Church & State

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are entirely fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The following story involves graphic descriptions of sexual encounters. If such things offend you, please read no further. For everyone else, I hope you enjoy the story.

"Church & State"

Beverly was terrified. It was her first day at her new job and she already felt overwhelmed. It had started when she had first arrived. She felt lucky enough when she first landed this job at Sav-O-Mart, which was a type of discount store for towns not big enough to have WalMarts. And her town certainly wasn't big enough.

She had grown up in that very town, consisting of a few thousand people in the forests of Alaska. It and the surrounding towns (or in some cases, villages) weren't particularly wealthy, leaving them to share resources such as schools, utilities, and law-enforcement. Her mother had passed away when her younger brother was born, leaving them completely in the control of her father. Her father was the minister of a church out in the boondocks that catered to old blood; families that didn't much approve of the "liberal attitudes" that seemed to be "poisoning" America these days. Her family had plenty of money, as previous generations had ties with the oil and lumber industries. But she had not led a spoiled existence by any means.

Her father would have been more at home in the Spanish Inquisition than in modern day Alaska: an old-testament preacher to be sure. He believed that a woman's place was in the home, popping out kids and doting on her husband. He spoke venomously about other faiths, especially the Jews, was quite a racist at heart, and was a raging homophobe. Beverly had grown up in a room with bare walls, with no toys, few clothes, and the only book in her room besides textbooks was a bible. Their were no private schools in the area, so her father reluctantly sent let her and her three brothers (two older, one younger) go to public schools. Over the last several years, she had noticed boys glancing at her more and more often. It made her uncomfortable, as she had little chance for social interaction. Until high school, her only social interactions had always occurred in the presence of her father, and they were usually church-related events. Suddenly, she was thrust into the real world. Academically, she was a straight-A student. After all, she had a lot of time to study. But her father frowned on extra-curricular activities, feeling that most of them were inappropriate for a proper young lady. But she had managed to get permission to join the chess team, which even her father saw as harmless. She had long been fascinated by the game, and played it often with her brothers who she invariably beat. The people in the club were almost as socially awkward as she was. The were mostly social outcasts, people who didn't fit into the limited number of cliques that their small-town-environment had to offer. But they warmed to her quickly, and she to them. The captain of the team was amazed by how sharp her mind was, and she quickly became the best player on the team.

A number of people around her were confused by her apparent lack of social skills. She didn't realize that the reason the boys all stared was because she was quite beautiful. She had grown up a country girl, meaning she was no stranger to physical labor. Her body was lightly muscled and well toned. She had long, blonde, curly hair that reached all the way to her belt-line, and brilliantly green eyes capped with long, sensuous lashes. She had full red lips and pale, flawless skin. Many of her peers admired her body, with her taut butt and full chest. There were many boys who were interested in her, but most of the knew her father or at least of him, and so stayed away. And the boys in the chess club would probably drop dead of a heart attack if they even though of asking her out.

But being in high school gave her a perspective she badly needed. She saw all sorts of different kinds of people and, even though she was nervous about interacting with them directly, she was able to watch them from a distance. They weren't the evil heathens her father made them out to be. They weren't perfect to be sure, but they seemed to be a lot happier than her father was. They were certainly happier than Beverly was.

Her academic achievements didn't go unnoticed by the school. The guidance counselor and principle both urged her to apply to schools all over the country. They were convinced that she could get into any college she wanted and get academic scholarships as well. She almost broke down crying when they told her that. She so badly wanted to go away, somewhere where her father and his hatreds couldn't cloud her mind anymore. But even if she got help paying for school, she could never afford to move there. The principle and counselor nodded and told her they understood. They knew her father as well, and knew he would never willingly let her go, much less help her financially. He was a miser in every sense of the word. She agreed to try applying to some schools, but she didn't have much hope for getting to attend any of them.

