"You’ve given me something to think about." Gary checked his watch. "Do you mind if I leave you here? I’m visiting Sister McCaughey before she goes into the hospital."
"How’s she doing?"
"Not good. Keep her in your prayers."
"I will. And your Dad? I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard you talking to him. Is he all right?"
"He’s lonely," Gary said. "Mom died years ago but Dad’s still having a hard time adjusting. I just realized their wedding anniversary is next week. I didn’t think about that." "It must be tough for him, having nothing to put his faith in."
Gary nodded. "Maybe one day."
"I’ll pray for that, too," said Brother Harris. "Why don’t you go home after visitation? I’ll lock up here."
"Okay. Thank you."
"It’s what Christians do, Pastor."
Gary slipped on his suit jacket, grabbed his Bible, and headed out to the car. He slipped the key into the ignition but didn’t start the engine. Gary took a moment to pray, asking God to comfort Sister McCaughey and guide his church. He prayed for his Dad. Gary understood loneliness and regret. He wished his Mom were still alive, too.
~
Sister McCaughey’s pain furrowed her brow occasionally, but she still kept her spirits up. She offered Gary something to eat, but he asked her instead to sit down and rest. "Don’t run yourself ragged on my account."
"You know what the Good Book says, Preacher. Always be mindful of guests. They might be angels."
"I’m hardly an angel," Gary said.
Sister McCaughey sat down on the couch next to Gary. "Yes you are. I prayed God would send us someone strong in His word and He sent you."
"Thank you, Sister."
"Your first sermon, I swear, I hadn’t heard preaching like that since the old tent revival meetings Papa took me to when I was young. Not to speak poorly of the dead, but Pastor Grant didn’t have the passion for souls you do."
"I’m sure he did the Lord’s work."
"He wasn’t always mindful, Preacher. But the Lord’s work never leaves your thoughts. Here, I have something I want you to see." Sister McCaughey opened a large jewelry box on her coffee table and pulled out a gold pocket watch. She handed it to Gary. "Papa was a watchmaker. There isn’t another like it anywhere."
"It’s fantastic." The watch clacked like a metronome. Gary could feel the movement of the clockworks in his palm. Elaborate filigree covered both sides, reminding him of delicate flames. On one side, an unfurled scroll had been engraved with a bit of text in strong block letters. "Luke
12:30."
"You know that verse, Preacher?"
"But God said unto him, ‘Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee: then whose shall those things be, which thou hast provided?’ Your father’s quite a craftsman. I can’t figure out how the watch opens, though."
"It doesn’t."
"Then how does it tell time?" Gary asked.
"It’s not for telling time, Preacher. It’s for telling the times." "I don’t understand, Sister."
Sister McCaughey leaned back onto the couch. "Papa was a godly man. As a watchmaker, he understood time better than anyone. Because God is timeless, he would tell me, when we gave our time, moments of our mortal existence, we gave a gift that even God couldn’t give."
"That’s an elegant thought. Is that why he made this?"
"Papa heard a sermon once about the number of lost souls who die every day. It inspired him to make it."
"Like a memento mori."
"What’s that, Preacher?"
"It’s Latin. It means an object that reminds us we all die."
"It’s a reminder, but not of our deaths. Papa called it his ‘Brimstone Timepiece’. Every tick represents a soul dying and going to Hell. Papa kept it with him until he died. I’m sure you of all people understand why. That’s why I want you to have it."
"Sister, that’s very kind but I can’t accept it. As long as you’re alive, it belongs with you."
"I have no false hopes, Preacher. The doctors tell me I have a 45 percent chance of getting through surgery. Know what I told ‘em? ‘Beats 35 percent.’ I’ve lived a long time. Maybe too long. I’m just an old woman homesick for Heaven."
"The church still needs you, Sister. So do I."
"That’s in God’s hands now. But please, let me do you this one service before the Lord takes me home. I have no children, and I can’t think of anyone who would honor the Timepiece or Papa’s memory more."
