The Cornelius Saga Series Box Set 2

by Tanya R. Taylor

  Looking out at the crowd, Alan was confident that the looks on their faces indicated extreme interest in what he had to say.

  “Reverend McCoy here will be able to expound a bit further and after that, we, on this panel, are all available for any questions that you might have,” Alan concluded.

  Alan turned the mic over to Kurt McCoy who was dressed in his Sunday best. There was never a time when the Reverend was seen without having on a silk coat suit and matching hat with a silver brim. His deep, raspy voice was easily identifiable to everyone who’d ever heard him speak on the various TV and radio stations. A man in his sixties, he had a mystifying confidence about him and an alluring smile. After all, he was known to heal the sick and a couple of times even raised the dead. He was called the real deal and hardly anyone in the community doubted his sincerity. And those boys of his, Adam and Malachi, were following right in their father’s footsteps and were indeed the most charming young men one could ever lay eyes on. Well groomed, strongly built with perfectly tanned skin, the McCoy boys were every Christian mother’s dream date for their daughters.

  The Reverend started out with a prayer and made reference that it should have been the first order of business there that evening. It was an indirect scolding to the Principal, delivered with a smile. Kurt sought to lay out the basic activities held at his ranch and why those activities were fundamental to a child’s spiritual growth and to their future careers.

  “These lessons must be taught and it is my hope that every child in this city and indeed the globe would learn what it means to not just survive in this dangerous and carnal-minded world, but what it means to thrive. It is my hope and prayer that even though we’re starting with the fifth grade right now that over the course of a few months, each child in Apex will be there.”

  A favorite of many, he received a standing ovation as he returned to his seat.

  “So, there you are, folks – the short and long of it.” Rosetta stood at the mic again. “Are there any questions?”

  Angie Baxter immediately stood up. “Yeah, I have a question.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Baxter. May I ask whom it is directed to?” Rosetta asked.

  “It’s directed at you,” she replied, gruffly.

  Feeling the top of her own chest, Rosetta glanced at the audience for a moment. Angie was one of the school’s most vocal parents and probably the least liked. “Why, certainly. And what is your question?” she replied.

  “Why do you think we, as parents, need some outside source to enlighten our kids spiritually, as you say?” Angie spoke so loudly that her voice echoed within the large space.

  “Mrs. Baxter, our Vice-principal and Reverend McCoy have both explained the reason for that in detail.” Rosetta adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose.

  “Well, let me tell all of you something... my boy, Johnny Edward Alexander Baxter ain’t attending no retreat or whatever the hell you call it!”

  Drowning in embarrassment, Johnny buried his head as low as possible between his knees. He knew it wasn’t going to be good the moment his mother stood up to speak.

  “And the rest of you in here would be a bunch of idiots to allow these people to send your kids off to some ranch to be influenced by this wealthy gentleman who struts around like he’s God or somebody that’s got all the answers,” Angie boldly continued.

  Silence invaded the hall and parents were clearly embarrassed for the panel of speakers on the podium.

  But Angie wasn’t finished yet. “I don’t know about you all,” she scanned the room, “…but I send my boy here to get an education so he can grow up and become somebody, not to be preached to like he’s in church. I teach my boy the right way of living myself and I don’t need some high and mighty stranger to do it for me. You all can send your precious ones if you like, but my Johnny will be home that day with me and his pa.” On that note, she took her seat.

  Rachelle Wigby had quietly observed Angie make a spectacle of herself. God knew her own twelve-year-old daughter Priscilla, sitting next to her, needed all the spiritual enlightenment she could get. After all, she was painfully aware the child didn’t get the kind of upbringing she deserved with a mother that brought countless men in and out of their lives for the majority of the girl’s life. Men who were more like clients, and whatever apartment she and Priscilla lived in at the time, was like a cheap motel. But Rachelle had finally cleaned up her act within the past two years and that’s why she thought she made a right move for the first time in her life by enrolling Priscilla in a good Christian school, such as Apex. Her Priscilla had a good heart, but now she was seeing that the once innocent little girl was hanging around older boys in their neighborhood and Rachelle shuddered to think what she might be doing with them while she was off to work at the grocery store — the only decent job she ever had. Thankfully, her mother had left her the old house when she died from Kidney Failure, so using a portion of her menial salary to give Priscilla a good education was the least Rachelle could do for the child. Angie could run her mouth all she wanted, Rachelle thought, because little Johnny was brought up in a more stable environment, despite the over-the-top aggression contained in his mother. Priscilla would be going on that trip to the McCoy ranch and anywhere else the school deemed would be beneficial to her.

  Rosetta cleared her throat. Angie Baxter’s outbursts never ceased to amaze her. “Well then, are there any other questions?” she asked, looking around the room, thus refusing to indulge Angie with any further communication on the subject.

  Reverend McCoy stood up. “Pardon me, Miss Gotlieb, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to address the parent’s assertion.” Even then, he was as smooth and poised as could be.

  “Certainly, Reverend,” Rosetta responded, with clear reluctance.

