Chapter Eight

TWITCH USED ABOUT every swear I’d ever heard and two or three I’d never heard before as he drove the couple of blocks to the church where McGerber worshiped. The church had fewer and smaller stained-glass windows than the Catholic church. Arborvitae shrubs, passing as landscaping, lined the perimeter of the building and sidewalks. Our family attended that church too—Momma under the force of her religious convictions, Dad and I under the force of Momma. Lately, not even Momma could make me go since Charity wasn’t home to go with me, and I was still trying to make sense of Becky killing herself thinking God required her sacrifice. I doubted Twitch had ever been there before other than for funerals or weddings—Becky’s had been held there.

The monthly potluck dinner had ended. My stomach ached a bit. I could almost taste the goulash and seven-layer bars. Thinking of it made me miss church a little. I lowered my head and avoided eye contact. Kind people, generous good-hearted people I’d known all my life had brought their hot dishes, Jell-O salads, chips, and bars to the church. The food, plates, silverware, and lemonade thermos and fifty-cup coffee urn covered most of two banquet tables. A white canopy sheltered five or six banquet tables and an army of khaki folding chairs. As the men milled around, women and high school age kids cleared the tables, bringing the leftovers and dishes through the church’s side door and down the basement into the kitchen.

If the schedule hadn’t changed I knew there’d be an evening Bible study after the meal. I remembered the few times I’d gone and had my fill of comfort food and fought sleep as I sat through the Bible lesson. That night a handful of believers scurried out of the brown brick edifice and down the concrete stairs to the parking lot. They were gutsy enough to attend the meal, but skipped out on the Bible study.

Pastor Grind stood solid like a gargoyle at the top of the cement steps watching and probably judging everything. McGerber joined Grind. The holy duo gassed with each other and observed the estate. McGerber probably evaluated the youth and got excited thinking about awarding his scholarship the next spring. Maybe he searched for Addie. The youth who weren’t assisting with clean-up stood talking on the church steps.

Twitch got out of the Jeep. “Come on!” I followed.

“McGerber!” Twitch called him before he’d finished with Pastor Grind. “McGerber, come down off the mountain top.”

McGerber mumbled something to Pastor Grind and descended the steps. He probably wondered if Twitch came to hit him again.

“What do you want?” McGerber sneered. Pastor Grind followed on McGerber’s heels. I saw some of Charity’s features in Grind’s face. He didn’t have her perfect nose, but his eyes, he had the same hound-dog-brown eyes as Charity. I hoped he could look on me with some compassion.

Twitch raised his head. “Thought you might want to know. Addie won’t be home tonight or ever if I can help it.”

“Addie?” McGerber said. He tilted his head and looked befuddled. “What have you done with…?”

“Stay away from her. You sick bastard!” Twitch said. “She came to the clinic.”

“I know that. I brought her to the clinic, but she’s not sick.” McGerber babbled red-faced. “Her womanly…”

“No, she’s not sick and she ain’t pregnant anymore either,” Twitch shouted.

I didn’t like that he’d said the P-word so loud with so many people still around. I could almost feel the rush of air as people’s heads turned to listen in on this private conversation. What if Addie had to go to Bend High School in the fall? These kids would tell what they’d heard just as certain as anyone else would. She’d be gossiped about every day and harassed by boys who thought it made her a whore. They’d bully her and about every one of them would wish for a chance to have sex with her too.

“Pregnant? How could that girl…”

“Like you don’t know,” Twitch said.

“What?” McGerber wobbled and took a step back. Finally, Twitch’s implication seemed to on him. He staggered backwards, more stricken than the day Twitch hit him in the face. I felt a little sorry for him.

“I’ve got the tissue sample to prove it.” Twitch patted his coat pocket. “If you don’t want to be some prison inmate’s girlfriend you better stay away from her.” Then Twitch yelled at Pastor Grind. “Hey, Padre, you’re keeping some pretty poor company. Did you have any part in that girl being put in foster care with this pervert?”

“Gentlemen, let’s go into my office,” Pastor Grind said. “Don’t air such serious allegations and Addie’s private business out here like this.”

I thought it was one of the wisest things I’d ever heard come out of Grind’s mouth, but no way in hell did I ever want to be in his office again. Neither McGerber nor Twitch seemed interested in having a visit in Pastor Grind’s office either.

McGerber’s face shone purple in the fading evening light and I thought he might stroke out. “You’ll pay for these lies, Twitchell. All of the ungodly will pay.” He flashed an evil eye at me and then glared at Twitch. “You’re nothing but a drunken letch.”

“You know, McGerber, you’re right. I’m a drunk and I’ve even had affairs with married women. Shame on me for all I’ve done. God, if there is a God, might just send me straight to hell for the things I’ve done, if there is a hell. But God damn it, shame on you for being the hypocrite you are and damn you for being sexual with a child.”

McGerber threw a punch at Twitch that might have landed if Pastor Grind hadn’t grabbed the old man from behind.

“There’ll be no violence here, gentlemen.” Pastor Grind locked his arms around McGerber’s torso and pinned him. It would have been a good time to slug them both, but Twitch didn’t raise his fists.

The old man struggled against Grind’s hold but couldn’t break loose. Charity’s dad was a tall, muscular guy when it came down to it. He easily controlled McGerber without breaking a sweat or losing his balance.

“Now, Julian Carver McGerber, calm yourself down,” Pastor Grind said. “I’m strong enough and stubborn enough to restrain you for several hours if that’s what it takes to keep you from making a fool of yourself.”

“You let me go, Allister,” McGerber said, but he quit fighting against Grind. Once Grind released him McGerber straightened his suit coat, but he slumped as he turned to face Grind. Maybe he felt the weight of what he’d done. At least he felt the weight of the accusation.

“You can’t possibly believe I would lay with that girl?” McGerber whimpered to Grind. “I would never defile a child or the memory of my Mary.” Then McGerber turned to Twitch and me.

“This isn’t over, Twitchell.” McGerber said. He straightened his suit again, ran his fingers over his mostly bald head and subdued the remaining gray hair around his ears. Then he walked to his car, got in, and drove away.

“Are you certain about what you said?” Grind regarded Twitch and me. “I’ve never seen anything in him that would make me suspect such a thing.”

“Addie, the girl, she’s been living with McGerber,” Twitch said. “I saw the miscarriage myself. She was pregnant and miscarried, and I heard her say she’s afraid McGerber’s going to be mad at her about it. Sounds pretty clear to me.”

“Where’s Addie?” Grind asked. “Do you need anything from me? I will help in any way I can. She certainly requires my counsel.”

Yeah right, he’d probably lecture her about disappointing God by having premarital sex.

“Thanks, Padre, but the rest of us sinners have got it covered. The girl miscarried tonight at the clinic. She’s out at the Tyler place. Peggy’s attending to her.”

“I’ll call the County social worker who arranged the placement first thing in the morning,” Grind said.

I had to ask him. “You won’t try to take her back to him, will you?”

“No, Lorraine. I won’t do that. It’ll be up to social services. I won’t interfere.”

I wished I could believe him. I wished he could understand and accept that I loved his daughter. There’s nothing to fear from love.