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manamania · 7 months ago

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Untouched: Part One

Pastor Lemuel Childs x OC

Synopsis: Pastor Childs has been lost this past year after what his family and the parish went through. But when a young woman comes into town, aimless and without guidance, the Pastor takes it upon himself to be her shepherd, and lead her out of the darkness... And into his arms.

Warnings: older man x young woman, religious exploitation (kinda), religious trauma, eventual smut, angst, OC is a virgin, Pastor Childs is not a great person but he sure is hot as hell, I apologize for any spelling errors

@justme12200 @its-in-the-woods @hiddlebatchedloki

Word count: 6.2K

315 miles between here and there. 1,663 feet between the home Virginia knew, in the town of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, and the old house in West Virginia, where her uncle used to live. If dwelling like a hermit is considered living at all, she mused.

By the 302nd mile, her rusty old truck, another inheritance by her father, had ceased to run, sputtering and spitting as it slowed to a stop on the side of a road in the middle of nowhere. Virginia hadn’t been reckless, she had paid attention to the meter and was heading towards the nearest station when the tank was near-empty. She knew better than to overestimate the distance an empty tank could take her.

“Crud.” She muttered, hopping out the side of her car and slamming the door shut. She had a spare gallon in the back, but when she picked up the red jug only to find it empty, she cursed and threw it back into the truck’s bed.

Her phone was well-charged, though the lack of service made the attempt of contacting any help impossible. And so, Virginia knew she was stranded. Stranded somewhere in the woods of West Virginia, on the side of the road with the sun going down faster and faster. Damn autumn, why did the daylight have to go so quickly these days?

She would have to wait out her isolation inside her truck and flag down the nearest car. Virginia must’ve seen something like this in a horror movie before, a young woman stuck in the woods, at the mercy of the nearest stranger or strangers. It was getting colder by the minute, and after half an hour, she was shivering.

“I’m gonna die in West Virginia… Great.” She shuddered.

The house her uncle left to her ought to be a damn mansion if merely getting there cost her life. It should have impressive architecture, fountains, a zoo of lions, tigers, and bears. The toilets should be made of gold and the food imported from all over the world. The harder she shivered, the more Virginia cursed her uncle’s house.

Then, there they were. A pair of twin headlights floating between the trees far off in the dark. Perking up, Virginia sighed in relief and hopped right back out, waving her arm at the oncoming vehicle. It was another truck, rusty and old like her’s. Perhaps even the same year.

“Thank goodness!” Virginia said, pulling closer at her pathetic excuse of a coat.

The truck pulled over to the side, just a few yards ahead of Virginia’s. The driver parked it but didn’t shut the engine off. Soon, a figure exited the driver’s side and shut the door before slowly walking over to her.

“Are you alright, ‘mam?”

She couldn’t see him at first, but the voice suggested her hero was male. He was relatively tall, looked like he was dressed warm, and had a thick Appalachian accent. Must’ve been a local.

“Uh, yeah, but my truck’s outta gas. I was heading to the nearest station when it crapped out on me.” Virginia said, standing close by the driver’s door. “If it isn’t any trouble, would you be able to take me to the gas station? Or maybe to-”

“No trouble at all, miss.” The man said, waving his hand. “I can drive you to Slaughter’s, she’ll assist yah.”

Slaughter’s? Virginia paused. What kind of a name was that? Perhaps she was inside of a horror movie.

“Thank you, sir.” She said, forcing a smile. “Let me get some things.”

“Take yer time.”

Virginia grabbed her satchel from the passenger seat, The one possession that contained all forms of ID and basic needs, such as her phone, a couple of spare pads, her wallet, and a tiny booklet of sermons, a gift from her father.

She followed the stranger back to his truck and climbed into the passenger side, shutting the door carefully while he slid into the driver seat. Getting a better look at him, the man was rather handsome looking. He had a proud forehead, dark hair that grew only just past his ears, combed back over his head neatly with slivers of gray here and there. His cheekbones were defined, lips soft-looking and sun-kissed skin aged with lines. He must’ve been in his late forties or early fifties.

