Sanctuary Among Strangers

by Josie Finch

  But most importantly, Warren had told him it wasn’t wrong.

  “…among angels it is not a sin, shame, or secret.”

  If it wasn’t wrong, and it wasn’t a secret, then what was it? Joseph remembered Warren saying to Clara that he wasn’t married yet. Joseph hadn’t stayed around to read into the comment. He had to get out of there because just the thought of Warren marrying anyone else brought another very human emotion that Joseph hadn’t felt in a very long time: jealousy.

  Of course, Joseph knew one night of kissing was not the same as marriage. They had been through a lot together, but they still didn’t know how all of this was going to end up.

  Joseph tried to soothe the rush of worry that had filled his core and clenched his chest. Warren was too far away and too engrossed in his conversation with Clara to take away Joseph’s fear. So, Joseph let himself feel it. In a certain way, the bitter emotions felt as good as the sweet ones.

  All his years being a pastor, Joseph aimed to set a good example and guide others. But in doing so, he had become numb many of his own emotions. He didn’t really know what it felt like to be passionate or jealous or lustful. In trying to be a good person and lead a holy life he had smothered himself. In the past two days he had felt more adventure, fear, love, and thrill than he had felt in a whole decade. Joseph had always sat in the corner of life as he observed all the grief and pain, joy and ecstasy in the lives of other people. But now it was his turn to live. And to do that, Joseph had to take the chance of getting hurt.

  Emotion swirled again in Joseph’s chest but he didn’t have time to dwell. A crooked steeple broke the brown-beige visage of the horizon and hope broke through the storm of Joseph’s feelings. Their destination was in sight. The place where angels came and went, and where Warren could get the help he needed was near. Joseph immediately set aside the dramatics of his worries and focused on the next chapter of their story.

  As they rode closer Joseph began to pick out the sorry details of the dilapidated building. The roof was sunk but not completely caved in. The rows of windows on the side were broken. What few glass panes remained were cloudy and dirty. The wood slat siding was warped. Chipped paint of white and light blue crackled on the surface. The old, dark wood doors were closed and the steps in front of them were barely keeping their structure. The bell house in the steeple was nailed shut with scrap wood. The steeple reached toward the sky at a crooked angle, like one last desperate prayer.

  Beside the church, some crumbled stones sat as though they had toppled off a cart. Joseph surmised they were supposed to be what was left of a graveyard, but the stones were so worn the names and dates would be impossible to read.

  Joseph brought the Appaloosa to sidle up next to Clara and Warren.

  “So,” Joseph said, “We’re going to… go in there.”

  Clara looked up to him, squinting in the sunlight. “For we walk by faith, not by sight, as they say somewhere.”

  She took Belle’s reins and guided her toward what Joseph assumed was supposed to be a hitching post, though it looked so brittle that the horses would be able to knock it down with a swish of their tails. Regardless, Joseph dismounted and followed, moving the Appaloosa to hitch on the other side.

  "You know, it's cuter than I remember when we were kids," Clara commented to Warren.

  "Not sure I'd describe it as cute. Dignified, maybe," Warren replied.

  Joseph looked to the angels, to the church, then back to them. "I uh... sorry. But I'm not seeing cute or dignified. It looks like anyone that even tried to go in there would get killed."

  "Perfect cover for passing humans," Clara said simply.

  "We can see it," Warren explained. "But you’ll have to touch it before you can see it."

  "Touch... the church?"

  "Part of it," Warren said with a shrug.

  Joseph walked across the barren yard, eyeing the dilapidated building. He was scared that just the crinkle of his footsteps on the dead grass would be enough to cause the structure to cave in.

  The tips of his boots arrived at the first splintered stair. With an uncertain hand Joseph reached up to touch the broken handrail.

  Nothing happened. Until Joseph blinked.

  With that flash of motion the wreckage before him transformed into a pristine little church.

  Luckily Joseph was still holding the handrail or he might have fallen down. His knees went weak and he held on to stay upright as his eyes took in the new view.

