“In name only. You wish you had a drink from your homeland. I wish I had my father…” Her eyes scanned the room for eavesdroppers. One reveler seemed close enough to spy on them so she lowered her voice. “I wish I could leave this country, once and for all. I would do anything to be able to do so.”
“Even marry me?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“My usefulness is coming to an end here. I’m a theoretical physicist. Now that we have set off our own atomic bomb, what need is there for me? Do they want me to reinvent the wheel?”
“Do you really think they will let you return to Germany?” She scooted herself until her hips touched his.
“East Germany, yes. West Germany…” He shrugged. “I doubt it.”
“That’s still better than here.”
“So you accept my proposal?” He reached out and squeezed her hand.
“I must be honest with you. I do not love you.”
“Maybe we can marry as friends instead of lovers.”
She laughed. “You Germans are so logical, even in matters of the heart.”
He pointed to his forearm. “Ice water runs through our veins, right? Without your vodka Germans’ blood would freeze in most parts of Russia. I am glad we wound up in this dismal republic. At least it’s warmer here.”
Arkhip’s face darkened. “Yes. Better than Siberia in one of the camps like my father.”
He pulled her hand onto his lap. Ever since her father had disappeared into the gulag, she had not heard from him, now a nonperson in a never-ending exile that few survived.
Chapter 19
Hundreds of folks turned out for Barney Tarrington’s funeral, not for his sake but Mary’s. If ever a couple proved the maxim that “opposites attract,” they had. Barney had been a misanthrope, drunk, carouser, and wife and child abuser. Mary had loved her husband despite his sins, her children to excess, her neighbors as herself, and her country despite its faults. Those who knew the details agreed that she was one of those rare individuals with a heart of gold. So it was not surprising that three bachelors circled about her during and after the funeral service. The hens of Madisin clucked furiously.
“His body is not even cold in the ground yet and that hussy is already drawing men around her.” The hens’ self-appointed leader clucked the loudest. “Back in my day a widow mourned a good six months before any man called on her.”
The flock gathered around, nodded, strutted, and pecked away at Mary’s reputation. As Thelma walked by one of them gave her an update.
“Psst, Thelma.” She grabbed Thelma’s arm and pulled her toward their jealous gossip. “We were just discussing the shamefulness of Mary letting all those men gather around her.”
“It’s a lot more shameful when all of you get together to gossip,” Thelma said. “All of you are like a bunch of vampires feeding off of other people’s heartaches.”
“Well, I never.” The head hen stomped off toward her car and eunuch of a husband, who served as her chauffeur and butler instead of lover and friend. “I certainly know when I’ve been offended.”
Thelma elbowed her way past those clustered about the widow and grabbed her hand. “Mary, I’m going to have you and your kids over for supper on Saturday.”
“But there’s too many of us for you to go to all that trouble.”
“Shoot. It’ll do me good to listen to someone besides Jason and Stanley for a change. All Jason does is tell silly stories to our son and he busts up laughing instead of eating.” She stepped closer and whispered. “Jason is still going on and on about Monkey Island. It’s making me crazy. Will you come on over? Please?”
Mary smiled for the first time since the police officer had knocked on her door with the news of Barney’s last drunken driving misadventure. “Sure. We’ll be there.”
His wife’s kindness toward Mary bothered Jason. What was he doing compared to her? How could he help Fred? After “thinking this thing through” he decided to work up enough courage to invite Fred when the next evangelist came to town. Summertime brought them to Madisin more than any other season.
***
With spring came Easter. As usual, the size of the congregations almost doubled at Madisin’s churches on Resurrection Sunday. Pastors Trueblood and Lacharetti compared notes at Tom’s Diner the following morning.
“It’s amazing.” Rev. Trueblood stared into his cup of coffee. “Every Christmas and Easter people come out of the woodwork. We had to set up extra chairs in the back yesterday.”