“Thank you so much, sir.” Virginia said as he put the car in drive, slowly merging back onto the dark road. “I was afraid I would’ve had to wait all night for someone to come along.”

“You’re lucky it was I who came along, miss. These woods aren’t exactly kind to standed women.” He said. While it was a warning, his soft-spoken voice suggested he didn’t mean to scare Virginia, merely inform her. “The name’s Lemuel, by the way. Lemuel Childs.”

Virginia repeated that name in her mind. Where had she heard that name before? Surely they had never met before. And yet, Lemuel Childs plucked the chords of her memory, as if she was trying to recall the tune of a song she used to know.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Childs. I’m Virginia Godwin.” She said,

“Godwin?” Lemuel’s brow furrowed as he stared ahead at the road, illuminated only by the lights from his truck. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to Joshua Godwin, would you?”

Virginia perked up. “He’s my uncle! Well, he was.”

Poor uncle Joshua had suffered a sudden stroke only two months ago. He was buried in their family plot in Gettysburg, but he had lived in this backwater town in West Virginia most of his life.

“We heard about that. My condolences.” Lemuel said, glancing over at Virginia with a sorry expression. “He may not have been part of the congregation, but we always kept him in our prayers.”

A religious man? Of course he was, Virginia thought to herself. She had nothing against men of God, being a Christian woman herself who knew her good book well enough. But she always felt weary around the type who felt the need to announce to others about their good will, always praying for those who didn’t ask for it.

After Joshua’s wife, Virginia’s aunt Grace, had passed about fifteen years ago, he had pulled away from God. It was a stark turn around, being that Joshua used to preach himself at his local Methodist church. But Grace’s death had stripped him of his faith and confined him within his humble home, no longer interested in the outside world or what God did with it. In a way, Joshua had already been dead for years.

“You’re with his church?” Virginia asked Lemuel.

He shook his head. “We’re a small congregation, but we’re firm believers in the Full Gospel.”

So they were Pentecostals, Virginia realized. Being raised a Methodist, she understood the importance of one’s personal relationship with God. But speaking in tongues and divine healing always seemed borderline occult to her. She wasn’t one to judge how others express their belief in the Bible or God, given those who did weren’t dangerous to others. But she had reservations about those who preached against modern medicine and rejected man’s ability to reason outside of the word of God.

“I assume my uncle was rather unfriendly towards your congregation, then.” Virginia said. The last memory she had of her uncle Joshua was when he ripped her mother’s Bible out of her hands and threw it against the wall, cursing God. “He was very, erm, critical of religion.”

“Yes, he was.” Lemuel chuckled. “Unfortunately, those who’ve lost their way are more prone to slapping God’s hand away than accepting his love. But we aren’t the ones who should pass judgment on them.”

Hate the sin, love the sinner, Virginia remembered. It wasn’t for man to judge man, but for God to judge man. Of course, man did so anyway, because who else would carry out the word of God? Virginia liked to believe that God had forgiven her uncle and saw through his grief before he passed onto the other side. It was better than believing in the alternative.

“And you? Have you accepted Christ as your personal savior?” Lemuel asked. It was a loaded question, sure, but Virginia wasn’t shy of expressing her love of God and his Son.

“‘He who believeth in me though he was dead, yet will he live.’” She recited.

Virginia hadn’t attended church in years, but she still knew all the sermons she sat through and read growing up. All the times her mother made her sit at the kitchen table and memorize each page of the Old and New testament weren’t for nothing. It didn’t matter if Virginia understood what she was reading, just as long as was reading it. Knowing the good book front to back gave one credit amongst their congregation, according to Virginia’s mother.

“I take it you’re a Methodist like your uncle was?” Lemuel said, not at all impressed by Virginia’s quote. Reciting the Bible didn’t indicate one’s faith. Merely that they knew how to read.

