A Rhinestone Button

by Gail Anderson-Dargatz

  “Pastor Jack will notice if you don’t turn up,” Jacob replied. “This is a workshop we’re going to. There’s only likely to be twenty or thirty people there.”

  “But I’ve got to get that barley harvested.” And he knew Penny would likely be at the workshop. His first impulse was to find whatever excuse he could to avoid going himself, so he wouldn’t have to face her. Yet he wanted to see her, to know if she was serious about Rod, or if what he had seen was merely a fling, a cure for heartbreak. Rod was a former prostitute after all, and perhaps he had seduced her. Did she regret it now? Had she taken it to the Lord for forgiveness? Job wondered if he was still in the running, if he had ever been.

  “You’ve got to at least appear to make an effort,” said Jacob. “Pastor Jack heard you didn’t help out with the last work bee. That you took off after he left.” After Job had seen Penny in Rod’s embrace, he’d headed straight for his truck, praying that it would start. When it did, he drove to the Out-to-Lunch Café, flying to safety like a chicken to its roost. A familiar place. He had hoped to see Liv, to hear her silvery laugh, but she wasn’t there. He was served by Arnie Carlson’s daughter, Betty, a shy, ash-blonde girl of sixteen. Crystal was busy in the kitchen prepping for lunch. So he ate his pie by himself, then drove the back roads all afternoon, hunting, unsuccessfully, for the blue lottery balls driving over gravel had once produced. He couldn’t face Penny that day, couldn’t stand the embarrassment of listening to her explanation, if she’d had one. Later, over supper, Jacob had demanded an explanation from Job as to why he’d run off. Job had sat as numbly and silently as he had as a boy, when his father demanded to know why he kept setting fires. He didn’t know. He had just acted.

  “Don’t think Pastor Divine didn’t notice that you disappeared after he got you healing at the revival in August,” Jacob had said to Job that morning at breakfast. “He told me he wondered just how committed to the Lord’s work you were. If you had what it took to deal with new converts when we get things started up. I assured him that you did. For heaven’s sake, Job, don’t you understand what’s at stake here? I need this halfway-house project to work. I need the salary. Otherwise we’re looking at selling this farm.”

  So here he was, riding in the back of the station wagon on his way to Pastor Divine’s workshop. On the radio, a tinny country song he didn’t know. The air conditioning in the car didn’t work and all the windows were open partway. Job’s thighs stuck to the vinyl of the car seat, and he squinted into the wind like a dog, the dream that woke him still sliding around in his mind. He’d been at the church camp where he and Jacob had spent two weeks of their childhood summers. The camp bunkhouse smelled of dust and Pine-Sol. The bunks that lined the walls were two high, and on each bed lay a body. They were all dead, every one of them. Job walked down the length of the bunkhouse, touching each corpse on the forehead. He knew what to do. He had the power to wake the dead. All it took was an act of silliness, something to make them laugh, something to trick their consciousness into resurrection. He winked knowingly at them first, as if conspiring with them, but when this got no response he jumped around, flapped his arms and danced like a chicken. A few laughed and rose. He tickled the remaining dead under the chin, and on the soles of their feet, until they, too, rose. Suddenly he was dead, lying in a bunk. There was no one there to make him laugh. He struggled to waken but could not, and felt the panic of sleep heavy on him. Then he woke, dry mouthed, heart beating in his chest, a trapped sparrow thrumming its wings against a window.

  Passing through Millwoods, Ben said, “Can we stop at a gas station? I’ve got to use the washroom.”

  “Why didn’t you go before we left?” asked Jacob.

  “I didn’t have to go then.”

  “You can wait.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “I could use a pit stop myself,” said Job.

  “I’m driving,” said Jacob. “I’ll decide when we stop and when we don’t.”

  Job thought of himself at sixteen, asking his father if he could borrow the truck to go to a basketball game in Leduc. His father said, “No, you can’t.”

  Job asked him, “Why not?”

  Abe had said, “So you know I can still say no.”

