Chapter Four

DANIEL WORKED FOR A week to create my surprise for my sullen, yet sensitive, student. After reading Amanda’s journal entry filled with concern for her deployed mother’s welfare, Lynn and I had arranged for Sydney to video chat from her base. We made sure it timed with Amanda attending the after-school program.

I was reading from The Message and saw the silent reminder on my watch. Out the window, I noticed Lynn making her way to the back door, where Tank would let her into my office to wait. We had five minutes to get set up.

“Amanda, can you help Tank and me with something in my office?”

Suspicious eyes met mine, but she shrugged and got up to follow me. It was a standard procedure not to be completely alone with any of the kids to avoid any question of impropriety. Tank was ahead of me in the hall.

Amanda stopped beside one of the counseling rooms. “Did I do something wrong?”

With a smile plastered on my face to relieve her worry, I shook my head. “Not a chance. I’ve got a surprise for you.” Tank held open my office door.

Amanda’s brow knit in confusion. “Mom, what are you doing here?”

Lynn stood by a chair. “Come sit beside me, and you’ll see.”

Amanda slowly walked to her mom. I sat down at my desk and activated the large monitor on the wall. A private chat window appeared on my laptop, and I typed.

 

You ready?

 

The reply was instant.

 

And waiting.

 

With a single keystroke, pure delight overtook Amanda and Lynn when Major Sydney Parker appeared on the large wall TV.

Amanda yelled and jumped out of her chair. “Mom!”

Tears ran down Lynn’s face, as she looked at her wife in battle fatigues.

Sydney put her hands against the screen as her family did the same. “I only have about fifteen minutes, but Pastor Rhebekka wanted me to show you something. Hang on.”

We watched, as she typed something with the keyboard. The moment she looked back at her wife and daughter, Amanda and Lynn stared at a woman wearing a white helmet adorned with an ornate gold cross that ran over the brow and down her nose. On her chest was a breastplate with a shepherd’s crook crossing over a staff. Sydney stood and took a step back to allow her family to see that she held the sword of salvation and the shield of faith the book of Ephesians talked about. Everything looked exactly like it did in ArchAngel, the game Amanda played with the youth group. Credit was due to my friend, who’d created a masterpiece. Daniel, you’ve outdone yourself.

Amanda smiled from ear to ear. “Whoa, Mom, that’s so cool!”

Lynn wiped away tears and wrapped an arm around Amanda. “See, she’s got plenty of protection.”

I moved around to the door, intent on letting this family have some private time. I stopped short when I heard my name.

Amanda held out her hand. “Pastor Rhebekka, will you pray with us?”

Choking back a sob of my own, I nodded my head. Lynn took one of my hands and Amanda the other. Both of them reached out to cover Sydney’s outstretched palms with their own. It was my honor and privilege to speak to the Almighty with them as we bowed our heads. “Dear heavenly Father…”

 

***

 

By Thursday, I was ready for some adult time. From the sign-up sheets, we’d counted about ten that would be joining us for Salvation and Libations. By my calculations, Karmen would be arriving any second with the pepperoni rolls. Right on time, she walked in with a stack of her homemade deliciousness on a platter.

“Bring it on, Pastor!”

I held up my Bible. “No problem.”

Tank walked in with three growlers of beer in her long fingers. “And I’ve got this.”

Karmen pointed to the leather in my hands.

“And that book is why you facilitate and aren’t allowed to play.”

The next few minutes were spent setting up the tables. My preferred u-shaped configuration allowed me to pour beer and interact easily with each participant. We dressed the surfaces up with red tablecloths and put the game’s answer sheets at each seat. Our game closely resembled pub trivia, Jeopardy style. Participants would wager points in the categories they felt strongest in. Subjects ranged through biblical heroes, Jesus’ parables, women in the Bible, and many others that opened doors for discussion. This was one of my favorite nights. It was the best of all my worlds. I could pick at my guitar, teach faith-affirming lessons, and drink beer with friends.

This activity appealed to a variety of people. Some didn’t attend regular services anywhere, including House of The Rising Son. With Naomi’s example as my guide, I’d set up activities that most traditional churches would have frowned on. When I first moved to Tank’s hometown, I was an outsider, even among the mishmash of other transplants. The area was home to a collective group of families who had been around these parts for generations and others who had migrated for the unique way of life. A considerable percentage of the land was part of the Monongahela National Forest and offered outdoor recreation in its wooded areas and rivers. Two ski resorts, two state parks, and close proximity to Baltimore and Washington D.C. made it a perfect weekend getaway.

Chimes from the entrance alerted me that players were starting to arrive. I greeted my regulars and welcomed newcomers. Senna walked in the door and made a beeline for Karmen. I’d wait a few minutes before going to say hi and allow her to settle in.

“What kind of categories do we have tonight, Pastor?” Tom Roland sat in his normal spot.

