“I’m so happy for you two!” Sara exclaimed, hugging them again.
“So am I!” Rosie cried. “You’re going to make the most beautiful bride, Mom.”
Mira reached over and hugged her. “Thank you so much, honey.”
“Your brother is going to be so excited when he hears about this, Mira! So, have you chosen a date for the wedding yet?” Sara asked them.
Bobby looked at Mira. It was all up to her.
“We haven’t decided yet,” she said. “Hopefully soon.”
Bobby gently squeezed her hand. He was blushing with joy and pride.
After the excitement simmered down a bit, Sara turned to Mira with a nervous expression on her face. “Honey, I need to see you privately for a few minutes.”
“Sure, Mom.” Mira got up and followed her mother into the bedroom and they sat on the bed together.
“There’s something I think you should know.” Sara rubbed her hands together. “I’ve been feeling guilty about it for quite a while now…”
“What is it?” Mira rested a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Sara wasn’t sure how to begin. “Remember some months ago when Rosie told us she had a visitor — the woman who had died in Newport…?”
“Yes. Matilda.”
“That’s when the sleepless nights for me started,” she revealed.
“What does Matilda have to do with this?” Mira asked, curiously.
“She and I are related, Mira. Her mother was my grand-aunt.”
Mira was shocked. “What? So that means...”
Sara nodded. “We’re all family – the same flesh and blood. I knew the entire story of Matilda’s life before Rosie ever mentioned anything about it. It was my mother’s side of the family that never accepted her for who she was. Although, to the best of my knowledge, they didn’t do anything to harm her, they were partly the reason she wasn’t accepted here in Mizpah. I felt terribly guilty when I learned she appeared to Rosie and had taken her on that journey of her suffering.” Tears filled Sara’s eyes. “I wonder how any of my relatives could have been so unaccepting when my own daughter and granddaughter share a gift, that if you two had been born back in those days, could have gotten you hanged like Matilda was or burned at the stake. It’s just so unfair what Matilda had to go through. And that’s why I didn’t want you digging up any information about what happened. I felt it was like opening a can of worms.”
Mira reached for her mother and held her near. “None of it was your fault, Mom.” She dried her mother’s tears.
“I started having these dreams as if I was there when she was killed — night after night — the same dream. I was being tortured. I couldn’t open up to you about it because I was so ashamed.”
“You’d taken on the guilt that wasn’t yours to carry; that’s why,” Mira told her. “But it’s all over now. Matilda is completely at peace.”
“How do you know that?”
“Do you really need to ask that, Mom? Believe me, she’s at peace and what’s more, she never once mentioned you. She holds no malice against you, Mom. Your suffering was only because you blamed yourself.” Mira then thought of something. “Remember how Mable Ferguson, Cornelius’ granddaughter, had blamed herself all of those years for what Cornelius had done?”
Sara nodded.
“You must let it go, like she had to. None of us are responsible for what our ancestors did,” Mira said.
Mira held her mother until she’d composed herself enough to face the others again. Matilda had stood across the room the entire time, watching quietly as Sara emptied her heart. She soon walked toward the bed and rested a single red rose on Sara’s comforter. She smiled at Mira for possibly the very last time, then was gone.
“She left something for you,” Mira said, turning in the direction of the gift.
Sara followed her eyes and spotted the rose. She picked it up.
“Now do you believe she holds nothing against you?” Mira asked tenderly.
“Yes.” Sara smiled brightly. Her heart was light again and full of joy.
It was a very good day in the Cullen family.
~ The End ~
Wicked Little Saints
Cornelius Saga Series - Book 11
1
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Three years, two months and five days ago…
It had been raining for most of the afternoon when Johnny Baxter and his mother, Angie, entered the school hall. Dozens of adults and children had already assembled in the six thousand square foot room, and a panel of educators, as well as guests, were quietly seated on stage awaiting the large clock on the eastern wall to strike at six o’clock. At 5:50 p.m., Johnny and Angie carefully made their way through the third row of seats from the front, passing several people who had graciously turned to the side and allowed them to get to the only two empty seats still available in that row.
