John smiled. Lori often teased him about his vocation. She remembered too well the dirty tricks he played on her when they were little. She though it funny the person who made her younger years difficult was now a pious and moral authority.
Chapter 29
Wish You Were Here
By dinner time Father Bryant was at a hotel in Palm Springs. The cab ride from the municipal airport took him from the city to the small whitewashed hotel nestled at the base of a mountain. The hotel was a number of bungalows, one or two stories, red tiled roofs, separated from the main building and clustered around a large central pool. Wide green cushions were on the lounge chairs which surrounded the pool. Instead of concrete surrounding the pool there was green artificial turf. It would be cooler on bare feet at the height of the blazing California summer. The rooms were large and comfortable, thick carpets, and safe hotel friendly artwork on the walls; mildly abstract but not jarringly so.
When he walked into the lobby and claimed his reservation wearing his priest’s collar, he got quick, polite service. If he weren’t wearing the collar he would be treated like a normal customer. The collar generally made people more aware of their language and behavior. Rank had privileges, priests inspire humbleness and guilt.
His room was at one end of a building, near the pool but more secluded than others, quieter, more private. He welcomed the seclusion. He needed to think. In a week he had an adventure unimagined by any clergy in modern times. The guilt he felt for the deaths and falling in love was present, always nearby ready to change his mood for the worse.
He stayed in his room or was out by the deserted pool in the afternoon. The temperatures were forty degrees warmer than what was current in Colorado. He wondered if there was a church he could be transferred to some lazy desert city nearby. The bitter cold of a Rocky Mountain winter was a stark contrast to Palm Springs in October.
He investigated the city a bit, ate at restaurants tourists frequented, but was generally back in his hotel by nightfall. He wasn’t necessarily afraid, but he didn’t want to find vampires or werewolves or demonic possession. If he found some supernatural menace, what would he do? Would he try to stop it, exterminate it? After what happened in Las Vegas he was very aware of the consequences his actions could unleash.
During the first week he talked to Maggie several times. She would call him so he wasn’t paying the extreme charges for long distance from a hotel room phone. He would be lazing on the bed watching TV, the phone would ring, and Maggie's soothing voice would be on the other end. It was calming and comforting to talk with her, but still the sound of her voice made his chest ache.
After a week he called the parish to check in.
“Hello, Ann. It’s Father Bryant.”
“Father! Nice to hear from you.”
“How’s everything with the parish? Running smoothly I’ll bet.”
“Your influence is missed.”
“I doubt that. You’re the one keeping the trains running. I’m just the public face. You tell me what to sign and where to be and when.”
“Oh, Father, you know that's not true.”
“Maybe.”
“How’s your sabbatical? Are you still in Las Vegas?”
“It’s good. I’m not in Las Vegas, though. I’ve been in Palm Springs for about a week now.”
“Did you hear about the dreadful events in Las Vegas? The police station being burned down, and that thing with the church and guns?”
Father Bryant swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “I heard about it, but I wasn’t there when it happened.”
“It’s terrible. It destroys my faith in the world.”
He changed the subject quickly. “Ann, is there any mail I should know about? Anything from the bishop? Anything interesting?”
“No, nothing unusual. Everything can wait until you get back.” Ann said, suddenly she remembered something. “Oh, you did get a postcard from someone named Malcolm.”
“What?” A shudder ran through him. “Can you read the postcard to me?”
“Hang on. Let me find it.” He heard the sound of shuffling papers. “Here it is.”
“Read it, please.”
“Dear, dear Father Bryant,” He could hear Malcolm’s rich speaking voice in place of Ann’s as she read the card. “I’m passing through Missouri with a couple friends. Everything is fine. Hope you are well. Wish you were here. Don’t know my destination yet. I’m thinking of starting to preach again. You are such liturgical inspiration to me. But where is what I need to figure out. Location, location, location, you know? It’s so important. Take care of yourself. Malcolm.”
“Ann, please set it aside. I’ll look at it when I get back.”
“Alright.”
“I’ve got to go. Hotel phone charges are ridiculous.”
“Bye, Father. See you soon.”
“Bye, Ann.” He hung up the phone. “Damn.”
After John finished dinner at a nearby restaurant he returned to his hotel room. The knock at his hotel door startled him and made fear spike through him. He wasn’t expecting anyone, virtually no one knew where he was, and there was no reason for the hotel staff to be knocking on his door. Cautiously he walked to the door and peered out the eyehole, his eyes widened. He quickly unlocked the door and opened it.
Maggie stood outside. “Hi, John.” Her smile was wide but a bit uncertain. In her hands was a small bag. “Can I come in?”
“Yes!” he replied, a smile lighting up his face.
About the Author
Bradley Upton is an actor who has been writing for as long as he can remember. He exhibited exquisite canines in the web series Dark Commandos as Dreyfuss. You may have seen him sinking his teeth into a variety of soap operas, TV dramas, and independent features or caught him polishing his Shakespeare chops at the Globe Theatre in San Diego in the cast of The Winter’s Tale and All’s Well That Ends Well.
An avid traveler, he’s traveled to 15 countries and is planning to take a bite of the rest of the world when he has the time and resources.
Blood Stakes Page 28