“He did. We were sweethearts from all the way back in junior high. I told him everything. Dave always said what happened to me didn’t matter to him.”
“As time passed, the consequences seemed to have mattered a great deal to him?”
“Yes.” Margaret began to sob.
Eric gave her a box of tissues. After she composed herself, he said, “I can help you in two ways.”
“How?” she asked.
“First, I will assure you again, whatever sins you think you may have committed, they’re forgiven. You no longer need to bear any burden of guilt. You remember the anthem from Sunday?”
“‘There’s Pow’r in the Blood’?”
“John Carlyle and I chose the hymn deliberately to reinforce the message of the sermon: The blood Jesus shed means all our sins have been wiped away, even yours.”
“What’s the second way you can help me?”
“I think you need to see a Christian therapist who can help you with your sexual problems. Did you see a therapist after the rape, someone to help you work through the experience?”
“My family doesn’t believe in therapy.” She sobbed. “My father and brothers acted as if my mother and I were damaged goods. After the rape, I felt like a stranger in my own family.”
“What happened to your mother?”
“She always had some depressive tendencies, although we didn’t know about depression at that time. The family always said she was too high-strung. She committed suicide about a year after our rapes.”
“Have you ever considered suicide?”
“I don’t have the courage to do it, at least not directly.”
“I’d rephrase what you said.”
“How?”
“You have the courage to live, as exemplified by your coming here to talk about what happened and how you should go forward with your life.” Another thought came to Eric. “You must have shown the same courage when you identified the rapist to the sheriff’s department, and in court when he was prosecuted.”
“I knew the man. He had worked for a short time on our farm. I only had to identify him in a lineup.”
“What about the trial? You must have testified.”
“A trial didn’t take place.”
“Why?”
“The man confessed and took a plea bargain.”
“He spent time in prison?”
“Someone killed him in the prison after a couple of months.”
“A rough form of justice.”
“I’m tired of the pain, even if he suffers the torments of hell he richly deserves.”
Eric realized Margaret had never called her assailant by name. “I understand.” Eric hoped Margaret would not pursue the issue of forgiveness for the rapist’s sins. “Once again, I urge you to see the right kind of therapist.”
“Do you know one?”
“I do. If you agree, I can make the appropriate arrangements.”
“The therapy will help?”
“It will.”
“Please make the appointment.”
Eric placed a call on his cell. A cordial female voice answered. “Reverend Eric Jameson for Dr. Matthews, please ma’am.” He heard the response that Dr. Matthews was extremely busy. “I realize he’s busy, but I need to speak with him on an urgent matter.”
The receptionist replied, “A patient will be here in a few minutes.”
“Even so, I have an important professional request for Dr. Matthews.” Eric activated the speaker on his iPhone.
A deep voice soon came onto the line. “Hey, Eric. I hear you’re stamping out sin in Northeast Georgia.”
“I am.”
“Speak to me about what I can do for you.”
“I need you to see a parishioner of mine, Ms. Margaret Lee Peterson.”
“How soon?”
“Sooner than possible.”
“You have a crisis situation?”
“She’s in distress, needs our help.”
“How soon can she get to Hotlanta?”
“I’ll ask her.” Eric spoke to Margaret. “How soon can you travel to Atlanta, the north side?”
“I can go anytime.”
Eric spoke again into the phone. “How about this afternoon, say fifteen hundred hours?”
Matthews laughed. “Why not? You always were impatient to get to the action. Send Ms. Peterson down here this afternoon. I’ll clear the time.”
“Thanks. I owe you, Ben.”
“Never as much as I owe you, Eric.” Matthews disconnected.
Eric wrote the address and telephone number on a piece of notepaper, which he offered to Margaret. “Three o’clock this afternoon. Dr. Benjamin Matthews will help you heal yourself through the healing and comforting power of the Holy Spirit.”
Margaret rose from the couch to take the notepaper. “I’ll be there. Thanks.”
“I’m available if you want to talk more about forgiveness of sins. Dr. Matthews will work with you on the other problems.”
“You two sound like friends.”
“Friends and comrades-in-arms. See you in church Sunday?”
“I intend to be here.”
“Margaret.”
“Yes?”
“What happens in this office remains absolutely confidential. In fact, Ms. Johnson won’t even tell anyone you’ve been here.” He grinned. “We can keep some things from going public, even in a small town like Vickery.”
“I hope so. Thank you.” Margaret walked out of the office.
CHAPTER 12
Tuesday, 22 July
After Margaret left, Eric went into the outer office where he had installed a Keurig Coffee machine at his own expense, and began preparing a cup of coffee. The Keurig made good, not excellent, coffee; however, Eric didn’t like the fuss and bother of preparing the beverage from freshly ground beans. He tried to avoid instant coffee, which reminded him of his military days spent in the field.
“Margaret left looking better than when she came in,” Mary said. She saw the look of concern on Eric’s face. “I’m not asking at all about what you two discussed. I’m merely commenting about the before and after difference.”
“The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”
“Then you must have persuaded her to take the first step.”
“Her first step occurred when she decided to come here this afternoon.” Eric picked up his cup of coffee and started toward his office. “We must pray from her, and for her loved ones.”