Angie, whose round, puffy face revealed many years of hardship, weighed in at two hundred and fifty pounds. She wore a tan tee shirt with a blue blazer over it, and a pair of red slacks she’d had for five years which, after countless washes had turned more to a slightly pinkish hue. Short strands of her dirty-blonde hair protruded beneath the edges of the blue tam on her head.
Johnny, a bit on the heavy side like his mother, was wearing purple shorts that fell an inch or two past his knees, and a plain, white cotton tee shirt. Johnny was not dressed for the cool weather and barely ever was. Angie always said his built-in 'cushion' managed to keep him perfectly warm when everyone else needed layers of clothing to protect themselves from chilly weather.
After taking their seats, Angie retrieved a clear, plastic bottle from her handbag and swallowed down a few gulps of room temperature water. Johnny quickly shook his head in refusal when she offered him a drink.
Tall, lanky “too polite for her own good”, Rosetta Gotlieb—who always looked her very best, made her way over to the microphone. The heels she wore had snuck another four inches to her height and her hair, as always, was kept in a neat, low afro. Rosetta had been the Principal at Apex Christian School for five years; her contract for that position had just been renewed ten days earlier. Seated on the platform were Alan Wales, Vice-principal; Trinika Sampson, Head of the English Department and Sister Ruth King, Head of Religious Studies. Ruth was not a real sister in the Catholic sense, but a die-hard Baptist who was affectionately called by that name. Seated next to her was Reverend Kurt McCoy and his teenage sons, Adam and Malachi.
Tapping the microphone, Rosetta cleared her throat and looked out at the crowd in attendance. A few more people were trickling in as the meeting was about to commence.
“Thank you, everyone, for taking the time to be here this evening for our Parents/Teachers conference,” she started. “Well, it’s not like our usual Parents/Teachers conferences in that we’re not here to discuss the children’s academic progress, per se. Instead, we thought it fitting to share with you our plan to send each fifth grader on a field trip beginning within the next two weeks to the ranch of Reverend McCoy and the McCoy family who have been such an inspiration to our town and the country at large. I’m sure you’ve all heard of the McCoys and the awesome things they’re doing for young people far and near, and the incredible gifts our Lord has placed upon them.”
Kurt McCoy was smiling half-heartedly and nodding as she spoke. His sons were stoically sitting with their hands in their laps.
“The reason you were told that attendance to this meeting was mandatory is because we want to ensure that each parent is aware of what the school is willing to offer the children that attend Apex. To explain what this trip entails and the reason we feel it will benefit the spiritual and emotional growth of each and every one of our students is our Vice-principal, Alan Wales.”
As Rosetta walked back to her seat, Alan proceeded toward the microphone. Sporting a goatee, he was of average height and build.
He cleared his throat. “Good evening, parents and students. Please allow
me to enlighten you on what we propose here at the school. Each child, with his parent’s consent of course, will travel by bus to the McCoy ranch where there is an amazing facility specifically designed for the purpose of teaching via audio and visual technology, the dynamics essential for living your very best Christian life in a secular world. The primary focus will be: How to increase your spiritual awareness. As a God-centered school, the spiritual growth of each and every child is just as important as his or her educational development – even more so, I’d say. In addition, there will be educational workshops that every child must participate in, once in attendance. Participation Awards will be granted as additional passes for the semester, which may bring up the child’s overall grade point average. So, in essence, this twenty-four hour field trip will consist of both spiritual and educational enhancement which are sure to place each child on the pathway to achieving the pinnacle of success in their life’s journey.”
Looking out at the crowd, Alan was confident that the looks on their faces indicated extreme interest in what he had to say.
“Reverend McCoy here will be able to expound a bit further and after that, we, on this panel, are all available for any questions that you might have,” Alan concluded.
