Warrior's Revenge by Sherry Roberts

Author:Sherry Roberts
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Osmyrrah Publishing via Indie Author Project
Published: 2016-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 16

REVELATIONS

THE LAST-MINUTE APPEARANCE OF Sister MJ had turned a two-bit country church revival into a must-see event. It was five days before opening night on Monday, and already people were arriving. An enormous red-and-white striped tent had risen beside the Chapel of the Forgiving Heart. And from it spread a sea of small tents, pickups topped with campers, blimpy RVs, even tiny camp houses brought in on flatbed trucks. Campgrounds in nearby state parks hosted the overflow as did enterprising local farmers, who rented out space in their fields and offered to shuttle guests to the daily services. The Strawberry Bed & Breakfast in Gabriel’s Garden was filled to its gingerbread-trimmed eaves.

I knew all of this because I had been keeping an eye on the Chapel of the Forgiving Heart and the preparations for the Reverend Miley’s big show. I’d made secret visits to the growing make-shift community, making sure to dodge the minister and his son, whose job was to haul folding chairs into the tent. During each visit, I searched the faces I saw bent over barbecue grills, studying worn Bibles at camp tables, or smiling from lawn chairs next to RVs. I talked to people and showed them the photograph on my phone.

I searched for Gasquet. Not because I thought Gasquet was in need of a shot of faith, but because, based on his last message, I could only assume he was in the area and spying on us. And this was a perfect crowd to get lost in. I saw kids chasing each other under tent lines and around RVs, retired couples playing Cribbage, pet owners walking dogs—but no Gasquet.

Grandmother also was gearing up for the revival, spending hours in Evie’s garden mumbling in prayer. One afternoon I watched her, sitting on a stone bench in one of her summer knit suits. You could tell it was a relaxed moment; she wasn’t wearing a hat and she’d left the ubiquitous handbag in her room. Her eyes were closed. I stepped within ear shot and eavesdropped: “Well, Lord, I’m here, and I’m ready. If only you would tell me why—I know, I know. Not my place. But sometimes a person gets tired of following without question.”

When a crow lit on the branch of a nearby maple tree and cawed loudly, Grandmother lifted her head and made a shooing motion. “Go away, disgusting bird.” The crow retorted even more loudly, then, with a cock of its head toward me, flew over the treetops.

Grandmother returned to her conversation with God. Peering down at her thin-skinned, veined hands, she fingered the thick platinum ring below one wrinkled knuckle, turning it again and again. It was her only jewelry except for the dignified pearls at her ears. Her nails were painted dusky pink, understated, proper, like my grandmother. She looked so fragile and so alone, and I felt the compulsion to go to her, to tell her about my life and ask about hers, but mostly to say, “Let me help you.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.