  The small windows above the door were inlayed with most intricate stained glass mosaics Joseph had ever seen. He assumed the windows that lined the wide sides of the building looked the same.

  The wood siding had not been painted but it was cut razor sharp and sanded perfectly, the wood looking like it would feel like satin under his touch. The grand front doors were a rich cherry red.

  It wasn’t only the church that had transformed. The graveyard next to the building also glistened like new. A well-crafted fence surrounded the yard and the stones were bright and clean in the sunshine. Though it was still cold out and the bouquets that graced some of the stones were made of dried flowers, it was apparent someone was taking care of the little cemetery.

  Joseph also smelled the scent of a campfire. He heard voices and the rustling of horses. Joseph decided there must be some angels camping out in the back behind the church, which would make sense if they called the place a hub.

  When he looked back over his shoulder, Joseph saw the old broken hitching post where they had secured their horses was also new and Belle was drinking from a trough full of fresh, clear water.

  Joseph’s mouth hung open but no words emerged. He was jostled from his dumbfounded stupor when Clara bumped him with her hip then bounced lightly up the stairs.

  “Told you it was cute," she said, looking back with a wink.

  "Dignified," Warren interjected.

  "Beautiful," Joseph breathed.

  "Well, it's nice out here but I will warn you… the hubs can be a little cluttered inside," Clara said. "But we're here."

  "Amen," Joseph said.

  Clara nodded in agreement and pushed open the front door. Apparently, angels didn’t need to knock. The door floated open effortless and silent.

  Warren stepped in behind Joseph as they climbed the stairs to follow Clara inside. It was the closest Joseph had to entering heaven and it seemed fitting he had an angel in front of him and one behind his shoulder. The affirming touch Warren placed on the small of his back that he could feel through his wool coat was an added benefit.

  Joseph blinked as his eyes adjusted from the brightness of the sun outside to the dimly lit interior.

  As was usual when he entered a church, Joseph's gaze drifted upward to make out the tall ceiling. The dark, sturdy wood structured a tall sanctuary with robust rafters that housed the large, single room. The stained glass shone in bold reds, greens, and yellows, giving the action inside a dream-like feel.

  Clara was right—the church was cluttered. Clothesline was draped all over with items of clothing, blankets, and other fabrics hung on them. Between the grand windows, shelves were stacked high with books, papers, dishes, and what looked like spare wagon parts and horse tack.

  The pews were not set in rows with a central aisle but grouped here and there, draped in more quilts and clothing. There were kitchen chairs and stools and bedrolls in corners where people—angels—were camped out. Joseph saw what he could only describe as a group of little old church ladies sitting in a circle sewing on the same quilt.

  One corner of the room was cleared from textiles and a gigantic stove stood with four burners on top. On it was a pot of coffee and a large cauldron of bubbling soup. Above the stove hung several rows of battered ladles and pots. The stove was doing well to keep the whole church warm and filled with succulent scents that made it much more like a home.

  There were a lot of things but not quite so many people. Besides the church ladies there were only about half a dozen others
milling around. Considering Clara and Warren were gorgeous, Joseph assumed he would be walking into a wonderland of perfect people—people who looked like the stone figures carved of angels and the saints he had seen in grottos and chapels. But these people just looked like normal people. A regular rag-tag church congregation. But Joseph could feel their goodness. Not all congregations had that feeling about them.

  A man in an apron sauntered up to the stove and used the hem of the apron to pull a piping hot mound of cornbread from the oven. The sweet, hot scent made Joseph weak in the knees again. The cornbread smelled nothing short of divine.

  "Maggie, what's next?" the man wearing the apron called across the room. His rich, deep voice echoed in the tall ceiling like a hymn.

  One of the church ladies looked up from her mending. "The pound cake, darling. It was a slow night but we have new guests, I'll get on the dumplin's after."

  The man set to work with a clang of cookware. One of the other ladies waved to Clara, Joseph, and Warren.

