Cleansed by Death

by Catherine Finger

  “Who did?”

  “God.”

  “God?”

  “God.”

  “In the shower?”

  “Yes.”

  His voice was now a whisper, and I fought to keep myself from leaning forward to hear more clearly. “What exactly did God tell you in the shower? Did God tell you to do something? Talk to someone? What did he tell you?”

  “He told me all about her.” He shifted in his seat, intensifying the odor. Fear. Definitely fear. I stared at him. “The governor’s wife.” He looked up at me as he spoke, his cruel eyes sparkling. “The woman at the flower table. Wearing the blue wrap.”

  “What did God tell you about her?”

  “That she was bad. And God is good.”

  “What else did He tell you?”

  “That He is good and she was bad, and because He is, she cannot be.”

  “What do you think He meant by that?”

  “That she must die. I must kill her for Him. To cleanse her. She must be cleansed by death so that she could stand in His presence in the afterlife.”

  He looked me in the eye, and his lips curled into a sneer. Evil burned brightly in his foul eyes. “You don’t believe me.”

  “I might.”

  “You don’t believe me. You don’t hear Him.”

  “Is He here now?”

  He snorted and shook his head violently as if to expel a demon or two. “Yes. Of course.”

  “Is He talking to you now?”

  “No. He’s listening.”

  “What is He hearing?” A chill ran through me.

  “He is hearing what I will and will not tell you.”

  “Will you tell me what else He said to you in the shower?”

  He paused. His eyes glazed over, and thirty seconds of silence passed before he responded. “Yes.”

  “All right, Mr. Terry. What did God tell you to do about the bad woman when you were in the shower?”

  “You won’t like it.”

  “Try me.” Bands of steel tightened around my temples.

  “He told me to enjoy each of them. So I did. I enjoyed them very much.”

  My stomach tightened. I’d already seen the crime-scene photos and both heard and read his initial confession. When questioned about me, Terry’s voice had morphed into a voice-over of an actor playing a heinous killer. I shuddered. He had told of first ‘discovering’ the family connection between my sister, a prominent home-school advocate, and mother of my five amazing nieces, and me. It was a random event. One day in the life of an average American family.

  A picture of me and my six-year-old niece, riding a merry-go-round at a park in Spokane, had been featured in the local papers during a home-school convention my sister was running. Rachel sat in front of me on a beautiful paint horse. The picture had been taken just after she’d started in on an oversized ice cream cone. We were both smiling, hair flying behind us. I had one arm wrapped solidly around my happy little niece, while the other clutched the pole. I was in my dress blues, on break after having given a keynote address at the conference. The caption read: “LOOK MOM, NO SCHOOL.” One perfect day out of a thousand—and he just happened to pick that day to read that paper. And something had clicked for him; tied me into his previous crimes. He researched me on the internet, and started his approach near my family in LA.

  Would he have noticed if I hadn’t been wearing the badge? Had I done anything at all to attract his attention? I’d never know. I didn’t need to hear any more. Who cared why he did the evil things he did? Who cared how he had selected all his victims and what they meant to him? The FBI could study this monster as much as they wanted. I pushed myself away from the metal table and nodded toward the one-way glass as I rose to my feet. This interview was over.

  I had an initial divorce court date the following Monday morning. The events of the past several days, and spending time with Samantha, had taken up every spare ounce of energy I had. Mercifully, it left me with no time to think about my pending divorce and my newly impoverished state. I’d been acting and thinking like a single mother for a couple of days. How did that happen?

  My new-found peace lasted through the court appearance. Of course, the fact that Del had not deigned to appear didn’t hurt. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing him again. Facing his lawyer proved to be annoying enough, in a very costly way. I listened halfheartedly as two grown men argued like preteens over a bunch of stuff they didn’t own.

  What had we become? I hung around long enough to be polite after the judge issued a continuance, and then I lit out of there before my attorney could wind back up. Gino and I had a lunch date I didn’t want to miss.