"I’ll tell you what," said Gary. "I’ll hold on to it. When you get out of the hospital, Lord willing, I’ll give it back. Until the Lord calls you home, you shouldn’t give your father’s watch away. Agreed?"
"It’s a deal. Though I have a feeling you won’t be giving it back. But it makes me happy to know you’ll have it. The Timepiece will be a treasure to you, Preacher. It’ll become your second heart."
~
Gary called the church when he got home. No answer. Maybe he should go over, just to make sure.
No. God wasn’t going to let the church fall apart. Joking or not, Dad was right about that. Gary read a few chapters of Galatians, took a shower, prayed, and then went to bed.
He woke up after midnight, restless for a reason he couldn’t explain. Had he forgotten some- thing? Wasn’t he supposed to go back after visitation and clean the church? No, Brother Harris took care of that. What, then?
It was this: slowly coming into focus from the periphery of his senses, a strange sound Gary was not accustomed to. A steady and rapid ticking.
Gary turned on the lamp and climbed out of bed. He fished through the pocket of the trousers he’d left on the dresser and pulled out the Brimstone Timepiece. Gary had slipped it into his pocket when he left Sister McCaughey’s. He’d almost forgotten it.
Gary turned it over in his hands. The ticking seemed louder in the stillness of the room. He sat it on the nightstand and went back to bed.
Gary slept, but not soundly, and his dreams were troubled.
~
At first, Gary kept the Timepiece with him because he worried he might misplace it. He would take it out of his pocket several times a day, let his fingers trace the engravings, and then wind the stem before putting it away. Gary could feel the Timepiece’s vibration in his pocket even if he couldn’t hear it. But he never stopped hearing it. How Sister McCaughey’s father had calculated the number of souls cast into Perdition was not altogether clear, but the Timepiece ticked two to three times a second, which seemed about right. It told Gary nothing he didn’t understand on an intellectual level, but he’d never considered the sheer numbers, the constant streams of souls falling into Hell like drops of rain from a Heaven they would never know. Although the ticking troubled him, and Gary sometimes considered leaving the Timepiece at home, he felt guilty wanting to put it out of earshot and thus out of his mind. Gary was a minister of truth. If he couldn’t face that truth, how could he hope to catch some of those drops and keep them from falling?
The Brimstone Timepiece marked each fallen soul, unrelentingly, and each night Gary found sleep more difficult.
The following Sunday, Gary preached on Matthew 13:45-46 and the Parable of the Pearl of Great Price. After the service, Gary met with Brother Harris. "I think I managed to keep the preaching down to a dull roar."
Brother Harris smiled. "And you pounded the pulpit only twice. I’m impressed." "Didn’t want people to think I was falling asleep."
"I wanted to talk to you about that. You do look like you haven’t been sleeping well. Are you alright?"
Perhaps Brother Harris had heard more of Gary’s conversation with Dad than he’d let on. "I’m a little tired, but everything’s fine."
"Pastor," asked Brother Harris, "do you hear something ticking?" "Yes, I do. All the time."
~
The doctors scheduled Sister McCaughey’s surgery for Wednesday morning. Gary stopped by Raleigh Memorial Hospital Tuesday afternoon.
"She
’s asleep," said Chandra the attending nurse. "Her pain’s getting worse and Doctor
Lanzalotti prescribed a sedative so she could rest."
"Can I go in and pray with her?" Gary asked. "I know she won’t be awake, but she’d still want me to."
"Okay, for a little while. Mrs. McCaughey is sharing a room with another patient, so try not to disturb her."
Chandra led Gary to Room 421, and then left him alone with Sister McCaughey. A drawn curtain separated her from the other patient. The sedative had Sister McCaughey sleeping soundly. Only the slow swelling of her chest gave the appearance of life. Gary took Sister McCaughey’s hand and prayed. Just as he had with Mom, years ago.
Then, it had been a different prayer. Gary had prayed for forgiveness, for more time to tell Mom the truth of his soul, the truth he had been afraid to tell her. But she never woke from the coma and died without ever knowing Gary had prayed for her.
