The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  Robbie nodded. “An old lady went in on one side, an old man on the other.”

  “Yep,” Hal instigated. “Old people have a ton of sins. Good thing we’re not after Dad.”

  “Hal,” Joe grumbled. “Enough.”

  “Robbie,” Hal whispered. “I hate following old people. They get the priest all mad and then the priest yells at whoever’s next.”

  Robbie’s eyes widened. “No.”

  “Yeah. And don’t forget your Act of Contrition,” Hal instigated. “You’ll be paying big time.”

  Robbie swallowed, “I’m forgetting it.”

  “See.” Hal grinned. “You’re lucky I’m your favorite big brother.” Hal reached into the front pocket of his pants and pulled out a chewing gum wrapper. “Have one of my cheat sheets.”

  Robbie looked at the confessional prayer written on the paper. “Thanks, Hal.”

  Joe rubbed his eyes. “I really hope you boys confess this shit when you go in there.”

  “Say, uh Dad?” Hal called out. “What happens if we don’t confess it all?”

  “What did you do, Hal?” Joe asked.

  “Who me?” Hal shook his head innocently. “Nothing. I’m talking about the sins of Frank.”

  “What did I do?” Frank questioned.

  “Ha. Ha. Ha.” Hal faked laughed. “The question should be, what don’t you do?”

  Frank bit his bottom lip and snarled at Hal.

  Hal shivered dramatically. “Dad, Frank’s threatening me.”

  “Frank,” Joe said, aggravated, “In answer to your question, Hal, if you don’t confess it all, God will be pissed. And . . . the next time you take communion . . . it’ll burn.”

  “No way.” Hal laughed in disbelief. “The last time it didn’t . . .” Hal cleared his throat. “I’ll remember that.”

  Joe looked up when he heard the click of the confessional. “Hal. Go.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “You’re the angel,” Joe said sarcastically. “You shouldn’t have much to say.”

  “O.K.” Hal slid from the pew, annoyingly knocking into Frank’s legs.

  Robbie sat with his hands folded and watched Hal go in. He saw the other side open. “Dad, can I go next? That man didn’t take long so the priest won’t be mad.”

  “Go on.”

  Hurrying, Robbie jumped over Frank and Jimmy and scurried into the dark confessional. His heart pounded. It was dark and he feared being unable to read Hal’s cheat sheet. His mind was so engrossed in that until he heard Hal’s confession.

  “Forgive me Father for I have sinned,” Hal said. “It has been uh . . . three weeks since my last confession.”

  Robbie nearly died. They hadn’t been to confession in a year.

  “Good boy,” the priest said. “Go on.”

  “Well, Father, you know,” Hal continued. “It’s only been three weeks and really I didn’t do much. I haven’t missed Mass.”

  “Good.”

  Robbie’s eyes widened. They didn’t go for three weeks when their dad was out of town. They told their dad they did, but they didn’t.

  “And well, Ok, here’s a sin. I fight with my brothers.”

  “Sometimes child, controlling our anger with our siblings is difficult.”

  “True, especially with a brother like Frank. He pulled my hair until I stole him a pack of gum from the drugstore.”

  “He did?”

  “Yes. But that was nothing compared to the time he made me sell Girl Scout cookies for more money than they were. Father, I swear I didn’t even know. I’m so ashamed.”

  “My son, we get misled.”

  “Yes, I do. And here’s another sin. I didn’t put money in the collection basket.”

  “Sometimes we don’t have it.”

  “Oh we had it. My father was out of town and he left the envelope with a donation, a hefty one if I may add. My father is very generous to the church. Anyway, Frank took the money and spent it. And here’s another one . . . .”

  Joe looked at his watch. “What in Christ’s name is taking Hal so long?” No sooner did Joe say that than Hal stepped out of the confessional.

  With a huge smile across his cute face, he paused by the pew. “Ah,” Hal exhaled. “I feel purged.”

  Joe cringed. “Hal. Go.” Joe pointed to the altar. “Say your penance. Frank. Next.”

  “Why me?” Frank asked.

  “Go.”

