by Rick Mofina
“Poor Angela.” Martin blinked. “Tolstoy couldn’t havedreamed of a more tragic figure. Well, there’s Edward Keller…”
Oh…?”
“I couldn’t reach him. He doesn’t know about tonight.I don’t how he’ll react because-“ Martin Stopped. “Off the record?”
“Sure.”
“He’s an eccentric.”
“This is San Francisco.”
“He’s an eccentric’s eccentric.”
“I see.”
“Oh there he is. Excuse me.”
Reed looked across the room at Keller. Late forties,early fifties, about six feet, firm, lean build. His beard and thicksalt-and-pepper hair did not hide the lines etched in his face. Dressed infaded jeans, a navy pullover sportshirt, and a worn, gray sports jacket, Kellerhad an air of ardent independence, as if a dark fire raged inside. Reedrecalled that the suspect in Danny Becker’s kidnapping had light hair, a beard,and a slim build, according to the new composite drawings the cops were on thebrink of releasing. Reed stopped himself with a warning: you are not playingthat game again.
Listening to Martin, Keller was concerned and looked directlyat Reed. Keller nodded, then said a few words. Martin returned.
“Edward does not want to be identified for thearticle.”
“That’s fine.”
Keller took a seat, regarding Reed suspiciously.
Martin took a deep breath. “Time to get started.”
She introduced Reed and Cain, reminding the group oftheir presence, and offering anyone who’d had a last minute change of heart toback out. Reed and Cain requested that those consenting to be identified sittogether. Reed jotted down their names.
“Lois, you volunteered to go first.” Martin smiled.
Lois nodded, hesitated, then laughed. “I’m sorry.”
“Ease into it.” Martin nodded.
Lois collected her thoughts. Her face was placid,intelligent.
“It was a gorgeous day and I was making Allan’s lunchwhen he insisted on riding his bike to the park-you know how children can be.His friend Jerry had found a sparrow’s nest. I said, you’ve got ten minutes.Sure, Mom, he said. I’ll be right back. I’ll be right back. I knew he wouldkeep his word. So after, oh I guess about half an hour, I was getting a littlepeeved. That’s when Jerry came to my door. He was covered in dirt and lookedfrightened. And I thought, gee, he must’ve had a bad fall. I looked for Allan,but I didn’t see him. Then Jerry’s mouth started to move, but nothing came out.I realized that he was actually covered in blood.
“I looked for Allan. Didn’t see him. I demanded thatJerry tell me where he was. Poor Jerry couldn’t speak. He started to cry,pointed to the park. He got on his bike, rode to the park with me runningbehind him. We arrived. I saw some children standing over another child who waslying on the ground, twisted in his bike. As I ran, I knew that the bike lookedlike Allan’s, but I couldn’t see Allan among the children, so I thought that hemust have run to get help for this fallen child. I was starting to mentally togo through my first aid training, I still had a dish towel in my hand, when I lookeddown on the child, a boy. I knew he was dead, I-“
She wept. Reed made a note. Cain’s camera clicked.
“I’m okay.” She smiled. “When I saw that it was Allan,something happened.”
Reed noticed Keller nodding emphatically.
“My child, my only child was lying there on the grass,his eyes closed as if he were asleep. He looked so at peace. He had been shot,here.” Lois touched the right side of her head about an inch above her ear. “Hewas shot and his blood was everywhere, spreading on the ground under his headin a widening halo, a perfect halo. The most brilliant red I’ve ever seen. Iknelt beside him. The children were saying something to me, but their voiceswere distant. That’s when the miracle happened. Before my eyes, I saw Allan’sface change. I swear it changed there as he lay on the grass, to the tinywrinkled expression that fused my heart the moment he was the born. Then itchanged to joy from the day he took his first steps, then fear from the nighthe was convinced a monster lived in his closet. Happiness from the ChristmasSanta brought him his first bike, then shame from the day he came home from hisfirst and only school brawl. Embarrassment on the day I saw him holding handswith a girl. Finally, it turned serene, showing perfect contentment. I cradledhim in my arms, and the next thing I remember a police officer was touching myshoulder and the paramedics were trying to take my boy away from me.”