  I’d been thinking a lot about all the life-altering events of the past several weeks and especially about the encounter in Kira’s office. That seemed to be the first time I could remember a conscious awareness of God, and I deeply desired to understand what it all meant. Gino was probably the only person I could bring it to who could help me sort it all out.

  We’d planned to meet at a favorite Italian restaurant just over the state line. He was already there when I drove up, late, but earlier than my usual version of late. Maybe I’d get some clemency for coming here straight from divorce court. The big man stood up to hug me. After ordering a plate of bruschetta for starters, I gave him a sterile version of my morning and then got down to what was really on my mind.

  “Gino, I think I might be cracking up.”

  “Tu, m’hija? Tu? Yes, you are and have always been a little crazy—es cierto—but only in the most amusing of ways.”

  It all came tumbling out. My ‘moments,’ as I’d come to think of them—the dark presence that had plagued me early on, my first encounter with God, and all the sharp twinges of just seeming to know things before they happened.

  Gino took it all in, asking me detailed questions along the way, as if I were the most interesting patient ever and he were trying to diagnose a rare condition.

  “And this presence, how often do you sense Him with you?”

  “A lot of the time, Gino. Ever since. I don’t know—maybe since the night of the crash, when life as I knew it came to a screeching halt. And then, in a very real way, that day on Kira’s couch. Something’s not right with her, Gino. I felt as if God was actually there to protect me from her. I know that sounds crazy, G—”

  “Is He here with you now, m’hija?”

  “Very much so. He’s all around us. I can feel Him.”

  At this, Gino bowed his head, closed his eyes, and seemed to go somewhere else. He didn’t say anything, and his lips weren’t moving, so I didn’t think he was praying. I hung in there, waiting for him in silence. Still not my strong suit. I looked at my watch and drummed my finger on the table between us. Gino grasped my finger and lifted it from the table, shushing me. I rolled my eyes and waited.

  “I saw that!” His chocolate eyes glistened with love. “You are a very blessed woman. I must now tell you of the love of God and of His wonderful plan for your life. And today I am certain that you will be able to hear me. First, you must tell me more of this doubt with which you are struggling.”

  “I can’t, Gino. You won’t like how it sounds. I don’t like how it sounds. It’s all pretty irreverent. I’m not sure you or God will want to hear it.”

  “And that is where you are wrong, m’hija. That is the beauty of our God. Before you even form the words you feel you must share, He already knows what you’re going to say. And He has forgiven you before you even knew you needed Him to do so. So, speak. Share of your doubts.”

  “Here’s the thing, G. If God is this all-seeing, all-knowing kind of God, then where was He when I needed Him? Where was He with Del? Why didn’t He stop Del from ruining my life? Huh? Wanna try to tell me that?” An avalanche of jagged rocks tumbled around my stomach. “And don’t even get me started on what kind of a loving God would let that monster kill so many women, destroy so many lives. What kind of love is that?”

  He watch
ed me intently and patiently. When it was clear I was done for the moment, he took both of my hands in his.

  “M’hija, I will not pretend to understand the depth and breadth of our God and why He does what He chooses, or why He does not do what He does not choose to do. It is a mystery to me as well. There is much pain in this world, and si, He could surely stop it. But He is a God of great love and of great mercy, and He longs for us to choose Him on our own. How could you love a God who was more of a genie to you? Who granted your every wish and fulfilled your every desire? Where is the faith in that? But that is not the God of the universe. That is not the God we serve.”

  “But—”

  “M’hija, let us return now to you. He has been calling you, waiting for you. He has allowed you to suffer through some terrible losses and struggles. And I know He could put a stop to these this instant. But something much greater is happening.” He slowly turned his water tumbler and then pushed it away from his plate.

