by Donna Doyle
When he came home that afternoon he had not been able to shake the feeling that a storm was coming to Calmhaven. First he’d had that meeting with Wolf, in which the man had threatened to take away his treasure, and now a certain Sharlan Tan was coming to town, and from the looks of it, he was a weirdo. Of course God was in control, and while Papa Julian was well aware of the fact that God would sometimes shake the apple tree, just to see how well grounded His children were in the good, clean earth of God’s Word, still this was not his best day.
There was only one thing to do.
He needed to pray.
Thus he told Bella that he would skip lunch, and he locked himself in his study and brought the matter before God’s throne.
*Matthew 11:9 NIV
Chapter Three
That night, right after dinner the bell rang. Papa Julian had just sunk into the big leather armchair that Jim Mackintosh, who ran the local furniture store, had sold him. Jim Mackintosh, being a member of Calmhaven Trinity Church, had sold it to Papa Julian as a bargain; at least that's what the man had told him, but Bella had been shocked when she found out how much they still had to pay for the recliner.
Regardless, Papa Julian liked nothing better than to sit down in it after dinner and read his Bible, right near the open fire. Thus, when the bell rang, loud and demanding, he let out a sigh and looked at his wife with a puzzled expression.
"The bell? Who could that be?"
“Expecting anybody?” Bella asked as she looked up from her work of mending a hole in one of Papa Julian’s socks.
Papa Julian rubbed his nose. “Not really. Maybe Angelique Fletcher is having her baby. She told me she wants you at her side when the baby is coming. It's her first delivery.” He shrugged his shoulders.
Bella smacked her lips and got up. “My father told me marrying a preacher wasn't going to be a bed of roses, and I can understand why he said it. I can't actually remember the last time we had a day off.”
Papa Julian knew his wife was right. Sometimes, (no, virtually all the time) the needs of the flock seemed overwhelming, but Bella wasn’t complaining. She would support him no matter what, and as she passed by his chair to open the door, he could see the twinkle in her eyes. In passing, she let her hand gently slide over his head. “You are a good man, Julian. Marrying you was one of the best things I did in my life.”
"Those are my words," he replied, while a sheepish grin played around his lips. It was one of the things he always said when he agreed with his dear wife. He followed her with his eyes into the hallway, and listened when she opened the front door.
“Good evening, Ma’am,” a deep, male voice said. It sounded like a dark, distant rumble in the atmosphere. “Is Pastor Julian home?”
Whoever that was, wasn't coming to inform him that Angelique Fletcher was about to deliver a baby. This voice he had never heard. He put the Bible on his coffee table and stared at the door, wondering who would show up.
He did not have to wait long, as seconds later Bella returned, looking a bit surprised. “There’s a gentleman here to see you, Julian.”
“Well? Let him in,” Papa Julian replied. He flattened the fringe of his white hair, just in case it didn’t look presentable.
A man entered.
A man whom Papa Julian had never seen.
He was not particularly tall. Not too tall, and not too short either. Just about average in size. There was a slight smile around his lips, but Papa Julian couldn’t decide whether or not his eyes were smiling too. It was hard to tell because of the reflection of the flames of the open fire on the man's face.
The stranger peered around the living room with demanding, piercing green eyes, although, strangely enough, they were not entirely green. There was a bit of yellow mixed in as well. It struck Papa Julian as most peculiar, and reminded him somewhat of the eyes of a wild cat he had been staring at in the Boulder Valley Zoo not too long ago when he went there with the Sunday school children.
And like that wild cat, this man too filled his heart with an unpleasant feeling of dread. There was no denying it, this stranger carried a heavy spirit. He was dressed like a priest, somewhat similar to the outfit his friend Malcolm O'Hara would wear during mass in St Mary's Catholic Church. Like Malcolm, he wore a priestly garment that reached all the way to his ankles and was buttoned up to his neck. But unlike Malcolm, this man had tied a large, purple sash around his protruding belly and he did not wear a cap. Most peculiar was the way he wore his hair. While all the priests Papa Julian had ever met had been either balding or, if they had any hair at all, would be well-groomed, this fellow had long hair, tied back in a pony tail that was glistening in the light of the fire by reason of way too much gel. And he carried more than just a heavy spirit, as around his neck dangled a golden cross with a loop that Papa Julian recognized as an Ankh, the ancient Egyptian hieroglyphic symbol for "life".