Alan turned the mic over to Kurt McCoy who was dressed in his Sunday best. There was never a time when the Reverend was seen without having on a silk coat suit and matching hat with a silver brim. His deep, raspy voice was easily identifiable to everyone who’d ever heard him speak on the various TV and radio stations. A man in his sixties, he had a mystifying confidence about him and an alluring smile. After all, he was known to heal the sick and a couple of times even raised the dead. He was called the real deal and hardly anyone in the community doubted his sincerity. And those boys of his, Adam and Malachi, were following right in their father’s footsteps and were indeed the most charming young men one could ever lay eyes on. Well groomed, strongly built with perfectly tanned skin, the McCoy boys were every Christian mother’s dream date for their daughters.
The Reverend started out with a prayer and made reference that it should have been the first order of business there that evening. It was an indirect scolding to the Principal, delivered with a smile. Kurt sought to lay out the basic activities held at his ranch and why those activities were fundamental to a child’s spiritual growth and to their future careers.
“These lessons must be taught and it is my hope that every child in this city and indeed the globe would learn what it means to not just survive in this dangerous and carnal-minded world, but what it means to thrive. It is my hope and prayer that even though we’re starting with the fifth grade right now that over the course of a few months, each child in Apex will be there.”
A favorite of many, he received a standing ovation as he returned to his seat.
“So, there you are, folks – the short and long of it.” Rosetta stood at the mic again. “Are there any questions?”
Angie Baxter immediately stood up. “Yeah, I have a question.”
“Yes, Mrs. Baxter. May I ask whom it is directed to?” Rosetta asked.
“It’s directed at you,” she replied, gruffly.
Feeling the top of her own chest, Rosetta glanced at the audience for a moment. Angie was one of the school’s most vocal parents and probably the least liked. “Why, certainly. And what is your question?” she replied.
“Why do you think we, as parents, need some outside source to enlighten our kids spiritually, as you say?” Angie spoke so loudly that her voice echoed within the large space.
“Mrs. Baxter, our Vice-principal and Reverend McCoy have both explained the reason for that in detail.” Rosetta adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose.
“Well, let me tell all of you something... my boy, Johnny Edward Alexander Baxter ain’t attending no retreat or whatever the hell you call it!”
Drowning in embarrassment, Johnny buried his head as low as possible between his knees. He knew it wasn’t going to be good the moment his mother stood up to speak.
“And the rest of you in here would be a bunch of idiots to allow these people to send your kids off to some ranch to be influenced by this wealthy gentleman who struts around like he’s God or somebody that’s got all the answers,” Angie boldly continued.
Silence invaded the hall and parents were clearly embarrassed for the panel of speakers on the podium.
But Angie wasn’t finished yet. “I don’t know about you all,” she scanned the room, “…but I send my boy here to get an education so he can grow up and become somebody, not to be preached to like he’s in church. I teach my boy the right way of living myself and I don’t need some high and mighty stranger to do it for me. You all can send your precious ones if you like, but my Johnny will be home that day with me and his pa.” On that note, she took her seat.
Rachelle Wigby had quietly observed Angie make a spectacle of herself. God knew her own twelve-year-old daughter Priscilla, sitting next to her, needed all the spiritual enlightenment she could get. After all, she was painfully aware the child didn’t get the kind of upbringing she deserved with a mother that brought countless men in and out of their lives for the majority of the girl’s life. Men who were more like clients, and whatever apartment she and Priscilla lived in at the time, was like a cheap motel. But Rachelle had finally cleaned up her act within the past two years and that’s why she thought she made a right move for the first time in her life by enrolling Priscilla in a good Christian school, such as Apex. Her Priscilla had a good heart, but now she was seeing that the once innocent little girl was hanging around older boys in their neighborhood and Rachelle shuddered to think what she might be doing with them while she was off to work at the grocery store — the only decent job she ever had. Thankfully, her mother had left her the old house when she died from Kidney Failure, so using a portion of her menial salary to give Priscilla a good education was the least Rachelle could do for the child. Angie could run her mouth all she wanted, Rachelle thought, because little Johnny was brought up in a more stable environment, despite the over-the-top aggression contained in his mother. Priscilla would be going on that trip to the McCoy ranch and anywhere else the school deemed would be beneficial to her.