Rev. Lacharetti’s head popped about as if he were a clown ejected from a jack in the box. “The time I got most people at church was right after Pearl Harbor was attacked. But folks gradually tapered away as the war wore on. Got some of them back for a while after V-E Day and V-J Day though.”
They talked on through breakfast. As they finished, Rev. Lacharetti grabbed the two checks. “I’ll pay for your breakfast if you stop beating around the bush and tell me what’s on your mind. I’ve known you long enough that it’s plain as day that there’s something cooking in that head of yours.”
Rev. Trueblood blushed. “I guess you’re not one to try and pull the wool over your eyes. Okay, here goes. I want to invite an evangelist for a series of meetings but my church board said I need to get at least one other pastor from Madisin to sit up on the platform with me. You know good and well because of what our church believes no other pastor will do it.”
“I can’t promise you anything but I’ll try. First I have to run it by the board of elders. If they say okay, then I’ll have to present it to the church membership at a voters’ meeting.” He shrugged. “Church politics as usual.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I’ll get back to you.”
***
Rev. Lacharetti’s seven elders unanimously endorsed his participation. The members agreed with a stipulation that stunned Rev. Trueblood.
“The members said that since all I’ll be doing is sitting on my rear end, you are responsible for any who make a profession of faith in Jesus Christ during the meetings.”
“But it’s not done that way.” Pastor Trueblood paced around his tiny office. “Churches who get together for evangelistic crusades always divide up the new converts.”
“Well, you know what the seven words of a dying church are.”
“We’ve never done it that way before.” The two recited Pastor Lacharetti’s favorite saying in unison.
The visiting evangelist, Rev. William B. Oxfort, arrived ninety minutes before the first 7 p.m. service was scheduled to begin. When the hosting pastors saw his vehicle, they considered it a miracle that he had made it on time. Steam spewed from the radiator of the dented black 1933 Oldsmobile. Rev. Oxfort walked past the two hands extended toward him and unlatched his car’s hood. He shook his head after checking the engine block.
“Overheated on us all the way down here from Sioux Falls. Thought we might not make it. At least the block didn’t crack.” He grabbed a rag stuffed by the radiator to wipe the grime from his hands. “I’d like you to meet Charles.”
A gangling lad of eighteen stumbled around the car’s rear and grabbed the hands meant for Rev. Oxfort. “Pleased to meet you, sirs.”
The next half hour was spent talking about the logistics of the three consecutive nights of meetings. Then the evangelist glanced at his watch. “Just enough time left to get prayed up. Please take me to a room where I won’t be interrupted. Charles will sit outside the door to make sure I’m left alone. He’ll knock on it as soon as it’s time for the meeting. I need one of you two to lead those gathered in prayer that the Lord will bless it. Maybe you can take turns each night.”
An hour later the evangelist climbed behind the pulpit and smiled at those who filled half of the church’s pews. “Thanks for coming tonight, folks. I know you’re all busy with lives way more complicated than mine so my assistant Charles will raise his hand a half hour from now to tell me it’s time to shut up.”
“Praise the Lord! Thank you, Jesus.” The oldest man in attendance stood up and raised his left hand heavenward. “The mind can only stand what our bottoms can endure, brother.” He patted his rump and sat back down.
“Amen.” Rev. Oxfort opened his Bible and read, “In the beginning God created the heavens and earth.” He shut the worn leather cover. “And ever since then His creation, at least Lucifer and his angelic followers, Adam and Eve and all those born after them have done their best to go their own way. Cain killed Abel. Descendants of Adam grew more and more wicked until they were full of evil day and night. But God in His infinite mercy spared Noah and his family when the flood covered the earth. Generations later Noah’s descendants disobeyed God’s command to fill the Earth and instead built their Tower of Babel so the Lord divided them by sending them many languages, which caused them to spread throughout the earth. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, and Moses lived by faith and not by sight. The Israelites wandered in the wilderness for forty years before obeying God by entering the Promised Land. But then they took on the idolatry of the nations around them and demanded a king. God Almighty gave them the desire of their hearts but also sent leanness to their souls. King after king married heathen wives and adopted their false religions until the Israelites sacrificed their sons and daughters in fire to false gods. The Assyrians and the Babylonians invaded their land and carried them off into exile. God’s people became ichabod, without glory.”