  “All right.” Frank, in a slouching walk, entered the confessional. He knelt down, causing the kneeler to squeak loudly and then Frank tapped his hands on the prayer rail. His heart fluttered some when the window door slid open. Frank blessed himself. “Forgive me, Father for I have sinned. It’s, uh, been a year and a half since my last confession.”

  “Why so long?” The priest asked.

  “I don’t know. Anyhow . . . my sins. I fight with my brothers. I missed Mass.”

  “I see. Have you ever . . . skipped mass because you’re father was out of town?”

  “Hey, that’s pretty good. Yeah. Can I continue?”

  The priest grumbled.

  Robbie’s eyes shifted from Joe who kept staring at his watch to Frank who knelt up at the altar. How long? How long had they been there? All the Slagels made a unison sigh of relief when Frank walked to them from the altar. They all stood up.

  Joe peered at his watch as they began to walk from the church. As soon as they were all outside, Joe paused on the steps. “Forty-five minutes, Frank. We have been sitting here for forty-five minutes watching you pray at the altar.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Why did it take you forty-five minutes?”

  “I kept losing count,” Frank said.

  “What?” This surprised Joe because it was penance; a simple prayer punishment for sins was all Frank had to do. “How in the hell did you lose count?”

  “Dad.” Frank’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t believe what he gave me.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Am I allowed?” Frank asked.

  “No, but tell me anyhow. I’m your father. I don’t count.”

  “O.K.” Frank let out a breath. “I had to say one hundred Hail Mary’s, one hundred Our Father’s, seventy-five Glory Be’s, and . . . ten of those Act of Contrition prayers.”

  “Holy shit, Frank!” Joe nearly blasted. “What did you confess?”

  Frank was bewildered. He scratched his head. “It was my stock confession.”

  “Your stock confession?” Joe questioned.

  “Yeah. I say it all the time. I missed Mass twice, fought with my brothers, and lied to you. Standard stuff.”

  “And he gave you all that?” Joe was stunned.

  “Yeah.”

  “I wonder . . .” Joe stopped talking when he heard the flutter of laughter come from Hal. He shifted his eyes angrily to his son who was all red from containing laugher. “Hal.”

  “What?” Hal tossed his hands up. “Can I get in the car?”

  Frank took a deep breath. “Hal, what did you do?”

  “Frank,” Hal acted appalled. “Do? I resent that. I’m sinless. I am . . .”

  “Dead,” Frank finished his sentence

  Hal looked at his big brother’s red face. “Dad, Frank’s gonna beat me up. Can I get to the car?”

  “No.” Joe looked at Frank. “Frank . . .” Joe twitched his head at Hal. “Get him.”

  A slight shriek came from Hal just before he took a large jump off the steps of the church and took off running. Frank, not far behind and catching up, was on an angry pursuit.

  Robbie tugged on Joe’s sleeve. “Are we waiting for them?”

  “Nah.” Joe placed his hand on Robbie’s back and started to walk with him and Jimmy. “We’ll see if we pass them on the way home. If not, they’ll get there eventually.”

  Taking one more look at his brothers who got further and further from his sight, Robbie walked to the car with his father and brother.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Bev couldn’
t believe she fell asleep and since she woke up so late, she had to rush. It was one of those times she wished she had a roommate. But then again, friends were few, if not non-existent, for her and a roommate was hard to find. She was just so grateful Dean hadn’t showed up on time.

  Rushing about, Bev didn’t even have time to put anything away. She planned on a long walk around the community. Flying across her living room she flung open the door, bolted out, and ran into Dean.

  “Going somewhere?” Dean asked.

  “Um . . . to . . . uh, your house?”

  “I don’t have a house,” Dean said. “I’m a little late. Sorry.”

  “That’s O.K.”

  “I’ll come in. Thanks.” Dean walked in through the open door. “Quiet.”

  “Yes.” Bev nervously stepped inside. “I live alone.”

  “Hopefully not for long,” Dean winked. “Let’s see how this night goes. Gonna jar some memories, Bev.”

  Bev gave a nervous chuckle.

  “I don’t smell it.”

  “Smell what?”

  “Dinner,” Dean said. “You did make me dinner, didn’t you?”

  “You wanted dinner.”

