Tabernacle by Thomas H. Cook

Author:Thomas H. Cook
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

29

THE GIRL WAS WATCHING him again, her face frozen, two thin shafts of piercing white light shooting toward him from the pupils of her eyes. He clapped his hands over his face and drew in a long, deep breath. The image dissolved, formed again, dissolved. He pressed his palms into the sockets of his eyes and twisted them slowly. A heavy black cloth floated over the girl’s face, cutting off the shafts of light. Then the face vanished.

“O Father,” he said in a whisper, “give me strength.”

He removed his hands but did not open his eyes. He was afraid of what he might see. Another vision to taunt and accuse him, another version of the girl’s face, this time with the purple lips parted in a scream.

He wheeled around in his chair and opened his eyes. A small breeze was stirring the trees outside his window, and he watched the few remaining leaves turn up slightly, then drop back down as the wind passed through them.

There was a knock at the door. He turned toward it. “Come in.”

The door opened and he could see his daughter standing in the doorway. She looked at him strangely. “Are you all right?” she asked.

The concern in her eyes sickened him. He said nothing.

“Father?”

“I am fine.” He could feel his hands clenching together under his desk.

“You’ve been in here all night,” she said. “I was worried about you.”

“I am fine,” he repeated.

She did not move. “Are you going to have breakfast with us?”

“No. I am not.”

“But you haven’t eaten anything,” she said.

He watched her with contempt. The musky smell of her body revolted him.

“You must be hungry,” she said.

“I have work to do,” he said coldly.

Her lips drew together scornfully. “I’m just trying to be nice,” she said petulantly. She tossed her hair. “You don’t have to be so touchy.”

“Get out of here,” he said.

She drew back slightly. “Please don’t speak to me like that.”

He stood up. “Get out of here,” he said loudly.

“I want us to be friends again.” She tossed her hair girlishly, as if trying to attract him.

“You have your life,” he said. “Live it.”

She placed one hand on her hip. “Why can’t you forgive me?”

“It is not up to me to forgive you.”

“All right, I did a terrible thing,” she said. “I left home without your approval. But I’m back now, and I want us to be friends.”

He said nothing. For an instant he saw the face of the girl in the woods superimposed upon his daughter’s face.

“All that I want is for you to begin to forgive me,” she said, her eyes glistening. “Is that too much to ask?”

“Yes,” he said. “It is too much.”

She lowered her head, muttering something he could not understand.

“You may go now,” he repeated.

She turned slowly toward the door, her head still bowed. It was a gesture of submission he despised.

“Never come in here again,” he said.

She nodded gently and left the room, closing the door behind her.

He turned toward the window, watching the wind move in the trees, their branches stark and empty.

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