When Darkness Comes

by W. Franklin Lattimore

  Jenna shook her head slightly.

  “Because you are still God’s favorite.” Tara wondered how that sentence would play in her daughter’s brain.

  After about ten seconds Jenna willed herself to sit up. Tears and mascara stained her cheeks. “Huh?”

  “It’s true, my dear. You, Jenna Lawton, are God’s favorite daughter.”

  “That’s not really true.”

  “Why not? You’re looking at his other favorite.”

  Jenna was starting to catch on, a smile forming at the corners of her mouth.

  Tara pointed at the Bible on the coffee table. “That book right there says that God does not favor one person over another. That means that you are his favorite.” She gave Jenna a wink.

  Brent took the opportunity to speak life into his daughter, as well. “That may not seem like much when you consider that everyone is his favorite, but if you think of it in reverse terms, it may have quite an impact. No matter how bad you feel about yourself, God doesn’t feel the same way about you. You have never stopped being his favorite.”

  Jenna’s eyebrows pinched together, her lips began to tremble, and tears again formed in her eyes. She collapsed again into her mom’s arms for another good, hard cry.

  Tara began to pray over her daughter. “Father, I love my daughter. But even my strongest love is only a fraction of the love that you have for her. Let her feel that love right now. Holy Spirit fill her with an understanding of who you are and who you want to be in her life. Help her love for you grow into a passion that outshines even that of her parents. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  Tara kissed her daughter’s head. After another minute or so, Jenna again sat up.

  “I get it,” she said softly. “But I don’t know how strong I’ll be when we start school again.”

  “Do you want to be strong?” asked Tara.

  Jenna nodded.

  “Then, darling, you’ve already done some growing in your walk with God.”

  “What about Jamie and Amy? Do they need to know what’s going on, too?”

  Tara turned to Brent and raised her eyebrows. “Good question.”

  “Real good question. I think the answer is yes. They’re going to realize something’s up eventually.” Turning to look at Jenna, he said, “Leave that up to your mom and me. Okay? We’ll figure out the right information to share with each of them.”

  Brent looked at his daughter. “Now back to your question. It’s not just a matter of keeping your mom safe. It’s a matter of keeping the family safe. That is why we need to make sure that we’ve got strong relationships with God.” He paused for a moment, apparently thinking how to proceed. “You may think that you’re the safest person in the neighborhood because you’ve got a dad who’s a police officer. And while I can certainly be a layer of protection, I don’t have the ability to know what’s going on at all times. God does. That’s why this family relies on his wisdom, his knowledge, and especially his leading. Make sense?”

  Jenna nodded.

  Tara thought about something she wanted to add. “Jenna, have you ever seen your dad embarrassed to pray or stand up for God?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Neither have I. In fact, if it hadn’t been for your dad’s prayers and making a stand for God in the first few months that he knew me, I don’t know if I would have ever come to Christ. One of the results of his prayers for me—and one of the results of him remaining strong as a man of God—is you. You came from his love for the Lord and for me. See how prayer can lead to incredible outcomes?”

  Jenna nodded again.

  “Jenna, become a woman of God, a woman of prayer. Let God show you how big he is. Pray for your dad, your brother and sister, and me. We need what your prayers offer. Wisdom, protection, guidance. Will you do that for us?”

  “Of course. You know I will,” she responded with a bright smile.

  Tara felt Brent place his left arm around her, then he reached over to draw Jenna in. It was time for a greatly-desired group hug.

  6:30 P.M.

  STEPHANIE GOT OUT of the Pathfinder and looked around the farm property. She sighed. Still no sign of Brendan.

  The field was now cleared of chairs, trash, and the fire pits. The standing stone on the far side of the mound definitely gave the spot an air of significance. Stephanie walked back in front of the farmhouse and climbed the three steps to the porch. It was a chilly, but beautiful evening. She sat down in one of the porch’s five chairs and looked down the driveway.

  The tranquility that normally came with sitting on the porch escaped her. In fact, peace seemed completely irrelevant. Anger, disappointment, fear, and heartache were on today’s menu.

  How could she have allowed so much control to escape her? Not only today, but over the past two days? Another realization hit her. Brendan’s recent accusations actually pointed to a time when she had lost control some twenty-four years prior.

  Tara. Her name had held absolutely no significance for years. Maybe a passing thought of her when looking backward at how far Brendan and she had come. She was just another in a long succession of individuals who had failed to meet her expectations. No one special.

  But I was wrong, wasn’t I?

  Brendan had been right. There were things about this girl—this woman—that she had been too quick to dismiss.

  In this situation she couldn’t justify a comment like, Just water under the bridge. The water had come back. Like a torrent, it had come back! Stephanie had lost her foot hold, and not only was that unexpected, now it was alarming.

  She wanted to loathe Tara. In fact, she had loathed Tara, right up to the point where she walked up to Tara’s minivan window. Then loathing morphed into a combination of amusement at how tame she had become. Then amusement became curiosity at how she was no longer intimidated. Then curiosity gave way to…

  To what? Self-loathing?

  Is Tara now the one who is amused? Or am I now a pitiable curiosity?

