AS THE PILGRIMAGES to the heifer showed no signs of letup, most area churches began discussing what Nasya meant. Was she a miracle, a portent, or an abused animal? Even Pastor Albright, at Riverside United Church of Christ, preached about her at the eleven o’clock service:
The Word of God according to the prophet Hosea: “I desire goodness, not sacrifice; Obedience to God, rather than burnt offerings…They have made them molten images, idols, by their skill, from their silver, wholly the work of craftsmen. Yet for these they appoint men to sacrifice. They are wont to kiss calves!”
When I was preparing today’s sermon, I had to keep reminding myself that Jesus was telling me that I could only cast the first stone if I was without sin myself. And if you in the congregation don’t know it, my wife can surely tell you that I am definitely not free of sin!
A ripple of laughter ran through the congregation at Riverside United as Pastor Albright continued:
So I’m not going to stand here and tell you that our Christian brothers and sisters are kissing calves out at the Schapen farm, or acting like harlots, or any of the other abominations that Hosea spells out. You know, when I read the Book of Hosea I am uncomfortably aware that the Bible is not suitable reading for young children.
The congregation laughed again, and Pastor Albright went on in his conversational style to talk about sacrifice, and what it meant.
We believe with Paul that when Jesus sacrificed Himself on the cross, it was once and for all time a complete sacrifice for mankind. It means we no longer have to offer literal burnt animals to the Lord, because Jesus shed His blood for all of us. But He also left us some pretty stern commandments. He told us that the most important commandment was to worship God with all our hearts, and, right behind that, to love our neighbor as ourselves. And I can’t help wondering how much of that neighborly love is going on in our community these days.
Jim, sitting next to Lara near the back of the church, let the words flow over him without registering them. He couldn’t seem to notice anything around him these days. Even the crowds that continued to chew up the gravel on the county road, spreading dust into the Grellier house as they raced to Schapens’, scarcely existed for him as he struggled with his silent, withdrawn wife.
The worry churned round in Jim’s head as Pastor Albright spoke on the hubris of supposing we know what’s in God’s mind. “Does God want war? Does He want us to rebuild the Temple? We can only study Scripture and pray for guidance. We can’t presume to say with certainty, ‘We are doing exactly what God wants.’”
Jim didn’t know anymore if he agreed or disagreed with Pastor Albright and the board of directors on anything. He’d been opposed to Riverside’s war resolution, when the directors prayerfully announced the church’s opposition to the war in Iraq, but it was clear now that they’d been right and he’d been wrong. Would Chip still be alive if Jim had agreed with Susan, if he’d opposed the war, too?
Lara nudged him: the collection plate was being passed in front of him. The sermon had ended, and he hadn’t noticed.
A dozen times in the last week, he’d picked up the phone to call Gina: “This is Jim Grellier. You doing okay? Susan’s home from the hospital, and the social worker says it would do her good for her friends to visit her. Could you stop by?” He kept rehearsing his careful words, because what he really wished was that Gina would come visit him. Each time he pressed the SPEED DIAL button, he put the phone down before it started ringing, afraid he wouldn’t be able to mask his neediness if Gina answered.
He knew Elaine Logan was still camping out at Fremantles’, because most days he saw her standing by the train tracks, thumbing a ride into town. With all the people driving to Schapens’, it seemed someone was usually willing to stop for her. Jim couldn’t bring himself to talk to her, let alone give her a lift—the shame and anger he’d felt the night he found Elaine on Gina’s doorstep still felt like a physical pain around his heart.
Curly, back at work, told Jim about the scene at Schapens’ farm, when Elaine accused Myra of killing her baby. Curly said it took six men to get Elaine to her feet. He said the Herald reporter had coaxed Elaine to ride into town, promising the paper would investigate if Elaine gave them all the details. The reporter had gone through all the unsolved child murders for the last forty years but hadn’t found any that might plausibly connect Myra and Elaine and a baby.
Jim had been ashamed with himself for listening to the whole story, knowing that all he really wanted was for Curly to mention Gina’s name. But of course Gina hadn’t played any role in Elaine’s drama. And not even Curly knew what Gina was up to, although he did report that she kept poking around in the ruins of the old bunkhouse.
“They’re getting ready for another bonfire, you know,” he’d told Jim. “For Halloween. Maybe Susan would like to take part in it, give her something to be interested in.”
Blitz had silenced Curly with a ferocious glare, but in a moment of gallows humor Jim had thought maybe it wasn’t a bad idea. He could drive Susan over. It would be something more fun for her than farm accounts.
Even though Gina didn’t come, or even call, several members of K-PAW did drive out one evening after their weekly meeting. Susan couldn’t seem to remember who they were or what the protest was about. They finally left, with little chirping admonitions of “Peace,” like the hippies used to say back in the sixties. Jim asked them if Gina was still part of their anti-war movement, and Oscar Herschel, the ringleader, said, “Oh, yes. She doesn’t make it to meetings very often, but she’s still committed to the cause.”