“I’ll recruit the Prayer Warriors at my church. They don’t need to know any details other than Margaret stands in the need of prayer.”
“As do we all.” Eric went back into his office to begin outlining his sermon for Sunday. He made good progress until his iPhone announced a call from the Vickery Police Department. “Eric Jameson here.”
“Reverend Jameson, Chief Jack Holderfield. I’ve heard good things about you.”
“Thanks. People I trust tell me you’re one of the good guys.”
“I try.” The chief’s voice changed to a more serious tone. “I have Joseph Mansfield and a friend of his at the station.” Before Eric could ask anything, the chief said, “They’re not in any trouble with us, and they’re not seriously hurt. They were involved in altercation outside Jean’s Coffee Shop about an hour ago.”
Eric offered a silent prayer of thanksgiving. “What do you need me to do?”
“Joseph says you can stand in loco parentis this afternoon because his mother’s in court in Athens.”
“I can. Should I come to the station to get Joseph and his friend?”
“I’ll bring them to the church. We’ll be there in a few minutes, and we can talk then.”
Eric returned to the outer office to inform Mary about the telephone call. She asked, “Joseph and his friend?”
“Yes.”
“Did the chief give you the name of the friend?”
“No.” Eric saw Mary’s eyebrows lift. “Do you know somet
hing I don’t know?”
“A lot about some subjects, not so much about others. Let’s wait and see who Chief Holderfield brings us.”
A few minutes later, a Vickery Police Tahoe, with the word Chief emblazoned on the front door, stopped in front of the church. A tall, somewhat beefy man opened the back doors to usher Joseph and a strikingly beautiful teenage girl with milk-chocolate skin toward the church. She wore a large Vickery Police shirt, an incongruence for such a hot summer day.
Eric and Mary stood at the window to the church office. He asked, “You recognize the friend?”
“She’s Big Al and Sister Ruth’s granddaughter, Catherine Stockman. Most people call her Cathy.” The chief and his two charges reached the door leading into the church offices. “Her parents are dead. She lives with her grandparents. I’ll give you the details later.”
When the group stepped into the office, Eric noted the bruises on Joseph’s face. “Hey, Reverend Eric. I’m better than I may look,” Joseph said.
“Good,” Eric said. He offered a hand to the chief. “Glad to meet you.”
“Same here,” the chief shook hands with Eric.
Cathy went to stand by Mary, who had a look of concern on her face. Eric stepped forward to put an arm around Joseph’s shoulders. “Looks as if Joseph will have a black eye by tonight.”
Chief Holderfield said, “Probably. Joseph got in a couple of good licks, even if he doesn’t strike me as a street fighter.”
“What happened?” Eric asked.
“Joseph and Cathy rode their bikes to Jean’s. Before they could go inside, six boys attacked them. Fortunately, one of my men on downtown patrol saw what was happening. The officer and some men from the coffee shop put a stop to the fight before Joseph and Cathy suffered any serious physical harm. We had an EMS crew look over Joseph and Cathy. There’s no need for medical attention other than some ice packs to reduce the swelling, maybe some mild pain relievers. My Crime Investigative Unit took pictures, which along with the EMS report will document the damage.”
“What started this fight?”
“Because those—” Cathy looked in turn at Mary and Eric, “Can I say assholes here in the church office? We’re not in the sanctuary.”
Mary put a hand to her mouth. Eric said, “Seems like a good descriptor to me.”
“Those assholes don’t like Joseph and me hanging together. They think I should be friends only with black boys.”
“A number of witnesses in the coffee shop, including Jean, will testify the six boys started the fight,” the chief said.
“Where are the six assailants?” Eric asked.
“We have four in custody. We know the two who got away.” The chief looked at Mary. “I think some of the boys’ families attend Big Al’s church. Anyway, three of the boys have been in trouble with the law before today.”
“The six boys are black?” Eric asked.
“Yes. I’ll talk with Big Al when I can find him. I hope you and he can work together to defuse the situation. We don’t need a racial conflict.”
“Cathy, why are you wearing that big shirt?” Mary asked.
The girl turned toward Mary, unbuttoned the shirt and opened it wide. “Because those assholes ripped my blouse, pulled off my bra, and left my boobs open for anyone to see them.”
Mary gasped. “You’re going to have some bruises, Cathy.”
Cathy pulled the shirt together. “Chief, are we talking about assault charges?” Eric asked.
“The precise charges will be up to the county district attorney. Assault seems to fit what happened, also destruction of property. The boys wrecked the two bikes and broke Jean’s front windows. We have numerous witnesses who’ll testify to what happened.”
“You want the situation defused?”
“If we can. Defusing isn’t the same as sweeping the whole affair under a rug. From the time I joined the Vickery Police as a rookie, our whole approach has been to apply the law evenhandedly. We got through the turmoil of the 1960s and 1970s by being scrupulously fair. We’ll follow the same course with this situation.”
“I’ll be glad to help after I talk with Joseph’s mother and Reverend Stockman.”
