“That sounds amazing.”
“You’re the first person to say that,” I said. “Most people tell me they can’t believe I’d want to do that job. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, though.”
“Wow. I wish I knew what I wanted to do with my life.” He said with a chuckle. “But we’ll have to talk about that later. I don’t want to be the reason you’re late to your next class.”
“Yeah, I guess I should be going.”
“Can you meet me down in the cafeteria when your last class is over? We could knock out our essays before you go home for the day.”
“You really think we can get them done that fast?”
“Heck yes.” He said confidently.
“I’ll see you then.”
My next class was one of two of my main nursing classes. Dr. Henrietta had been my primary nursing instructor for my entire degree, and I was glad for it. She was hard but fair, and I don’t think I’d have become half as good of a nurse as I did without her unrelenting expectations. Only about half of the people who started the bachelor program finished it because of her rigorous standards, but because of this, the college had the reputation of turning out some of the best nurses in the state.
Dr. Henrietta pulled me aside after class for a chat. After the usual pleasantries about how our breaks went, she got down to business.
“You know that the practicum requirement for this year is intense.” She said, but Dr. Henrietta could barely contain her smile. “Well, I’ve convinced the college that you should be able to use your employment at Carver in place of unpaid practical experience.”
“But, Dr. Henrietta, I haven’t been offered a position yet. I haven’t heard anything from them since my second interview.”
“You haven’t officially been extended an offer yet, but I have it on good authority that one is coming any day now.”
“Oh, wow. That’s amazing. Thank you so much for telling me.”
“When it does, you’ll need to let me know. I’ve got a form for you to fill out and another one for your employer to sign granting permission for you to use your job as a practicum.”
“Thank you. I’ll let you know right away.”
After that, I met Cameron in the cafeteria. I hadn’t been raised any particular religion, so my essay was about a time that I went to Sunday school with a friend after a sleepover. It was basically about me being incredibly bored for a half hour and then eating cookies.
“My story is a little different. I had some time to think about it this afternoon, and I’m not sure I should tell you. Sometimes I forget that not everyone believes the same things as my family and old friends.” Cameron said.
“Oh, well now you have to tell me.” I leaned in because he’d defiantly captured my attention.
“Are you sure? You said you went to your friends Methodist Sunday school, but have you ever known anyone who was non-denominational or maybe Pentecostal.”
“You mean holy rollers?” I said with a giggle and then immediately felt bad. “I’m sorry. That was rude. Is that what your family is?”
“It’s okay. We get that kind of response all of the time. I guess I shouldn’t say we. I was heavily involved with the church when I was younger, but I’m trying to distance myself from it. Let’s just say that I no longer share their beliefs.”
“But, you’re here studying theology.”
“My family members are true believers, but we’re not rich. I’m from a small, destitute town in Texas.”
“Wait, you’re from Texas?” I interrupted. “You don’t have an accent.”
“Haha. I know. I’ve worked on that since I got here. I’ve been able over the last three years to train myself to speak without an accent.” He said and flashed me that same endearing smile.
“Okay, sorry. Go on.”
“The church my family goes to is one of those mega churches you see in the news with thousands of members in the congregation.”
“And a charismatic millionaire preacher,” I added.
“Yeah, that too,” Cameron said. “But it wasn’t always that way. At one point when I was a kid, we were a tiny congregation that met in an elementary school gym on Sunday mornings. We didn’t even have a building. The church has, of course, grown since then. My family is considered one of the founding families, but my parents are simple people. My mother is a waitress, and my father does manual labor. They never sought more money or material comforts and gave a huge chunk of what little money they made to the church. A lot of poor families did, and it’s one of the reasons the church is so prominent, and wealthy, today. Anyway, dad was going to get me a job doing construction after high school, but my mom wanted me to get a college education. Dad didn’t think that was a good idea. He said that the world would corrupt me and a liberal education would drive me straight to the devil. So, Mom asked the church to send me to school to get a degree in theology. She sees me as the next church leader. The entire congregation came together and prayed for hours, and in the end, they decided that I should go. The church took up a collection, and my entire education has been paid for.”
“There’s a hitch isn’t there?” I asked sensing he hadn’t told me everything.
“Not a big one. They certainly expect me to come back to Texas as soon as I graduate and take a position with the church.”
“And you’re not planning on going back?” I asked, but I could already tell that’s what he’d meant.
“No. I don’t believe the way they do. My Dad was right I guess. I’ve been corrupted by the world.”
“Or maybe you’ve been enlightened.”
“Perhaps.” He said and rubbed his chin. “I still believe in a higher power and know there is good and evil in this world. But, I can’t endorse the way they package it. All of the preachings about fire and brimstone seems overly sensationalized to me. As does the speaking in tongues and slaying of the spirit.”
“Slaying of the spirit?”
“It’s when you’re touched, and you pass out. You’d have to see it.”
“That sounds intriguing.” And it was. I couldn’t believe there were actually people out there who lived their lives around this stuff. It seemed like mental illness to me.