  “I have seen how the Holiest of Holies has been using your pain to soften your heart, to open up your spirit to His presence. You are His precious alabaster vase. And your beauty only grows as He breaks you—as you allow His presence to transform your sorrow into joy and your struggles into victories. In the breaking of His alabaster vase, there is much joy and beauty.”

  My knit brows and grimace spoke before I did. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Why am I a vase? What’s precious about being a vase?”

  “Ah, let me tell you a story. There was once a great and mighty emperor who lived in a very impressive castle, and he liked to surround himself with only the most beautiful people and things. His prized possession was the most beautiful alabaster vase the world had even seen. One day, a small boy came to seek permission to look upon the beautiful vase. The emperor granted this permission, and the little boy was grateful. But the boy accidentally tripped and fell into the pedestal that held the exquisite vase, causing it to tumble to the ground.” Gino’s eyes grew soft as he spoke. He picked up the root beer he’d ordered and took a long draught.

  “As it fell, the emperor panicked, and he ordered his servants to save it, but they could not. The vase crashed onto the marble floor and was broken into a thousand pieces. The emperor was furious and ordered the boy to be arrested for his clumsiness. But then, the emperor noticed the strangest, most beautiful fragrance he had ever experienced coming from the precious oil that had poured out when the vase was destroyed. This precious oil and its beautiful fragrance permeated the entire castle, transforming it into a far more beautiful palace.

  “And so it is with you, m’hija. God has allowed some terrible things to happen in your life, but He has made you far more beautiful because of it.”

  I had teared up halfway through Gino’s story. He gently wiped my tears with a napkin and then tossed two twenties on the table. He rose to his feet, holding his hand out to me. I took it, and we walked out of the restaurant.

  “I know a place that is perfect for you at this time. A little chapel in the wilderness, not ten minutes from here. I will drive.” It wasn’t a question.

  He held open the passenger door for me, and I slipped inside his car. We ended up at a little wooden church standing in the middle of a corn field. We stepped over downed corn stalks on our way to the steps and found the door open. I followed Gino in and sat with him in one of the smallish, straight-backed pews. I was in the strong presence of God once again, awash in His majesty and peace.

  After long moments of silence, Gino spoke. “M’hija, this much is not so complicated. In the beginning, He was. From the beginning, He created us. He created the world. He created mankind to reflect His own face, to glorify Him, to give testimony to Him as the Creator. You can bring yourself back to the story in the beginning? El Jardin?”

  “Yeah, sure. I mean, I think. Wait, you mean the Garden of Eden?”

  He nodded.

  “Are you kidding me? I know the deal. God creates the universe. God gets lonely and creates man. Big mistake. He should have created woman first, and He quickly figures that out. So man gets lonely, longs for a two-footed friend, and God creates woman. Woman hangs with man, hears about how wonderful he is and how happy he’s keeping the flora and the fauna, and this makes the woman hungry.

  “Man ignores woman, opting instead to keep yammering on about how great he is. Woman pretends to listen, grabs an apple, politely shares it with man, and things go downhill in a jiffy. Turns out God is a lover of both apples and obedience. God confronts man. Man lies and blames woman. Everybody stops talking to each other. Bad things happen, and they’ve been happening ever since. So? You’re not really setting me on fire over here. I don’t see your point.”

  “If you were not so busy creating your own stories, I would be pleased to continue.” His accent was getting thicker by the second. He was becoming very emotional. For Gino.

  “M’hija, if I could, I would fall in love with you, just as you are, looking so very beautiful, with the espiritu santo shining so brightly through you and present all over you. But I cannot, so I will just continue to love you as my daughter.”

  My heart was so constricted that I couldn’t speak. I felt the strongest sense of God’s love and belonging as Gino’s soft, brown eyes met mine. “But you must hear the best part. Though we have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, even so He loves you and calls you to Him.”

  My eyes clouded over. “But all I do is fail. I failed at my marriage. I failed at protecting Samantha. What could God possibly want with me?”