  He approached the microphone again and looked at Angie. “Ma’am, I take it you have very strong sentiments regarding me and the work my family and I do, but I want to assure you and indeed everyone here in attendance that spiritual nurturing for any child begins at home with the ones responsible for caring for that special soul. Others, like me and my family are only additional vessels our good Lord uses to impart the knowledge He’s given us through the means He’s chosen to communicate to us.”

  Angie stood up again. “Are you saying, Reverend, that God only speaks through you and a few others to get His messages across to the rest of the world?” Her hands were now angrily placed at her sides.

  “No, that’s not what I mean!” McCoy quickly replied. “I’m trying to say that God has given each of us—everyone in this room and in the world—special gifts and talents. Not everyone has the same gifts and talents, so we are to use them to bless others around us. That is what I and my sons here do. And whatever God-given talent you have should be used to be a blessing to others as well. Do you understand what I’m saying, ma’am?”

  “Chicken shit!” she blurted, much to everyone’s surprise that she’d even dream of addressing a preacher that way. “I don’t buy what you’re selling and that’s my take. Everyone else in here can do whatever the hell they want, but my mind’s made up. On the day of the trip, my boy, Johnny, is staying home. He don’t need no extra grades other than what he’s earned on this campus. That’s all I have to say.”

  McCoy humbly returned to his seat and Rosetta took her place again. At the same time, Angie pulled Johnny up by the collar and they worked their way through the row again and walked the wide aisle toward the exit. All eyes were on them, many casting contemptuous looks. No one was ‘woman or man enough’ to confront Angie though. She’d been known to shut a couple of people up quickly with a good, solid punch to the face or gut when she felt insulted.

  “I’m sorry about that, folks.” Rosetta shook her head. “Are there any more questions?”

  As parents sought to find out more about the upcoming trips, Rachelle sat silently. She was sure this would be a good start for Priscilla’s emotional healing as she would be in the presence of greatness for twenty
-four hours – in the persons of Reverend Kurt McCoy and the McCoy family.

  2

  _________________

  Present day…

  “I see her again!” Rachelle Wigby exclaimed. “She’s over there!” She pointed, with an excited look in her eyes.

  Nurse Bella Carey who had cared for Rachelle during her stay two years earlier looked in the direction of the room where the clearly disturbed woman was pointing. She didn’t expect to see anything, but reflex had kicked in right away.

  “She looks different...” Rachelle continued, “...but I know it’s her!”

  Bella tried to calm her with an injection of a mild sedative.

  Rachelle had been admitted to the Hufton’s Mental Health Facility the previous day for the second time since her beloved Priscilla went missing. It had been three years since that fateful day in June when a busload of middle grade children from Apex Christian School, as well as the Principal, her Vice-principal, and two teachers had set out for a special overnight trip to the McCoy ranch, and never returned. On record, it was the largest investigation ever conducted in the town of Nirvana. Yet, despite their very best efforts, police were unable to find a trace of those gone missing, and the school bus was never located. It was as if they all had mysteriously disappeared from the face of the earth.

  There wasn’t a soul around that didn’t feel Rachelle Wigby’s pain. She’d taken it so hard and couldn’t seem to cope as the other parents who’d lost their precious children were doing. Some closest to Rachelle thought it was guilt that drove her to the edge of insanity. After all, it wasn’t very long before little Priscilla went missing that her mother used to expose her to the most degrading things that no child should ever have to experience. They’d called her a bad mother for the better part of the child’s life before she finally caught sense and cleaned up her act.

  “Please, don’t do that! I don’t need it,” Rachelle pleaded as the injection coursed through her veins, weakening her ability to fight it. “I don’t wanna sleep. I wanna talk to my Priscilla. She’s waiting for me to come be with her.”

  Bella’s heart was breaking, hearing those words. Having two young daughters of her own, she could only imagine Rachelle’s pain. As far as she was concerned, even if the woman had been a bad mother, at least she’d started to do right by the girl and was becoming the type of mom Priscilla could be proud of—one who was working hard to provide for her child and trying to correct some of the mistakes she’d made.

  Bella was far from judgmental. In her hometown of Mizpah, she’d seen what some thought of as the lowest in that society turn their lives around and become good role models for their children. Her own father was no exception. He’d become a changed man after Bella’s mother died from heart disease. He blamed himself for causing her so many years of stress as he hadn’t learned what it was to be a good husband and to treat his wife with love and respect. Besides that, alcohol was his best friend and it contributed to much discord in the household. Now, he was a different man, although he still carried immense guilt and was still seeing his wife in his room at night, standing at the foot of the bed with those sad, sad eyes staring straight at him.

  Bella felt a cold chill hit her right ear. Immediately, she felt it and realized it was actually cold to the touch.

  “She’s right beside you,” Rachelle drowsily told her; a half-smile had crept across her face. “I can tell she thinks you’re nice.”

  Bella quickly looked to her right, then felt like an idiot for doing so. She reached over and pulled the sheet up to Rachelle’s chest. “That’s foolish talk, Rachelle. You go ahead and get some sleep now.”

