new called me that.
Pastor Marsh stands there by the doorway to the sanctuary as if he wants to give me a hug.
“Good to see you.”
I nod as I walk by and shake his hand.
Even his hand feels weak and dirty.
“Stick around so I can talk with you after the service,” he says. Then he smiles and adds, “Please.”
Well, fine, now that you said please and happen to be keeping my mom in some loony bin.
I nod again and find a seat.
I don’t want to be here.
My slogan for the last sixteen months.
There is nothing strange that Pastor Marsh says during his nice little sermon. At no point does he raise up his hands and say “Slay the beast!” or something weird like that.
No.
But I’ve been to churches before so I know. This message really isn’t much of a sermon. It’s more like some self-help session about feeling good and believing in yourself.
Newsflash, Marsh: I tried to do that, and it doesn’t work.
He’d tell me that I don’t know a thing because I’m only a teenager.
But deep down inside I feel like I do know a few things. And here, in this seat, I realize that this is just a building with people in it. It’s no more of a church than our high school or my cabin or that place with the creepy stones where Jocelyn died.
Pastor Marsh never reads a Bible verse. He refers to a verse here and there—a psalm or something like that—but he never talks about the Bible. And he never, ever mentions Jesus Christ.
I think a bomb would go off if he did.
Even the prayers are strange, because he prays them with his eyes open. I guess mine are open too, since I spot him looking out. But it’s like the president’s speech on national television that’s annoying because it’s interrupting Survivor . It’s well spoken, but I wonder if there’s any kind of meaning behind it.
“I remember your uncle riding that motorcycle around town,” Marsh says to me in a way that looks as if he just swallowed a worm.
We’re sitting in Brennan’s with drinks in front of us waiting for our lunch. I did as he asked and waited for him after the service. Then I did as he asked and followed him into town, and he led me in here.
I get the idea that he’s trying to remind me of Mom. That he’s rubbing it in my face. I haven’t brought her up, but then again I don’t need to. She’s one of those elephants in the room. Like Jocelyn. Like Marsh Falls. Like everything.
“You haven’t seen Robert lately, have you?”
I shake my head and try my best to act casual. I don’t think Marsh can read minds, but I know he’s smart enough to be able to detect teens who haven’t mastered lying yet.
“He really thought he was something, in the beginning. When he came back and started snooping around, not having a clue. I have to admit—you both share the same DNA. Getting involved with the wrong lady at the wrong time. Only for your uncle it was a bit more serious, since that particular lady was married.”
I don’t want to say anything like I know or ask him how he found out. I can feel myself blushing for some reason.
“I really wanted to make him pay,” Marsh says in a distant sort of way that seems like someone telling a story around a campfire. “But I couldn’t. They wouldn’t let me. In the end it didn’t matter. You both share the same DNA, except for one thing, Chris. You are a brave soul. Your uncle is a coward. A wife-stealer and a coward.”
I sip my Coke. Is this what he wanted to talk to me about?
Did they hear Uncle Robert at the cabin? Do they care that he’s back?
“Those two deserve each other, if you want to be honest. You’ve seen The Wizard of Oz , haven’t you? Your uncle is the lion looking for courage. Heidi—well, she’s the tin man looking for a heart.”
He smiles, then reaches over and grabs my wrist and holds it firmly.
Too bad Mom’s not around to come here and see this and take a spatula to his face.
“So, Chris, listen to me. Okay? You listening good?”
I nod as he
Pastor Marsh stands there by the doorway to the sanctuary as if he wants to give me a hug.
“Good to see you.”
I nod as I walk by and shake his hand.
Even his hand feels weak and dirty.
“Stick around so I can talk with you after the service,” he says. Then he smiles and adds, “Please.”
Well, fine, now that you said please and happen to be keeping my mom in some loony bin.
I nod again and find a seat.
I don’t want to be here.
My slogan for the last sixteen months.
There is nothing strange that Pastor Marsh says during his nice little sermon. At no point does he raise up his hands and say “Slay the beast!” or something weird like that.
No.
But I’ve been to churches before so I know. This message really isn’t much of a sermon. It’s more like some self-help session about feeling good and believing in yourself.
Newsflash, Marsh: I tried to do that, and it doesn’t work.
He’d tell me that I don’t know a thing because I’m only a teenager.
But deep down inside I feel like I do know a few things. And here, in this seat, I realize that this is just a building with people in it. It’s no more of a church than our high school or my cabin or that place with the creepy stones where Jocelyn died.
Pastor Marsh never reads a Bible verse. He refers to a verse here and there—a psalm or something like that—but he never talks about the Bible. And he never, ever mentions Jesus Christ.
I think a bomb would go off if he did.
Even the prayers are strange, because he prays them with his eyes open. I guess mine are open too, since I spot him looking out. But it’s like the president’s speech on national television that’s annoying because it’s interrupting Survivor . It’s well spoken, but I wonder if there’s any kind of meaning behind it.
“I remember your uncle riding that motorcycle around town,” Marsh says to me in a way that looks as if he just swallowed a worm.
We’re sitting in Brennan’s with drinks in front of us waiting for our lunch. I did as he asked and waited for him after the service. Then I did as he asked and followed him into town, and he led me in here.
I get the idea that he’s trying to remind me of Mom. That he’s rubbing it in my face. I haven’t brought her up, but then again I don’t need to. She’s one of those elephants in the room. Like Jocelyn. Like Marsh Falls. Like everything.
“You haven’t seen Robert lately, have you?”
I shake my head and try my best to act casual. I don’t think Marsh can read minds, but I know he’s smart enough to be able to detect teens who haven’t mastered lying yet.
“He really thought he was something, in the beginning. When he came back and started snooping around, not having a clue. I have to admit—you both share the same DNA. Getting involved with the wrong lady at the wrong time. Only for your uncle it was a bit more serious, since that particular lady was married.”
I don’t want to say anything like I know or ask him how he found out. I can feel myself blushing for some reason.
“I really wanted to make him pay,” Marsh says in a distant sort of way that seems like someone telling a story around a campfire. “But I couldn’t. They wouldn’t let me. In the end it didn’t matter. You both share the same DNA, except for one thing, Chris. You are a brave soul. Your uncle is a coward. A wife-stealer and a coward.”
I sip my Coke. Is this what he wanted to talk to me about?
Did they hear Uncle Robert at the cabin? Do they care that he’s back?
“Those two deserve each other, if you want to be honest. You’ve seen The Wizard of Oz , haven’t you? Your uncle is the lion looking for courage. Heidi—well, she’s the tin man looking for a heart.”
He smiles, then reaches over and grabs my wrist and holds it firmly.
Too bad Mom’s not around to come here and see this and take a spatula to his face.
“So, Chris, listen to me. Okay? You listening good?”
I nod as he
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