A former follower of Pastor Len Vorhees’s Church of the Redeemer, Reba Louise Neilson describes herself as ‘Pamela May Donald’s closest friend’. She still lives in Sannah County, South Texas, where she is the coordinator of the local Christian Women’s Preppers’ Centre. She is adamant that she was never a member of Pastor Vorhees’s Pamelist sect and agreed to talk to me in order ‘to let people know that there are good people living here who never wanted anything bad to happen to those children’. I spoke to Reba on a number of occasions via phone in June and July 2012, and collated our conversations into several accounts.

Stephenie told me about it first. She was crying on the phone, couldn’t hardly get her words out. ‘It’s Pam, Reba,’ she said when I finally got her to calm down. ‘She was on that plane that crashed.’

I told her not to be silly, that Pam was in Japan visiting her daughter, she wasn’t in Florida. ‘Not that plane, Reba. The Japanese one. It’s on the news now.’ Well, my heart just about plummeted into my feet. I’d heard about the crash in Japan of course, as well as the one in that unpronounceable place in Africa, and the plane full of English tourists that crashed into the sea in Europe, but I hadn’t for a minute thought Pam was on it. The whole thing was just terrible. For a while there, it was as if all the planes in the world were dropping out of the sky. The Fox anchors would be reporting on a crash, then they’d flinch and say: ‘And we’ve just heard another plane has gone down…’ My husband Lorne said it was like a never-ending punchline.

I asked Stephenie if she’d told Pastor Len, and she said she’d tried the ranch but Kendra had been vague as usual about when he’d be back, and he wasn’t answering his cellular phone. I hung up and ran into the den to see the news for myself. Behind Melinda Stewart (she’s my favourite Fox anchor, the kind of woman you can imagine getting coffee with, you know?) were two huge photographs, one of Pam and one of that little Jewish boy who survived the Florida crash. I didn’t like to think what Pam would have said about her photo, which must’ve been from her passport and looked for all the world like a mug shot. I hate to say it, but her hair was a mess. Along the bottom of the screen, they kept repeating the words: ‘526 killed in Japanese Sun Air disaster. Sole American on board named as Texan native Pamela May Donald.’

I just sat there, Elspeth, staring at that photograph, reading those words until it finally hit me that Pam really was gone. That nice investigator man, Ace somebody, from that air crash show Lorne likes, came on the line from Florida and said that it was too early to be sure, but it didn’t look like terrorism was involved or anything like that. Melinda asked him if he thought the crashes might have been caused by environmental factors or maybe ‘an act of God’. I didn’t like that, I can tell you, Elspeth! Implying that our Lord had nothing better to do than bat planes out of the air. It’s the Antichrist who would have had a hand in that. I couldn’t move for the longest time, then they showed an overhead shot of a house that looked familiar. And then I realised it was Pam’s house, only it looked smaller from the air. It was then I remembered Jim, Pam’s husband.

I never had much to do with Jim. The way Pam used to speak about him, with a kind of hushed awe, you’d think he was a six-foot giant, but in the flesh he’s not much taller than I am. I don’t like to say this, but I always suspected him of being free with his fists. We never saw bruises on Pam or anything like that. But it was just strange, her acting so cowed all the time. My Lorne, if he even raised his voice to me… Well, I do believe the man is the head of the household of course, but it’s a mutual respect thing, y’know? Still, no one deserves to go through what that man went through, and I knew we had to do something to help him.

Lorne was out back, doing the inventory on the canned fruit and reorganising our dried goods. ‘You can never be too careful’ is what he says, not with those solar flares and globalisation and super storms everyone’s talking about, and no way were we going to be caught unawares. Who knows when Jesus will call us up to join him? I told him what had happened, that Pam had been on that Jap plane. Him and Jim worked together at the B&P plant, and I said he should go over and see if Jim needed anything. He was reluctant–they weren’t close, they worked in different sections–but he went all the same. I thought I’d better stay home, make sure everyone else knew.

I called Pastor Len on his cellphone first; it went straight to voicemail but I left a message. He called me right back and I could tell by the way his voice was shaking that he’d only just heard the news. Pam and I had been members of what he called his ‘inner circle’ for the longest time. Before Pastor Len and Kendra came to Sannah County–we’re talking, oh, fifteen years ago now–I was a member of the New Revelation church over in Denham. It meant a half-hour drive every Sunday and Wednesday for Bible study too, because no way was I going to worship with the Episcopalians, not with their liberal views on the homosexual element.

So you can imagine how cheered I was when Pastor Len arrived in town and took over the old Lutheran church that had been standing empty for the longest time. Back then, I hadn’t heard his radio show. It was his billboards that caught my eye at first. He knew how to attract attention to the Lord’s work! Every week he’d put up a banner with a different message: ‘Like to gamble? Well, the devil deals in souls’; ‘God doesn’t believe in atheists, therefore atheists don’t exist’ were two of my favourites. The only one I didn’t care for showed a picture of a Bible with one of those antennas old cellphones used to have coming out of its top and ‘App for saving your soul,’ which I thought was a little too cutesy. Pastor Len’s congregation was small at first and that’s where I really got to know Pam, although I’d seen her at PTA meetings of course–her Joanie was older than my two. We didn’t always see eye to eye on everything, but no one could say she wasn’t a good Christian woman.

