“But in the end he didn’t.”
“What about that nasty story of Jepthath killing his daughter?”
“Oh,” said another. “I hate that story.”
Nathan had gotten what he’d been looking for, somewhat. Though he had expected any confirmation of recent events would unnerve him, he became surprisingly calm about everything. OK, so there’s a chance that you’ve been dreaming of a five thousand year old sacrificial ceremony. Well, it’s good to have that out of the way. Likely it was knowledge learned during seminary which had worked its way into his subconscious. Nothing more.
The topic was juicy enough to lead discussions a half hour past the appointed ending time. It was good to lose oneself like that. It helped a person forget confusion and despair over other matters and allowed everyone to take solace in the Word, forget for an hour the disappearance of their beloved pastor.
As people cleaned up the hall and moved to their cars in the rear parking lot, voices dropped from animated continuation of earlier subjects to hushed worries about Reverend Hayden. Nathan was the last to leave, turning out the lights and heading upstairs. He was glad he hadn’t made plans with Elizabeth tonight. He was exhausted. Upstairs in the small office, he checked his messages. The light was blinking, the number “1” above it. Nathan was awash with a mix of hopefulness and apprehension. He pressed Play.
A robotic computerized voice confirmed his first dental examination at Doctor Crennell’s office for Monday. In a voice similar to the dentist’s computer, the answering machine announced, “...end of messages.”
One more task done as part of his homecoming. A nice change, since not much of anything else was happening as he’d expected.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“So,” Nathan said before taking a mouthful of scrambled eggs, “I’m going over there today. See what’s up.”
Beverly Dinneck took a quick sip of coffee and got up from the table. “Here,” she said, “let me get you more eggs.”
He raised his hand and waved her back to her chair. “Ma, please! Relax. I’m all set. If I eat any more, I’ll burst.”
She hesitated, her eyes darting as if running through a list of chores to be done and trying to decide if anything else needed attention. Finally, almost reluctantly, she sat back down. Her large fingers played absently with her coffee mug, never quite gripping it, never able to completely release it.
Nathan sat back and put his fork down. “You were never this restless before,” he said. “At least, not that I can remember.”
Beverly looked at the table, at her mug, the refrigerator, anywhere but at him. “It’s just I need to keep busy. I’m so worried about Pastor Hayden, and everything else.”
He leaned forward. “Why didn’t you come to the study last night? Would’ve taken your mind off things for a while.”
Beverly shrugged, then let out a long, almost wailing sigh. “Oh, I don’t know, Nate. I had thought to go, actually, but this was the first one you were attending solo, and I didn’t think you wanted your mother hovering over you.”
Nathan smiled. “You wouldn’t hover.”
“Still, you need to make a place for yourself as a man, not as my son.”
What she said made sense, but troubled him. “Mom, the last thing I want is for you to stay away from the church because of me.”
“There were other reasons.” When she said this, her visual scan of the room began again in earnest. Nathan thought he could guess what at least one reason was.
“Dad?”
She nodded. “He was home last night, all night. It was wonderful, not that he’s much company. So depressed lately, and exhausted. I’ve stopped worrying that he’s drinking and started to wonder if he’s doing some kind of... drugs.” She whispered this last word. Nathan thought for a moment to tell her that his suspicions weren’t much different, but she was overwrought enough.
“Well, we’ll know soon enough what the big mystery is.” He rose from his seat and, grateful to be able to begin moving about the room again, his mother did likewise.
“Be careful, Nate. Art keeps saying there’s nothing bad about that group but I know there is. You’ve noticed it, too, haven’t you? And you’ve only been around a couple of weeks.”
“I never said I thought there was something bad.”
For a wonderful moment, Beverly looked at him with her full motherly stare, the one that said don’t try to kid me, Mister. I know better. “But there is something strange about them, and you have noticed it.” It wasn’t a question.
Nathan smiled. “Yes, I have. And I’m off to see what it is.” He hugged his mother, and her arms crushed him into her. She whispered into his ear, “You be careful. I’ll be praying for you.” He felt his mother’s tears land on his cheek.
“That’ll be the best thing you can do, Mom. More than you know.”
She finally relented and separated herself from her son. Straightening his shirt and wiping her tears off both their faces, she whispered, “I’m going to call Nadine, ask her to pray, too. Help your father, Nate. If you can.”
Nathan said he would try, and helped her clean up the table, against her vehement objections. Then he left. He had an eleven o’clock visit with a parishioner who’d broken both legs courtesy of a skiing weekend in Colorado. That gave him a two-hour window for his sojourn to the men’s club. The sooner he did it, the better. Not for the first time, he wondered what his father’s reaction would be when he found out Nathan had been checking up on the place. It wouldn’t be pretty, if their phone conversation the other day was any indication.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Nathan parked directly in front of the storefront’s glass door. He waited in the driver’s seat, tapping one finger absently on the wheel and looking for any activity inside. The only movement was someone entering Hair U Doing? next door. He got out of the car, his gaze always on the door as if afraid his father would burst outside in a rage. Nothing happened. After all, if his father was here his car would be, too. Nathan was relieved to see Josh’s Toyota outside of The Greedy Grocer. Maybe he’d swing by for a sanity check if there was time.
He walked up to the club’s soaped-over door. There was no name visible anywhere, not at first. When he reached for the metal door handle, he noticed a plain white sticker above it with the letters HMC drawn in orange marker. Nathan never considered knocking, no more than he would entering any other store. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
He had a sudden recollection of himself and Josh, thirteen years old, riding their bikes along Route 12. They’d ridden all the way to the neighboring town of West Boylston. Once there, they passed a row of nondescript but clean brick office buildings. The boys had parked their bikes in front of one and simply walked inside. The “apartments”, as the directory in the lobby called the various closed-off rooms inside, contained one boring company name after another. Nathan and Josh made it an adventure to walk among the silent halls, drinking from the water bubbler, using the rest rooms, sitting in the chairs lining the disinfectant-smelling hallway and reading outdated magazines. At last, someone from a small lawyer’s office told them they needed to leave.