One day, an opportunity presented itself. Shortly after turning eighteen and graduating from high school, she was meekly asking for money to buy some new shoes as hers were almost worn through. Her father said, "If you want something, you must earn it." She decided to go get a job, and got one at the Sav-O-Mart. Initially her father was furious, but she pointed out that she was doing it so that she could learn for herself the value of a hard day's work. Her father actually bought the excuse. In actuality, she was planning on making a break for it. She figured she could postpone entrance into college for a year, during which time she could earn the money to make the move on her own. And her father wouldn't be able to stop her. She would finally be free.

So there she was, stocking shelves and occasionally running the register at Sav-O-Mart. Her manager had found it difficult finding a green vest (the standard uniform for the company) that fit her ample chest, making her feel awkward. She didn't know where anything was or how much anything cost. She knew in her heart that they were going to fire her after her first day. Much to her surprise, the manager smiled in a friendly manner when closing time rolled around.

"Don't worry, Ms. Beverly. No one figures out everything on their first day," he said. She thanked him for his kindness, swore up and down she would do better, and started the hour-long walk back to her house. On the way, she started to cry again.

Over the next few weeks, things got much easier. She enjoyed working with customers, particularly the little old ladies who came in every day. They all teased her and joked with her. She blushed at some of the brash comments they made, making her all the more the darling of the town. Boys came buy and made purchases that seemed odd to her. They hung out for long periods of time around her register, and looked away when she glanced their way. She asked her manager if they always acted like that. He just smiled and shook his head. "No, I think it is just around you." She just didn't understand.

She worked as many hours a week as she could. She didn't mind the long hours, particularly since it meant she didn't have to be at home. Her father was already looking around at his cronies' sons for potential husbands for her. The thought made her cringe. She generally had a small lunch in the break room of the store. There was a diner just down the street, but her father had forbid her from ever going in there. The owner of the diner was also the sheriff, and her father hated the sheriff.

First of all, this particular sheriff was a woman. Beverly's father was outraged that the "weaker sex" having a position of power. Secondly, this woman was "a miserable half-breed mulatto." Beverly had no idea what that meant until a fellow schoolmate told her it meant your parents were "of different colors." Beverly felt that there was something else, but her father wouldn't talk about it. She realized that as long as she was living under her father's roof, she had to tread softly. This meant avoiding the diner.

But one day, her principle dropped buy with a large number of envelopes and a smile on his face. They were responses to her college applications. She had wisely decided to have them sent to her school rather than her house so that her father wouldn't find out until she was ready to tell him. There wasn't room in the break area for her to spread out and read everything over. Her manager insisted she take an hour off for lunch to look at the responses then gave her a big hug. She felt almost lightheaded as she left the store and walked down the block. She didn't believe this was happening. She saw the diner as well as the sheriff's jeep parked out front. At that moment, she just didn't care, so she took her things inside. The diner was a surprisingly clean, if not overly fancy, establishment. There was a long counter with stools next to the window and door leading to the kitchen, and a number of booths next to the window. The place was only half-full, consisting mostly of retirees and a couple of loggers on lunch break. She heard some clattering in the kitchen, but saw no sign of the "evil sheriff" her father had warned her about. She grabbed a booth that wasn't immediately visible from the street. She laid out her applications on the table, and glanced at the menu. She was looking through the selection when she heard a voice.

"So, what can I get for you?"

Beverly looked up and saw the sheriff for the first time. She knew it was the sheriff because she was wearing her uniform under her apron. Beverly really didn't know what to expect the sheriff to look like, but she still managed to be surprised. This woman didn't look like the Devil her father had described, or at lease the way Beverly pictured the Prince of Darkness. She looked like . . . well, an angel. The woman appeared to be in her late twenties. She had thick, shoulder-length black hair that was currently tied back. She had high angular facial features, full lips and dark brown eyes. Her skin was a light brown, showing the benefits of her different backgrounds. And while Beverly may not have been able to see the appeal of her own body, this woman's physique couldn't be denied. Nothing on the woman was out of place. Her uniform was snug, accentuating the swell of her breasts, the tapering down of her waist, the muscles of her legs and the tightness of her . . .

"Ma'am?"