Lois paused.
Sniffles and coughs went around the group. Keller’shead was bowed, his eyes were shut tight, his hands clasped. Praying? Reedwaited for Martin’s reaction. She wasn’t watching Keller.
“For about a year after that I went through themotions of living. Bill and I retreated into ourselves. He didn’t want to talk.I wanted counseling together. He didn’t. And I couldn’t go alone. I feltbitter, angry for being punished unfairly, I felt abandoned, helpless,worthless. I contemplated suicide, divorce. That’s when I saw Kate’s notice inthe Chronicle about her research. I decided to volunteer and told Bill Ihad enrolled in a hobby course at the university. He thinks my ‘course’ hasdone a world of good, It has. Tonight I’ll tell him what I’ve been doing.”
Reed knew the case. Bobby Ray Walker, a truck mechanicwith a history of mental problems, was the sniper who shoot Lois’s son. Walkerwas serving a life sentence in Folsom for the murder.
Reed asked Lois how Martin’s research group had helpedher.
“It’s helped me come to terms with losing my child.I’m able to function now. I’m able laugh at a good joke, eat a hearty meal,sleep through the night. I certainly don’t tell every person I meet the detailsI’ve told you, but I can deal with talking about it without falling to pieces.I still feel uneasy seeing a funeral procession. I’ll never fully recover fromlosing Allan. No parent is ever, ever the same after losing a child because apiece of you dies, too. This group has helped me survive my loss. We’ve allhelped each other and Kate has been our guide. Some people cannot endure such ablow alone. The feeling of guilt, rage, blame, loss, futility are overwhelming,almost fatal. At times I thought I was losing my mind. Hearing my son’s voiceat night, smelling his scent, seeing him in malls, in my dreams, feeling hiskiss on my cheek.”
“How is this group different from others?”
“Some are politically motivated. Some seek vengeance.Eye for an eye. There’s nothing wrong with that, if that’s what you feel inyour heart. I was a member of such a group during Walker’s trial. At the time Iwas embittered. I believed Walker should be executed. I no longer feelvengeance in my heart. Feeling that way won’t bring Allan back. This group isdifferent because it is not a public auction agency. It is research. Theobjective is to study our bereavement, our pain and anguish with the aim ofunderstanding it, healing. We’ve been helped tremendously.”
The others followed with their stories, each accountas heart wrenching as the previous one. Reed’s eyes burned as he listened andtook notes. What was happening here? As a hardened crime reporter he had seenenough tragedy for twenty lifetimes. This was getting to him. Why? Because he’dresearched most of these cases, or that he’d actually covered some? He didn’tknow. He questioned himself, what he did for a living. Fear of the pain he mayhave wrongly caused Franklin Wallace’s wife and daughter gnawed at him. Hethought of Ann and Zach and what he had almost lost in his own life.Self-loathing, self-doubt, and confusion haunted him in the eyes of thesegrieving parents.
Sitting there, Reed felt sadden. Alone. Utterly alone.
He noticed Keller staring at him as he heard Martinsuggesting the group take a break.
“I think it’s going well, Tom. Don’t you?” Martinsmiled. He agreed, then excused himself to go to the washroom.
TWENTY-THREE
Relieved that the washroom was empty, Reed positioned himself at the urinal.Keller swung through the door and took the one next to him.
“Do you believe in God, Mr. Reed?”
Reed laughed. Given the circumsta
nces, the questionwas absurd. He shook his head.
“Is that your answer?”
“Pardon?”
“Do you believe in God, Mr. Reed?”
“Look, I know it may be awkward having me here. Butyou should know that I appreciate the opportunity.” Reed washed his hands.
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“What I believe is irrelevant.”
“Lois Jensen believes. Some of the others are on theirway.” Keller bent over the adjacent sink, opening the faucets. “We try to helpeach other in our assemblage.’
Assemblage? Was he going to break into Scripture now?
“I’m helping them spiritually through the pain. ‘Throughthe valley of the dark sun.’”