Jim was trying hard not to take his anxieties out on his daughter the way he had earlier in the fall when Susan was collapsing, but he couldn’t cope with the way she kept vanishing. He worried that she was sneaking into the heifer’s pen, trying to jeopardize Arnie’s big success. And even though she swore she hadn’t crawled into the enclosure again, he could tell she was lying, or at any rate concealing something. At least she had stopped failing her classes at school. She wasn’t doing well, not the honor-roll work she’d produced her freshman year, but Rachel Carmody had assured him that at least Lara was going through the motions these days.
His daughter poked him again; once more, he returned to the present with a jolt. The service had ended, and everyone was getting up. Jim might as well have stayed in bed, for all the attention he’d paid. Low-pitched laughter and conversation floated around him. Pastor Natalie, the associate who was trained in pastoral counseling, came over, as the other clergy took up their posts by the door.
“When can I visit Susan?” she asked Jim.
“She’s not doing well with visitors right now, Natalie.”
“That’s what I hear. If you don’t mind, I’d like to see her. We miss her around here. Is Wednesday afternoon good for you? You’re out near that miracle calf, aren’t you?”
“The miracle calf is near us,” Lara said. “I want to charge Arnie Schapen a dollar for every car that goes by because I’m the one cleaning off the dust they spread all over our house.”
“Have you seen it?” Pastor Natalie asked.
Lara clasped her hands and assumed an expression of total sanctity. “Girls aren’t allowed in. Didn’t you know our menstrual blood might make the calf start hemorrhaging or something?”
“Lulu! Enough.”
Jim felt his face burning, embarrassed at his daughter’s language, despite Pastor Natalie’s spurt of laughter. Natalie looked at him, her laughter turning to sorrow and pity. Rachel Carmody had given him a similar look when he came into church this morning. He was a Grellier, damn it all, not an object of pity. If this was how people were going to treat him, he’d stop coming to church.
“You do what you think you need to do, Natalie.” He turned away. “Lulu—pancakes today?”
It was their old Sunday ritual, which they hadn’t followed since Chip’s death, pancakes after church. Jim waited tensely, afraid Lara would turn him down and disappear on her mysterious errands, but after a brief hesitation, when he saw her look at her watch, she agreed.
They walked over to the river before getting into Jim’s truck. The church had originally been built during a drought cycle; it wasn’t until the first time the Kaw overflowed its banks that the settlers realized their mistake. The second building was set back from the river’s bank; the church planted a peace garden between the new building and the river.
Lara ran her fingers through the dry lavender flowers. “Dad, you know it’ll be a good thing for Pastor Natalie to see Mom. One of these days, someone is going to say the right thing to Mom, the thing that will make her come back to life. Like the prince in ‘Sleeping Beauty.’”
“So I’m not really a prince—is that what you’re saying?—because my kisses don’t have any magic to them?”
Lara blushed and snapped off a piece of lavender. It was when she bent over the plant that Jim noticed the hickey on her neck. So someone was kissing her, that was where she was flitting off to. He felt a further abandonment as well as worry. Who could she be seeing that she didn’t want to tell him about?
All through lunch, he tried to summon up the language to talk to her about it. It wasn’t until they were heading back to the farm that Jim said, “Lulu, you’re too young for sex. I’m afraid if I ask you, you’ll lie to me. So I’m just going to say—if that’s become part of your life, will you promise to be responsible?” He kept his eyes on the road but was aware of her looking at him, her dark eyes large, her cheeks crimson. “You know what that means, right? You—you take steps to see that you’re—” He stumbled over the words. “Safe sex. You know what that means, don’t you?”
“Dad, please. I can’t. It isn’t like that. We just hang out,” she whispered. “How did you know I was—”
“I didn’t just fall off a turnip truck, baby,” he said when she couldn’t finish the sentence. “Why don’t you want me to know his name? Is it someone—Oh! Robbie Schapen, of course. That’s why Arnie didn’t skin your ass when you were in his manger!”
“Dad! Mr. Schapen doesn’t know. He’ll kill Robbie if he finds out. You can’t tell him. Promise you won’t tell him!”
“You two are playing with fire, if you think someone won’t see you and rat on you. But, of course, I won’t talk to Arnie. Maybe as long as these crowds keep up, he won’t notice anything. Bring Robbie to the house, though: don’t go sneaking off with him in your pickup.”
They’d reached home. She dashed inside, still scarlet around the ears. Robbie Schapen. He wasn’t Jim’s first choice for his daughter, not that family with their violent religion, their dislike of women, not to mention their hatred for Jim himself. But he couldn’t forbid Lara from seeing Robbie. Then she’d become even more secretive. And, anyway, he couldn’t face any more friction in his family. As long as there were no pregnancies, no bad diseases. If she made it to twenty-one without those, without getting killed on the Kansas highways, or fleeing to a distant war—
If, God, if, if, if. Keep her safe for me. Can’t you do this one thing, Jesus, or are you really not omnipotent after all?