  She started to leave.

  “Nurse...”

  Bella stopped and turned. “Yes, Rachelle?”

  “Do you think I’m crazy?”

  Bella didn’t hesitate to respond. “No, I don’t. You’ve just been through a lot lately and your brain is struggling to cope; that’s all.”

  Rachelle licked her dry, cracked lips, then said, “So why don’t you believe me? Didn’t you feel something on your ear and that’s why you touched it?”

  Reluctantly, she nodded.

  “It was my Priscilla who did it. It was her, I tell you...”

  Bella thought to indulge her for a moment. “How can that possibly be, Rachelle? I’m five feet, eleven. Your daughter was how tall?”

  “She doesn’t need physical stature to reach your ear, Nurse Carey. Her feet were at least a foot off the floor when she did it.”

  The thought of what Rachelle had just described sent shivers through Bella’s spine. She didn’t know if to believe or dismiss what the patient had said. But suddenly, she was very uncomfortable being there and quickly left the room.

  “Why don’t you ever say anything when you come to see me, Sweetheart?” Rachelle was looking up above the doorway where Bella had just passed through. “How I wish you would tell me where you are, so I can come get you! Are you okay? How did your eyes get that dark…so… black? And your face… it looks different. What happened to you, my sweet baby? Tell Mama, so I can find you and bring you home.”

  It was mere seconds later when Rachelle, under the spell of the sedative, drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  Sauntering along the corridor were both young and old men and women who seemed to be in a mysteriously confined world of their own, making strange faces and mumbling words no one in their normal frame of mind could decipher.

  Sally Thompson, one of those who found the corridor a nice place to be everytime she was allowed to venture outside her room, had been a resident of Hufton’s for two years. Having been blessed with the face and body of a model, Sally’s features had changed dramatically when her right cheek seemed to have moved a few inches higher than the left and her now crinkly nose looked deformed as if it had been broken and was never splinted or manually realigned. Her right eye bulged out prominently; the texture of her skin was dry and wrinkled although she was only thirty-eight years old; and her once beautiful, silky, black hair had turned straggly and gray. Folks in town were sure she’d let some demons in after Frank, the man she was set to wed, had left her standing at the altar. The day he’d pulled fright and skipped town to begin a new life without Sally was the day Sally’s life took a downward turn. People who knew her said they heard she’d sought solace in occultism, which may have back-fired. And others felt like someone had worked Voodoo or Witchcraft on her for some past misdeed. She started seeing things that weren’t there and whispering the names and dates of death of many famous men and women in history. Everyone was astounded by her knowledge of the lives of those that had impacted the world in one way or the other, although she never excelled in History class and was never before interested in such matters.

  “Sally, it’s time for supper now.” A male nurse gently approached her as she slowly walked up the corridor.

  Bella had just passed her after leaving Rachelle’s room. She hadn’t even noticed Sally or any of the others as she was consumed by her own thoughts.

  3

  _________________

  Hours later, Bella could not shake the nagging feeling she had that something extraordinary might be going on with Rachelle Wigby which went beyond the scope of her medical diagnosis. Bella was almost certain the grief Rachelle suffered had now escalated to her exhibiting hallucinatory behavior that was not present the first time she arrived there at the hospital for treatment. She also considered that somehow these hallucinations were affecting her surroundings, which might explain why she personally felt what she did in the patient’s room. She’d never mentioned to a soul, especially being the introvert she was, that it wasn’t the first time she’d experienced something odd, or perhaps…paranormal when tending to Rachelle. She believed there were things out there she could not see or explain, maybe Rachelle needed something more than the help she was getting at the institution – at least before her condition further deteriorated.

  Bella was relieved the
coast was clear when she entered the filing room, and she eased the door shut behind her. Access to the room was not prohibited; she just thought not having to answer any questions pertaining to her reason for being there would be perfect.

  She stepped lightly over to the filing cabinet marked “T – Z” and pulled out the drawer with surnames starting with the letter “W”. Skimming through as quickly as she could, she finally located Rachelle Wigby’s file.

  “Person to contact in case of an emergency...” she read, “...Doctor David Barns—sibling.” She slid a pen and a small notepad out of her skirt pocket and jotted down the relevant information, then, quietly pushed the drawer shut again.

  Hurrying over to the wall-mounted phone, Bella dialed the number she’d scribbled down.

  “I’m trying to reach Doctor David Barns,” she quietly said as soon as there was an answer.

  She was told he was in with a patient.

  “Could you ask him to return a call to...” then she changed her mind. “Please tell him it’s an emergency. It has to do with his sister.”

  The receptionist, Brenda Scrivens, immediately placed the call on hold, then moments later, sent it through to Dr. Barns.

  “This is David Barns,” he said with a tone of concern.

  “Doctor Barns, my name is Bella Carey; I’m a nurse at Hufton’s Mental Health Facility in Nirvana. I’m calling in reference to your sister, Rachelle.”