A small sob wafted from the other side of the room. Gary pulled back the curtain. In the bed behind it laid an elderly woman, very frail and thin. Her breathing was shallow and raspy, assisted by a respirator and an oxygen tent. A violet bruise crept along her arm from the I.V. Her face was blue with veins and furrowed, and seemed to be falling in upon itself. She shivered under the thick blankets and her eyes opened. "Danny?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"No, ma’am. I’m Pastor Gary Waid from the Union Missionary Baptist Church. Do you need anything? Do you want me to call the nurse?"
"I want to go home."
"I’m sure you will soon," Gary said.
The woman shuddered again and looked at him as if she’d caught him in a lie, and perhaps she had. Her eyes misted with tears. "I don’t want to die."
"Ma’am, if you’ll let me, I’d like to pray with you."
A man pushed the curtain aside and stepped between Gary and the bed. "Who the hell are you?"
"Pastor Gary Waid, Union Missionary Baptist Church." He stuck out his hand, which the man didn’t take.
"Are you all right, Mama?" asked the man. "Danny, this man came to see me."
"I heard." The man turned to Gary. "We need to talk in the hall." "Danny?"
"This will only take a minute, Mama."
Gary stepped into the hallway, the man behind him. "Listen, Danny, is it?" Gary asked.
"First of all, it’s Mr. Beausoleil to you. Second, what right do you have going around pushing your religion down people’s throats?"
"I take it you’re not a religious man." "Nothing gets by you, does it?"
"All I was doing was comforting your mother."
"Of course you were," said Mr. Beausoleil. "A sick woman in a bad situation, a little scared. How could you resist? It’s practically the Bible thumper’s goddamn mating call. But if Mama wasn’t so sick right now, she’d have already told you where to get off. Well, I’m here and more than happy to do that for her, so go peddle your snake oil somewhere else."
"Regardless of what you believe, God led me to her for a reason."
"Nothing led you to a damned thing except a misplaced sense of entitlement. Mama doesn’t need that crap. She needs rest so she can get well and out of here, and I’m going to make sure she gets it."
The Timepiece throbbed against Gary’s thigh. He fished it out of his pocket. He heard the ticking, felt the urgency, and he understood. God was testing Gary’s dedication to winning souls. He vowed not to let this soul miss Heaven.
"I was wrong about you," Gary said. "I thought you were just some run-of-the-mill atheist. A poor misguided soul who likes to think he’s too smart to believe in God. But it’s more than that. You’re a coward.
"You think your mother’s going to get better? You’ve seen her condition, but you refuse to see the truth. Denial is your answer for everything, and right now you have that luxury. But she doesn’t. That woman is staring into the face of Eternity and she knows it. She needs to make peace with God. And that’s why God led me to her. Play games with your own soul if you want, but don’t drag her down with you. Trust me, one day you’ll regret it."
"So, is this the part where you pass the collection plate?"
"No," Gary said. "This is the part where I pray with your mother and she finds the peace you could never hope to give her."
Mr. Beausoleil stepped between Gary and the door to 421. "That’s it, sermon’s over. Time for you to get lost."
"I’ve not been lost for many years," Gary said. "And I’m not going anywhere. Not while that woman’s immortal soul is at stake."
"If I were you, I’d be more concerned about my mortal ass!"
"Excuse me gentlemen," said Chandra, who came up from behind the desk. "What’s going on?"
"I want Mama moved where she won’t be harassed."
"Mr. Beausoleil, we don’t have any private rooms available."
"Do whatever you have to," said Mr. Beausoleil, " but I don’t want that man anywhere near her."
"Why don’t we ask your mother what she wants," Gary said. Mr. Beausoleil clenched his fists. "You take one step—!"
"Gentlemen, please," Chandra said, stepping between Gary and Mr. Beausoleil.
"Code Blue, Room 421," came over the loudspeaker. Chandra bolted into the room, followed by other medical personnel. They pushed back the curtain and began to resuscitate Mrs. Beausoleil.
"What’s happening?" Mr. Beausoleil asked.
Chandra stopped him at the door. "We need to keep this area clear." She closed the door. The
Timepiece still throbbed in Gary’s palm.
