“Of course,” Sarah said. “So nice to see you.” She knew she wouldn’t be able to speak candidly about her fears with a man present. Frank was a widower, like herself, but was widowed many years prior, and unlike her, being single seemed to suit him. He was a well-built man in his late sixties who always kept himself up nicely, dressing in collared shirts and tailored slacks, his salt-and-pepper-colored hair combed and sprayed stiffly to the side. He was quite a handsome, charming man and had done well in life. He had a very nice house on the edge of town and was fairly wealthy, having retired early after designing a piece of a machine that was used in car parts factories around the world. He’d explained the thing to Sarah several times over the years, and she never quite understood exactly what this thing he’d designed was or did, except that this thing was very mechanically versatile, and it sold well enough that he didn’t have to worry about money anymore.
“Ellen, how are you? How’s Wayne? Is he coming, too?” she asked.
“Oh, you know, he’s watching his games. He didn’t feel like coming this afternoon,” she said of her husband, and pushed the honey toward Sarah. “For your tea?”
“Oh yes, thank you.” Sarah noticed the air in the house smelled of something good, but unfamiliar. “What kind of potpourri is that?” she asked.
“Oh, it’s not a potpourri,” Betty told her. “It’s actually an incense. Frank got me hooked on the stuff since his trip to India.”
“Well, it smells wonderful,” Sarah said. “Incense. My goodness.”
Betty went around the table setting tuna sandwiches and chips in front of her three guests and finally took a seat by Sarah.
“Thanks, this looks terrific,” Frank told her, picking up his sandwich and taking a large bite. “Mmmm, delicious.”
“Thank you for making us lunch, Betty,” Ellen told her politely, before turning her attention back to Sarah. “You know, honestly, I don’t think Wayne is really taking this stuff with Tracy very seriously.”
“Not everyone is taking it seriously!” Frank snapped, laying his sandwich down and smacking his lips.
There was a long silence after this statement and Sarah chewed her sandwich noticing that everyone at the table was watching her, waiting for a response. “Is that right?” she asked pleasantly, trying not to show judgment one way or another.
“Well now,” Betty said, nodding to Frank, “that’s exactly why we’re here, isn’t it?”
Sarah nodded and took a sip of her tea. “It’s good tea. What is it?”
“Vanilla chai,” Betty answered, and smiled tensely, pursing her lips. There was another uncomfortable silence where everyone but Frank tried to look pleasantly at one another. The women ate more of their sandwiches.
Frank tapped his finger on the table in deep thought. Finally he let out, “May we talk candidly with you, Sarah?”
She was a bit taken aback by his tone, and also at the “we,” which seemed to imply these three were of one mind, perhaps had even spoken of the subject they were about to embark on previously, and she was the odd person out. “Well, of course,” Sarah told him. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“Good,” Frank nodded and continued. “Not everyone in the church is happy with the way Rick and Tracy have been handling things the last few years. These words from the Lord she receives, well, sometimes they seem like little more, I’m saying, to some people, they seem like little more than veiled accusations.”
“It’s not Christ-like to accuse,” Ellen said in a sweet singsong tone. As she interjected, she moved her hand across the table toward Frank, who took it up and patted the top of it tenderly.
“I couldn’t agree more, sister,” he told her. “It’s undignified.” Ellen smiled back at him.
Ellen was a roundish, short woman in her late fifties who worked part-time as a secretary at the county hospital. Sarah had never known that Ellen and Frank were so friendly with each other. She knew Frank was not a friend of Wayne’s, Ellen’s husband. They were very different types of men. Her husband, Wayne, was a retired truck driver who still did odd jobs, mostly in home repair. Ellen had always been very active in the church, but her husband only attended the Sunday morning services occasionally, and one could tell he only attended because his wife was dragging him along.
