Chapter 9

“Everybody!” Marti clapped her hands. Men and women, talking in groups of threes and fours, turned to Marti when she spoke. A table had been set up with coffee and fruit juice. Marti and Molly eased over to it as Marti continued.

“Pilgrims—” Marti deepened her voice to project its volume “—I’d like you to meet Miss Molly Jacobsen.”

“Hello, Molly Jacobsen,” chanted the pilgrims. A giggle rippled through more than half the attendees. The pastor’s daughters were well known.

“Hello,” Molly waved. Her tone sounded mature and confident, completely hiding how stupid she felt. She shoved down the awkward feeling of anxiety. Marti prepared two coffees and handed one to her. These people had been working together for nine months and had become quite familiar with each other. The training they had been through formed this bond, which would sustain them while they were out there, essentially on their own.

All eyes were on her. Molly smiled and scanned the group. There were nine women and four men. Adding her made ten women, fourteen total. She sipped her cup of coffee in an effort to disguise her discomfort. It was the same ridiculous feeling she’d had in middle school when they’d moved, changing schools in the middle of the semester. Funny how little things like that resurface even when you’re grown.

This was her first hurdle, being accepted into the group. A group of her peers, as it turned out. She knew half of them from her teen years. Marti’s cognitive cheat sheet activated. Jesus said to them, “A prophet is not without honor except in his own town, among his relatives, and in his own home.” Mark 6:4 Molly chuckled to herself, the last thing she needed was one of her team members suspecting her motives. Their expressions appeared to be happy and welcoming, but her senses returned territorial offense, especially from Davidette, Alyce, and Reah. Some people never change. She swallowed. An undercover cop had to be a chameleon.

Marti sharpened her glare at the gigglers and cleared her throat. “She will be joining you on your voyage in three months.”

Eyebrows pulled together, curious gazes became cross glares, and all whispers ceased. The room stilled to an uncomfortable silence.

“The missionary group she was with will not be able to complete their training, and I suggested she come finish preparations with you. I know you will all welcome her with open arms and hearts.”

The attendees shuffled toward her, extending their own personal greeting. Even the three former cheerleaders welcomed her to the mission, whether they meant a word they said or not, at least they were being civil.

That’s when she saw him. He stood at the back of the group, but as the barrier of people dissolved, their eyes met.

He smiled.

She frowned.

Davidette, alert, as usual, stepped between them. “Well, Molly Jacobsen, I thought you were a guest speaker, to show us self-defense—”

“Yeah. Davidette, could you excuse me?” Molly shoved her aside and ignored the huff.

Her eyes pierced his.

“Hello, Molly.”

“You! You’re going to Omicron? As a missionary?”

“Well, yes.”

“Really? So ... why didn’t you mention this when I asked you about your father’s project, Dr. Abraham?”

“Call me ‘Deuce,’ please. Everybody does.” He glanced at the onlookers.

“Deuce?” Her eyebrows drew tighter.

“Yeah.” He looked down. “It’s a gambling thing, really. I suppose my dad coined the nickname. Mom was his queen of hearts, and I was his ... deuce.” He looked back up into her eyes. “In Poker, a two is called a deuce, being a junior, the second Austin Abraham. Thus—Deuce. As I understand it, they were his signature cards. His wild cards. I don’t know...”

He was rambling and cleared his throat. A pink hue surfaced through his rugged skin tone. “It’s what I’ve been called all my life...” He ran his hand through his dark brown mane. The tendrils curled around his fingers. “Get it?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Molly said, “What I don’t get is why you are going to Omicron as a missionary. Your father runs the program. Why wouldn’t you just ... just go?”

“I know.” Deuce stared at the floor. “It may not make sense to you, but it does to me. Why are you going? Your sister just got back from there and with not very good results, I might add.”

Molly flinched. Had her covert mission already been blown? Think fast!

“I’m sorry.” Deuce ducked his head to meet level with her eyes. “That was uncalled for. I—I didn’t mean to be so harsh.”

“No, no you make a valid point.” Molly tried to stall. She had rehearsed several scenarios with her dad to prepare for the questions the other voyagers would ask. Too bad the Biblical cheat sheet didn’t include those canned responses. This threw her off, she never dreamed she’d be having this conversation with her sister’s healer.