Todd that way. But another part of her felt supremely guilty for not having sent Todd to Sunday School in the past. When she was a little girl, she had been required to attend vacation Bible school. Granddaddy had insisted upon it.
She counted to three, took a deep breath, and shot Dash an icy stare intended to put him back in his place. The issue was not whether Todd needed discipline. She knew her boy was a brat. But she had come here to take charge of him, not to cede the territory to someone else.
She looked down at her son. “Todd, you’re grounded. When we get back home, you have to stay in your room, without your PSP, and think about why it’s not acceptable for you to use curse words in the middle of a churchyard.”
“But, Mom, I don’t—” His voice pitched up into a whine she knew very well.
“Not now. We’ll talk about this after we get home. And just so you know, I went to Bible school when I was a child, and most of the children around here go, too. Now, why don’t you help Aunt Miriam into the fellowship hall? Dash and I will be right in.” She gave Todd one of her patented motherly scowls. He seemed to understand that further argument was futile.
“C’mon, sugar, I’ll bet they have some cookies for a hungry boy like you,” Miriam said. Savannah blessed the old woman as she and the boy headed back down the path toward the fellowship hall.
Savannah turned toward Dash, feeling another rush of adrenaline. “That was uncalled for,” she hissed.
“No, it wasn’t.” Dash’s intensely blue glaze was filled with irritation.
“Look, Dash, I’m Todd’s mother, okay? I would appreciate it if you would respect that. If he needs discipline, I’m the one who should do it.”
“Okay, I respect that. But, princess, you need to start acting like his mother. That boy is rude. If I hadn’t stepped in, God knows what he would have said to Bill. And if he said something ugly, it would get around until Lillian Bray heard it. And that wouldn’t be fun for him. Take it from me. I’ve been there.”
Irritation flared into full-fledged fury. This was precisely the kind of thing she’d left Baltimore to escape. She might take criticism from her mother and mother-in-law because of family ties, but Dash was hardly family. She needed a big jock who got sloppy drunk at honky-tonks telling her how to be a model mother like she needed a root canal.
“Back off, cowboy,” she hissed, trying to keep her face as neutral as possible while the parishioners paraded by on their way to fellowship. “Todd is my child. I will raise him as I see fit. You can keep your thoughts to yourself. And don’t you ever make a decision for my child again without consulting me first.”
His lips narrowed into a thin line, so unlike his usual half smile. “Okay, Savannah, I’ll stay out of it. You and the boy just keep away from me, though. I swear, I hear that kid say one more rude thing about Miriam or Last Chance or anything, and I’m gonna take him right out to the woodshed. He’s as spoiled as you used to be.”
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Dash filled a Styrofoam cup with coffee and took a sip that scalded his tongue. It took a great deal of self-restraint not to let fly with a colorful expletive. But he managed—depriving the blue-haired Lillian Bray, who stood behind the refreshment table, from obtaining another reason to dislike him. Miz Lillian was the chairwoman of the Ladies’ Auxiliary, a group that was synonymous with gossipers anonymous. Any right-minded male in Last Chance made sure he put on his best manners when addressing the old hen.
He could chalk one up for his side. Anytime he could thwart Lillian Bray counted as a moral victory for his gender.
He headed off to a vacant corner where he could brood in peace. What on earth had he been thinking, jumping in like that and telling the prissy Reverend Ellis that Todd would attend Sunday School? And where the heck did that last comment about taking Todd to the woodshed come from? Shoot, the boy needed discipline, but not a beating. Dash knew firsthand about the difference. He’d been walloped one too many times as a boy before he’d come to live in Last Chance. Guilt and dark emotions percolated in his gut.
He scanned the crowd of