Pastor Len said he’d organised a prayer circle for Pam’s soul the following evening, and, as Kendra was down with one of her headaches, he asked me to call around and tell the Bible study group. Then Lorne came huffing into the house saying that Jim’s place was surrounded by TV news trucks and reporters and there was no answer from inside the house. Well, of course, I told all of this to Pastor Len, who said it was our Christian duty to help Jim in his time of need, even though he wasn’t a member of the church. Pam had always been a bit tight-lipped about that. My Lorne came with me every Sunday, although he didn’t join the Bible study group or the healing prayer circle, and it must have been just terrible for Pam knowing that her husband would be left behind on earth to face the wrath of the Antichrist and burn in hell for all eternity.

Then I set to wondering if Pam’s daughter Joanie would be coming home. She hadn’t been back for two years; there’d been some trouble between her and Jim a while back when she was still at college. He didn’t approve of this boyfriend she had. A Mexican. Or half Mexican, I think he was. Caused a rift right through the family. And I know that hurt Pam. She’d always look wistful when I spoke about my grandchildren. Both of my girls got married straight out of school and settled just minutes away from me. That’s why Pam went to Japan. She missed Joanie something awful.

It was getting late, so Pastor Len said we should go and see Jim early the next morning. Oh, he looked smart when he picked me up at eight the next day! I’ll never forget that, Elspeth. A suit and a red silk tie. But then he always did care about his appearance before he let the devil in. It feels wrong to say this, but I wish I could say the same about Kendra. She and Pastor Len didn’t look like they belonged with each other. She was skinny as a rake and always looked washed-out and dowdy.

I was surprised Kendra came with us that day; she usually has some sort of excuse. I wouldn’t say she was snooty… she just kept her distance, this vague smile on her face, had trouble with her nerves. Is it true that she ended up in one of them places, those… asylums? They don’t call them that any more, do they? Institutions, that’s the word I was fishing for! I can’t help but think that it’s a real blessing they never had children. At least they didn’t get to witness the pain of their mother giving in to her weak mind. I guess it was the gossip about Pastor Len and his fancy woman that sent her over the edge–but let me make it clear, Elspeth, no way, whatever I may think about what he did later, do I give any credence to those rumours.

After a quick prayer, we shot straight over to Pam and Jim’s place. It’s out on Seven Souls road, and the press was lined all the way along it, reporters and those camera people standing outside the gate, smoking and jabbering. Oh glory, I said to Pastor Len, how are we going to get up into Pam’s driveway?

But Pastor Len said we were on Jesus’ business and no one was going to stop us doing our Christian duty. When we pulled up next to the gate, a swarm of reporters came rushing up to us, saying things like, ‘Are you friends of Pam? How do you feel about what’s happened?’ They were taking pictures and filming and I knew right then what those poor celebrities must go through all the time.

‘How do you think we feel?’ I said to a young woman wearing too much mascara who was the pushiest of the bunch. Pastor Len gave me a look as if to say, let me do the talking, but they needed to be put in their place. Pastor Len told them that we were on a mission to help Pam’s husband in his time of need, and that he’d come out to give them a statement as soon as we’d ensured Jim was coping. This seemed to appease them, and they drew back to their media vans.

The curtains were drawn and we banged on the front door but there was no answer. Pastor Len went round back to the yard, but he said it was the same story. Then I remembered that Pam kept a spare key under the plant pot next to the back door just in case she ever locked herself out, so that’s how we got in.

Oh, the smell! Just about slapped you in the face. Kendra went white, it was so bad. And then Snookie yipped and came running down the passageway towards us. Pam would have near had a heart attack if she’d seen her kitchen like that. She’d only been gone two days, but you’d swear a bomb had hit it. Broken glass all over the counter and a cigarette butt dumped in one of Pam’s mother’s best china cups. And Jim couldn’t have let Snookie out once, there were what my Lorne calls doggy landmines all over Pam’s good linoleum. I have to be honest here, Elspeth, as I believe in always speaking the truth, but none of us really liked that dog. Even if Pam bathed her a hundred times a day, she always smelled just awful. And her eyes always had this film over them. But Pam doted on her, and seeing her sniffing at our shoes and looking up at us all hopeful that one of us was Pam… well, it near broke my heart.

‘Jim?’ Pastor Len called. ‘You there?’ The television was on, so after we’d checked the kitchen, we headed to the den.

I almost screamed when we saw him. Jim was slumped in his La-Z-Boy chair, a shotgun across his lap. The curtains were closed, so it was dark and for a second I thought he might be… Then I saw that his mouth was open and he let out a snore. Bottles and beer cans just about near covered the floor and the room stank of alcohol. Sannah County is a dry county, but you can get alcohol if you know where to look. And Jim knew where to look. I don’t like to say this, Elspeth, but I wonder what he would have done if he hadn’t been passed out. If he’d a tried to shoot at us. Pastor Len opened the curtains, cranked a window, and in the light I could see that the front of Jim’s pants was wet.