  "Will you be needing a throw?” The old woman asked. “We've made seven this week but no takers."

  "Possibly," Clara said diplomatically. "But we need to speak with the pastor first."

  A third lady in the group piped up. "I'll get him." She tilted her head to the side then nodded without missing one stitch. "He'll be out in a moment."

  Joseph blinked but before he could ask, the sound of a door opening echoed through the church and a man emerged from a side door near the altar. Instinctually, Joseph knew he was the pastor of the church. The man had the sense of poise and leadership. And unlike some pastors, not a hint of anger or insecurity.

  Warren and Joseph followed as Clara led the way and the three of them met the pastor halfway. Joseph couldn't help feeling as though he were looking into a mirror of the future. The pastor was lanky and tall, about Joseph's same height, but about 20 years older. His dark hair was combed back with streaks of grey glistening through. He also wore a black fitted wool coat and spoke with his hands open. The pastor's smile was warm and inviting. In a wistful moment, Joseph knew this was the kind of man he had always wanted his father to be.

  "Welcome to Cunard. I'm Revered Pendle. I would usually say welcome to earth, but it looks like you've been traveling about earth for a while."

  "Thank you. We have," Clara said for them.

  "Land travelers are often more wary than otherworldly ones," Reverend Pendle said. "But here we can offer you plenty of food, places to rest, supplies if you need. We have a telegraph and money, of course. We can mend or fix things for you and we have a healer. How can we help you?"

  Warren spoke up. "It's a long story."

  Revered Pendle's eyes lit up. "Ah. I specialize in those." He held his hand out. "If you'll allow me?"

  Warren stepped forward, pushed the oversized sleeves of his coat up, and took the Reverend's hand in both of his.

  They both closed their eyes and looked like they were listening to a distant noise on a dark night.

  Joseph chanced a whisper into Clara's ear. "Um. What's happening?"

  "The reverend can read minds if you let him,” she whispered. “Warren's basically thinking our story to him."

  The feeling of raking his hands through Warren's hair flashed in his memory and Joseph hoped Warren would forget a few key bits of their story as he was thinking it to the reverend. But Joseph didn't have time to panic.

  They both opened their eyes and Reverend Pendle nodded. "Ah. Yes. Of course." He took a step back. "You're in luck. We have very quick Traveler who can do exactly what you need. We can go out the back way."

  Joseph let the others go ahead as they followed Reverend Pendle. At the left side of the raised stage that held the altar were two doors. One was the door to the reverend’s office, the other led outside.

  It was hard to leave the warmth of the church, but Joseph found the outside was just as inviting. There was a whole new world to discover behind the building.

  Along with a small carriage house, water well, and woodshed, Joseph was astounded to see a properly wooded thicket behind the church. He hadn't seen such beautiful trees in the years since he had been on the prairie. The scent of the evergreens brought back memories of his home town. Joseph didn't necessarily miss that life, but he had to admit, it was nice to be reminded of the beauty of trees. From out of the darkness of the thicket he could hear someone steadily chopping wood for the stove, and he felt even more at home.

  Next to a campfire was a giant wagon, a proper prairie schooner, but without the canvas cover. It was filled with a variety of items from kitchen chairs to a plough.

  Next to the wagon crouched a person that Joseph thought was a man at first glance. But as they got closer he saw the person was a woman wearing men’s pants and riding boots. When she stood, Joseph saw she he had a short lavender cloak wrapped around her shoulders and delicate white gloves on her hands. Her hair was braided tight around her head, a reddish brown that matched her lips. Her green eyes were youthful but the wrinkles about her eyes and mouth showed her age, likely late forties, though Joseph knew angels probably aged differently than humans.

  “Sophie,” Reverend Pendle said with a smile. “Just the person I wanted to see.”

  The woman set her hands on her hips. “What can I do you for Reverend?”

  “Yes, I’d like you to meet some new arrivals… Warren and his sister Clara, and Pastor Joseph Ellis.”