He wiped the sweat from his forehead and removed his damp jacket.
“That is what the church in the year 1950 A.D. has become. We are ichabod, without glory. We spend our days dreaming of an escape from this life and its trials. We tell the eternal, omnipotent God to save us, bless us, prosper us, heal us, and send Jesus back to Earth according our timetable. We search for an Antichrist instead of bowing our knees to Jesus Christ. First we said the Antichrist was FDR, then Mussolini, and then Hitler. Now that they are dead and gone, some say Stalin is the Antichrist.”
The most pious frowned or flipped through Bibles in search of verses with which they planned to enlighten this wayward evangelist.
“The Book of Hebrews says God the Father has spoken to us through Jesus. Before He ascended into heaven Jesus said all authority in heaven and on Earth had been given to Him. Then He commanded us to make disciples of all nations. I’ve been told there are over 150 nations presently on Earth. But the way things are going, folks; even America is no longer a disciple of Jesus Christ. Some say it’s the communists’ fault. Others say it’s President Truman’s fault. I say it is the church’s fault. Because we are not the light and the salt Jesus told us to be, our land is drenched in darkness and our society has rotted to the core.”
A high-pitched wail from a pew in the back of the church turned every head toward the one from which it emanated. It startled Mildred Schlosser, who jabbed her finger with a knitting needle and let out a lesser yelp as blood spurted on the sweater she was knitting. Ninety-two year old Grandpa Parksdale awoke from his nap. As an usher, any disturbance was his responsibility to control. By the time he reached the source of the continuing piercing shrieks, the twelve-year-old girl was flailing her arms and legs on the carpet of the center aisle. When he touched her forehead a deep guttural voice poured from the girl.
“Leave her alone. She belongs to me.”
Two other ushers joined him. As the three tried to lift the girl, she began thrashing her fists and feet at their faces. One of them held her left arm and the other her right. Grandpa Parksdale sat on her ankles but was lifted up and down as if he were riding a teeter-totter. Rev. Oxfort joined them and spoke to the invisible one whom he discerned.
“Stop tormenting her, you evil spirit.”
“I own her.” The voice passing through the girl’s mouth grew loud enough for every attendee to hear it. Mildred Schlosser fainted. “You have no authority over me. You didn’t pray and fast enough.”
“You lying spirit. None of that matters because Jesus prayed and fasted in my place. I serve Jesus Christ of Nazareth. By His death and resurrection I command you to leave her.”
A final wail caused those nearby to cover their ears as the girl’s body bent again and became still. She opened her eyes. “Where am I?”
“It’s all right now.” Rev. Oxfort helped her to sit down in a pew. “Do you want to know Jesus?”
Her eyes grew wider until more white than blue was showing. “But I already do. The angel came and told me all about Jesus wanting me to run away from home.”
“What angel?”
“The one who talked to me through my ouija board. The angel said his name was Apollos.”
“Did he tell you to do anything else?”
She glanced at her parents. “Apollos told me to take money from my mom’s purse.” She stared at the floor. “I only did it once. It was okay because my angel told me to do it, right?”
“What’s your name?”
“Vickie.”
“Well, Vickie, there are bad spirits who pretend to be good angels. They like to play tricks on people. Apollos is a bad spirit.”
“I’m sorry.” Her father interrupted. “It’s all my fault. I gave her the ouija board for Christmas.”
“Will you get rid of it?”
“Yes. Just as soon as we get back home.”
Rev Oxfort stood and stretched his arms, weary from the daylong trip and hour of prayer. “Vickie, would you like Jesus to live inside of you and make your spirit alive?”
“But Apollos said I was bad and that’s why I had to run away. He said Jesus would leave me if I didn’t.”