The seventy-five-year-old former forester had a passion for the environment. He was a trivia master. He always brought his own beer stein that he’d found in a secondhand shop in New Zealand on one of his travels.

“Oh, I think you’ll find tonight’s subjects of particular interest.” The list of questions related to different types of wood and wooden items from the Bible.

He pointed a finger to my forearm. “New ink?”

I smiled. Tom always noticed when something new adorned a part of my exposed skin. My latest was a replica of my Gibson guitar head. The frets on the neck burst out of my forearm toward my palm. “Yeah, got it done last week.”

“Your artist is very talented. Looks like you could play it. That 3D is incredible.”

I ran my hand over the ridges the needle had made when it embedded the ink. They were still slightly raised. “It took me a long time to find someone with Roman’s talent. Now, I wouldn’t trust anyone else. You ought to go see him.”

He grinned. “This skin is too old to start drawing pictures on it. I’ll just live vicariously through you. Someday, when you finally get that back piece done, I’d like to see it.” He held his hands up. “Don’t take that the wrong way, I meant a picture or a rendition. The little bit I can see of the angel and demon wings is so detailed.”

“No offense taken. Roman is working on a painting of it as well, no worries.” I changed the subject, knowing Tom meant no harm and was looking for a polite exit out of the conversation. “I think you’re going to like tonight’s beer offerings. Go see Tank for a full description.”

He stood and held up his stein. “Excellent idea.”

I liked the man. Tom had been one of the first people to join when I proposed this activity at Redemption’s Road one evening. Naomi had been doing something similar for years. On one of those nights, I’d become so intrigued with her, I’d asked her to dinner.

 

“Pastor Naomi, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner? I’d like to continue the discussion from tonight.” I watched the startlingly beautiful woman gather Bibles from the tables. She looked at me with those ice-blue eyes, so light they were nearly white, and smiled. The magnetic pull made it difficult not to run directly to her.

“That depends.” Naomi moved to another table.

Collecting used red cups, I watched her gather the books. Her calf-length, high-heeled boots clicked across the tile floor. “Depends on what?” Every move she made was captivating. The sway of her hips, the turn of a hand, and the slight tilt of her head as she looked at me. Her gaze created bore holes straight into my soul and made my center clench.

“On where you suggest we go.”

Straight to my bed if I had my way. Chill bumps danced up the back of my neck and forced a shiver down my spine. “Anywhere you’d like. Someplace we can talk.” Her auburn hair fell around her shoulders. I wanted more than anything to sink my hands into those soft, wavy curls and run them through my fingers. I accidentally crushed one of the cups and rushed to throw them away.

“What kind of food do you like?” Naomi stacked the Bibles on the shelf. She leaned against it with her hands behind her, her chest presented front and center as she stretched and slightly arched her back.

That position had to be unintentional. She was far too classy to try and use her body to seduce me so blatantly. Regardless of intention, my eyes were glued to the most beautiful breasts I’d ever had the pleasure to admire, even fully covered. My mouth watered, forcing me to swallow or drool.

“I like just about anything.” I raised my index finger. “Except organs or innards.”

Naomi’s laugh was rich and resonated around the room. It was like hearing my sister sing harmony, filling in all the blank spaces around us.

“No liver and no scrapple, got it. How about I cook for you? I promise to abide by your peculiar dislikes and come up with something you’ll enjoy. That way, we can talk without feeling the need to clear out for anyone waiting to be seated.”

My world spun backward on its axis. She was inviting me to spend an uninterrupted evening with her and offering to cook for me. My eyes dropped to the top of her boots and followed her gorgeous legs all the way up to the tight skirt that hugged her hips. I tracked that same line up her body to the open collar of her pale-yellow blouse that showed me enough cleavage to make me lick my lips. She caught me and flashed a knowing grin, as my face burned with embarrassment. Heaven help me.

“That sounds great.” The voice I’d used to sing my songs to thousands of people failed me, coming out in a squeak. I cleared my throat. “Lead the way.”

 

That night, Naomi had worked hard to convince me I was worthy of grace, though everything about my previous experience with religion had reinforced how undeserving I was. My entire life had been measured by an unattainable standard that left me feeling unworthy of Christ’s sacrifice. What she said to me completely turned my world upside down.

For years, I’d sat uncomfortably on a stage, going over my talking points and counterarguments, all while being graded on my performance. These practice sessions, in front of the entire congregation, served as a measurement for our ability to persuade others that we were the only ones that had the truth when it came to God. All others offered false hope. For thirty cents, you could have your very own latest, greatest issue of the truth according to us.

I will say that being a Jehovah’s Witness gave me all the practice I needed to talk in public and be on a stage. That was my only positive takeaway. According to my mother, when I left behind those beliefs and found a different point of view, I lost my chance at eternal life. It took me years to understand that, in that loss, I’d gained my soul. I turned my thoughts back to my gathering.

