might come? How did he keep from madness?
“So, you do that often?” he asked Fiji, because he didn’t want to think about the Rev going mad.
Fiji smiled. “Nah. And usually, when he asks me, I call Bobo and he walks over. But I could see he had a pawnshop customer this morning, so I called you. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No,” Manfred said, surprised to discover that was the truth. He hastened to add, “Some days I might be too busy,
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