“Well, I’m… Sort of figuring that part out myself.” She confessed.

Truth was, Virginia was a Methodist in association only. It was the only denomination she had been familiar with her whole life. But after leaving church and keeping her faith all the more personal, she had found herself lost. That aimless wandering was what brought her to West Virginia, to this mountain where Lemuel and her uncle lived. She believed that God had sent her on this path, to accept the inheritance and shack up in her uncle’s house, away from her parents.

Lemuel was intrigued by Virginia. “Ain’t no shame in being lost, so long as you’re open to pathways revealed to you.”

Virginia knew a veiled statement when she heard one. Lemuel, like many other preachers and priests, believed their way of worship was the correct one. She had believed the same thing when she was still a practicing Methodist.

“May I ask what brings you to our side of the mountain?” Lemuel continued.

“My uncle left me his house in his will.” Virginia sighed. “His will stated, ‘do what you will with it. Sell it, burn it, live in it if it’s still habitable by the time of my passing.’ I’m checking it out to see which of those options are more probable.”

“I see.” Lemuel chuckled. “He did have an interesting sense of humor from what little interaction I had with him. Now, I know we’re little more than strangers, but if I may, I believe that the Lord’s given you an opportunity to start something here in this community.”

A bold statement from a stranger, yet his shockingly accurate presumption of Virginia’s motivation for leaving Gettysburg touched her. She believed the same thing, that this opportunity was the Lord’s way of opening a door for her, urging her to find whatever she was looking for in the mountains of West Virginia.

Lemuel also had noticed the chain around Virginia’s neck, the pendant hanging from it a small, silver Jesus on the cross. She was a woman of god, she must understand the importance of God’s mysterious will. Or perhaps, he was just searching for a reason for this young woman to stay. It had been a while since a new face came to their remote town. More people had died or left than moved in, which Lemuel never resented until recently.

“I believe so too.” Virginia agreed with him. “I’m a little nervous about this whole ‘move’ though. I know absolutely nobody here.”

“Well, how about I tell you a little about myself. I'm the pastor at my parish, a small but dedicated congregation. We’re always welcome to newcomers, if you ever find yourself in need of some guidance or just want some company.”

Virginia wasn’t itching to go back to church anytime soon, but seeing that she was inside a preacher’s truck and he saved her from freezing to death… “How could I say no to my rescuer?” She said,

“See, now you know the local preacher. Not a bad start, eh?” Lemuel smiled at her before turning his eyes back to the road.

“If the others are as kind as you, my anxiety won’t be so bad.”

“I should warn you ahead of time, though, our way of loving Christ might come off as intimidating.” Lemuel confessed. “It might seem intense or scary, but our methods aren’t dangerous, despite what others might say.”

Virginia didn’t know what he could possibly mean. Speaking in tongues, while might seem odd, wasn’t scary. Unless they were sacrificing virgins and eating babies, they couldn’t have been that intense. She smiled politely and shrugged. Whatever their methods were, Virginia believed if their love of God was evident, it didn’t matter how they showed it. Right?

Lemuel brought Virginia to Hope Slaughter’s gas station soon enough. The place was still open, thank goodness, and an older, worn-down woman in a coat was inside, standing at the counter with a vacant expression as she flipped through a book.

“Hey Sister Slaughter.” Lemuel opened the door for Virgina, who thanked him under her breath as she stepped inside the shop.

Hope looked up from her book and closed it, shoving it under the counter before standing up straight. She didn’t smile, she didn’t even say hello back. She wore a cross around her neck, and while Virginia assumed she was part of Lemuel’s parish, this woman didn’t seem happy to see her preacher.

“Pastor.” She replied dryly before her eyes landed on Virginia. “Who’s this you got here?”

“This here’s Virginia Godwin. Her truck’s on the side of the road just fifteen minutes up Wind Whisper.” Lemuel explained. Virginia noticed he had trouble keeping eye contact with the older woman, who’s eyes bore into his soul.

