Chapter 6

 

 

The ping of the alarm on Amber’s watch brought her out of her haze of data entry. Hours of inputting dates and names into a spreadsheet, and she hadn’t even taken a break for lunch. But she was nearly done and should soon be able to play around with the data and, hopefully, come up with the cross-references Sandy hoped to find.

Meanwhile, the alarm reminded her to get ready in time to drive out to Apache Junction and find this Temple of the Rising Moon. From what Sandy and Mary had said, the evening service promised to be an interesting experience. She rose from her chair and did a few stretches to get the kinks out, shut down her computer, and headed for the bedroom.

Her normal taste ran toward stretchy fabrics and exercise wear, but a scan through her closet showed she still owned a voluminous broomstick skirt her mother had sent one year for her birthday. It made her feel squatty and even shorter than her petite five-foot-one, so she never wore it. A perfect disguise. She pulled it off the hanger and added a T-shirt, covered by a blocky ribbon jacket—another gift from Mom—and the outfit seemed okay.

She put everything on, shook her hair out of its bun, and took a look in the mirror. With her caramel skin, curly hair, and the ill-fitting clothing she might come close to blending in at this ‘moon temple’ or whatever it was. At least no one who knew her would recognize this version. She added three strands of beads for effect and left her apartment.

How far out in the sticks is Apache Junction, she began to wonder as the miles peeled away. The population of the metro area grew by the year, and in winter it became almost overwhelming as snowbirds crammed in and the traffic became impossible. Her parents had been after her for years to move back home to Santa Fe, but that wasn’t really her style either. She’d loved living in a young, hip college city where jobs for computer geniuses were plentiful.

Her GPS informed her she was arriving at her destination in one-quarter mile, and she spotted the massive building before she got there.

Temple? Okay, she thought as she pulled into a crowded parking lot. By all appearances it had probably been a warehouse, but the addition of an elaborate wooden sign and strategically placed up-lighting to showcase the palm trees that flanked the double front doors helped create a certain ambiance.

People were streaming into the building, and a tour bus arrived at the front door to discharge more. Amber cruised rows of parked cars without seeing a single open spot, but a man in an orange vest caught her attention as he directed traffic around to the back of the building.

This is a bigger deal than I ever imagined.

The back lot was rapidly filling, as well. She parked, locked her car, and filed along a walkway with the crowd to enter the building.

A raised stage had been constructed up front, with deep purple draperies as a backdrop and huge pots of white lilies highlighted by spotlights. Tiers of raised seating meant there wasn’t a bad seat in the house. A thousand people would have an unobstructed view of Orion, or Sunshine, or whoever was going to speak to them. Amber tucked herself into a seat in the middle of a row. She was here merely to observe, not to call attention to herself.

The lights blinked subtly a couple of times and the soft background music rose in a crescendo as the lights dimmed fully. The crowd went silent. All movement stopped.

Amber consciously let out her breath. It was as if the entire assemblage had fallen under a trance and not a word had yet been spoken.

Suddenly, a soft pink spotlight came on at the back of the hall. It fell on a beautiful blonde woman in a long white gown. She carried a wireless microphone and when her voice came through, it filled the space with a melodic, soft tone.

“Welcome.” She came down the aisle from behind the crowd, floating toward the front. People actually gasped as she passed their seats. Her gown shimmered with ethereal light.

A woman seated next to Amber breathed “an angel” as the vision passed them.

“Welcome,” said the angel once more. She glided up a short set of steps to the stage, where she paused to face the section of seats to her left. A deferential bow. “Thank you,” she told the people.

Then to the center of the stage and the same reverence for those seated in front. The same words and motions then repeated to those on the right. At last, she stood in the center of the stage and looked up, taking in the entire audience. “Thank you, everyone. We are so grateful for your presence here tonight.”

She had every one of them in the palm of her hand.

“My name is Sunshine, and I want to share some amazing things with you this evening. We are doing some amazing things—all of us, you and I. We each have the opportunity to make an incredible difference in someone’s life.”