“Maybe it is a word from God,” Betty said, lifting her tea glass and stirring in some cream. She smiled at Sarah. Of everyone, she was closest to Betty, who was nearest her own age and had been her friend for many, many years. “But, also, maybe she’s confused. There’s really no way to know. I’ll admit, I’ve prayed on it, and I haven’t received a clear answer.” She shook her head and looked up toward the ceiling, in thought. “The Lord doesn’t speak to me so clearly. I feel His presence, but I don’t hear those types of messages, except once.” Sarah sighed, relieved to hear this. Betty continued, “Years ago, when my sister died, God came to me the day before and told me that it was time to call her and to apologize for something I’d done to her years before that had caused an argument, and that I’d always felt very guilty for. And I did. And the next day, she died in a car wreck, you probably remember. But I never told you this, the moment it happened, I knew. I was just sitting at home alone, and suddenly, I knew she was dead. I could feel it in my bones.”
“I’ve heard of other people who’ve received those kinds of messages when their loved ones passed,” Ellen said.
“But other than that,” Betty went on, “I don’t get such clear messages from God. I hope it doesn’t mean I’m a bad Christian.”
“Not at all.” Sarah couldn’t help herself. She was overcome. “I feel the same way. I don’t hear Him clearly, either.”
“Well, that’s good to know. No one would question your faith,” Betty told her.
“When I pray,” Sarah admitted, “especially since my husband died, I have so much time to myself, and sometimes it’s difficult to tell whose voice it is, God’s, or my own mind. Is that awful?”
They all paused and looked at Sarah, turning over what she’d said. “So, you do hear a voice, you just don’t know if it’s God’s? Is that what you mean?” Frank inquired. Sarah felt a chill come over her. She’d said too much. She was already giving herself away.
“Do you ever wonder if, perhaps, it’s not God’s voice, but not your own, either?”
“What? No. What do you mean? Whose voice would it be?” Sarah was taken aback.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Ellen shrugged. “There are many other entities, demonic and angelic, that could, hypothetically, come to us. You’ve never thought of that?”
Sarah blanched. “Well, no. I know that the Devil is a master of disguise. But, I always thought, if a thing like that ever happened to me, well I . . . I don’t know . . . I would just . . .”
Betty touched Sarah’s arm. “We’re getting off track here. Sarah, what do you think about all this business with the church? We haven’t even asked you.”
Sarah took a breath, and looked around the table. “Well, I don’t know. To be candid with you, I’ve worried it could even,” she took a deep breath, “it could be me, harboring this,” she paused and took another breath, “horrible thing.”
“Nonsense!” Ellen said. “You? Nonsense.”
Sarah held up her hand. “Remember, none of us is perfect. And I do worry. Since my husband died, I’ve sometimes been so lonely.” Her voice quivered but she pressed on. “I do wonder if I’m . . . wallowing in my own pain, allowing my thoughts to become too dark, and not allowing God to lead me out of it. And worse,” this was hardest for her to say without revealing too much, “I have a greedy heart and want more out of the time I have left, and after I have already lived so fully and been so blessed.”
“Sarah,” Ellen said pointedly, “grieving for your husband is not a sin.”
“It’s only natural,” Frank told her, “for a woman as youthful, full of life, and beautiful,” Sarah blushed, “as yourself to feel lonely sometimes. Why, I can’t tell you how I felt after I lost
Marie. But this isn’t something to be repentant of.”
“You’re still alive. You didn’t die,” Betty told her.
Sarah brushed her hair behind her ear nervously. “Maybe I’m just being overanxious, but if there is something sinful, something dark residing in our congregation, of course, it would be best to remove it. It’s just that I also worry that this type of thing . . . the way they are going about it, might do more harm than good.” The others nodded in agreement. “I worry this, whatever it is, could further divide us and, I don’t know, run another person off or cause them to be shunned, and we don’t need to lose any more people. Perhaps, even if Tracy is right, it should be handled with more . . .” she searched for words, “discretion?”
“We are of the same mind,” Frank boomed.
“Although,” Sarah went on, “Tracy has been right before. I would just, honestly, yes, like to see it handled differently.”
“What does she mean? When was she right?” Frank asked the other two women.