  It seemed that she was losing her standing in everyone’s minds.

  Really? I’m having an identity crisis? You have got to be kidding me!

  Stephanie leaned her head back to try to grasp the events of the past two days. That’s when she heard the truck on the gravel driveway.

  Brendan saw Stephanie sitting on the porch as he pulled his black F250 up behind her Pathfinder. Parking the truck, he got out and looked over the hood as she watched.

  She seems unsure of what to expect. Good.

  He turned back and opened the door to the passenger compartment. He grabbed a duffel bag that he had stuffed some newly-purchased items into and made for the front steps.

  Stephanie wasn’t saying a word and probably wouldn’t either.

  He could feel her stare as he took each step. He wouldn’t acknowledge her yet. She had to understand the deep disappointment that he was feeling.

  Opening the door, he walked into the house. The screen door closed behind him with a loud smack of metal against wood. He walked up the stairs to their bedroom and placed his duffel on the bed. Opening it, he retrieved his journal and put it back into the bedside drawer. He left it open.

  He would now play a waiting game with Stephanie. He sat on the edge of the bed. It was a waste of time, of course, but it was essential in order to draw her out. She would apologize to him and resubmit to him with the whole of her being. And that would suffice. He would let that be the end of it.

  Things were being taken care of in town that would assure that there would be no entanglements with outside law enforcement agencies. Uilliam, using the authority that came with being the Pittston police chief, would make sure that the Millsville sergeant kept his distance.

  Brendan heard the screen door open and close. Good. He slouched over, hands clasped before him, elbows on his knees. He heard her footsteps take her through the living room and into the kitchen. He heard the refrigerator door close. She retraced her steps back to the landing, where she apparently hesitate
d, and then she began walking up the stairs.

  STEPHANIE STOOD WITH a cold beer bottle in each of her hands. She sighed, hoping that his foul temper had somehow been regulated. She began to walk up the stairs. Halfway up, she flashed back to Tara and stopped.

  Who am I, really, to this man?

  Were the words that both she and Tara had expressed true? Was she just a trophy? A whore? She wanted to turn around and head back down the stairs so she could think things through. But instead, she took a deep breath, released it slowly, and began climbing the stairs once again.

  Turning the corner into the bedroom, she saw Brendan sitting, fingers interlaced before him, looking quite depressed. Stephanie’s heart began to pound with a combination of anticipation and hope.

  As casually as she could, fighting to display no emotion, she reached out her right hand. “Would you like a beer?”

  He looked up at the bottle, then up to her. He looked sad.

  A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he said, “Sure. I’d like that, Aileen.”

  Aileen!

  She was Aileen again! She tried to acknowledge the use of her name with only a soft smile that said thank you, but once again, the rawness of emotion, triggered from her dinner with Tara, began to surface. Moisture pooled in her eyes.

  Brendan reached out for the beer, took it, and placed it on the ground beside his right foot. He extended both of his hands out to her. She placed her cold right hand, wet with condensation, into his left and sank to her knees in front of him. Placing her own beer on the floor, she placed her left hand into his right. The warmth of his hands spoke a welcome to her heart.

  A tear streamed down her left cheek.

  “Now, now, Aileen. None of that. We are strong, you and I. We don’t cry.”

  Stephanie fought back the tears, but a dam burst and she began to sob. She rested her forehead on Brendan’s left knee and began to shake.

  BRENDAN LET GO of her hands and placed them on Stephanie’s head. He wanted her to feel his sympathy, his forgiveness; what little there was of either, anyway.

  He considered that maybe all of the troubles that had taken place leading up to this moment had been orchestrated by Cailleach. Maybe Stephanie needed to understand her dependence on him. She needed to know at her core that she wasn’t his equal. Important to the cause? Certainly. But never, ever his equal.

  “Aileen,” he said again. “My love, I’ve missed you. I needed time, though, to get past my anger. I didn’t want to lash out further. You understand, don’t you?”

  She lifted her head, both cheeks wet with tears. “Yes. I do. I’m sorry for the disappointment that I brought into your heart and mind.”

  “I know,” he soothed. “You need to know that you are important to me. Aileen, you are crucial to what we are going to accomplish as a culture and as a religion.”

  “You’re not just saying that?”

  “Dear woman, you have no idea how important you are.”

  Brendan’s words couldn’t have been more sincere. Her worth was greater than her weight in gold.

  STEPHANIE REVELED UNDER the touch of her lover. All of the doubts about Brendan’s love and her importance, in which she had been awash, were now seeping away. How was it that she had actually struggled for the past two hours rehashing the conversation she’d had with Tara?

  She was angry at herself, now, for doubting Brendan’s love and his concern for her. To think, I had almost been taken by the idea of some ultimate God of love! I have love and I have it without needing to consider something so vile.

  Once again in her priest’s embrace she had all the assurance that she needed.

  She could trust in that love to see her through.

  She looked Brendan in the eyes. Surely, I can trust you. Can’t I?

  7:16 P.M.

  BRENT AND TARA were sitting down with all three of their children in the family room. The evening light was beginning to wane, the final sun beams making their way through all of the west-facing windows.