  “M’hija, this is when He wants you most. He sent His Son to die for you that you might be saved from your own failures, from your self-condemnation. ‘If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.’ He has more for you.”

  Blood drained from my face as more past failures came to mind. “But how do I walk with the weight of all I’ve done? How can God want me?”

  “He loves you, m’hija. He forgives you. He cleanses you and makes you as white as the snow. He does not see as we see. His eyes are kind and wide and all-knowing. He sees beyond today. Beyond any one moment in time. He loves you and has so much more for you—so much left for you to do. Here. For Him. And for others.” His soft eyes shone with life.

  “Like Samantha.” I closed my eyes and let the truth come to me. When I opened them, Gino stood before me, praying. I bowed my head and joined him. I know My sheep and My sheep know me rang through my mind as my spirit snuggled into the arms of the God of Ages, my Rock, my Love, the Most High God.

  His nearness drew me to Him, and I found my home in Him. Love and joy rang through me, flooding me with a deep, irretrievable love for Him. I moved into the aisle and sank to my knees. My arms lifted up to the heavens, and I closed my eyes and sang an old Bible camp song that sprang to mind.

  Gino joined me mid-song. His shoulder brushed mine as he knelt beside me.

  For the second time in weeks, months, years maybe, I felt a true sense of belonging and a solid purpose in my life. I’d come home as I worshipped at the feet of God. The horrors of the past several days fell away as I prayed as best I could to the God I’d somehow always known, but never met. Until this afternoon.

  My over-zealous footwork netted me a three-day suspension, so I spent all the time the courts and Samantha’s foster family would allow me with her. Her resilience was amazing. I would be forever grateful for the confident way she looked into my eyes.

  Her hand was always locked in one of mine when we left the house. Most of our time together was spent taking little trips around town, visits to ply Scooter with carrots, playing her favorite games, and baking cookies and cakes together. I was getting a handle on the parenting thing.

  In the aftermath of the Nomad arrest, my case to adopt her wound its way through the courts. I shifted my attention to work and spent my first day back in the office enjoying what looked like a few days of relative peace and quiet.

/>   I had nothing on my schedule, with the exception of a mandatory meeting with the one and only Nick Vitallero. He’d actually scheduled a meeting on my work calendar through Liz—a first. Was there another case he wanted my help with? The clock seemed to slow down and almost stop as I waited for him to show up, so I pulled up annual personnel reviews in an attempt to get it moving again by trying to engage my mind in real work.

  Nick’s signature knuckle-rap announced his arrival. Saved by the knuckles. I shut the report file down and rose, butterflies in my stomach. I opened my office door. Nick stood there in all his glory, wearing expensive cologne and a boyish grin.

  “Aren’t you going to invite me in, beautiful?” His velvety-brown eyes sparkled.

  I stepped back, inviting him in with a wave of my hand. He looked good enough to eat. For a moment, I thought of reciting the Lord’s Prayer, just to keep my mind focused on things above and not on the beauty and the wonder that was Nick.

  He walked over to stand in front of one of the leather club chairs facing my desk. Not at all like him. What was going on? I started to sit behind my desk.

  “Ah, Jo, would you mind joining me over here?” His gesture suggested I join him on the other side of my desk. Jo? Did he just call me Jo? For one insane instant, I wondered if something else horrible had happened to someone I loved.

  I walked numbly to the chair next to his and sat down. He waited until I was settled in before sitting next to me. I looked at him expectantly. “Nick?”

  His eyes softened as he looked into my mine. Oceans of strength, and hope, and kindness swam in them. I wanted to dive in and bask in that warmth forever. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and then opened them again and cleared his throat.

  “So, Jo, I set up this meeting today for a very special reason. I wanted to have a conversation about us.”

  Us? He wants to have a conversation about us? And he schedules one? Who does that?

  “Go on.” I decided to play it cool… if I could. You know, the “less is more” approach. There were so many ways any conversation about “us” could go.