Pastor Len took charge as I knew he would. He gently took the shotgun off Jim’s lap, then shook his shoulder.

Jim jerked and stared up at us, his eyes redder than a bucket of pig’s blood.

‘Jim,’ Pastor Len said. ‘We’ve just heard about Pam. We’re here for you, Jim. If there’s anything we can do, you know you just have to ask.’

Jim snorted. ‘Yeah, you can eff-word off.’

Well, I just about died. Kendra let out a sound that could have been a laugh–probably shock.

Pastor Len wasn’t at all put out. ‘I know you’re upset, Jim. But we’re here to help you. See you through this.’

And then Jim just started sobbing. His whole body heaved and shook. Whatever they say about Pastor Len now, Elspeth, you should’ve seen how he handled Jim. With real kindness. Took him into the bathroom to get him cleaned up.

Kendra and I just stood there for a while, and then I nudged her and we got to work. Cleaned the kitchen, scooped up the dog poop and gave that La-Z-Boy a good scrub. And all the time Snookie kept following after us with those eyes.

Pastor Len led Jim back into the lounge, and though the poor man smelled a whole lot better, his tears hadn’t dried up none. He was still sobbing and sobbing.

Pastor Len said, ‘If it’s okay with you, Jim, we’d sure like to pray for Pam with you.’

I was expecting Jim to curse at him again, and for a second, I swear, I could see that so did Pastor Len. But that man was broken, Elspeth. Just about tore in two, and later Pastor Len said that was Jesus’ way of showing us that we needed to let him in. But you got to be ready. I’ve seen it a thousand times. Like when we were praying for Stephenie’s cousin Lonnie, the one who had that motor neurons disease. It didn’t work because he hadn’t let the Lord into his heart. Even Jesus can’t work with an empty vessel.

So we knelt right there next to the couch, surrounded by empty beer cans, and prayed.

‘Let the Lord into your heart, Jim,’ Pastor Len said. ‘He’s there for you. He wants to be your Saviour. Can you feel him?’

It was a beautiful thing to see. Here was a man, so smashed by grief that he was crying fit to break, and here was Jesus, just waiting to take him in His arms and put him back together again!

We sat with Jim for a good hour at least. Pastor Len kept saying, ‘You’re now part of our flock, Jim, we’re here for you, just as Jesus is here for you.’ It was so heart-warming, I’m not ashamed to say I cried like a new-born baby.

Pastor Len helped Jim back into his La-Z-Boy and I could see on his face that it was time to get down to practicalities.

‘Now, Jim,’ Pastor Len said. ‘We got to think about the funeral.’

Jim mumbled something about Joanie dealing with that.

‘Aren’t you going to fly over there and bring Pam back?’ Pastor Len asked.

Jim shook his head, and a shifty look came into his eyes. ‘She left me. I told her not to go, but she wouldn’t listen.’

There was a banging on the door and we all jumped. Darn reporters had come up to the house!

We could hear them shouting: ‘Jim! Jim! What do you think about the message?’

Pastor Len looked at me and said, ‘What message they talking about, Reba?’

Well, of course, I didn’t have an inkling.

Pastor Len straightened his tie. ‘I’ll go and sort those vultures out, Jim,’ he said, and Jim looked up at him, that shifty look replaced with pure gratitude. ‘Reba and Kendra will fix you something to eat.’

I was glad to have something to do, Elspeth. Pam, bless her, she’d made a whole lot of meals for Jim, all placed neatly in the freezer, so it was easy just to pull one out and put it into the microwave. Kendra didn’t do much to help, she gathered that dog in her arms and started whispering to it. So it was up to me to get to work cleaning up the rest of the mess in the den and convincing Jim to eat the potpie I’d put on a tray for him.

When Pastor Len came back in the house, he had this dazed expression on his face. Before I could ask what was bothering him, he picked up the TV remote and clicked onto Fox. Melinda Stewart was saying that a bunch of Jap journalists had made their way to the crash site in that forest place where Pam’s plane had gone down, and they’d taken several of the passengers’ cellphones. Some of the passengers–God rest their souls–had recorded messages on their phones when they knew they were going to die, and the reporters had leaked them. Printed them before some of the families knew for sure their loved ones were even gone, if you can credit it.

And one of those messages was from Pam, although I didn’t even know she had a cellphone. Pam’s message was scrolling along the bottom of the screen, and Pastor Len cried, ‘She was trying to tell me something, Reba. Look. My name, right there!’

I guess we’d forgotten about Jim, ’cause we heard him yell, ‘Pam!’ and then he screamed her name over and over.

Kendra didn’t help calm him down. She just stood in the doorway, Snookie in her arms, still cooing at that dog as if it was a baby.