Too late.
After a few minutes, the door opened and the room emptied. Chandra put her hand on Mr. Beausoleil’s arm. "I’m sorry." Mr. Beausoleil dropped his head and wept, but Gary could not pity him.
"Are you crying because she’s dead," asked Gary, "or because she’s in Hell right now thanks to you?"
The punch came so quickly, Gary hit the floor before he knew why. Somehow, he managed to hold on to the Brimstone Timepiece.
Hospital security cleared the hallway. An orderly led Gary to a private examination room and bandaged the cut over his left eye. After the orderly left, a police officer came in."Pastor Waid? I’m Officer Weingarten. I’m here to escort you to your car."
"Is that necessary? If you think Mr. Beausoleil is dangerous, why don’t you just arrest him?" "You don’t understand," Officer Weingarten said. "The hospital would like you to leave the premises."
"What? Why?"
"We can talk about it outside."
"Are you arresting me?" asked Gary. "If I need to. Do I?"
Gary grabbed his jacket, and Officer Weingarten escorted him to his car. Gary unlocked the door and got inside. Officer Weingarten put his hand on the car door before Gary could close it, and leaned toward him. "You need to call the hospital first before you show up again," Officer Weingarten said."If they decide to let you back on the property, I’d suggest you bring your manners with you."
"I didn’t do anything wrong."
"You don’t think so? You’re a lucky man. Because if you’d said to me thirty seconds after my Mom died that she was burning in Hell, I’d have damn near killed you." Office Weingarten shook his head. "For chrissake, just go home."
Gary could see Officer Weingarten in his review mirror, watching, until Gary drove away.
~
Brother Harris’s car was parked in the driveway when Gary came home Friday night. Brother Harris stepped off the porch and met Gary as he got out of his car. "Pastor? I’ve been looking for you all day. What happened to your eye?"
"It’s fine. It offended someone else." "Where have you been?"
"I’ve been downtown preaching. I started a street ministry yesterday. Bringing the Word of
God to the lost. I came back to pick up some more tracts." "In the middle of the night?"
"Sin never rests," Gary said.
"Pastor, I got a call from a friend at the police station. He told me what happened at the hospital."
"Yes. Tha
t poor old woman. I can’t tell you how many times I replayed that evening in my head. I don’t know what I could have done differently, but I don’t understand why God would have brought me there if I couldn’t save her."
"What about Sister McCaughey?" "Sister McCaughey?"
"Her surgery was yesterday."
"Yes, of course," Gary said. "How is she?"
"There were complications. She’s scheduled for another surgery next week. I went to visit her today. She asked about you."
" Tell her I’ll pray for her."
"Pastor, let’s go inside and talk. You look like you’re about to collapse." "No time. I need to get back downtown."
"We need to sit down and talk," said Brother Harris. "I have some concerns, and frankly you’re not doing a lot to ease them."
"What are you talking about?"
"I’m talking about our church’s reputation."
"You should be glad the church is finally getting one." "Don’t you think this’ll hurt our ministry?"
"We can’t care what other people think. If we busy ourselves in the Lord’s work, the world will always see us as a threat. It’s going to get worse, but we must remember we serve God above all else."
"I see," said Brother Harris. "I’ve talked with the Deacon Board. We’d like to have a meeting with you tomorrow morning. Can you be at the church around 9 a.m.?"
"I’ll be there. And I’m not indifferent to the Board’s concerns. Change is frightening. We’re at the crossroads. But if we choose the right path, the Lord will bless us in so many ways. It’s an exciting time for our church."
"We’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Pastor." Brother Harris got in his car and drove away. Gary went inside. The red LED on the answering machine blinked in the darkness. He
flipped on the light and pressed the message button.
"Mr. Waid? This is St. Mary’s Hospital in Richmond, Virginia. Your father’s been admitted with chest pains."
~
Dad was sitting up and smiling in his hospital bed, but the smile faded when he saw Gary. "What happened to you?"
"I thought you had a heart attack."
"And driving here gave you a black eye? You look like you’ve been through hell." "I thought I lost you," Gary said.
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