“Mom doesn’t want me to use my car except for going to the high school and back, when school starts in August,” Joseph said. “That’s why Cathy and I rode our bikes to Jean’s. The boys who attacked us should pay for our bikes.”
“You’re right,” Chief Holderfield said. “You and the young lady should be compensated for any medical bills and for your bikes. Jean also should be paid the cost of repairing her windows.”
“I’ll tell Mom,” Joseph said, “that we want to prosecute to the fullest extent of the law, and sue the assholes for mental trauma.”
“Suing for mental trauma,” the chief said, “might not be the best way to defuse the situation.”
“I figure you might like Reverend Stockman and me to say a few calming words from our pulpits this Sunday?” Eric asked the chief.
“Be much appreciated. You two preachers can work out the details.”
“Why don’t you come to each of our worship services and say a few words yourself? Reverend Stockman and I can adjust our schedules so you can speak to both churches at the eleven o’clock worship services.”
“Let me know the details.”
“I will.”
“I’ll say goodbye then. Call me on my direct line if I can be of help.” Chief Holderfield gave his cards to Eric, Joseph, and Cathy. “Joseph, please ask the counselor to call me so I can give her the legal details.”
“She’ll want to make sure I’m not embellishing what happened,” Joseph said.
Once the chief left the office, Cathy moved closer to Joseph. “You’re my hero, even if you don’t know how to fight.” She looked at Eric. “He never backed down, tried to keep himself between me and the assholes until they knocked him to the ground.” She laughed. “He kept punching and kicking while he was on his back.”
Eric saluted Joseph. “Outstanding! We’re supposed to protect our womenfolk.”
Cathy kissed Joseph on the cheek. “You really are my hero.”
“Will you marry me?” Joseph asked.
“Not until we graduate from college.”
“But before we go to graduate school?”
“Yes.”
Eric smiled. “Tell you what, Joseph and Cathy. We’ll close up shop early. I’ll take Joseph home with me, and Ms. Johnson can take Cathy home.”
“My grandparents can pick me up at your place when they get back from Atlanta,” Cathy said to Mary. “I couldn’t reach Granddaddy on his cell phone. We can leave a note at the parsonage.”
Mary looked at Eric. “Big Al has a long history of letting his cell phone batteries go dead.”
“We’ve got a plan. Let’s vacate the premises,” Eric said.
After he was sure his wife slept soundly in their upstairs bedroom, Ralph Whitfield went to his office on the first floor. He removed one of several disposable cell phones from his wall safe and called another similar phone. A strong voice answered on the third ring. “General Lee’s horse.”
“Traveller.”
“What can I do for you, Commander?”
“You’re on duty tonight, Sergeant?” Whitfield referred to Deputy Gilbert Rice’s “rank” in the Southern Restoration Movement’s Army of the Restoration, not his position in the sheriff’s department.
“Yes, sir. Like always, the sheriff’s department takes over from the city boys at two thousand hours. I go off duty at six hundred hours.”
“You heard about the contretemps in downtown Vickery this afternoon?”
“I did. Damn niggers have gotten too big for their britches, attacking a white boy in the middle of town in daylight. Those coons need to be taught a lesson.”
“It doesn’t bother you that the white boy was with a nigger gal?”
“The white boy has our skin, she don’t. Hell, I’ve had my way with plenty of black g
als. That’s different from marriage. God put black gals on earth so white men won’t need to bother their wives and girlfriends so much.”
Although Whitfield regretted the type of people the Restoration often recruited to carry out its more unpleasant missions, he kept the contempt out of his voice. “Maybe we can teach the lawyer lady’s spawn and the black gal the facts of life at a later time. The lawyer lady represents a queer who’s trying to sue me.”
“Then why don’t we take her out sooner than later?”
“The trial will put the bitch and her queer client in their places. It’s a done deal. Right now, we should focus on the Ebenezer United Methodist Church, where most of the black hooligans belong.”
“Commander, what kind of name is Ebenezer for a church?”
“Well, it’s Biblical. You know, ‘Here I raise my Ebenezer.’ Comes from the Old Testament, means a monument to God.”
“Just goes to show how the blacks and Jews cahoot together.”
“A sorry fact of life. We should make a statement our brother Restorers can be proud of, something to show we’re serious.”
“What can I do?” Rice asked.
“In a few minutes, I’ll call 911 to report suspicious characters around the Ebenezer Church. When the dispatcher alerts you guys on patrol, you say you’re nearby and will check out the situation.”
“Yes, sir. Then what?”
“You’ll have all the cover you need to reconnoiter the church. See if you can find an easy way to get in so the church can be blown up or set on fire from the inside.”
“Commander, blasting that church to hell will be a fine thing for us to do. It’s about time we made a statement the niggers will understand.”
“Sergeant, you have your mission.”
“Acknowledged. Over and out.”
Whitfield removed another cell phone from the safe and made the 911 call. He placed both phones back into the safe, which he closed and locked. He anticipated a good night’s sleep, confident in the righteousness of his cause and the actions he had set in motion.
CHAPTER 13
Wednesday, 23 July
How is Joseph?” Eric asked Allison when she took her seat at their usual table in the coffee shop.
Comfort and Affliction Page 9