Ellen had a mouthful of chips. She spoke through the crunching. “With that little gay boy, and that young couple, Sam and Andrea. You remember.”
“Gay boy? You mean Jacob?” he asked.
“Yes,” Betty nodded.
“I remember! That was handled atrociously.” Frank swallowed a bite of his sandwich. “He’s a good kid, and he’s doing quite well for himself anyway. Just got a scholarship for engineering,” Frank said.
“You still speak to him?” Sarah asked.
“Only on occasion,” Betty said, pinching up her face into a weird smile and shaking her head. She held her teacup on a tiny plate against her chest. She took a quick sip again.
“And the young couple,” Ellen went on. “They weren’t married and they had just moved in together, and after Tracy spoke about her prayers, oh it was a scene. You remember? Rick preached the whole sermon on fornication, and they never came back again. And two other young couples left shortly after that, too.” Ellen placed her napkin in her lap. “Andrea’s still very upset about the whole ordeal.”
“You still speak to them, too?” Sarah asked.
“Only on occasion!” Betty told her again, more loudly this time, shaking her head quickly. She laughed nervously. “We’ve all bumped into them here and there. It’s a small town.”
“Well, I’ve never seen them again,” Sarah said.
“I have,” Ellen said quickly, “at the grocery store and a few other places. And, you know, I don’t think they’re so bad. Young people, they don’t all get married right away these days.”
“This is what I mean.” Frank clenched his fists. “The world is evolving. We have to evolve with it. It’s not the 1950s anymore. We’ve lost all the young folks, and there’s a reason for it, and it very well may not lie within the congregation, but I think, honestly, it may have to do with the leadership.”
“So, the three of you don’t believe Tracy?” Sarah asked, feeling astonished at everything she’d heard, but also relieved by the thought that her secret may not be as horrible a sin as she’d talked herself into believing it was.
“I for one don’t give it any credence, and if I were you, I wouldn’t tell them anything about the voices you hear, or who knows, they might burn you at the stake.” Frank was turning red in the face.
Sarah was shocked by his outburst. Betty touched his elbow. “Calm down now. We’re all friends here. It’s not that bad.” She turned to Sarah. “I don’t feel as strongly as Frank does. I’m not sure. I don’t think Tracy is lying, per se. Just mistaken. Of course, she may well have heard a word from the Lord. There may be someone harboring some awful sin, some ‘darkness’ as she said, which they need to disabuse themselves of. That’s very possible. I just wish it would be handled differently. And we’ve asked you here because, well, we’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while. We just weren’t sure how you would feel about all this.”
Ellen stirred her tea. “We’re not the only ones, you know?” she told Sarah.
“The only ones, what?” Sarah asked, confused.
Betty raised an eyebrow at Ellen and scratched her chin. “Don’t you think we’re getting ahead of ourselves a bit, darling?”
“Look,” Frank said to Sarah, “can you assure me that this is all going to be kept between just us? We’ll offer you the same discretion with what you’ve shared as well, in regards to the voices and all.”
“I never said I heard voices exactly, I just—”
Frank cut Sarah off. “All I’m saying is, it’s a delicate matter, and until we are sure how we’re actually going to proceed, I think our discussions are best kept private.”
Sarah shrugged. “Certainly.”
“We have your word?”
“Well, my goodness, that sounds so serious.”
Frank stared at her, a grave expression on his face. Sarah shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Yes, yes, Frank. You have my word.”
“Good.” Frank nodded and relaxed a bit.
“Frank, why don’t you tell her about your trip abroad? I found that so fascinating,” Ellen offered.
“Oh, you’ve shown me the pictures,” Sarah told him, fidgeting with the crust of her sandwich, although she was losing interest in her food. “But what does that have to do with this?”
