Your father.
Oh, great! If any two words in the world were capable of making her cry, it was those two. Still, some of her fear lifted, a sense of calm settling in its place. She made her way over to Joe, who angled the microphone down for her. She took a deep breath, looked over at Chaska one last time, then spoke.
“My vacation here in Colorado didn’t go the way I thought it would, but thanks to the people of Scarlet Springs, it hasn’t been a disaster, either. From the Team members who carried me out of that ravine, to the doctors and nurses who treated me and gave me clothes to wear, to someone named Frank who I don’t even know who is fixing my car, everyone has been incredibly kind. I’ve never been anyplace quite like Scarlet.”
This brought laughter, which made Naomi laugh, too.
“All I really wanted to say was thank you. Thank you, Joe and Rain. Thanks to Megs and the Team. Thanks to Dr. O’Brien, Dr. Thorne, Dr. Renshaw, and Ellie Meeks and the other nurses. Thanks to Zach McBride and all the law enforcement officers who helped catch the bad guys. Thanks to Frank, whoever you are.”
A thin man with a receding hairline and a wispy gray ponytail stood and waved at her, still wearing his work coveralls. “That’s me, honey, and you’re welcome! I’ll have your Honda ready to go by Monday.”
More laughter.
Then Naomi’s gaze met Chaska’s, her throat growing tight again. “Most of all, I want to thank Chaska and Winona Belcourt for finding me and saving my life and giving me a place to recover. There’s nothing I can do to repay you—any of you.”
People cheered and applauded.
Naomi stepped back from the microphone and made her way back to Chaska, who helped her down the stairs. “How did I do?”
“You were fantastic.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I think you made Frank’s day—heck, his entire year.”
The band started playing again, making it impossible to talk. They’d just passed the dance floor when someone stepped into their path.
It took Naomi a moment to recognize him, her heart giving a hard knock when she did. “Peter.”
Chapter 22
Peter’s hairwas mostly gray now, his face thinner, sharper, crueler than Naomi remembered. He looked her up and down, self-righteous disgust on his face, his attire plain. It was all for show—the black pants, the white shirt, the black suspenders. “Hello, Tabitha.”
The sight of him and the sound of his voice awoke the terrified child inside her, ice taking over her body. She raised her chin, determined to stand up for herself, fear clotting her throat. “That’s not … That’s not my name.”
He ignored her. “I am sorry to find you in a place like this.”
“Who the hell are you?” Chaska took a step toward him, standing at an angle, clearly ready to step between her and this man who had once terrified her.
“My name is Peter Emmanuel. I’m Tabitha’s adoptive father. I will thank you to keep your coarse language to yourself.”
“If you don’t like how I talk, maybe you should get out of here. Keep this up,kola, and I’m bound to say other things you don’t like.” The warning note in Chaska’s voice was unmistakable.
Ruth appeared beside Peter, bitterness lining her round face, her graying hair pulled back to hang down to her hips. “God, in his mercy, has led us to you. One of our parishioners saw your face on the news, Tabitha, and told us what happened. We came to bring you back into the fold, saw posters for this event, and here you are. You shamed us, running away like you did. This attack on you was God’s judgment, but you still have time to repent.”
Chaska glared at them. “Naomi, you don’t have to listen to this. These people have no authority over you.”
“I come with the authority of God.” Peter was using his sermon voice now. “I speak in His holy name.”
All at once, it seemed so absurd and sickening—this little man with his threats and self-righteousness.
Fear became rage. “You are so full of shit. Was it holy when you married underage girls to old men? Was it holy when you beat me with a belt for dropping eggs or asking questions or for no reason at all? Is it holy when you control every element of people’s lives?”
She realized she was shouting, but she didn’t care. “'There is nothing holy about you, and there never was!”
Peter held up his Bible. “If any man has a stubborn and rebellious son who will not obey his father or his mother, and when they chastise him, he will not even listen to them, then his father and mother shall seize him—”
“Get away from my daughter!” Doug stood there now, Win beside him. “We ought to file charges—for parental neglect, child abuse…”
“How about disturbing the peace and harassment?” McBride said, his marshal’s badge showing on his jacket.
Ruth looked uncertainly up at her husband, clearly afraid now.