“The thing is, Samantha, they talk about a demon of religion. It’s something they say afflicts Catholics, and well, pretty much any other church that isn’t theirs. But sometimes I wonder if they aren’t blinded to the fact that a demon of religion has infiltrated our church. What was once a small group of people who were focused on the word of God has become this mega church of leadership and members who are fixated on money and power.”
“So, you do believe in demons?”
“That I do. I’ve seen things that have left me with no doubt that they exist. That’s actually what my story was about.”
“Oh, you mean the rest of this wasn’t the story?” I found this all fascinating.
“Nope. That was just some background information. Though, if you need to go, I completely understand.” He said and looked towards the coffee cart parked a few feet away from us.
“No, not at all. Let me get us some coffee, and you can tell me the story.”
“Sure, I’ll take a mocha. No whip cream or sprinkles.” He said and winked at me.
I thought for a moment he was going to let me pay for his coffee, but Cameron stood up and pulled a ten dollar bill out of his wallet. I took it and started to walk towards the cart.
“And use that to pay for yours too. I don’t want change.” He called out after me.
That seemed to set everything right in my mind. I’m not sure why the thought of paying for his coffee gave me so much pause. I guess it was because it seemed so out of character for him. It made me realize that I had already formed very strong opinions about him. It was as if we’d known each other for a long time. You know how every once in a while, you meet someone and it just clicks? That happened with Cameron for sure.
I took the two mochas back to our table. One wa
s with whipped cream and sprinkles, mine, and one without for Cameron. He smiled at me in a way that told me the sight of me with my coffee gave him real joy. I’ve probably said that everything about him was endearing a million times already, but it’s important to understand that he was one of the most engaging and attractive men I’d ever met. Every time he looked at me, I felt special.
“There was three dollars left, but you said not to bring back change, so I put it in the tip jar,” I said and took a tentative sip of the hot drink.
“Good. I’m sure not enough people tip him.” He said and gave the man running the cart a friendly wave. “If I can help make up for that, it’s a good thing.”
“So, you were going to tell me a story about why you believe in demons.”
“This happened when I was around twelve. The church had a building, but we hadn’t moved into the massive worship center the congregation uses now. I think it was being built, but that doesn’t really matter. So, at the time, services were held at this big old church in the city that the leadership had purchased for cheap. People drove in from the surrounding small towns, like the one my parents and I lived in, every Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday for various services and group studies. There were also members from the city who would attend, and occasionally people would wander in from off the street. My story is about one of the people who walked in one Friday night.” He said and looked around as if he was checking to make sure no one was within earshot before continuing.
“Her name was Laura, and she stumbled into the church on Friday night when the service was almost over. She looked sick, hungry, and scared. After the service was over, my parents and some of the other founders took her downstairs into the basement where the church kitchen was located. My mom fixed her something to eat, and one of the other ladies found her a sweater and pants in a donation box. She’d come in wearing a dirty pink sundress, but the weather was much too cold for the way she was dressed.
After she’d had something to eat and was dressed in warm clothes, I had to sit off in a corner watching as people prayed over her. I didn’t think anything weird was going on at first because the adults in our church formed circles and prayed over people all of the time.
When the girl started to shake and cry, they laid hands on her and continued to pray. After what seemed like only moments, but it could have been much longer, she started to spit and growl. I could swear her skin turned gray too, but I’m not sure if that was real or the overactive imagination of a young boy. The woman standing next to my mother was startled by the growling and pulled her hand back. I think this had the effect of breaking the circle. The girl jumped up, ran upstairs, and fled the church.”
“Was that it?” I asked. “I mean she could have been mentally ill. You know that sound like a mental illness.”
“I figured you’d say that.” He responded good-naturedly. “But, that wasn’t the end of Laura’s story. She came back the next Friday, but this time her mother was with her. Her mom explained to us that Laura had been a runaway, but after she’d come to our church, she’d come home.
“I sat with Laura and ate cookies while my parents and the other founders talked with Laura’s mom. I found out later that Laura had been oppressed by a demon, and she ran away trying to escape it. Laura’s mom thought it didn’t work, and while she was on the streets, the demon had possessed her.
“She thought that the prayer the church had done with her the last week had helped her just enough to make Laura come home and ask for help. Since our church was the first people to offer help, Laura’s mom brought her back to us.
“They asked Laura’s mom if she would leave and come back in a few hours. After that, they came to where Laura and I were playing checkers in a Sunday school room and asked her if she would let them help.
“She said yes, and they took her back down into the basement. Again, this was just the founders. None of the rest of the congregation was included, and I was instructed to stay upstairs in the Sunday school room and play games or read. My Mom said it was okay if I turned on the television and watched cartoons or drew with the art supplies. But, after she left the room, my dad handed me his Bible and told me it would be best if I read it or prayed.
“Of course, as soon as they went downstairs, I started plotting on how I could get down there and watch. I didn’t like being up there all by myself. After what I’d seen the last week, I was worried that they’d get the demon out of the girl and it would come after me. I wanted to be close to the leaders and the preacher so they could protect me.