The valley of the dark sun. Reed knew the old poem: “Awatery Death” by Ledel I. Zoran.
Keller splashed his face. “I believe you are here totest me.”
“Test you? I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean.”
Keller continued splashing his face. His voice had aneerie resonance as he recited: “Between the dream and the day comes thespecter.” Tiny water rivulets slithered down his face. “Are you the specter,sent to destroy my work?”
“Your work?” Reed was puzzled, somewhat uneasy. “No.I’m not the specter. I’m afraid I can’t help you there. Excuse me.” Reed tosseda crumpled paper towel into the trash.
Angela Donner spoke with a little voice, a child’svoice.
“I gave birth to Tanita in the back of a bus in SanMateo. I was seventeen, living by myself. But I was going to keep my baby. Mybaby and me were going to make a better life for us together. I was going tofinish school, be a good mother.”
Angela pondered her clasped fingers and sniffled.
“When Tanita Marie was stolen from me and killed, thatwas the day I stopped dreaming. Everything went dark. Everything. I wanted todie.” Martin passed Angela a tissue. “I bought a big bottle of sleeping pillsthe day before Dr. Martin came to visit. I planned to kill myself. Dr. Martinsaved me. I am glad she came.”
Martin smiled encouragingly at her.
“She helped me hang on, helped me think that maybesomething good would come from Tanita Marie’s murder. That’s when this researchgot started and it made me feel that Tanita Marie didn’t die in vain.”
Angela dabbed her eyes. “But some of the bad feelingscame back when Danny Becker got kidnapped in Balboa. It woke up my pain.Someone’s out there stealing children. I pray every night for Danny Becker’smother and father. I saw them on TV. I pray their son will be returned safe,that the police find the person who took him and the person that murdered mybaby.”
Reed paused a moment before asking her a few softquestions about the group. Afterward, she agreed to be interviewed later at herhome, then Reed turned to a fresh page in his notebook.
Keller wanted to go next. “I think it’s appropriate, Igive my testimony now,” He said.
“Certainly Edward,” Martin said
Keller looked at Reed. “I remind you, I do not wish tobe identified in any way in your newspaper, but I believe what I have to say iscrucial.”
“That’s not a problem,” Reed said.
Keller studied Reed for several moments beforebeginning with a recitation: “’All that he was, all that he had been, looked backfrom the still water.’”
Keller allowed the words to be absorbed. Martin put ahand to her temple as if anticipating disaster.
“You know those lines, Mr. Reed?”
Zoran again. Reed nodded. “’A Watery Death,’ I think”
“My children drowned.”
Reed hadn’t found any clippings in the newspaper’slibrary about Keller’s case. “I understand,” he said.
“You understand.”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever lost a child?”
“No”
“you have children?”
“A son, Zach. He’s nine.”
Keller pondered this information. “My eldest boy wasnine when he died. It was a boating accident.” Keller’s eyes were cold, dry.
Reed prompted him. “You lost all your children?”
“Yes. All three of my children. Pierce was nine,Alisha six, and Joshua was three. I was with them. Just the four of us. Irented a boat to the Farallons. A storm hit as we neared the islands.”
Keller stopped cold. Reed looked at Martin for a cue.She shrugged. Lois Jensen and Angela Donner were sniffling.
“What happened?”
“It hit us hard. Rain, thunder, violent winds, wildswells cresting at seven, maybe eight feet. We were tossed like a toy. A whalecame up under us a split the hull. We took on water. I failed to get the lifejackets on the children. We ended up in the ocean. Stay near me, I told them.It was impossible. They drowned calling for me. I survived. They never foundtheir bodies. My wife blamed me and left me shortly after.”
Keller stared at Reed. “It was God’s will. I was beingpunished.”
“For what.”
“Living a lie.”
“You believe this is the reason your childrendrowned?”
“I know it’s the reason.”
“I see. What do you mean by that-you were living alie?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“It’s complicated.”
Reed said nothing.
“What my valiant brothers and sisters here have triedto convey tonight is the universal truth that when your child dies, you die,too. You become something else.”