Rosetta cleared her throat. Angie Baxter’s outbursts never ceased to amaze her. “Well then, are there any other questions?” she asked, looking around the room, thus refusing to indulge Angie with any further communication on the subject.
Reverend McCoy stood up. “Pardon me, Miss Gotlieb, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to address the parent’s assertion.” Even then, he was as smooth and poised as could be.
“Certainly, Reverend,” Rosetta responded, with clear reluctance.
He approached the microphone again and looked at Angie. “Ma’am, I take it you have very strong sentiments regarding me and the work my family and I do, but I want to assure you and indeed everyone here in attendance that spiritual nurturing for any child begins at home with the ones responsible for caring for that special soul. Others, like me and my family are only additional vessels our good Lord uses to impart the knowledge He’s given us through the means He’s chosen to communicate to us.”
Angie stood up again. “Are you saying, Reverend, that God only speaks through you and a few others to get His messages across to the rest of the world?” Her hands were now angrily placed at her sides.
“No, that’s not what I mean!” McCoy quickly replied. “I’m trying to say that God has given each of us—everyone in this room and in the world—special gifts and talents. Not everyone has the same gifts and talents, so we are to use them to bless others around us. That is what I and my sons here do. And whatever God-given talent you have should be used to be a blessing to others as well. Do you understand what I’m saying, ma’am?”
“Chicken shit!” she blurted, much to everyone’s surprise that she’d even dream of addressing a preacher that way. “I don’t buy what you’re selling and that’s my take. Everyone else in here can do
whatever the hell they want, but my mind’s made up. On the day of the trip, my boy, Johnny, is staying home. He don’t need no extra grades other than what he’s earned on this campus. That’s all I have to say.”
McCoy humbly returned to his seat and Rosetta took her place again. At the same time, Angie pulled Johnny up by the collar and they worked their way through the row again and walked the wide aisle toward the exit. All eyes were on them, many casting contemptuous looks. No one was ‘woman or man enough’ to confront Angie though. She’d been known to shut a couple of people up quickly with a good, solid punch to the face or gut when she felt insulted.
“I’m sorry about that, folks.” Rosetta shook her head. “Are there any more questions?”
As parents sought to find out more about the upcoming trips, Rachelle sat silently. She was sure this would be a good start for Priscilla’s emotional healing as she would be in the presence of greatness for twenty-four hours – in the persons of Reverend Kurt McCoy and the McCoy family.
2
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Present day…
“I see her again!” Rachelle Wigby exclaimed. “She’s over there!” She pointed, with an excited look in her eyes.
Nurse Bella Carey who had cared for Rachelle during her stay two years earlier looked in the direction of the room where the clearly disturbed woman was pointing. She didn’t expect to see anything, but reflex had kicked in right away.
“She looks different...” Rachelle continued, “...but I know it’s her!”
Bella tried to calm her with an injection of a mild sedative.
Rachelle had been admitted to the Hufton’s Mental Health Facility the previous day for the second time since her beloved Priscilla went missing. It had been three years since that fateful day in June when a busload of middle grade children from Apex Christian School, as well as the Principal, her Vice-principal, and two teachers had set out for a special overnight trip to the McCoy ranch, and never returned. On record, it was the largest investigation ever conducted in the town of Nirvana. Yet, despite their very best efforts, police were unable to find a trace of those gone missing, and the school bus was never located. It was as if they all had mysteriously disappeared from the face of the earth.
The Cornelius Saga Series (All 15 Books): The Ultimate Adventure-packed Supernatural Thriller Collection Page 66