  But Job didn’t press Jacob further. He tapped his foot on the station-wagon floor in the effort of holding it in.

  Jacob caught his eye in the mirror. “I meant to tell you we’re all having dinner with Jack and his wife tonight.”

  Job felt trapped; he knew he’d be in for some kind of lecture from Pastor Divine. Jacob had avoided telling him about the dinner earlier, so he wouldn’t back out of coming with them. “I’ve got chores,” said Job.

  “I don’t know how you’re getting home then,” said Jacob. “We won’t be heading back until after supper.”

  “Penny will be at the workshop,” said Lilith. “You could get a ride home with her.”

  Jacob glanced at her and then at Job through the rearview mirror. “Your choice,” he said.

  They came to the sign that read Miracles This Way, and pulled into the parking lot in front of the old Safeway building. Once parked, Ben jumped from the station wagon and ran into the church to find the men’s washroom. Job followed, and found an empty urinal. Released a stream that made everything in the world right for a moment.

  Job and Ben followed an elderly couple into one of the junior-church rooms off to the side of the sanctuary. Ben joined Jacob and Lilith, who had chosen seats in a middle row. Close to twenty other people sat on folding metal chairs around them. At the front, Pastor Divine organized his notes on a music stand. In the first row, Penny sat by herself. No sign of Rod. Job’s heart leapt when she turned and saw him, and gave him a tentative smile. She was dressed in a sleeveless pink dress and matching flip-flops. She waved him over, and when he sat, she took his hand, as if nothing had come between them. She asked him how he’d been doing, but offered no explanation about why she had been with Rod in the barn, and he didn’t ask for any, as Pastor Divine was already clearing his throat to speak.

  Then Rod came into the room and handed Pastor Divine his Bible, before taking the empty chair on the other side of Penny. He was dressed up, in a salmon-coloured shirt and striped tie under a deep-blue suit jacket so big that it was obvious it didn’t belong to him. His hair was parted conservatively to the side, and he had the clean, darkly handsome appearance of the young Mormons who occasionally came down from Edmonton to proselytize door to door through Godsfinger, despite the cross tattoo on the back of his right hand. Penny leaned into his shoulder and whispered something in his ear. He grinned at her. Job pulled his hand from Penny’s grip.

  Pastor Divine held his arms out and smiled. “You are part of God’s family!” he said. “Everyone, stand and give each other hugs!”

  Job looked around, aware of his arms dangling at his sides, as Penny hugged Rod. Then Penny turned to him and gave him a quick squeeze. The smell of her: Ivory soap and baby powder. When he held on, she gave him a pat on the back and pulled herself away. Job shook hands with Rod, but couldn’t bring himself to hug him, or look him in the eye.

  Pastor Jack stepped back up to the music stand. “All right folks. Quiet down. Today I’m going to teach you to evangelize with the Holy Spirit. We’ll spend part of the morning here, learning the basics, then, later this morning and all this afternoon, you’ll put what you’ve learned into practice. You’ll pair up, and each pair will go to a different part of town to witness.”

  Jocelyn opened the door to the side of Pastor Divine. She smiled her apologies for being late as Divine went on talking, then tiptoed in front of him and took the seat next to Job. She smiled at Job, nodded. She wore a khaki T-shirt and shorts and black leather sandals. The smell of coconuts around her. A shine over the tanned skin of her chest.

  “So you got the Holy Spirit working through you,” he said. “And I’m sure everyone in this room does. How do you go about using that Spirit to bring people to the Lord?” He tapped
his eyebrow. “You start with the eyes. The eyes are the mirror of the heart. What we’re talking about here is discernment. The Holy Spirit will lead you to read pain, fear, arrogance and failures in the eyes of others. And you’re going to read sin in the eyes, guilt. I’ve gotten so good at this, I can just walk down the street and look into people’s eyes and tell what’s going on in their lives. I can tell when someone has murdered.”

  Several people in the group said, “Oh!” Job caught Jocelyn’s eye. She smiled and raised her eyebrows.