Reed waited for the religious kicker.
“When my children died, I died, but I was born again.”
Bingo.
“I didn’t realize at the time. It was a very slowprocess. It was an awakening followed by a revelation.”
“Tell me about it.”
Keller’s eyes went to Martin, then to Reed.
“With all due respect to the professor’s fine work,she has only touched the surface. The truth is that if a parent comes to terms,accepts their child’s death, they are destroyed. They have lost.”
“You’ve got all the answers, don’t you?” Keller said.
Martin intervened. “Edward. Edward. Please. Tom’s ourguest.”
“I know why he’s here.” Keller stood
“Mr. Keller, I apologize if my being here upsets you.”
“I think I’ve said enough.” Keller headed for thedoor.
“Edward, please, don’t leave,” Martin pleaded.
“Good night, everyone,” Keller said over his shoulderas he left.
“I feared this would happen.” Martin was deflated.“I’m sorry he reacted to your presence the way he did, Tom, Henry.”
They waived it off.
“If no one minds, I’d like to end the session. It’sbeen memorable,” Martin said. “Thanks, everyone. And thanks Tom and Henry. Welook forward to the article.”
“Thank you,” Reed said.
As group members collected jackets and tidied up,Martin took Reed aside. She was concerned about Keller.
“It was a disaster with Edward. Is he going to be inthe story?”
“I don’t know.”
“I should have prevented him from talking.”
“Why?”
“The anniversary of the drownings is coming up.”
She smiled across the room at Angela, waiting in thechair, twisting her hair. “That, along with Christmas and birthdays, is anextremely bad time.”
“No promises. His words were on the record, but I’llkeep this in mind, okay?”
“Okay.”
Reed approached Angela. “Thanks for waiting,” he said
TWENTY-FOUR
Keller returned to his house in Wintergreen Heights, deactivated the alarm,unlocked the locks, went to his bedroom, took the silver crucifix from thenightstand, and slipped it around his neck. In the living the room, from thecluttered worktable, he removed a huge worn Bible. It was two centuries old.The pastors at his children’s memorial ser
vice had given it to him.
“God’s love never dies. Accept it and your childrenshall always be with you.”
He plopped in his rocking chair, Bible on his lap, andread. Reflecting on his clash with Tom Reed. The fool. Mocking his revelation.But it didn’t matter. He had succeeded in battle. Passed another test, abidedin the Lord, and emerged triumphant. It was the Will of the Creator.
Not the Reverend Theodore Keller’s version, but Thetrue Divine Will revealed in the purifying flames of his burning church. Godhad pulled back the curtain of Edward’s destiny that night, whisperingrevelations in his young ears.
His father’s congregation couldn’t afford to rebuild,forcing the Reverend to move down the highway and down in stature to a smallerCalifornia town where they existed on handouts from the faithful. It washumiliating for Edward, going to school, knowing the clothes he wore and thelunch he brought were not provided by God, but by farmers, merchants,widows-the parents of his classmates.
Edward’s loathing for his father festered and he vowednot to follow his impoverished, sanctimonious life. At seventeen, he discardedhis parents, and up and left. He hitchhiked to San Francisco and he put himselfthrough collage, working nights at a bookstore, weekends at a contracting firmin North Beach. He studied philosophy and business, graduating near the top ofhis class, not knowing what he would do with his life.
One day he returned to the overgrown site of hisfather’s razed church. Amid the weed-entombed foundation, he realized hisambition. He would build churches. Many of California’s churches were aging. Amarket existed.
Keller obtained a loan and was soon offering poorparishes new churches with long-term payment plans. His pitches wereattractive. His knowledge of theology, philosophy, and his son- of-a-preacherapproach ingratiated him with church leaders.
It also captivated Joan Webster, the only daughter ofa minister in Philo. She astounded him, distracting him during his firstmeeting with Reverend Webster. She possessed a celibate air of fresh-scrubbedwholesomeness. He wanted to be with her. He gave her father a ridiculously gooddeal and personally supervised the construction of the new church so he couldbe near her.