"Sorry," Beverly said quietly. "I'd like . . . um . . . well . . ."

"It's okay. Take your time." She was smiling at Beverly. It was a beautiful smile, the kind that stretches from ear to ear. Even her TEETH were perfect! And it wasn't a fake smile like she had seen on her father so many times. It was genuinely warm and patient. Beverly felt herself blushing.

"Sorry, I've never been here before. What would you recommend?"

"Well, seeing as I own the place, I'm a little biased towards everything." Beverly found herself chuckling. "But mostly it depends on how hungry you are."

"I'm hungry, but nervous, so I'd like something that isn't too heavy."

"I'd recommend the green-chili stew then. I've got a friend in Hatch, New Mexico that sends up a bunch of green chili from time to time, and it is to die for!"

"O.k., I'll try that," she responded shyly. Beverly found herself in awe of this woman, who she had met only a minute earlier.

"Be right back."

Beverly forced herself to pay attention to stuff the college had sent her. She opened the first one, which was from UCLA. They accepted her! And there was information regarding scholarship opportunities! The next envelope told much the same story, as did the one after that. All in all, there were eight envelopes and eight letters of acceptance. She was flabbergasted. She couldn't imagine all these places wanting her to attend. She was sitting their dumbfounded when the waitress/sheriff returned with her soup.

"So what are you so nervous about?" she asked. The woman looked at the table. "College, huh? Any luck so far?"

"Ye . . . yeah. All of them."

"Damn, girl! Even I didn't get accepted to every place I applied!"

"Really? How many did you . . . I'm sorry, I don't even know your name."

"Tamara Huntley, but you can call me Tammy."

"So, where did you wind up going?"

"Harvard."

Beverly was dumbfounded for the second time. "You went to Harvard? What did you major in?"

"Criminal justice and chemistry."

"You double majored? At Harvard?"

Suddenly, the nervousness melted away. Tammy told one of the kitchen staff to man the register, and she sat down. The two started chatting away like they were old friends.

Over the next several weeks, Beverly went to the diner every day for lunch and sometimes dinner. She wanted to learn everything she could about this woman who so filled her father with dread and anger. Apparently, Tammy's mom had been a successful romance writer, and her father, who was black, had been a politically active movie agent in Hollywood. They had both died in a car wreck when she was sixteen. They had left all their combined wealth to their only daughter. They had always wanted her to follow her dreams and get a good education. She, like Beverly, had been a gifted student. Apparently, she was also a bit of an athlete, having two black-belts in martial arts and was an all-state champion in volleyball. She had gotten into Harvard at the age of seventeen, graduated with a double major after four years and joined, of all things, the New York City Police Department. Her goal was to get into the FBI and study forensics, but needed some work experience first. She eventually got into the FBI, and graduated from the academy when she was twenty-five.

Strangely, when talking about her brief stint in the FBI, Tammy was strangely reserved. She wound up quitting her job in Washington, but didn't explain why. She said she liked protecting and serving, but didn't want to be part of a large, impersonal entity like the Bureau. So she came out here. It had taken some time, but she had earned acceptance by most people. When she said "most," she made a point not to look directly at Beverly. Beverly had gotten the impression that the sheriff knew her father and that they had some unpleasant altercations. But as Beverly didn't buy into her father's petty hatreds, Tammy didn't let her feelings about the father transfer to the daughter. A month passed, and Beverly found herself more and more drawn to this intelligent, powerful woman. She saw a shrewd businesswoman in the same body as a passionate law enforcement agent. Tammy would periodically go out on call, leaving her chef in charge. It turned out her cook was a Vietnam veteran that no one else would hire, and who had turned out to be a friendly and loyal employee. There was an old man who sat at the counter every day drinking coffee and eating cheese-fries and talking with the cook. His name was Larry, and he was one of the few remaining veterans of World War II. Tammy had so much respect for those who would risk their lives in the situations that these men had lived through that she felt obliged to help them in whatever way she could. Another thing that surprised Beverly was that Tammy was a very spiritual person. She wasn't a traditional churchgoer to be sure, but she had her faith and was comfortable with her "lot" in life, referring to her sexual preference.