At that instant he knew who was standing before him.
This man could be none other than that prophet the girl on the street had told him about. For a long, silent moment both men stared at each other. At last, Papa Julian cleared his throat and while he rose from his seat he mumbled, “Pastor Tan I presume?”
The man grinned and bobbed his head, causing his pony tail to dance around. “I see that my fame has paved the way already.” He offered Papa Julian his hand. “And you must be Papa Julian. Melissa told me you wanted to see me.”
Papa Julian coughed and shook Tan’s hand. “I am not sure I follow you, and who is Melissa?”
“You don't mind if I sit down, do you?” Tan asked. And without waiting for approval he sank down in the seat that was nearest to him. With a flick of his hand he moved his greasy pony tail to the back of the headrest and folded both of his hands together over his belly.
Papa Julian scratched his head again. “Would…would you like a cup of tea?”
Tan shook his head. “Thank you, Julian, but I am not here to indulge myself in the niceties of life. Melissa told me you were upset that I had not contacted you before I came to Calmhaven.” He licked his lips and thought for a moment. “Well, here I am. By the way, you may call me Sharlan.”
Papa Julian narrowed his eyes. "I take it Melissa is the woman I met on the street today? The one who gave me the flyer that tells me you are having an open air meeting tomorrow?"
"That's right," Sharlan answered with a satisfied grin. "She's a lovely girl, isn't she? Faithful and true."
Papa Julian sat down, not quite sure what to expect. Bella walked over to the back of Papa Julian's chair and placed both of her hands on her husband's shoulders. It felt good to feel the strength of her presence.
"Well, shoot," Sharlan Tan said as he leaned back in his seat while tapping his belly with his fingers, "Ask me anything you want to know. It's my aim to please."
But no questions came. Papa Julian's mind had gone blank.
Sharlan Tan decided to be helpful. "I suppose you would like me to tell you about the reason of my crusade in Calmhaven?"
Papa Julian tilted his head. "I suppose that would be a good start. What is the reason?"
Sharlan Tan lifted his eyes to the ceiling and stared for a moment at the antique lampshade that was hanging above his head, as if it would help him to draw strength from above. But then he closed his eyes, blew out a loud puff of air and raised both of his hands in the air, revealing his tattoo covered arms. Papa Julian narrowed his eyes as he stared at the sculptured arms of the man before him. A host of symbols Papa Julian had never seen before.
Almost instantly he spoke, but the tone of his voice had changed. It sounded solemn, holy and dark, all at the same time, and Papa Julian felt the hairs in the nape of his neck rising.
This man, this Sharlan Tan, was a strange man indeed.
"Behold, a storm is coming. A storm that will set apart the sheep from the goats, and that will cause a great widening of the eyes. Hear ye therefore the words of my anointed one, my prophet, who will ride on the wings of the wind an
d will preach unto you the true salvation. He will pour out the new wine and speak with signs and wonders following. Therefore hear ye him, so you may be pleasing in my sight. By honoring my prophet, you will be honoring me and thus escape the wrath to come."
For a moment it was still as the words, so eloquently spoken by Sharlan, still hung in the air and cast an uncomfortable blanket of oppression over the room. Then the man cleared his throat and finished by saying. "Thus saith the Lord."
He lowered his hands and as the sleeves of his garments fell back over his arms, the tattoos were covered again. Sharlan's eyes were still fixed at the ceiling as if he were saying goodbye to a host of invisible creatures that had communicated these words of questionable wisdom, while an ethereal smile rested on his face.
But Papa Julian's face was not smiling at all. His face wore a concerned frown and he shivered. To him it felt as if someone had forgotten to close the door to the freezer. He leaned back into his seat as far as he could, while treasuring the firm and loving hands of Bella, still upon his shoulders.
