the door.
“Tuck your shirt in, miss,” my grandmother instructed as we neared the church. She could not abide clothes that lapped over other clothes.
Even though the temperatures were subfreezing, the famous Pastor Jim, author of the quote “People shouldn’t tamper with other people’s things,” stood at the entrance without a hat or coat, greeting groups as they approached. He shook hands with the foursome from the car and then a family behind them. He lunged at the two children, doing an imitation of an ape.
He didn’t appear to have any evil tics, at least not ones as easily spotted as the man who bashed his wife on 20/20 . I suspected Pastor Jim of having an unhealthy influence on Natalie’s life. Maybe he was the crazymadman behind her loony secret. I hoped he wasn’t planning on coming after me.
What kind of spiritual leader wants pregnant girls to hide their babies, though?
My grandmother and I stepped toward him, and Pastor Jim clasped Nana’s hands.
“How are you today, Cecile?” he asked.
She sighed and said she was fine but feeding more mouths these days and some of those mouths could be quite sassy and unappreciative. She arched an eyebrow at me.
“You bear up well,” Pastor Jim remarked.
Then he took my hand. “So good you could join us today, Kelly Marie.” He gave me a vigorous pump, as friendly as a golden retriever.
“I’ve heard about you from your cousin.” He smiled.
“Louise,” I corrected.
“Oh yes, Kelly Louise,” he reminded himself.
He continued to hold my hand, though he was looking at Nana.
“Thank you for the information about Guatemala you sent the other day,” Nana interrupted, sensing me about to ask about multiplufornication tables. Nana knew my moods.
Had Pastor Jim done screwy things to Natalie’s mind,maybe without intending to? Natalie repeated things he said, like: “We should strive to be pure of heart” and “Our deeds now shall be recorded in our future,” which were statements that didn’t seem to have double meanings—but maybe if you played them backward on a tape recorder you could hear devilishness in them. Though Natalie treated Pastor Jim like the keeper of the Pearly Gates, to me he earned maybe a six on the Maximum Man scale, getting what points he did for looking like Al Gore.
“God be with you.” He squeezed my hand before he released me. A fairly large number of people streamed up the steps behind us, so he had to move on to the next set of handshakes.
Nana and I entered the apse and waited while a crew taped down a wire for a television camera. When they were finished, Nana conducted me to an empty pew close to the front of the left aisle. I slid in first, all the way, and leaned my head on the wall.
“They’ve been filming services since…” Nana whispered, stopping her words before she mentioned Baby Grace.
Baby Grace was a lump in both our throats for a few seconds.
One of the cameras had a NewsCenter 6 logo. Imight be on television in Des Moines later, in an update about how the town of Heaven was coping with its recent tragedy. Somehow I didn’t feel like waving to Katy, and it wasn’t just because my hair was frizzy.
The church building had no windows. Spotlights illuminated the pulpit, and the cross behind it was lit by blue bulbs on its underside. The advantage of a church so big was that it could double as a reception room for weddings. The pews were detachable, so if Pastor Jim wanted to convert the space into a bowling alley, he could probably do that, too, at very little expense.
Nana put her hand over mine and squeezed hard, the way you might grip a dog’s leash if you were afraid of it leaping at another dog or spinning in a circle and biting its own leg. The room was crowded with people who knew my cousin. I folded my bulletin into a paper airplane. Since I was in his house anyway, I decided to ask God if he would help me. I wanted him to keep my family safe and not send down a lightning bolt to
“Tuck your shirt in, miss,” my grandmother instructed as we neared the church. She could not abide clothes that lapped over other clothes.
Even though the temperatures were subfreezing, the famous Pastor Jim, author of the quote “People shouldn’t tamper with other people’s things,” stood at the entrance without a hat or coat, greeting groups as they approached. He shook hands with the foursome from the car and then a family behind them. He lunged at the two children, doing an imitation of an ape.
He didn’t appear to have any evil tics, at least not ones as easily spotted as the man who bashed his wife on 20/20 . I suspected Pastor Jim of having an unhealthy influence on Natalie’s life. Maybe he was the crazymadman behind her loony secret. I hoped he wasn’t planning on coming after me.
What kind of spiritual leader wants pregnant girls to hide their babies, though?
My grandmother and I stepped toward him, and Pastor Jim clasped Nana’s hands.
“How are you today, Cecile?” he asked.
She sighed and said she was fine but feeding more mouths these days and some of those mouths could be quite sassy and unappreciative. She arched an eyebrow at me.
“You bear up well,” Pastor Jim remarked.
Then he took my hand. “So good you could join us today, Kelly Marie.” He gave me a vigorous pump, as friendly as a golden retriever.
“I’ve heard about you from your cousin.” He smiled.
“Louise,” I corrected.
“Oh yes, Kelly Louise,” he reminded himself.
He continued to hold my hand, though he was looking at Nana.
“Thank you for the information about Guatemala you sent the other day,” Nana interrupted, sensing me about to ask about multiplufornication tables. Nana knew my moods.
Had Pastor Jim done screwy things to Natalie’s mind,maybe without intending to? Natalie repeated things he said, like: “We should strive to be pure of heart” and “Our deeds now shall be recorded in our future,” which were statements that didn’t seem to have double meanings—but maybe if you played them backward on a tape recorder you could hear devilishness in them. Though Natalie treated Pastor Jim like the keeper of the Pearly Gates, to me he earned maybe a six on the Maximum Man scale, getting what points he did for looking like Al Gore.
“God be with you.” He squeezed my hand before he released me. A fairly large number of people streamed up the steps behind us, so he had to move on to the next set of handshakes.
Nana and I entered the apse and waited while a crew taped down a wire for a television camera. When they were finished, Nana conducted me to an empty pew close to the front of the left aisle. I slid in first, all the way, and leaned my head on the wall.
“They’ve been filming services since…” Nana whispered, stopping her words before she mentioned Baby Grace.
Baby Grace was a lump in both our throats for a few seconds.
One of the cameras had a NewsCenter 6 logo. Imight be on television in Des Moines later, in an update about how the town of Heaven was coping with its recent tragedy. Somehow I didn’t feel like waving to Katy, and it wasn’t just because my hair was frizzy.
The church building had no windows. Spotlights illuminated the pulpit, and the cross behind it was lit by blue bulbs on its underside. The advantage of a church so big was that it could double as a reception room for weddings. The pews were detachable, so if Pastor Jim wanted to convert the space into a bowling alley, he could probably do that, too, at very little expense.
Nana put her hand over mine and squeezed hard, the way you might grip a dog’s leash if you were afraid of it leaping at another dog or spinning in a circle and biting its own leg. The room was crowded with people who knew my cousin. I folded my bulletin into a paper airplane. Since I was in his house anyway, I decided to ask God if he would help me. I wanted him to keep my family safe and not send down a lightning bolt to
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