Antimony by Amy E. Richter

Author:Amy E. Richter [Richter, Amy E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781532689529
Publisher: Wipf and Stock Publishers
Published: 2019-10-29T07:00:00+00:00

34

Match Heads and Incense

The address on the business card led us to the large white wooden church that was literally in the center of town, built within a traffic circle from which streets radiated. The sun was setting as we arrived. Streetlights designed to look like old-fashioned lanterns stood around the circle and cast a warm yellow glow. The building’s window frames and the arches of its bell tower were trimmed in black, its broad front double doors painted bright red. A sign next to the door read, “Saint Hildegard of Bingen Church,” and listed the Sunday worship times. A grassy churchyard with a few large grave markers and leafy sycamore trees surrounded the church. A cross and the year 1692 marked the building’s cornerstone.

The front doors were locked. We knocked. The sound of lumber clattered on tiled floor and the doors pushed open. The man who greeted us was dressed in a priest’s shirt and collar and gray slacks. He had a trim build, dark hair, and smiling eyes, with deep-cut laugh lines. His pinched brow suggested wariness, but when he saw us, he grinned broadly.

“Usually, I leave everything unlocked, but with your arrival, I had to be cautious,” he said as he ushered us inside.

“You thought we were coming, so you locked the door?” I asked.

“I knew I should expect visitors from the Divinity School. You are students there?”

We nodded but looked at each other. Was he expecting us, or other visitors from the GYSP?

He looked past us, out into the churchyard, his eyes sweeping the space as if to see whether we had been followed, then pulled the doors closed behind us. He swung a two-by-four across the double doors and dropped it into place across two waist-high metal brackets designed to hold it. “They didn’t bother with complicated locks in the old days,” he said. He turned to us and extended a slender hand. “I’m Dr. Francis Canon. Who are you?”

We introduced ourselves one at a time and shook hands. He repeated each of our names after we said it, as if going over a mental checklist.

“So, you’re here about the job,” he said. I couldn’t tell if he was making a joke, attempting to make the situation a little lighter.

“What ‘job’?” I asked, still wondering if coming here was the right thing to do and if it was safe to be locked in an old church with Dr. Canon, nice as he seemed. A two-by-four keeping someone locked out was scary. A two-by-four keeping us inside was creepy.

“You have work to do and you’re here to discover part of it.”

“Uh, I guess that’s right,” I said. “You’re sure it’s really us you were expecting?”

“Others are on their way, I know, but I also knew that sooner or later some of you would find your way here, and that when you did, I would be ready to share what I know. I wish I knew the whole plan,” Dr. Canon said with a sigh. “But I don’t.

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