Read Online Morgan James - Promise McNeal 02 - Quiet Killing by Morgan James - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Morgan James
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Republicans dotoday. Except for those debating during those times, it was not a matter of who would govern the country for the next four years. Salvation itself was at stake. Heaven reunited with Jesus, or everlasting damnation served in hell’s own fires. Serious business Ms. McNeal. Serious business, indeed.”
He paused, perhaps gauging whether I was paying attention to his history lesson, and then finished his answer to my original question. “Short version: an apocalyptic preacher tells of the end of days, the Apocalypse, the Second Coming of Jesus, and believes he is charged by the Holy Spirit to bring the unenlightened to salvation.”
“I see,” I replied. Though I really didn’t. Being raised as a not particularly zealous Episcopalian, I could recite the General Confession and find the hymns in the back of the Book of Common Prayer, but I knew little about the Apocalypse, or the Second Coming . “And the other faction? What did they believe?”
A satisfied smile settled on Mr. Kolb’s face. “That faction, the majority and prevailing thought, held the idea that Methodist belief is rooted in reason, education, and intelligence. It is by reason that one asks questions of faith, and by reason one understands the will of God.”
“So you are telling me that January McNeal was out of step with the prevailing thoughts of the church, so they took away his membership?”
Mr. Kolb flinched at my assessment. “Well, let’s not be unduly harsh on them, shall we. I believe it was a little more than being out of step. There seemed to be a great deal of irritation with Mr. McNeal’s outburstsduring the Sunday worship services. From what I read in the testimonies given at the meeting, they, with the exception of the minister, all felt Mr. McNeal would be more comfortable with one of the newly formed Holiness congregations. However, I think it was the unfortunate business about the grave robbery that caused such decisive actions on their part.”
My fingers clenched around the papers in my lap. “What grave robbery?”
Mr. Kolb reached across the distance between our chairs and pointed to one of the sheets of crumpled papers. I lifted that page to the top of the stack. At this close distance, his cologne lingered in the space between us. I had a panicky urge to run outside and fill my lungs with fresh cold air.
“I believe the committee report gives scant details about an investigation by the sheriff into the graves of Mrs. McNeal and the baby being disturbed.”
“Are you saying someone tried to dig up my great grandmother, and the child?”
“Not tried, Ms. McNeal. Did. The account says the graves were found open and empty. The High Sheriff, as he was called in that day, was summoned to investigate. Apparently, much of Perry County, including the High Sheriff, thought January McNeal felt compelled to take his wife and child because he believed Jesus was returning soon to claim the faithful. Why he may have felt Jesus could not claim his wife and child in the Methodist cemetery, we do not know. Nothing was ever proven, of course.”
Grave robber? How could anyone take a shovel and dig up the grave of a person he loved? Even a person hedidn’t love? I mean, even the physical strength it would take to lift an occupied wooden coffin out of a six-foot deep hole was beyond my imagination. Bizarre. That was the only word I could assign to January’s actions. Maybe my great grandfather wasn’t harmless, after all. I remembered January McNeal from another dream. He stood erect in a wooden wagon—long gray hair lifting in the wind— snapping reins over an old horse’s back, urging the mare up the rutted logging road behind my house. I could hear metal wagon wheels creaking, laboring to climb Fire Mountain. Now I wondered, what was lying under the black tarp in the bed of the wagon?
8
Outside the Methodist Church, sitting in the safety of my comfortable blue Subaru, I willed my racing heart to slow down.
He paused, perhaps gauging whether I was paying attention to his history lesson, and then finished his answer to my original question. “Short version: an apocalyptic preacher tells of the end of days, the Apocalypse, the Second Coming of Jesus, and believes he is charged by the Holy Spirit to bring the unenlightened to salvation.”
“I see,” I replied. Though I really didn’t. Being raised as a not particularly zealous Episcopalian, I could recite the General Confession and find the hymns in the back of the Book of Common Prayer, but I knew little about the Apocalypse, or the Second Coming . “And the other faction? What did they believe?”
A satisfied smile settled on Mr. Kolb’s face. “That faction, the majority and prevailing thought, held the idea that Methodist belief is rooted in reason, education, and intelligence. It is by reason that one asks questions of faith, and by reason one understands the will of God.”
“So you are telling me that January McNeal was out of step with the prevailing thoughts of the church, so they took away his membership?”
Mr. Kolb flinched at my assessment. “Well, let’s not be unduly harsh on them, shall we. I believe it was a little more than being out of step. There seemed to be a great deal of irritation with Mr. McNeal’s outburstsduring the Sunday worship services. From what I read in the testimonies given at the meeting, they, with the exception of the minister, all felt Mr. McNeal would be more comfortable with one of the newly formed Holiness congregations. However, I think it was the unfortunate business about the grave robbery that caused such decisive actions on their part.”
My fingers clenched around the papers in my lap. “What grave robbery?”
Mr. Kolb reached across the distance between our chairs and pointed to one of the sheets of crumpled papers. I lifted that page to the top of the stack. At this close distance, his cologne lingered in the space between us. I had a panicky urge to run outside and fill my lungs with fresh cold air.
“I believe the committee report gives scant details about an investigation by the sheriff into the graves of Mrs. McNeal and the baby being disturbed.”
“Are you saying someone tried to dig up my great grandmother, and the child?”
“Not tried, Ms. McNeal. Did. The account says the graves were found open and empty. The High Sheriff, as he was called in that day, was summoned to investigate. Apparently, much of Perry County, including the High Sheriff, thought January McNeal felt compelled to take his wife and child because he believed Jesus was returning soon to claim the faithful. Why he may have felt Jesus could not claim his wife and child in the Methodist cemetery, we do not know. Nothing was ever proven, of course.”
Grave robber? How could anyone take a shovel and dig up the grave of a person he loved? Even a person hedidn’t love? I mean, even the physical strength it would take to lift an occupied wooden coffin out of a six-foot deep hole was beyond my imagination. Bizarre. That was the only word I could assign to January’s actions. Maybe my great grandfather wasn’t harmless, after all. I remembered January McNeal from another dream. He stood erect in a wooden wagon—long gray hair lifting in the wind— snapping reins over an old horse’s back, urging the mare up the rutted logging road behind my house. I could hear metal wagon wheels creaking, laboring to climb Fire Mountain. Now I wondered, what was lying under the black tarp in the bed of the wagon?
8
Outside the Methodist Church, sitting in the safety of my comfortable blue Subaru, I willed my racing heart to slow down.
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