Without Mercy - Lisa Jackson [43]
“Coffee,” she said decisively. The last thing she wanted to appear was wishy-washy. She knew instinctively that an I-don’t-care attitude wouldn’t fly, and she was desperate to see her sister again; this was her best chance. Maybe her only chance.
“Coffee it is, Cora. But tea for me, please.”
Cora Sue nodded stiffly.
The reverend paused to pet the expectant dogs on their heads, then with a quick “Go with Momma” and a snap of his fingers, he sent the poodles down the hallway to pad after Cora Sue and Dr. Williams.
Jules’s stomach was jumping, her nerves getting the better of her. Her four-inch heels clicked loudly on the marble floor while cutting into the top of her foot as she walked with Dr. Lynch under a glimmering crystal chandelier that hung from three stories above the foyer. While the other women and the dogs headed toward an archway to the far side of a sweeping staircase, Jules followed Lynch through double doors to a study near the rear of the home. Inside, floor-to-ceiling bookcases flanked a massive fireplace where a gas fire hissed over “charred” ceramic logs. This room overlooked the lake where the seaplane that had taken Shay to southern Oregon was tied to the dock.
Lynch followed her gaze as he settled behind a carved desk big enough to serve six for lunch. “The plane,” he said with a chuckle. “I guess it’s a bit of an indulgence, but it does make things easier. Our academy is remote, as you know, though there is a road that’s open most of the year. It’s impassable sometimes with the snowfall in the winter. If the weather warms too quickly in the spring, the runoff from the mountains tends to wash the road out.”
Again his softly amused chuckle. “Not to worry, though, we have the seaplane and a helicopter pad. Only in the very worst weather are we completely isolated, and even then it’s not a problem. With our own generators, live-in staff, and stores of supplies, we can get through any catastrophe God sees fit to send us.” He waved Jules into a visitor’s seat at his desk and settled into a leather executive chair opposite her. “Well, I guess we might not survive the ten plagues of Egypt as they were described in Exodus.”
“Right.” Jules knew nothing of the plagues but kept it to herself and made a mental note to bone up on Exodus. Attempting to appear comfortable in the stiff wing-back chair, she listened while Lynch, obviously in his element, began a diatribe about the school, its history, the good it had brought the community and youth across the country. Nothing negative, no bad vibes at Blue Rock. An orator at heart, Lynch explained how the school, “a little bit of heaven here on Earth,” attained its goals. Aside from academics, the eighteen-month curriculum included eight moral-value workshops, four drug and alcohol sessions, and gender-specific classes that dealt with sexual issues. The students were divided into peer groups and were encouraged to work together to solve interpersonal problems. Lynch went on about the school’s mission, about the good Blue Rock Academy was doing in turning around young lives.
Jules would have loved to believe it—what an incredible and altruistic vision! However, she knew it was just too good to be true. Lynch, however, seemed to be buying what he was peddling, his dedication sincere.
After a tight-lipped Cora Sue brought in the tea service, he even went so far as to play a CD about Blue Rock Academy wherein several people gave their testimonials.
The first was a graduate of Blue Rock. He had been a famous soap opera star, according to his sincere message, “strung out on heroin and on the verge of suicide” before he was twenty. His “totally self-destructive” behavior would have killed him if not for the faith and self-respect he found at Blue Rock Academy.
The next familiar face was a popular and handsome TV evangelist