Pastor Brandon narrowed his eyes. “I’m certain Amethelissa would appreciate it if you discussed personal matters.”
The way he drawled out those last two words suggested he knew something. “So you do know something about it?” she asked, trying to keep herself from sounding condescending.
Nathaniel grabbed her hand. “Alice.” His tone was firm. “Amethelissa wants you to talk about what happened at the moors, remember?”
Pastor Brandon leaned forward. “Yes, Alice, tell me what happened.”
“I don’t have anything to say about the moors. Pastor Brandon, can you please answer me?”
Pastor Brandon attempted to keep his demeanor calm, but Alice saw the infuriation threatening to break through his eyes. “We’ll discuss this later, Alice.”
“Why can’t we discuss it now?” Alice balled her fists to prevent her calm from ebbing away.
“Young lady, we are here to discuss personal matters. Now your dear friend Nathaniel wants you to talk about what happened at the moors. But if you wish to waste my time, Miss Sheraton, you may leave.” His demeanor remained calm the entire time, which irked Alice.
She knew what that response meant. He had information about the cross, information he was none too willing to presently share. In fact, he might never share the information with her, for she was a fifteen-year-old girl, and most adults would rather not waste their time explaining something of significant importance to a child. And since Pastor Brandon didn’t want to say anything about the cross, she also assumed he wouldn’t answer her question about her hand print. Since she had no further business, she rose from the pews.