  “My real name is too hard to say,” she said, shaking their hands in turn. “So just call me Sophie. How can I help y’all?”

  Reverend Pendle steepled his fingertips and turned toward his guests. “Well, which one of you can tell a very long story in the least amount of words?”

  Without hesitation, Clara spoke up. “We are harboring a soul from the other side and we need help to rebirth her here on earth.”

  “Aha.” Sophie’s eyes glistened playfully and she stepped right up to Warren. “Must be you, that coat is far too big for a handsome guy like yourself. How far along?”

  “Very,” Warren answered, popping the button on his sack coat and opening it up for her to see.

  Her jaw dropped but it was soon recovered by the brightest smile Joseph had ever seen.

  “Overdue, I’d say,” she said with a joking lilt.

  “Feels that way,” Warren confessed.

  “Oh, I do so love babies. May I?”

  Warren nodded and Sophie placed her gloved hands gently on the swell of his stomach.

  “Is it a boy or girl?” Sophie asked.

  “Girl. But I wasn’t there at the time,” Warren said. “It was an emergency transfer.”

  “Ah. Well. You’re safe now.”

  Joseph couldn’t help smiling. Everything about this woman exuded nurturing and safety. At that moment it struck him that if Reverend Pendle was who Joseph had wanted his father to be, this angel was who had wanted his mother to be. He was grateful that such a kind and capable woman would be helping deliver the baby.

  Reverend Pendle spoke up. “Do you think it’s possible for—”

  “Charlton?” Sophie finished. “Oh yeah. He’s quick. And a seasoned Traveler. He’s taken up to five others with him before, juggling two won’t be a problem.”

  Joseph’s smile fell from his lips. Charlton? He?

  Sophie stepped away and let Warren button his coat back up.

  “He’s been working all afternoon so he might want to rest a minute,” Sophie said. She turned and called into the trees, “Charlton? We need you a moment over here, darlin’.”

  The sound of wood being chopped ceased and in a moment a young man sauntered out of the woods. Even though it was cold, his shirt was unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up. A red flush played on his cheeks and chest. He had an axe slung over his shoulder. He looked to be barely in his twenties.

  “You called, mother?”

  “We need an Traveler,” Sophie said. “For two passengers.”

  “Coming or going?” Charlton asked.

/>   “A little of both,” Warren spoke up. “My sister was harboring a soul from the war. But she had to make an emergency transfer to me. The soul is being reborn, as a baby. My sister told me that there were other angels that would be able to… take us apart… as it were.”

  “Oh yeah, that part’s easy.” Charlton dropped the axe, holding it at his side casually. “I mean, we’d only have to dunk far enough out to separate your souls. Coming back would be a little juggle but nothing I can’t handle alone. Landings are always hard, but not unreasonably hard. An infant would easily survive it.”

  Joseph felt his face grow hot and a sweat broke out over his skin. He turned and hissed a whisper into Clara’s ear. “Excuse me? Dunk? Juggle? Unreasonably hard?”

  Noting his obvious distress, Clara took his arm as though he were escorting her to a dance. She whispered back in his ear. “That’s just… angel talk. It sounds insensitive but it really isn’t. It’ll be all right, I promise.” She squeezed his arm. “I really, really promise.”

  The conversation continued but Joseph wasn’t listening. He might not have officially been a husband or a father but he sure felt like one. And he was not thrilled with some inexperienced young man being in charge of the most important thing in Joseph and Warren’s life. Especially with his shirt half off like that.

  Joseph clenched his jaw and held on to Clara’s arm, letting her anchor him through the wave of searing emotion. Joseph was used to being the reasonable one in difficult situations. He had always been the one to provide calm in the tumultuous sea of anger or grief or hopelessness.

  In a way, Joseph’s faith had never really been tested. And now that it was being tested, it didn’t matter that he was surrounded by angels. Joseph did not like feeling so out of control.