“Couldn’t call a service yourself?” Hope asked Virginia.

“I would’ve but there was no reception.” She answered, put off by Hope’s glum attitude. Whatever beef she had with the preacher wasn’t her problem, so why was Hope gruff with her? Especially since she needed help?

“Alright. I’ll have my husband Zeke retrieve your truck and bring it here, fill ‘er up, and get yah to wherever it is yer goin.” Hope said. “But you’ll have to shack up at this here station until it arrives.”

“Oh, that’s perfectly fine!” Virginia said, relieved that this cold woman was at least helpful. She turned to Lemuel, who had been standing beside her, keeping his head down. “Thank you again, Mr. Childs. You really saved me tonight.”

“Think nothing of it, Miss Godwin.” He smiled, the lines around his mouth and eyes deepening. “Again, you’re always welcome at our parish.” Lemuel placed a gentle hand on Virginia’s shoulder, squeezing it briefly before leaving her at the counter, waving goodbye before exiting through the front door.

Virginia was a little sad to see him go, finding his company far more warm than Hope’s. But just as promised, her truck was delivered to her, filled up, and she was finally back on the road to her uncle’s. The whole time, Virginia thought of Lemuel, his deep, hickory-smoked voice, and those hazel eyes that looked at her with the feeling of pure belief, as if he already knew she would say yes to him and show up to service.

But before Virginia left the shop, Hope had said something to her. Something ominous, darkened by the withered grunt of her thick accent, like she was a witch in an old, mountain tale. Virginia couldn’t remember exactly what it was, being she was itching to leave the gas station, but she recalled the mention of Lemuel’s name.

...

Just as Virginia suspected, the house was mostly vacant. Uncle Joshua wasn’t one to hoard or collect. It was exactly the same as it was when Virginia was there last, The floors were all carpeted, save for the tiled kitchen, which was tiny. The walls were made of wooden paneling, the one couch and armchair were made of brown velvet, and the entire place still smelled of cigarettes, despite being vacant for months.

There was a stack of mail by the door that Virginia had to push aside to get in, most of the letters coming from banks, local shops, and even some from her own mother, Helen. Virginia didn’t know why they still communicated, given they hated each other.

There were no plants, no paintings or picture frames on the walls, save for the single frame on the side table next to the armchair, which was of aunt Grace. There were no instruments either, which was odd because Virginia remembered her uncle being an impressive cellist and pianist. Perhaps he sold the family piano and his prized cello after Grace died.

There were two bedrooms, one was converted into what used to be Grace’s art studio, sketch pads, canvases, and supplies strewn about the room messily. The other bedroom was plain, with the one queen sized bed, two bedside tables, one with a lamp sitting atop it, the other used as a bookshelf. There was a wooden dresser against the wall furthest from the door, and a chest at the foot of the bed, a folded afgan resting on it. Virginia remembered that afgan, aunt Grace had knitted it.

The one bathroom was grimey but bare, with only a toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, a comb, and a single bar of soap sitting on the sink. Uncle Joshua didn’t even have shampoo or body wash. He did look very hairy when Virginia saw him in the casket, which aligned with the fact she couldn’t find a razor.

She was grateful that the dwelling was bare enough for her to make small improvements upon it. Virginia didn’t need much, just a few potted plants, an air freshener, a radio, and maybe even a television set for the living room.

But the first thing she did was mount the wooden cross she took from her childhood bedroom onto the wall above her late uncle’s bed. While he might’ve forbade God from his home when he was alive, Virginia was eager to welcome Him back in with open arms.

“Lord, bless this house and may its previous inhabitant find peace in your love and grace. Amen.” She whispered to herself during her prayers that night.

And in her dreams, Virginia found herself once again seeing the preacher’s face. His enigmatic smile hadn’t left her mind ever since the ride to the station. There was something about it, how the way he looked at her gave way to the most confusing feelings within Virginia.