  “Bev.” Dean stepped to her. “Did you think I would just want . . . sex?” he whispered in her ear. “I’m sure you can throw something together, right?”

  “Right.”

  Dean walked to behind her. “Then again . . .” He brought his left arm around the front of her and moved his lips by her ear. “We can forego all the formals.” Lifting his right hand, he brought his fingers to her cheek. “And get right to it.” He brazed his fingers down her cheek, stopping softly at her lips. From his semi-cupped hand, he rolled the paint pellet shell to his fingers. “What do you say?” Dean took a deep breath and held it.

  “I think . . .”

  Snap. The sound was light, barely heard. Dean rolled the just-broke pellet under Bev’s nose. Within three seconds, her legs gave out and she collapsed.

  Dropping the plastic shell, Dean hurried and caught her under her arms to stop her from falling to the floor. Bev’s weight was lot as he tried to drag her. He couldn’t, so Dean gently put her down on the floor, stepped over her, and walked to the door. After opening it, he stuck his head out. “O.K., you can come in.”

  “Thank God,” Frank griped and stepped inside. “I was dying out there with Henry.”

  Henry followed in next. “I can’t help it, Frank. My stomach is nervous. It happens and . . .” Henry saw Bev on the floor. “Oh my God, Dean! Did you kill her?”

  “No!” Dean snapped. “I knocked her out. If I was going to kill her, I’d be more creative.”

  “Ha,” Frank scoffed.

  “What?” Dean asked. “I killed you creatively, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, but . . .” Frank quipped. “You poisoned me, therefore it wasn’t creative. It could have been traced back to you.”

  “Who would do your autopsy you moron?” Dean snapped. “Besides, I’m smarter than that. I used an insulin based poison of my own. It would have made you look like you had a heart attack.”

  “No way.” Frank was impressed.

  Henry shook his head above Bev. “I cannot believe you used physical violence on a woman carrying your child.”

  “She is not carrying my child,” Dean argued. “I used an ether based drug. One short whiff and she was out like a light.”

  “Will it harm your baby?” Henry asked.

  “It’s not my baby. She’s only going to be out a half an hour so if we want to search the house we need to get started.” Dean started to bend down to her. “I need help. She’s too big. I can’t lift her. Frank?”

  “Nope.”

  “Nope? Why?”

  “I’m not touching her.” Frank held up his hands.

  “Just carry her to the . . .”

  “No,” Frank said adamantly. “I’ve never touched her and if El ever asks I can still say, without lying, I’ve never touched her. I’m not starting now.”

  “I’ll move her.” So chivalrous, Henry stepped forward and swept his arms under her motionless body. He grunted in lifting her and stumbled some. “She doesn’t . . . look . . . this . . . heavy.” He struggled with his balance as he carried her to the couch. He laid her down and exhaled loudly.

  Dean looked around. “Now, where do we start?”

  “Upstairs?” Frank suggested. “Her room.”

  “You take that,” Dean said. “Henry, take in here. I’ll look in the dining room.”

  Frank and Henry agreed.

  Dean moved to the dining room at the same time Frank moved to the steps. “Whoa.”

  Frank stopped. “What?”

  “She has a laptop.” Dean moved to it.

  Henry and Frank hurried in.

  Dean looked at it, “What is she doing with a laptop.”

  “Danny-sance,” Frank explained. “Everyone gets one.”

  “But how did she?” Dean reached and booted it up. “This is perfect. I can’t believe Danny gave her one.

  Henry snickered. “Maybe she performed a sexual favor for him.”

  Frank laughed. “No way. Danny’s gay.” He saw the immediate looks Dean and Henry gave him. “What?”

  Henry shook his head. “Danny is not gay.”

  “He is too. Gay. I’m telling you. I know.”

  “You don’t know,” Henry argued. “Danny is not gay.”

  “I have to agree with Henry, Frank.” Dean watched the laptop boot up. “He’s not gay.”

  “And you’re both F . . . F . . . F . . . wrong. Gay. I know every man that’s gay in Beginnings. Trust me.”

  Henry took on a snide look. “You do not.”

  “Do too,” Frank said back. “You’re the one who doesn’t.”

  “I know men who are gay that you don’t,” Henry argued.

