Donut Days Read Online Free Page A

sanctuary, I made a beeline for the front pew, where my dad was alone, no longer mobbed. As we got closer, I noticed he wasn’t really doing anything—just sitting there, staring straight ahead. Plus he’d said he was going to get my mom, but she was nowhere in sight.
    “Dad?” I asked, sitting next to him. “Are you okay?”
    As if he was finally waking up from a bad dream, my dad nodded. His blue-gray eyes looked tired. He leaned over and grabbed my hand so hard, I thought I’d done something wrong. But instead of giving me a lecture, he opened my fingers and pressed his car keys into the palm of my hand.
    “Emma,” he said, “I want you and Lizzie to leave now. Keep your cell phone on and don’t stop to talk to anyone.”
    There was a note in his voice that sounded like fear, which made my whole body almost go numb, since my dad was never afraid of anything.
    “But how will you and Mom get home?”
    He looked toward the church stage, where my mom had given her sermon. “We’ll get a ride from someone. Don’t worry about that.”
    Lizzie reached out to touch my dad’s hand, and he engulfed her small fingers with his massive ones. “Hey, kiddo,” he said, winking at her.
    “But Dad,” I started tentatively, “where’s Mom?”
    “She’s in the church’s meditation room,” my dad replied. “The church board has called an emergency meeting tonight and we need to stay, along with a handful of the elders.”
    My dad rubbed his hands together while he spoke. I watched him for a few seconds. “So, um, did you even know Mom was going to give that sermon tonight?” I asked finally.
    My dad’s hands stopped. “We’d discussed it briefly but hadn’t come to any conclusions. I guess the Lord led her to do . . . what she did.”
    “How bad has it made things? I mean, what’s the church board going to say?”
    My dad looked at me in a way that reminded me of a painting I saw once of a rugged, weather-beaten farmer carefully pouring milk into a dish for a kitten. This is it , I thought. He’s going to actually tell me something . We’ll have a real conversation about all the late-night meetings he and my mom have been going to, about how half their friends never call them anymore, and about how Mom doesn’t want to check the mail these days because she gets letters that make her hands shake. But then my dad just took a deep breath and said, “The church is going through a lot right now. It’s better if you go home.”
    “Dad . . .” I stumbled, disappointed that he’d backed down from actually saying something. I swallowed, searching for the right words. I decided to press him about the donut camp. It was risky, but I had to get there.
    “Dad, can I just drop Lizzie off at Mrs. Stein’s? I need to get to the donut camp.” Mrs. Stein was our neighbor, and she babysat for Lizzie all the time.
    My dad blinked. “What?”
    “The Crispy Dream donut camp. You said I could go. Starting tonight.”
    My dad looked over his left shoulder, and as I followed his gaze, I saw Mr. O’Connor marching down the sanctuary aisle toward us, his black sport coat billowing out behind him like a cloak.
    “Use the back door,” my dad said. “Drive to Mrs. Stein’s. Leave my car there and have Mrs. Stein take you to the camp. Under no circumstances will you turn off your cell phone. Do you understand?”
    I nodded.
    “All right then,” he said. “Go.”
    I grabbed Lizzie, and we bolted for the back door.

Chapter Four
    I glanced in the rearview mirror as Lizzie and I sped away from Living Word Redeemer and was surprised at how warm and friendly the church looked. The lights were on inside, giving it a cozy glow, and all the landscaping my mom had done earlier that summer made the exterior extra bright and welcoming.
    With such a peaceful facade, it was hard to imagine the inside of the church roiling with turmoil, but I bet that was exactly what was happening—especially now that the board members were being