She dreamt that Lemuel was leading her down to a stream by the hand. When they got down to the edge of the water, he turned to her, smiled, and placed his hand over breast. His smile was as tender and kind as it was in the truck. It was as if he believed his touch was purely innocent and sweet. Virginia wanted more, but Lemuel didn’t move.

The next morning, she decided that day was all about distraction.

A woman’s ability to turn a house into a home was revered for a reason, and she would continue that tradition. It meant having to go out into town to get some things, but Virginia welcomed the adventure. She was curious to see what this small town had to offer. And it would give her the chance to meet more locals.

There was an antique store, a market, a nursery, a second-hand store that looked like it hadn’t been updated since the 90’s, a tailor, some small family-owned restaurants, an auto-repair shop, a butcher, and a barber shop. While Virginia wandered around, familiarizing herself with the town, she couldn’t help but notice how tightly-knit all the people were when conversing. It seemed everyone knew everyone and everyone knew that Virginia wasn’t one of them.

“You the new inhabitant at Old Joshua’s?” The old lady at the antique shop asked her when Virginia purchased some paintings and a basket of fake ivy to place over the fridge.

“Yeah, he was my uncle.” She told her. Guess word gets around very quickly in this tiny town.

“My condolences.” The old lady grunted. She wasn’t going to miss Old Joshua for sure. “He was… Well, I’m glad he’s resting peacefully.”

“Thank you, ‘mam.” Virginia said with a forced smile.

If this was how every conversation in this town was going to start, she’d rather shut herself inside and follow her late uncle’s lead. She took her purchases under her arms, along with the receipt, and bid the woman goodbye before heading for her truck parked outside,

In her haste to escape the shop, Virginia had collided with a figure. “Oh, sorry!” She sputtered, dropping the fake plant onto the sidewalk.

“Oh, hello again, Miss Godwin.”

It was Lemuel. Of course it was. He bent down, picked up the fake ivy basket and smiled politely at Virginia. She awkwardly smiled back up at him, believing this moment was a test set by God to see how she would handle herself in Lemuel’s presence.

“Pastor Childs!” She cringed at herself, feeling stupid for running into him like a mindless bull. “I’m really sorry, I was just about to throw these into my truck.”

“Redecorating, I see.” Lemuel commented, walking with her to her truck. “Bet that empty house has been desperate for a woman’s touch.”

“You have no idea.” Virginia agreed, placing the collected paintings into the truck bed. “Here, I’ll take that.” Lemuel handed her the ivy basket, which she placed on the passenger seat.

“It’s nice to see you out and about. Bet our town seems incredibly small and unimpressive compared to wherever you're from.” He said, resting his hands in his pockets.

“Well, I never really liked overly-populated areas. Too much noise.” Virginia crossed her arms over her chest, trying to warm her hands under her arms. “Also, the mountain’s incredibly beautiful in the daylight. I could take or leave the woods at nighttime, though, it’s pretty scary then.”

“Well, I hope you don’t have a habit of wandering around in the woods at night.” Lemuel joked.

Virginia shook her head. “Just when my truck isn’t running.”

Lemuel hummed, amused by her quip. In truth, a traditional man like he preferred it when women were driven, not driving themselves. Not that he believed women were incapable of the skill, just that they were meant to be taken care of, especially by their family. This lonely woman, without a man and without her parents in a new town… What was her mysterious past? Why did she come to their community alone?

“Have you thought about my offer?” He asked.

Virginia, in her loneliness and need for something to warm her body, had only thought of Lemuel in terms of satisfying her needs. She didn’t like the idea of attending a service where she’ll only be reminded of her lustful dream. She was already struggling with repressing the memory at the sight of him now.

“When’s the service?” She scratched the side of her neck.

“Tonight, just outside of town. I can write down the address for you.” Lemuel offered.

“Oh no, I can just look up the location.” Virginia said, taking her phone out of her coat pocket.