“Forget all about Apollos and what he told you. Just tell Jesus how you feel.”
She uttered the kind of longing, desperate prayer that only one set free from darkness knows. By the time it ended, her tears were raining on the floor. The evangelist returned to the pulpit. Lightheaded, he grasped it for support.
“Sorry for the interruption, folks. Sometimes these things happen. Please listen carefully to these verses from Mark 16.” He turned his Bible’s pages. “Verses 17 and 18: And these signs shall follow them that believe; in my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues; they shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover.” He closed his Bible.
“Amen. Preach it, brother.” Usher Grandpa Parksdale had decided not to return to his nap.
“Tonight, by the mercy and grace of God, a devil was cast out of young Vickie. It did not happen because of me or because I’m special or holy or sanctified. It happened because God ordained it to happen. I’m going to be as honest as I can with you, folks. The verses I just read said, ‘they shall speak with new tongues.’ I have prayed and fasted for years seeking that gift of the Holy Spirit but God in His wisdom has yet to give it to me. Truth be told, most of the sick people I ever laid hands on either stayed sick or ended up dying.” He shrugged. “I can’t figure out all of that.” He pointed heavenward. “All I know is that I’ve got a million questions that I’m going to ask the Lord when He finally takes me home.”
He then instructed Pastors Trueblood and Lacharetti and any elders from any church who were present to stand in front of the pulpit.
“Folks, I don’t know all of your needs. But please come forward and pray with theses servants of the Lord.” He pointed at those he had drafted. “If you can, come back tomorrow night. Bring a friend or neighbor if you can. Thank you.”
On the road since 3 a.m., Rev. Oxfort collapsed into an empty chair behind the pulpit. Fred waited until those seated on his left had joined the crowd gathering at the front for prayer before quietly slipping out the door and walking to Jason’s car.
What the hell was that all about?
Jason had pestered him for years to attend annual missionary conferences at the Full gospel Evangelical Church but this was the first evangelistic crusade he had been invited to.
I knew I sh
ouldn’t have come. Sally warned me how this church is just a bunch of holy rollers.
He leaned against the car’s front bumper and waited for twenty minutes until Jason joined him.
“Sorry it took so long but I had to wait in line to get prayed for.” Jason hopped into the driver’s seat and started the V-8 engine.
Fred hung his head out the window so that the humid air could partially cool him.
“How did you like it?”
“I’m not even sure what went on back there.” Fred jerked his thumb at the church. “What took you so long?”
“Like I said, I went up to get prayer.”
“For what?”
“You got to promise not to tell anyone, especially Thelma.”
“Okay. Whatever you say.”
“I asked for prayer that I might could go back to Monkey Island.”
“What for?”
“To get Kong and bring him home.”
“That monkey friend of yours?” Fred slapped his knee and hooted. “You really are crazy like Thelma says.”
“No, I’m not. He’s the best friend I ever had. It was Kong who kept me going all that time I was stuck on Monkey Island.”
“And all these years I thought I was your best friend.”
Jason shrugged. “You’re a close second. But Kong is still number one in my book. Don’t feel bad. You’re the best human friend I have.”
After hearing her husband’s version of the first meeting, Sally demanded that he take her and their children to the second one. Fred kept protesting even as he neared the church.
“I still don’t see why we have to go.”
“Because he sounds like a genuine man of God. The real deal. That’s why.”
Fred grumbled until he pulled into the church’s parking lot. “What happened? Last night it was half empty. Tonight it’s full.” After parking a block from the church, he joined his family at the steps by the front door.
“It’s full already.” Sally crossed her arms. “I told you we should have left home earlier.”
Fred spotted a fellow churchgoer from Madisin Community Church. “Hey, Ted. Where you going with your amp?” He grabbed a corner of the wooden box that housed two twelve-inch speakers. “Your band playing tonight?” He started his spoof of a recent Hank Williams’ gospel song. “I saw the light, I saw the light…yee-haw! Praise the Lord and –”
Day of the Bomb Page 14