  “You see arrogance there,” said Pastor Divine, “walk away. You see satisfaction there, don’t waste your time. Revival happens when people come to a place of humility, inner need or depression, when everything is taken away. It’s the Lord’s way of making us ready to receive him. You’re not going to bring a guy to the Lord if he doesn’t think he’s thirsty for God. You’ve got to make him see that he’s thirsty. It’s just like teaching a calf how to drink from a bucket. And how do you do that, Job?”

  Fear like cold water shot through Job. Penny took his hand in both of hers and patted it. Job looked around, saw Jacob nodding, urging him on. All other faces blurred. He felt his stomach cramp.

  “A prospective convert is just like a Holstein calf,” said Divine. “A Holstein calf won’t want to drink from a bucket. Its nature tells it to hold its head up, bunt its mother, suckle. So what do you do to get a calf to drink from a bucket?” He waited for Job to answer. A second chance.

  “I raise Herefords,” said Job. “You don’t have to teach them to drink from a bucket.” Penny let go of his hand, crossed her arms and shifted her weight so she was leaning towards Rod. Jacob, too, crossed his arms and wouldn’t look at him. Job realized too late that he’d just undergone a test, of sorts, and had failed.

  Divine spoke directly to Job, instructing him as he might a child. “You put your fingers in the calf’s mouth and as it’s sucking you bring your fingers into the milk, drawing its muzzle into the bucket. Then, once it’s slurping, you take your fingers out.” Divine turned to the rest of the group. “That’s what you’ve got to do with a prospective convert. You’ve got to lead his head down into the bucket. You’ve got to teach him to bring his head down before the Lord, to be humble, to submit. All right. Let’s get an expert up here to show you how to do it. Jacob?”

  Jacob made his way to the front of the room and Divine wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Everyone, this is Jacob Sunstrum. In case any of you haven’t heard, Jacob’s heading up our halfway-house project, setting up a place so the people you bring to the Lord today will soon have a place to live and learn about the Lord.”

  Divine pulled up a chair and sat. “All right. So I’m sitting here, reading my newspaper.”

  “Hello,” said Jacob.

  “Hello.”

  “I wonder, sir, where would you go today if you were hit by a bus and died?”

  Pastor Jack sat forward, addressed the group. “There, see, a direct approach. Don’t beat around the bush.” He sat back, resumed acting. “I suppose I’d be dead.”

  “Yes sir, but where would you go? Heaven or hell?”

  “Well, I don’t know.”

  “Have you been born again?”

  “Born again?”

  “Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and personal saviour?”

  “Well, no. I guess I haven’t.”

  “Then you’ll be going to hell.”

  “Hell? I don’t want to go to hell.”

  “No rational man would. It’s a terrible fate. Wouldn’t you prefer to go to heaven if you had the choice?”

  “I suppose, I would. Yes.”

  “I can see in your eyes that you’re feeling badly about something. There’s something haunting you that you wish you hadn’t done.”

  “Excellent,” said Pastor Divine. “See what Jacob did there? He brought my head down to the bucket, made me realize I was thirsty. How’d he do that? Guilt! I can’t stress this enough: make use of guilt. It’s the best tool in the evangelical toolbox. Everybody feels guilty about something. Make them feel the guilt in their bellies; fire it up! Make them thirsty for God’s love. Make them frightened that they’ll starve without it! Because they will! They’re going to experience eternal death without God’s love. Promise them salvation, the final solution for guilt. Then you’ve got them.” He turned to Jacob. “How you going to do that for me?”

  “It doesn’t matter what you’ve done, how serious the thing is. God will forgive you. He already knows all about it.”

  “He does?”

  “Yes, and he loves you anyway. He accepts you anyway, just as you are.”

  Pastor Jack turned to his audience. “See what Jacob did there? He made the sinner feel that he could be forgiven, loved, accepted. That’s what every sinner wants. When you let the person know God loves him and accepts him, then they can’t help but be blasted by the Holy Spirit. It’s now that you want to lead the sinner to God. Go for it, Jacob.”