Lemuel sighed sheepishly. “It wouldn’t be on any GPS, I can guarantee that.”

“Oh, really?” Virginia’s brow furrowed. “This place exists, right?”

Lemuel laughed. “It’s a small dwelling, but it is real, I can assure you, Miss Godwin. It’s just remote.”

“Okay.” Virginia wondered what wasn’t remote on this mountain.

“How’s about I drive you there myself? I can pick you up this evening.” He offered.

Virginia wasn’t one to turn down a polite offer, and she wasn’t in the position to further distance herself from the people of this town by denying their preacher’s kindness. She would accept his offer and go home to her cross that hung above her bed and pray for strength.

Lemuel kept his promise, his truck driving up the gravel driveway. Virginia had spent the rest of the day cleaning things out, rearranging furniture and scrubbing down every inch of the kitchen and bathroom. By the time the preacher arrived, she had just plopped herself down on the velvet couch, which had been vacuumed, and was resting. She didn’t even have time to change into nicer clothes. In fact, after all the grinding, Virginia didn’t feel like going to service anymore.

“Hello, Mr. Childs.” She greeted him at the door. “Please give me a few seconds, I’m not yet dressed.”

Lemuel could see that, as she was in dirty jeans, an oversized t-shirt, and without shoes. “You didn’t forget, did you, Miss Godwin?”

“Oh, no! I lost track of the time. Please, come in. I won’t be two minutes.” Virginia opened the door to Lemuel and stepped aside, letting him enter.

He looked around, admiring how clean the space was. The floors were cleared of the dust and scattered mail, the walls were nicely decorated with scenic paintings of the mountainside, and of course, the familiar ivy basket sat atop the fridge in the small, but well-organized kitchen.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll just be in my room.” Virginia said before rushing down the hall, closing the bedroom door behind her.

Lemuel didn’t sit down. He was too curious about Virginia’s new home. And while it was small, smaller than his own house, it was comfortable. It smelled nice, seeing that she had purchased a vase of flowers and set them on the kitchen table. Lilies, fragrant and white.

There was little to nothing in the kitchen, save for some apples, a loaf of white bread, a jar of peanut butter, and some canned corn. This couldn’t be all she had to eat, could it? Lemuel figured she had stocked up when she got here. Perhaps she didn’t have time with all the tidying up she had to do.

Virginia emerged quietly from her room, her feet light and silent on the carpeted floor. She spotted Lemuel in her kitchen, looking around but not touching anything. She liked watching him, admiring his side profile. He was a simple preacher yet there was something regal about the way he stood.

“I’m ready when you are, pastor.” Virginia spoke, breaking Lemuel’s concentration.

He wouldn’t say it, but he was pleased with how she freshened up. She wore a long deep blue skirt paired with a baby-blue blouse that covered her modestly. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back into a braid that hung down over her left shoulder, with some loose strands falling around her face, framing her cheeks.

She was young and beautiful, Lemuel couldn’t deny that. He had put to bed his feelings of attraction after his wife passed years and years ago. His eye wasn’t known to wander, focusing his heart on the Holy Ghost. But Virginia, this mysterious woman from outside the mountain, standing before him in blue the Virgin Mary, bashful in his presence, gave him that familiar sensation he was once familiar with.

Lemuel smiled and escorted her out to his truck, opening the door for her like a gentleman. On the drive, Virginia remained silent, looking out the window while Lemuel drove. He wanted to compliment her, tell her she looked nice and that he was happy she was accompanying him to service. After the loss of multiple members within the past year, including some close to home, it felt nice to bring someone new and willing into the church.

Then, he remembered her bare kitchen. “I’d like to have you over for dinner after service, if that’s alright with you.”

Virginia was happy her face was turned away from Lemuel, for her cheeks were flushed. Dinner? She reasoned that it was merely a polite gesture. Lemuel had only been kind to her since he rescued her from the side of the road. But dinner, presumably alone with him, was so intimate.

