Rock and Roll Queen of Bedlam by Marilee Brothers

Author:Marilee Brothers [Brothers, Marilee]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-1-60542-050-9
Publisher: Medallion Press
Published: 2009-09-19T04:00:00+00:00

Nick and I arrive for our audience with Reverend Hunt twenty minutes early to allow plenty of snooping time. While Nick studies the brochures stacked neatly on a table in the foyer, I slip into the cavernous sanctuary. Without the sun glinting off the massive stained glass window, the room feels heavy and airless, as if it contains a malevolent presence. Not like a church at all.

Though I hate to admit my mother was right, enforced attendance at Sunday school smoothed away my rough edges and filled me with a sense of tranquility that lingered at least until Monday morning. Even as an adult, walking through the doors of a church always whisks me back to that time and space. I feel a lightness of spirit that otherwise eludes me.

But not here. Not in the Church of the Unholy Light.

Nick and I go in search of Hunt’s office, wandering through a maze of corridors. We peek into Sunday school rooms filled with tiny chairs and felt boards. I have a sudden longing for cherry Kool-Aid.

The pastor’s study, actually a suite of offices, is at the end of a long wing, far removed from the public areas. As I reach for the door, a woman bursts through, red-faced and breathing hard. I catch the sound of voices raised in anger as I stumble backward and land on Nick’s foot. The woman’s squeak of surprise, Nick’s yelp of pain, and my muttered apology burst out simultaneously, adding to the confusion.

“If you’re Allegra Thome, you’re early,” the woman blurts, firmly closing the door behind her.

“I am,” I acknowledge and can’t resist adding, “Is arriving early a sin in the eyes of God?”

Nick squirms in embarrassment, but my words have the desired effect. The woman winces. “I’m sorry. That was rude. It’s just that today’s been crazy. We need to reschedule your appointment.”

“Sure,” I say, starting for the door. She slides sideways and blocks me.

“Don’t you want to check the calendar?” I ask.

She doesn’t budge. “I’m in a bit of a hurry. I’ll call you.”

She stands at her post until we turn and start back down the corridor. When we round the corner, I hear her hurried footsteps behind us.

“Walk slower.” I tell Nick.

“We’re not leaving, huh?”

“No way.”

When the woman, presumably Hunt’s secretary, catches up with us, I say, “My nephew needs to use the bathroom.”

Nick flushes but performs a convincing pee-pee dance. Without slowing down, the woman says, “In the Narthex, to the left of the doors.”

We dawdle until the woman’s out of sight, after which we reverse course and trot back to Hunt’s office. We slip through the door into a reception area. A large desk sits between us and the inner office. The voices inside are muffled and seem to lack the heat marking the earlier conversation.

Nick flops down on a leather settee, and I wander over to the desk. The woman didn’t take the time to shut down her computer. The cursor blinks patiently, awaiting her next keystroke. Assorted papers and memos lay in jumbled disarray across the surface of the desk.

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