“After a few minutes, I snuck out of the Sunday school room and waited at the top of the stairs. When I heard them start to pray over her, I crept down the steps as quietly as I could.
“What I found in the basement made me wish I’d stayed upstairs. The grownups were standing in a circle around Laura, and she was tied to a wooden chair. Her wrists were tied to the arms, and her ankles were bound to the legs of the chair with what looked like two leather belts.
“It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, but Laura was already covered with sweat, and her hair was matted down to her head. The sides of her mouth were cracked and bleeding. She was making this low, guttural noise that would suddenly shift to a high pitch whine.
“The church founders continued to pray over her as Laura’s appearance became more and more monstrous right in front of my eyes. A few minutes later, her eyes were bulging, and her skin looked mottled and decayed.
“At some point, my father began to command the demon to reveal its name. My mother told me later when she learned that I’d snuck downstairs and witnessed the exorcism, that this was just a distraction. My father was just occupying the demon while the prayers reached Laura’s soul.
“Eventually, it was over. It felt like their praying went on for hours, and for a while, it looked like Laura’s body might actually die. But, when I thought the founders were all going to pass out from exhaustion, there was a bright light and a thunderclap that made my ears ring for days.
“When the blindness from the light wore off, I could see that Laura looked like a normal girl again. She was smiling and crying while the founders took turns hugging her and praising Jesus.
“I expected to feel something dark in the room with us, but there was nothing. The air felt clean and light as if the Holy Spirit was lingering to celebrate with us. I believed the evil was gone, and I knew it was real because I could feel the difference in the air around us.
Laura’s mother came to pick her up, and they came back to church every week since. In fact, if you were ever to be down in Texas, they still attend my family’s church.” Cameron finished.
I studied him for a moment before I responded. He looked so sincere that I didn’t think I should say what I really wanted to. The clinical side of me knew that what had most likely happened was a combination of severe mental illness and the overactive imagination of a pre-pubescent boy, but I couldn’t bring myself to say any of this.
Plus, it wasn’t like I was a dogmatic atheist. There was a part of me that very much believed in the possibility of the supernatural, but that didn’t necessarily include demon possession and exorcism in church basements.
“In the movies, it’s always Catholic Priests performing some rite of exorcism. It seems, and this is just my knowledge based off pop culture, that there are a lot more hoops to jump through for an official exorcism than praying in a church basement.” I winced at my tone and hoped that I didn’t come off as too snippy.
“The church I came from doesn’t view it the same way. There isn’t a hierarchy of power in God’s eyes. Any believer is just as strong against Satan and his minions as any other as long as they have faith.”
“What do you think?” I asked.
“I believe the same thing except without the church part. I know that huge portions of the Bible were made up or altered to serve the interest of men. So, while I am certain of the presence of good and evil, there isn’t any need for a church to b
e involved in faith.”
“But you believe that your parents and the other church founders exorcised the demon afflicting that girl?”
“Yes, I do. Just because I don’t believe that religion is needed doesn’t mean that I think all of it is bad. Those people wanted to help Laura, and they were fighting a spiritual battle on the side of good. While I do believe that religion is ripe for corruption, I don’t believe that all of it is inherently corrupt.”
Chapter Four
Talking with Cameron gave me a lot to think about. We remained close, and he helped me almost daily with my assignments. I probably could have done them on my own. The class was a cake walk compared to my last year of nursing classes, but I enjoyed spending time with him.
Cameron was from a background so different than mine that it was like being friends with someone from another world sometimes. Before I knew it, two weeks had passed and I’d barely spoken to John or Riley. I’d hardly thought about them too. I guess that’s sad, but perhaps it’s what I needed to get past the incident in my apartment.
It was Friday, and after I’d pulled my car into the driveway, I went to the mailbox. Inside was a letter from the Carver Mental Health Center, and my heart nearly drummed out of my chest as I bolted up the sidewalk to my front door.
The envelope was torn halfway open before I’d even set foot in the house. I dropped my purse and my bag where I stood, and almost tripped over them as I made my way down the hall into the kitchen. I dropped the envelope into the trash and unfolded the letter inside.
“Yes!” I yelled and proceeded to do the Cha-Cha across my kitchen floor.
There was a deep stab in my chest at that moment that stopped me in my tracks. I missed Riley, and she should have been there when I opened the letter. I pulled out my phone and shot off a text to her.
I got the job
Yay!!!! :-) I’ll be there at seven with a keg. Housewarming party and new job celebration!! – was her response.
For a moment, I considered telling her that I’d have liked more notice on the party, but then I reconsidered. I had promised her a housewarming party, and I did want to celebrate my new job. I also missed my friends. I’d been so wrapped up in school that I had been ignoring everyone but Cameron.
Devil Hour: A Samantha Hainsley Cozy Ghost Mystery (Things That Go Bump in the Night Book 1) Page 4