“It ain’t forward at all, pastor.” She said, her hands fiddling with the tips of her braid. She then ceased the child-like tic and placed them flat in her lap. What was she, a shy school girl? “Thank you for inviting me. For everything you’ve done, really.”

“Everything I’ve done?” Lemuel glanced over at her. “Now, I didn’t do what any other man wouldn’t have done, Miss Godwin.”

“You’re the only one in the community that’s been so open and so welcoming.” Virginia said. It was true, most other members she had interacted with while running her errands were rather distant, especially when they knew of her relation to the late Old Joshua.

“Well, I know what it’s like to feel alone and in need of a kind soul.” Lemuel said. “Our church has suffered hardship. We understand what it’s like to be thought of as strange and unusual by others. And I’ll admit that history has made us hesitant to accept outsiders. But make no mistake, we’re just as devoted and loving as any other congregation.” Lemuel said, turning the truck onto a narrow dirt road that led deep into the woods.

Ahead was what looked like a shed with a neon cross above the sliding doors. Next to it was a sign that glowed “Holy Ghost Church.” Lemuel was right, it was a very remote and small dwelling. The lights were already on inside and Virginia could see some men arranging chairs.

“This is it.” Lemuel shut the engine off, turning to Virginia. “I’ll introduce yah to the boys.”

Virginia wondered if ‘the boys’ meant the gruff, burly men that came out to meet them. She recognized one of them, Hope Slaughter’s husband Zeke who said a polite “hello again” to her. The others were Hank, Aaron, and Otis, all fellow parishioners who were obviously fond of Lemuel. Zeke, however, seemed rather demure in the pastor’s presence, exhibiting the same hesitation to engage the same way Lemuel shied away from Hope Slaughter at the gas station.

“This here’s Miss Virginia Godwin, Joshua’s niece. She’s moved into his place on Pinewood.” Lemuel told them.

“Nice to meet y’all.” She smiled to each of them. “Your pastor was kind enough to invite me to your service. I hope that’s okay.”

“We’re always open to newcomers.” The oldest man, Hank, told her, offering his hand to her. She took it and he squeezed it between his calloused palms. “You’re very welcome, Miss Godwin.”

“We was sorry t’hear ‘bout yer uncle.” Otis said. “Was no believer, but still…”

“Thank you.” Virginia was tired of all the condolences, even if she had to accept them.

“Well, let’s get to fixin up. Can’t have this church half-set when the others get here.” Lemuel said, gently slapping Hank’s shoulder before leading them inside.

Virginia’s eyes were instantly drawn to the crates at the other side of the church. There were red lights illuminating the crates, which had mulch inside them. Getting a closer look, Virginia then saw that these crates contained snakes!

“Woah.” She stepped back away from the sight of them.

The other men were casual, gathering around them to observe the animal. Lemuel looked over his shoulder, seeing the look of shock on Virginia’s face. “Don’t worry, they ain’t gettin out.” He assured her. “Not until we handle them.”

“Handle them?” Virginia asked, stepping closer to Lemuel’s side as they approached the crates. The snakes were being fed live quails, their tails rattling before they struck their prey with a hiss. Virginia flinched at the sudden bite, sad to watch an animal kill another. “These are part of the service?”

Lemuel didn’t expect Virginia to immediately accept their form of worship. It was only natural for newcomers to feel fear and confusion at the sight of a dangerous animal. He and the other parishioners had handled the snakes for so long now, it was second-nature to be around them.

“We show our devotion to the Holy Ghost through our unyielding faith. Faith that even in the presence of serpents, we are protected in his love and strength.” Lemuel explained while they watched Aaron, a man no older than thirty, lead another quail into one of the other crates. “We respect them, but we do not cower to them.”

Virginia hoped that whatever this service entailed, it wouldn’t involve her having to go near one of those things. “Snakes terrify me.” She confessed, looking away from the animals. “Forgive me, pastor, I-”

“We do NOT cower before them, Miss Godwin.” Lemuel moved in close, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder while he leaned in, lowering his voice. “Look upon these serpents and give not into fear. But feel the embrace of the Lord’s protection, for his love is greater than any evil.”