“Senna, good to see you. Are you going to play individually or on a team with Karmen? I’ll warn you, she’s a ringer if you go up against her.”

Karmen brushed her knuckles along her chest and blew on them in smug agreement.

Senna pointed a thumb to her boss. “Think I’ll stick with her then. I know plenty about beer. The Bible, on the other hand, I’m a little rusty. Last time I sat in a church was at my cousin’s wedding over five years ago. I don’t exactly fit in.” Senna pointed first to her dreadlocks then to her attire.

“Remember who Jesus hung out with. It wasn’t the rich and famous or even the most popular or pious. He hung out with the poor, the outcast, and even the unclean. All are welcome here.” I indicated for her to have a seat at Karmen’s table.

I made my way around the room, greeting everyone and catching up with a few people who hadn’t been around in a while. The new Unitarian minister, a man in his twenties, had joined us for the last few weeks. Rev. Mathew’s presence at our gatherings was well accepted. He was a favorite that the others fought to have on their team.

“Okay everyone, let’s get started. I’m sure Tank has given you the lowdown on tonight’s offerings of Brimstone Stout, Threshing Floor IPA, and Eden’s Amber. For anyone partaking of tonight’s liquid refreshments, Tank is your bartender and driver of Elijah’s chariot. Drop your keys in the fishbowl over there, and we’ll make sure you get home safe and sound. Round one’s categories are the following.” I wrote on a large whiteboard.

The Tree of Life

H²O

It’s a Miracle.

Each short round included five questions in varying in degrees of difficulty. “Anyone have any questions as to how we play?” I looked to Karmen to confirm Senna understood the game. She nodded back at me.

“Here we go.”

 

***

 

Three hours later, Tank and I’d dropped off the last of our charges along with their vehicles. Black coffee was the refreshment of choice for me to keep the score and my pronunciations correct. Tom and Rev. Mathew had wiped the floor with the other teams, as expected. The group made them solemnly vow to not play as a team again and to give everyone a fighting chance. The pepperoni rolls and brownies had been devoured, but enough beer remained for me to enjoy a few drinks when we got back. Letting Tank drive the van was an easy decision. I rested in the passenger seat with my eyes closed. Lately, I’d been suffering from an exceptional bout of insomnia, even for me, wandering my loft and writing songs with alarming frequency. I rubbed my eyes.

Tank adjusted the heat. “You going to talk to me about it?”

I tucked my hands in my leather jacket and yawned. “Not much to talk about.”

“Bullshit. I’ve been with you too long. Only two other people know you as well as I do. If they were here, both would call you on it too.”

She was right. I was throwing out a line of crap to avoid talking about what was keeping me up at night. “It’s nothing, Tank. I’m just not sleeping well.”

“No shit, Sherlock. On a good day, you only sleep three or four hours. I’m betting a catnap at best, not sleeping even a solid hour.”

“You ought to become a detective with those skills. Don’t give up your day job though.” I was being snarky, and she didn’t deserve it. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, tell me what’s wrong.”

I turned my head to the window and watched the darkened scenery pass by. Snow-covered trees and indistinguishable objects lay under a thick blanket of white. Once we made it into Davis, there were streetlights to illuminate the sidewalks and building fronts. A few people rushed around, exiting doors to find their car or apartment. We passed the massage therapy and acupuncture business, reminding me that my elbow was acting up from the amount of playing I’d been doing.

“I need to call and make an appointment,” I mumbled.

“I can’t hear you when you turn away from me. A decade or so of standing off stage did a number on my hearing. Speak up.”

“Just reminding myself to make an acupuncture appointment.”

Tank waved a group of pedestrians across the street in front of her. “You’ve been playing a ton and likely have tendonitis again. What’s got you rattled? No bullshit this time.”

I let out a long sigh. Tank would keep dogging me until I either snapped at her or told her what she wanted to know. “The concert in Pittsburgh.”

Tank nodded. “Thought so. Easy decision, go.”

Another few minutes and we’d be home. Tank would drop me off and go back to her apartment in the back of the brewpub I owned and that she ran for me. “No matter what you think, it’s not that easy.”

“Oh, it’s that easy. You get your ass on the interstate and drive north. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy, kind of easy.”

I flipped her the bird.

“My, my, Reverend. Good thing you’re a new age pastor, or you’d have to do some penance like sacrificing a pineapple or something. The only thing stopping you, Bek, is you. If Ellie asked me to come, I’d crawl on my hands and knees with a mouthful of saltine crackers, whistling The Star-Spangled Banner. Dammit, it’s a Saturday concert. You schedule one of your lay speakers to do the sermon on Sunday, and you get your ass to Pittsburgh. Be there for your only sister. Get off the cross, Bek, someone needs the wood.”

Tank pulled up to the giant Jesus and let me out without saying another word. When I shut the door, she left. I looked up to the shadow with outstretched arms and prayed.