Everything seemed to be going great until she arrived home one day, just ahead of a major storm. It turned out that the weather wasn't the only thing about to turn bad. Her father was sitting in the living room with a scowl on his face.

"How DARE you?!?"

"Hunh?"

"One of my parishioners saw you at that diner! Talking with that whore!"

"She isn't a whore! She is a decent woman!" Beverly was almost as shocked as her father. She had never spoken back to him, and could never have imagined yelling at him.

"You DO NOT talk back to me!" he yelled. "You are going to quit that job and you are NEVER to speak to that ‘creature' again!" he finished with a sneer on his face.

"No! You can't control my life!"

"As long as you live here, yes I can!"

"Then I'm leaving!"

There was a moment of stunned silence. There was no going back now. Beverly turned with tears in her eyes and moved towards her room to get her things. She felt her father's hand on her shoulder, roughly spinning her around.

"You do not turn your back on me, you little harlot!" He raised one hand to strike her. Even her father had never threatened to strike her before. "You will learn to behave yourself if I have to . . ."

His sentence was cut off as another hand grabbed his wrist. It was her older brother, Brian. Brian had a stern look she had never seen on him before.

"Dad," he said calmly, "you will NOT hit her. Now or ever." Her father looked positively aghast. "Bev," continued Brian, "get your stuff."

Beverly rushed to her room, tossed her few possessions and some clothes into a duffel bag, and rushed outside. Her father had returned to his chair, and her brothers were waiting on the porch. They each hugged her.

Brian spoke up again. "We don't agree with you leaving, but know that we still love you. Let us know where you wind up. I'll talk to Dad, and maybe when he calms down . . ." Brian left it at that. There was nothing else that needed to be said. They all knew her father would never forgive her. When she left, she would never be coming back. She made her way down the dark road back to town. She didn't know what she was going to do. And the drizzle turned into a downpour. She was wet, cold, and frightened. Halfway there, she sat down on a rock beside the road, too exhausted to walk another step. A minute later, she saw headlights approaching, and suddenly, blue and red lights started flashing. It was a police vehicle. It was Tammy.

Tammy looked furious! Without any words, she helped Beverly into the jeep. Even in her state of rage, she gently wiped the moisture from Beverly's face with a towel she had brought.

"How . . .?"

"Your brother Brian called the station and let one of my deputies know what happened." Tammy's voice was almost trembling with anger. She fired up the jeep and headed back to the house.

"Tammy, I can't . . ."

"I'm not going to leave you there. I'm just going to have a word with your father."

Beverly was suddenly afraid for her father. They pulled up and Tammy got out, slamming the door and leaving the police lights on. Beverly cracked the window a bit and listened. Tammy marched in the front door and started yelling. Beverly couldn't make out much of what was being said, but heard the words "negligence," "irresponsible" and "asshole" a number of times. Her brothers gathered on the porch for the second time that evening, and all of them looked petrified. Beverly almost smiled. She was willing to bet her father had never been talked to the way he was getting dressed down at that moment. Tammy emerged after a few minutes, still pissed off, and got back into the jeep. Beverly saw her father standing in the doorway. He looked angry, but angry mixed with something new. He was afraid. She had never seen him afraid. She wondered exactly what Tammy had said to him, then decided she didn't want to know. As Tammy started up the jeep and headed to town, Beverly didn't even look back.

"I've got a guest house on my property," Tammy said after a few minutes. "You're welcome to stay there as long as you need."

"Thank you," Beverly whispered. "Thanks for everything." After that, the two just listened to the sound of the rain hitting the roof of the vehicle.

They arrived at Tammy's house, which was a sizeable A-frame house. Right next to it was a small guesthouse. Tammy carried Beverly's meager belongings inside. It wasn't a big space. It was a studio apartment, about fifteen feet by fifteen feet, with a full sized bed, a small tub/shower and kitchenette. Tammy almost looked embarrassed.