Virginia felt pulled to him as he comforted her, his lips close enough to her cheek that she could feel his breath wash over her warm skin. She wanted to curl into his side and listen to him while he preached softly, assuring her of the Lord’s will.

Lemuel walked her over to the crates, allowing her to hold onto his arm as they went. It was natural she didn’t want to go near them. But if she wanted to understand the people of this community, she had to see how they expressed their faith. And in Lemuel’s care, she would be safe. Or so he believed.

Virginia looked over the crates and watched as the snakes consumed their prey, squeezing the quails before unhinging their jaws and devouring them bit by bit. It was violent yet peaceful, for the snakes took their precious time as they ate. They didn’t seem bothered by the presence of the others who watched over them, too distracted by their meal.

“You will not suffer, Virginia.” Lemuel whispered, the first time he ever referred to her by her first name. “If you accept Christ as your personal savior and allow him to guide you on your path, you will be made clean again in his image.”

“Clean again?” Virginia breathed, eyes fixed on the coiling creature beneath them. What did Lemuel mean? Was Virginia being a Methodist really so sinful in his eyes?

Lemuel had made an incorrect assumption about Virginia. He assumed, given she was so beautiful and young, that she had not been a virgin. Most unmarried women these days were open to sexual experiences, whether they believed in the consequences or not.

“I didn’t mean to imply-” Lemuel stepped away from Virginia, feeling foolish. “My apologies, it isn’t my place to make such presumptions.”

“It is not.” Virginia frowned at the pastor. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I am not unclean.” She lowered her voice so the other men wouldn’t hear. She got closer to the pastor, who now looked incredibly guilty. “I was raised a Christian, pastor. My methods of worship might not live up to your standards but my devotion to Christ is no lesser than yours.”

An unsoiled woman? Lemuel thought as he looked at Virginia. Her face was red, from anger or embarrassment he didn’t know. But he had overstepped the line, not just as a pastor, but as a new friend.

“Forgive me, Miss Godwin.” Lemuel tilted his head forward, an apologetic bow.

Virginia chose to sit close to the stage during the service, though she immediately regretted it when Lemuel called on her, asking the other parishioners to welcome her. The others said their hellos and warm welcomes, offering her kind smiles and words of encouragement. Virginia spotted Sister Slaughter a few rows back, sitting next to her husband Zeke, whose head was down. That couple always seemed to appear on edge, especially in the presence of Lemuel. What had happened between the couple and their pastor?

During the evening, Virginia would soon learn of Lemuel’s style of preaching. He was loud and passionate, just like any pastor she had seen before. He jumped up and down, riling up the congregation with his sermon, lifting his arms up to the ceiling as he shouted out “Amen!” The others responded to him well, raising up their arms, moaning and crying as their pastor continued, evoking the Holy Spirit.

Virginia couldn’t deny she felt elevated, as if she could rise off the ground and ascend to Lemuel’s preaching. His energy was contagious, his voice genuine and proud, and his words moving. She couldn’t help but shout “Amen” back at him, her eyes closed and mouth agape.

Then, Lemuel bent down over the crate to the side of the stage and opened it up, reaching in and picking up the snake gently. He held it up in the air as he continued to preach, his body shaking with excitement while the congregation collectively raised up their hands and praised the Holy Ghost.

Virginia felt as if time slowed while she watched Lemuel handle the snake. He looked right into the animal’s eyes without an ounce of fear in his body. She had never seen such an act of true faith before. He was so certain that God was protecting him from the dangers of the snake. And while Virginia was skeptical before, now she was starting to believe that maybe… Maybe Lemuel was right.

#walton goggins #them that follow #lemuel childs #pastor childs #the ghoul #this was supposed to be a one shot then i kept writing #walton goggins was so hot in this

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