When Sharlan was finally done staring at the ceiling, he glanced at Papa Julian, looking somewhat dazed.
He blew out another long sigh and shook his head. "Wow… Wow…" It was all he could muster at first. But then he collected himself, pulled on his pony tail and mumbled, "Every time God speaks to me it's absolutely overwhelming." He whipped out another wow, and cast Papa Julian a grin while waving his left index finger in the air. "Tell me, brother, what can be more invigorating than directly hearing the voice of God?"
Papa Julian started at him with a blank expression.
"Well, there's your answer," Sharlan spoke at last. "This, brother, is what our crusade will be all about."
Papa Julian wanted to say he was not Sharlan's brother, but Bella was one step ahead of him. "We have heard you, Sir… but my husband is not your brother and your utterances are not just confusing, but they are in fact, most disturbing."
Sharlan's eyes widened. Then the smug smile on his face froze and his face darkened. He cleared his throat and when he answered he hissed, "Utterances? You call God's words a mere utterance?" He wrinkled his nose and said. "Let the women keep silence; for it is a shame for women to speak in the church." *
Papa Julian was not easily irritated, let alone angry, but now he felt the fires of indignation rising in his chest. Still he controlled his emotions and said in a calm voice. "My wife may speak wherever she likes, Mr. Tan. What's more, she is in her own home, and I wish for you to treat her with respect and common courtesy and—"
Sharlan Tan interrupted him. Instead of answering Papa Julian, his hands shot back into the air, revealing his tattoos again, and almost instantly he broke forth in another prophecy. "—Behold, let not anger and ignorance stand in the way of the move of my spirit. You, my son Julian are called to play an important role in the furtherance of the kingdom."
"Excuse me?" Papa Julian did not wait for the prophecy to be finished. "I've had quite enough."
Sharlan stopped talking, his shoulders tensed. "You do not want to hear what God wants to tell you?"
"I talked to God this morning extensively," Papa Julian fired back, "and what's more, I've got my Bible, so I am well supplied."
Sharlan shook his head and swallowed hard. "Let me tell you anyway, for if I do not give you the words of God, they become within me a burning fire." Without waiting for Papa Julian's response he went on and said, "God told me you have great riches to share. You have treasures God wishes you to give to the kingdom.”
"What treasures," Papa Julian smirked.
"God showed me a room—a dark room, and I believe it is situated under your church." Sharlan narrowed his eyes as if he stared into the unseen world, "I see a dark basement… I can see it so clearly. It's musty, and inhabited by spiders and rats, but it's there where you store…," he paused, "No, in which you hoard a manuscript that God wants you to sell, so the proceeds can go towards the building of my… eh, God's new cathedral." He deliberately raised his brows as he peered into Papa Julian's eyes and said, "Will you heed the commandments of your God, Father Julian?"
"They call me Papa, not Father," Papa Julian fired back. "And I have no idea what you are talking about. I don't believe a single word of what you are supposedly prophesying, and my wife and I have heard more than enough." He pointed to the door. "Goodbye."
"It's a book," Sharlan still cried out. "You have a most valuable book. I can see it now and you must not hoard the riches that have so freely been bestowed upon you."
"Stop your nonsense," Papa Julian's voice skipped a pitch.
Sharlan did not blink as much as an eye and folded his arms over his chest. "It's always the same," he mumbled, while shaking his head. It caused his pony tail to fly around in a defiant manner. "The old church always resists the new church. The old wine skins can never hold the vibrant, sparkling new wine from the heavens."
"Goodbye," Papa Julian interrupted him. He got up from his chair and walked towards the hallway, expecting Sharlan to follow him.
Sharlan smacked his lips and gave Bella a short nod. "I'll leave, but nobody can stand against the plans of God. His plans never fail. You cannot always resist the spirit of the Most High."
"Out," Papa Julian had to fight the impulse to grab Sharlan by the shoulder and push him out the door, but he kept his cool and patiently waited until Sharlan had walked past him and had opened the front door.