  Dean rolled his eyes. “Can we stop and get to this?”

  “Name one,” Frank said. “Bet me I know.”

  “O.K.” Henry stepped closer to Frank. “Jess.”

  “Who?”

  “Jess, Robbie’s roommate.”

  “Oh, you’re nuts. Jess?” Frank ridiculed. “Jess is not gay. He may cook, but he’s not gay. I know. I have gaydar and it hasn’t once gone off with him.”

  Dean looked up suddenly. “Gaydar?”

  “He doesn’t know anything,” Henry stated. “Let’s just check this out. Oh! Dean! Start with the drives.”

  “Good idea.” Dean smiled.

  Johnny knew Bev wouldn’t be stuck with her big date with Dean, though he wished she would. He could hear her complaining about having to be with him. She used to find him attractive until she realized how much older he was. So with Bev gone, Johnny needed the bedroom disk of Dean and Ellen. Certain the house was empty, he walked to the door and turned the knob.

  Dean, Henry, and Frank all looked up from the laptop at the same time when they heard the front door open.

  With a quiet ‘shoot’ not ‘shit’, Frank grabbed Dean and Henry’s arms and pulled them in the kitchen. “In here,” he mouthed the words and pointed to the food pantry. “Hurry.” He opened it and shoved Dean and Henry in. Then, Frank stepped into the three-foot by three-foot closet with them. He pulled the door closed at the same time Dean and Henry grunted.

  Had he not seen the broken paint pellet shell on the floor, Johnny wouldn’t have looked for Bev. Bending down, he picked it up. He smelled the strong smell of it without even bringing it close to his nose. He winced his head to the side and dropped the pellet. When he opened his eyes, he saw Bev on the couch. He knew Dean had to still be there. Where? What was he up to?

  Back pressed against the shelf with his face smashed to Frank’s back, Henry whimpered. Frank’s wide eyed ‘shut up.’ expression couldn’t be seen by either Henry or Dean.

  “I’m dying,” Henry complained in a whisper “I can’t breathe.”

  “Shut up,” Frank told him.

  “You’re squashing me.”

 
; “Henry!” Frank thought he whispered softly. “Shut up.”

  If Dean’s nose didn’t hurt badly enough, it was pressed flush against the door. How all three of them were fitting in the closet, he didn’t know.

  “Dean,” Frank whispered. “You hear anything?”

  “No.”

  “I got Henry F . . . F . . . F . . . whimpering in my . . .” Frank sniffed. “Oh my God.”

  “Sorry,” Henry spoke. “I have a nervous stomach.”

  “Oh my God.” Frank rolled his eyes.

  Dean could barely breathe let alone move. “Could you guys just shut . . . Frank, please tell me that’s your gun.”

  “It’s not my gun.”

  “Oh shit.” Dean’s eyes widened.

  “It’s my knife and don’t flatter yourself. Henry, knock it off,” Frank snapped in a quiet whisper.

  “I’m sorry Frank. I’m nervous.”

  It took Johnny everything he had not to make a noise in his laughter. Did those three grown men actually think they could fit in the pantry and not be heard? Leaning against the kitchen doorway, Johnny took a moment to enjoy their bickering and loud whispers then he did what he came to do. Johnny walked to the laptop and took a quick moment to erase the viewer program. Shifting his eyes to the kitchen, he still could hear the whispers. Then smiling, he removed the disk. He paused to look at Bev passed out on the sofa. He shook his head, walked to the door, opened, and stepped out. In his leaving, as a nice gesture, he slammed the door loudly.

  Dean opened the pantry door and nearly fell to the floor from the releasing weight of Frank and Henry behind him. “God, remind me never to be stuck in a pantry again with you two.”

  Frank held his hand out to Henry. “What I tell you? It wouldn’t be long before you came out of the closet.”

  “Shut up, Frank.” Henry took a gasping breath. “Thank God I can breathe now,”

  “Yeah, well I’m not gonna be able to smell anything for a week,” Frank complained. “You clogged up my nostrils.”

  “You are so rude.” Henry shook his head. “I cannot believe how rude you are. Like you have never had a nervous stomach that responded badly.”