  “God wants you to come to him. He wants you with him in heaven. If you’re serious about wanting to go to heaven, then I would lead you in a prayer right now. It would take less than five minutes.”

  Pastor Divine sat forward and addressed the group again. “See there, he made it clear it wouldn’t take long. People don’t have a lot of time these days.” He sat back and looked at Jacob. “What kind of prayer?”

  “You’d repeat after me, asking the Lord Jesus into your life, to forgive your sins and give you a clean heart. Then you’d have the same salvation that I have. I’ve been born again. I know where I’m going when I die. I’m going to heaven.”

  Pastor Divine stood, put the newspaper on the chair. “There, see? Simple. If they’re worthy, they’ll ask Jesus into their lives. If they’re not ready, let your peace come back to you, but either way, finish things up with a prayer. All right. Any questions?”

  Penny put a hand up. “What if they don’t want to receive the Lord? Should we keep on talking to them, to convince them?”

  “Keep in mind there’s lots of reasons why they may not be ready to receive. Maybe they don’t like you. Maybe they had a stressful day. Like Job said, you don’t teach a Hereford calf how to drink from a bucket. There are some people you just can’t bring to the Lord. Don’t even try to talk to busy people. If someone starts arguing back, planting the seed of doubt in your mind, don’t say another word. You’ll waste your time, you’ll waste your energy and sometimes they can slime you with their ideas. The devil’s already got them. All you’re doing is arguing with the devil. Just smile and walk away.”

  “But should we, like, focus on hell?” said Penny. “Like what’s waiting for them if they don’t accept the Lord?”

  “Sure, mention hell,” said Divine. “But you don’t have to scare them to death. It’s more important to listen carefully to people. See where they’re hurting. Make them feel you care about them, that you’re their friend. Let them know God loves them. That’s leading their head down to the bucket. Let the Holy Spirit lead you to the despondent, the depressed, those with the ruffled look of the unemployed, the people he’s broken and prepared for you. When they’re desperate, they’ll do anything to stop feeling that way. They’re empty vessels, just waiting for God to fill them. That’s what we need to be ourselves—desperate. Because when we’re desperate, God can work through us. Do I hear an amen?”

  Rod pulled into the parking lot of Bonnie Doon Mall, and his passengers gathered in front of the van. Job stood close to Penny and tried touching her hand to see if he’d been forgiven for failing in front of the group that morning. But Penny pulled away, crossed her arms and shifted her weight to the other hip, away from him. “I think we should pair up as boy-girl teams,” she said. “That way we can minister to either gender. I’ll go with Rod and you go with Jocelyn. Seeing as how you and me are mature Christians, and Rod and Jocelyn are new to this. You all right with that, Job?”

  “I guess,” he said, seeing that he had no
choice in the matter.

  “Let’s bow our heads in prayer,” said Penny. “Lord, please arrange a divine appointment with the people you want us to witness to. Break our hearts for the people we encounter today, Lord.” When she was done, Penny clapped her hands. “All right. See you guys back at the van at five o’clock. We’ll see who gets the most converts. It’s like a scavenger hunt!”

  Job watched Penny take Rod’s arm as they walked off. She was all but bouncing, pumped up on the excitement of the Lord. She seemed so far beyond doubt, a trait Job suddenly found annoying.

  Jocelyn and Job headed up Eighty-second Avenue, walking past a Salvation Army thrift shop, over a bridge and past restaurants, a hydroponics shop and a rental place for gala parties and weddings. They found a corner grocery and picked up a package of Oreos. Job was handing money to the cashier when he saw Liv through the window, bending over the white buckets of flowers outside, with her henna-red hair draped over her face. Her East Indian-print skirt was see-through in the sun, revealing her shorts and thighs. The bracelets on her wrist caught light. She gathered a bunch of red sunflowers from a bucket as Job grabbed his change and cookies and scrambled outside. He called her name before he saw she was a stranger. A chubby face and broad nose. Shining drops of water dripping from the stems of the flowers she held.