"Goodbye Father Julian," the man smirked as he stepped into the night.
"Papa," Papa Julian hissed. "They call me 'Papa'.
"Whatever," Sharlan mumbled. Then he turned and disappeared into the moonless night without saying another word.
Papa Julian stared for a while into the darkness, as if to make sure this man was really gone and then returned to the warmth of his living room and the loving arms of Bella.
"W-What was that all about," Bella said with a quiver and Papa Julian noticed her lips were trembling.
Papa Julian shook his head while he took Bella into his arms and gave her a tight hug. "He said a storm was coming… That was probably the only true thing that false prophet said tonight." A slight headache had risen and Papa Julian felt exhausted as if he had been walking a marathon.
"What did he mean by great treasures in the basement of our church?" Bella asked with a grave expression. "How would he know you have that old book of Pilgrim's Progress that your good friend Preston gave you on his deathbed?"
Papa Julian shook his head. "I do not know, Bella, but I am awfully tired now. Let's commit it all into the hands of our heavenly Father and go to bed. Surely God will know what to do, as He is in charge of even the smallest of details.”
*1 Corinthians 14:34-35 (KJV)
** 2 Timothy 3:12 (KJV)
Chapter Four
Emily Bimbleton couldn't suppress a giggle as she and Billy Thistlewaite ploughed through the fields on the outskirts of Calmhaven. She had almost plunged forward as her foot had gotten stuck under a protruding root, but Billy had put his arm around her. It felt good to feel his steady arm around her waist, and she secretly hoped she would stumble again.
She would never have taken this way herself, but Billy had wanted to take a shortcut. He claimed he had done it before. "If we cross here, it will save us a good twenty minutes." He was certain of it, and Emily believed him. There was no use arguing with Billy anyway, as he was used to doing things his way, and he was often right.
Emily Bimbleton worked as a maid at the farm of the Henderson's, quite a few miles away from Calmhaven, but she needed to go to Calmhaven's Social Security office first thing in the morning. Mister Fairclough, the manager, needed to see her right at 8.30. But that was a problem as the first bus did not pass by the Henderson's until 9.00.
But then there was Billy.
Ruddy Billy Thistlewaite on his moped, who just happened to be visiting Mr. Henderson. Mr. Henderson was about to hire Billy as an extra farmhand, and thus he had hired Billy that day, just to s
ee if Billy's skills were indeed as fabulous as the boy had claimed.
"Just hop on my moped," he had told Emily when he heard of her predicament. "Tonight, when I go back home, I'll give you a ride. We'll be in Calmhaven in a jiffy."
Riding on the back of Billy Thistlewaite's moped? Emily's heart skipped a beat and she couldn't help blushing. That meant she would have to fold her arms around Billy's waist, and maybe she could rest her head against his leather jacket…
"Surely you have somewhere where you can spend the night?" Billy wanted to know.
And he was right. Emily could sleep at her aunt's house, right near the Social Security office.
But Billy had not been right about being in Calmhaven in a jiffy. About ten minutes after they had left, that evening, the moped decided it was time to call it a day. The motor sputtered and stalled, refused to yield to Billy's curses, and after a few minutes died completely, right near a giant oak tree.
In the distance they could see the lights of Calmhaven. It was an idyllic setting. The moon that peered occasionally through the clouds that were drifting by, the light of the stars that smiled down on them, and the soft wind rustling through the leaves; it all set the stage for a romantic moment.
"What do we do?" Emily asked while she looked up into Billy's disgruntled face.
"Walk," Billy said. "We'll have to." In frustration he kicked the front wheel of his moped and then locked it. "Tomorrow, I'll have to fix it, but I can't do anything about it here."
And that's when Billy had suggested they take the short cut.
And he had been wrong again.
Half an hour later they both realized he had made a mistake. Calmhaven still seemed far away, and all that Billy's shortcut had brought them were nasty scratches, a rip in Emily's skirt, and shoes that were soaked as they had accidentally stepped into a swamp. It appeared they had made no progress.