“Well, I’ll tell you.” Frank sat upright in his chair and ran his hand over his broad jaw. “Five years ago, not long after my wife died, I took a trip abroad traveling the world, from India to England, and what I saw expanded me as a person, as a Christian, and it has expanded my notion of God and what spirituality can do for a society.” Betty and Ellen beamed up at him. Ellen went on finishing her food as he spoke. “Did you know the Druids and the Hindus built monuments thousands of years old, that still boggle the mind to this day? Some of these cultures . . . it’s just riveting. Did you know that many ancient cultures knew the exact locations of the planets, the makeup of their atmospheres, and even their colors, although, as far as we know, they lacked any such technology that would have allowed them access to this information directly?”
“Why, no, I didn’t know that. How interesting.” Sarah looked around the room. On the walls Betty had hung a few Impressionist images, one of an old farmhouse, nicely framed, and one of a deer leaping through a green wood. On the shelf beside her sat a collection of knickknacks made up of large and small figurines of angels mostly, but on the top shelf, in the center, sat a larger, older-looking statue that was altogether unfamiliar to Sarah.
“Even today, thousands upon thousands of people travel to India each year to learn about their religious and spiritual teachings. It’s spreading around the world. And it’s spreading because they are flexible. They are more open-minded, you see.”
“Have you ever tried yoga?” Ellen interrupted excitedly. Sarah shook her head no. “Tantric yoga. Have you heard of it?”
“Tantric?” Sarah asked. “As in . . . well you mean . . . tantric?”
“It’s a practice of very focused exercise that leaves the body feeling quite invigorated,” Frank boomed. He took a deep breath as if breathing in clean mountain air and let out a long, healthy hiss, stretching his hands wide as he did so, demonstrating something. “It involves a series of stretches, and other things. I learned about it in India. I gave Ellen a book on it.”
Ellen nodded and smiled excitedly. “It’s lovely.”
“All we’re saying,” Frank explained, “is that we need to be thinking more in tune with the times. There are so many things other religions have to offer out there, and everyone is mixing ideas and practices, and here we are stuck with a pastor who wants to keep us hunting witches.”
Betty raised her hand. “Years ago, when we had a larger congregation, we were able to have more of a presence in the town. You remember. We did the beautification garden in the Main Street square every summer, and I was proud to be a member of the Baptist church, with our name up on the sign in the middle of all of those flowers. And we sponsored the cakewalk raff
le at the firemen’s picnic. But now, since our numbers have been dwindling, well, we just don’t have the funding to do things like that anymore, and we don’t have access to the community center anymore, either. Now it’s the Methodists who have their name on the sign in the Main Street square and have free use of the community center, and now they sponsor the cakewalk, and the canned food drive.”
“The Methodists,” Frank grumbled.
“All we want,” Betty went on, “is for our church to be respected in the community again. We need that.”
“Yes, of course,” Sarah nodded, but she wasn’t sure what exactly they were getting at, what with all the various and strange turns the conversation had taken.
“Sarah,” Frank implored her, “have you ever wondered if perhaps all the religions of all the world are worshiping the same God, but in different forms?”
Sarah sat back in her chair, her mouth open. What he was saying was more than edging on sacrilege, and she thought perhaps Frank’s trip to India had made him a bit too open-minded. She wondered if he knew the implications of what he was saying.
“Now, hear me out,” he went on. “I’m a Baptist. I was born a Baptist and I’ll die a Baptist, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be open, just a little open, to other things as well, does it?”
“I suppose not,” Sarah said, stiffening her back and bringing her shoulders up, tensely.
“Instead of driving people away with accusation, wouldn’t it be better to have something real and exciting to offer, to bring people in?”
“Well, I suppose so,” Sarah said, shaking her head. “But I don’t know what you’re proposing exactly.”
Betty turned and looked her in the eye. “A shift,” she said pointedly.
“A shift?”
“We’re considering a few options, and we wanted you to weigh in. You are one of the founding members of the church, after all. You should be part of this. Everyone trusts you, as well they should. You’ve been a pillar of our congregation since it started.”
“Sarah, you really have such a kind heart,” Ellen added. “You even feed those awful crows when they come begging. It’s astonishing.” Betty widened her eyes at Ellen. It was a small gesture, but Sarah noticed and found it odd.
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