  Jenna, Jamie, and Amy all sat on the couch while Mom and Dad sat on the edge of two folding chairs that they had brought in so they could interact in a circle.

  “That is why we’re going to teach you the things that you most need to know. Not just for now, but for all the rest of your lives.” Brent hoped his introduction had helped even Amy to understand what they were going to be learning.

  Jamie’s eyes lit up! “Sounds scary and cool!”

  Brent looked at Tara who just shook her head and shrugged.

  “Daddy?” began Amy, “Is Jesus really bigger than the whole world?”

  Brent didn’t know exactly where that question came from, but he answered. “Yes, Sweetie. Bigger than the sun and the moon and the stars, too.”

  “But those are all tiny. Is he bigger than Mammoth Cave?”

  Tara’s hands covered her mouth for a moment as she began to laugh. “Sweetie, I love you,” she said.

  Brent couldn’t help but chuckle. Amy’s ability to say things that made him laugh were one of the joys of being a dad. Though he didn’t need to consider the question, he did reflect on the vacation that had taken them through South-central Kentucky and to Mammoth Cave National Park. Lots of lessons had been taught about God during their hike through the monstrous caverns.

  “Much, much bigger than Mammoth Cave,” replied Brent.

  A thought struck Brent at that moment. If she hadn’t asked that simple question, he might not be able to describe the scale of the Enemy that they all faced.

  “But, guess what? The devil is much, much smaller. He tries to trick us into believing that he’s a huge roaring lion.”

  “Like Aslan?”

  Tara took this question. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was a movie that seemed to have a continuous presence in their DVD player. “He sure wants to be like Aslan, but he will never be. He is like the White Witch. Remember her? Remember how at the end of the movie she didn’t have the power that she thought she had and wasn’t able to beat Aslan or Aslan’s people?”

  Amy gave a vigorous nod and smiled. “Aslan ate her!”

  All of them laughed.

  Jenna chimed in. “Jesus is Aslan, and Aslan is Jesus.”

  Amy’s eyes got wide as she looked from her sister to her mom and dad. They nodded.

  “Wow!”

  “And just like Aslan comes to the rescue of those who love him, Jesus comes to our rescue in the same way.”

  “Nicely said, Jenna,” agreed Brent. “Okay, with that out of the way, all of you need to know that things could get a bit scary around here for a little while. Some people, that don’t like your mom and me, may try to be mean to us. And we want all of you to know that you are going to be safe because of Jesus.”

  Tara added, “If you ever feel anything weird going on, we want you to immediately start praying. Use the name of Jesus like a sword.

  “Jenna and Jamie, we can’t force you, but we want you to start reading your Bibles. We want you to learn about who Jesus is and who our Enemy is. Begin to pray in the name of Jesus for your own protection and for that of us all.”

  Jamie interjected, “What kind of stuff might happen? Are bad guys going to come to our house?”

  Amy got a scared look on her face.

  “Look,” said their dad, “all we’re doing is preparing just in case. Remember how we taught all of you how to use the fire extinguishers and to stay low to the ground and how to climb down from the second story if there is ever a fire in the house? Well, a fire has never happened, but you still need to know all of that just in case. Make sense?”

  All three of the kids nodded.

  “Same thing here. You’ve also got your awe-inspiring mom and dad here for you.” Brent gave them a wink. “We can pray about anything. If you’re ever scared, all you have to do is let us know.”

  Amy’s hand went up in the air. Brent smiled.

  “Yes, Amy-bug?”

  “I’m scared now.”


  “Then it sounds like the perfect time to pray, doesn’t it?”

  Amy nodded.

  They prayed.

  Brendan lay in bed staring at the designs in the plaster ceiling. Stephanie was still asleep to his right, her back to him. He pondered the structure of his day and then the important events of the evening. Tonight the Home Coven would stir up the pot a little bit and send a little “bad luck” over to the Lawtons in Millsville.

  He didn’t believe in luck, of course; which is to say that he didn’t believe in bad luck either. It was maybe the only thing on which he agreed with the monotheists. If there truly are gods, then what people consider “luck” can’t possibly be some ubiquitous power drifting about in the universe waiting to settle upon someone at just the right moment in time.

  No, he had always made his own luck. And he was good at it. It was time that this Lawton family realized that they were in over their heads and needed to step back from things they didn’t understand.

  Stephanie had confided some of the details of her meeting with Tara. He could tell that she was holding other information back, but he didn’t prod. The little snippets that he had received from her were enough to assure him that Tara was going to be a non-issue, and Uilliam was going to assure the same of her husband, the police sergeant, this morning.

  Tara had given up witchcraft. Good. If she hadn’t practiced the craft in years, then she was going to be someone who had little power to restrict what they were currently doing, let alone what they were going to do to her family.

  Brendan was still put out by the fact that Cowan and Aileen had allowed for so much turmoil. Last night, at least, he had received from Stephanie her pledge to return to the role of the obedient little woman that he had created in the beginning. She had forgotten her place. Ultimately, though, she conceded that she was not his equal, not even his partner. She was his servant-in-high-standing. Far too many liberties had been allowed in the years they had been together. That was over.