She went on in this vein for another minute or two, but not long enough for the assembly to become impatient. Amber caught a flicker of movement at the backdrop curtain, and a moment later Sunshine introduced—with a flourish—her husband, Orion.

From the folds of the curtain, out stepped a tall man, also dressed completely in white—gauzy pants, long tunic, sandals. While Sunshine’s gown practically glittered, Orion’s clothing emanated an almost opalescent glow. Was it a quality of the fabric or of the lighting? His appearance was completed by long, wavy brown hair that hung to his shoulders and an amethyst-colored medallion, held in the center of his chest by a glittering strand of purple beads. Amber watched in fascination as he raised both arms then brought them down to a prayer position and bowed from the waist to salute his audience.

“We are indeed blessed, especially at this holiday season,” Orion began. His voice was low and cultured, with a hint of an accent that hinted at classical theater training. “I am particularly blessed, my friends, because but for the grace of God I would at this moment be … dead.”

He let the word hang in the air long enough for the collective gasp to whoosh through the room.

“Yes, that is true. I died … four months ago.”

Sunshine, at least ten inches shorter than her husband, stood to the side, gazing devotedly up into his face. She nodded and blinked back some tears when he made his pronouncement.

“Yes, my good people, I was a dead man but I was called back to continue serving. It was not my time to leave this earth.”

He went into a tale of horrific chest pain and being taken to a medical facility. He claimed to have risen from his body and hovered overhead while a doctor pronounced him dead, followed by a vision of a bright light and a voice saying he was not to leave yet for he had more work to do here on earth. His voice rose at the dramatic point and grew soft in all the right places during his story. If Amber had not grown up among the many actors her parents hosted as friends, she might have hung on every word, just the way the rest of the audience appeared to be doing.

Orion ended his story with head bowed, apparently depleted by the telling, and Sunshine took over.

“And so, my friends and loved ones here tonight,” she said. “This experience taught us much. One, we are grateful for every day we have together.” She took his hand. “And two, we have a calling to do great things. We left that hospital, my friends, and we began our true mission in this life—to build houses for those who do not have a decent place to live. Our first action was to give our own home to a deserving family. Yes, we moved a few necessary items into a bus we refurbished as our home, and we gave away the four-bedroom split-level house in the suburbs of Houston.”

A pause for effect. “And now we travel the highways of our great nation, stopping when a place calls out to us, gathering good people such as yourselves to help the cause. In a few minutes we’ll pass the hat, and we will cherish and put to good use anything you can contribute to this worthy cause.”

As she spoke large screens, which had previously been unseen in the darkness, lit up with a series of scenes. Houses under construction showed smiling people hammering away and erecting wooden framing. Electricians and plumbers gladly gave of their time, volunteers painted the walls, and happy families stood outside finished homes, smiling and hugging.

“This, dear friends, is the work we do. We have built homes in ten states with the money we’ve raised, and we intend to give free homes to needy people in all fifty states before the end of next year!”

Applause began near the back of the auditorium and quickly spread.

“Can you see the goal?” Sunshine called out. “Can you feel it?”

The noise intensified.

“Can I get an Amen on that!” She was pacing the stage now, calling out to the crowd, whipping up their enthusiasm. Her angelic gown flowed, but gone were the subtle moves. Now she was aggressively inviting participation. The music swelled.

Orion walked to the edges of the stage to make eye contact with those in the first rows, hands together at his chest. People who received his blessing began to pull out tissues and wipe their eyes.

The music dropped in volume and Sunshine stopped precisely in the middle of the stage. “Folks, it’s Christmas. Can you imagine those poor people who have no homes in which to hang their stockings, no warm hearth, not even a kitchen where they can share the joy of baking cookies with their children or preparing a holiday meal? There’s a homeless shelter right next to us here—we can help those folks. Even a dollar, or five, or twenty makes a difference. A hundred or two is a godsend. Help us, please?” Her voice cracked and she carefully wiped an elegantly manicured fingertip beneath each eye.

Precisely on cue men in white pants and shirts appeared at the ends of the rows of seats. Baskets on long poles paused at every seat, waiting until the occupant dropped something inside.