"Just relax. I'll keep tabs on it."
"What'd you ever do with that black box we found in the kitchen that night?"
The other man sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I added the letters and sealed it up. It's safe. I buried it by Field's Road."
"YOU MORON!" the other said, his voice rising, "It's flooding out there. You buried the Goddamn thing on a fucking flood plain?"
"Shhh, I'll check on it tomorrow."
"NO, you'll check on it tonight, got it?"
"Shit, I don't have an SUV like you do."
"I don't care if you have to crawl on your hands and knees, just check on it. NOW."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Meg and Spence sat at the kitchen table with Maria, after the two had convinced her to sit down, while the caterers hauled away food and cleaned up.
"It's pretty quiet now," Spence said as he sipped his tequila. He cut himself a slice of lemon, and sucked on it thoughtfully while he gazed at Meg. She'd taken her hair down sometime during the evening, and now he gently took a few wayward strands and placed them back over her shoulder.
"And cold again," she said as she shivered. "Or is it just me?"
Spence and Maria exchanged a look before he said, "It's not too bad, but I'll check the air setting before I turn in."
"And Senora Lila? She esta bien, yes?" Maria asked.
"She'll be fine," Meg said, "it's just too much for her. Too much excitement. Dad's had her out here for too many years. Lacene is not New York City. There's nothing to do here but dwell in the past and worry about the future."
Spence smiled. "I know. I've been dwelling in the past ever since I got here." He reached out to touch Meg's hand. "Sometimes the memories are good, though."
"Sweet memories," Meg agreed, as she smiled back at him.
"Si," Maria said, as she stood tiredly, "lots of good memories little one. Now, I must go to my room. The music...my ears, they are ringing."
Spence laughed. "I think that's the point of it all, Maria."
Meg and Spence held hands, silent for a moment, before she said, "You'll never believe this. Harv Brewster made a pass at me tonight."
"Oh my God," he laughed again, "old Harmless Harv?"
"Harmless, my ass. He was shit-faced at the wake and shit-faced before he even got here. He just about fell on my shoes when I opened the front door tonight."
"Who?" asked Willie, as he wandered in munching an apple.
"Harv from Red's Bar," answered Spence. "You might not know him--"
"Oh, old Horrible Harv?" Willie sat across from them and took off his tie.
"That's the one," Spence replied, "guess they have a new nickname for him."
"I see him weaving around town during the day sometimes," Willie said, "He pees in the alleys. I've seen him. The kids all make jokes about him."
"Once a drunk, always a drunk," said Meg disgustedly.
"He's pretty harmless, thus the nickname we gave him," Spence said, "although if he's peeing in alleys I guess he deserves the 'horrible' rap."
"Hey," Willie said, noticing their clasped hands, "you guys went out in high school?"
"You could say that," Spence said. "We were pretty close back then."
"Cool." Willie hesitated. "You staying around Spence?"
"Not for good, Willie. I've got to go back and take care of business. But, I am staying here for a few more days. I need to get with the sheriff on some stuff. Pap's boy, Davey."
"Yeah, all the kids know Davey. He's got the slowest patrol car we've ever seen. So you're asking him about your parents?" Willie asked.
Meg and Willie both looked at Spence expectantly.
"Yeah," Spence said, "I guess you could say there are a few details about...the whole thing that don't sit well with me."
Meg shivered. "Just don't ask me to go down in that basement again. It was too creepy. I should have known better."
"Mom, did you see your visions again down there?"
"No," she replied, "it was more like an intense feeling. When the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end or a rat skitters across your feet. I knew they were both there, though, and I could tell what they were thinking. They haven't left. They come to me sometimes at night..." her voice trailed off.
"They're trapped," Lila said slowly from the doorway. "Trapped in limbo. Purgatory."
Spence thought Lila looked terrible. Her skin had a grayish pallor, her eyes were sunken, with purple under-eye shadows, and her cigarette had an inch long ash. Meg scrambled to get her an ashtray.
Lila sat heavily next to Willie and tightened the sash on her pink silk robe.
"You okay, Gramma?" Willie put his arm around her shoulder.
Her sad eyes came up and met Spence's. "It's over, isn't it?"
"Yeah, Lila," he said quietly, "it's over." She didn't just mean the wake, she meant Chad's death, the whole scene, Spence thought.
"God Bless his soul, Amen," Big Jake said as he entered from the dining area.
Lila sniffed. "That's the first time I've heard you mention God since Chad died."
Big Jake moved to the sink and leaned against it, nursing his drink. "I was mad at him before," he said sharply.
Sighing, she said, "Chad had thiry-six years. That's more than some people have." She crushed out her cigarette absentmindedly, fumbled in her robe pocket and lit another.
Meg watched the interchange. As far back as she could remember her parents had sniped at each other. What had started it all? she asked herself. What momentous, torturous thing happened to make them be this way?
Her gaze moved to Spence as her parents continued their harangue. He looked so good she wanted to take him right there in the kitchen, and she felt herself relaxing.
His sun-streaked wavy brown hair was neatly combed back, but still shaggy over his collar. He had rolled up the sleeves on his white shirt, showing tan muscular forearms, his shirt strained against his wide shoulders, was open several buttons in front showing his smooth chest, and his dressy black chinos fit him perfectly with no gaps or wrinkles. His black boots were polished to a bright shine.
He was, in the words of her former classmate, a babe. He'd always had that distinction at school. But as she observed Spence, she grew increasingly annoyed at her parents, who had raised their voices now to a fevered pitch. They were interfering.
"What do you know about God?" Lila said loudly.
"Oh," Jake replied, "I guess I don't go to Mass every day like you do. Big, fucking deal. I've found my God--"
"Stop it!" Meg yelled, "I can't stand any more of this!"
Karl walked into the room, unbuttoning the top buttons on his shirt. "What's going on?"
Big Jake went to say something but it came out a strangled cry.
"Dad?" Karl walked up and grabbed Jake's elbow. "Are you okay?"
Another cry emitted from Jake's throat. He dropped his empty shot glass.
But the glass seemed to have its own mind. It hovered three inches from the floor, came up and dealt a glancing blow to Jake's cheek, before falling heavily into the sink.
An eerie silence penetrated the room as they all stared in disbelief.
"Jesus God," Big Jake finally said, touching his cheek, "I couldn't move...then the glass..."
Karl let out a long breath. "There must be some reasonable explanation. Things don't just move on their own like that." He picked up the glass and stared at it. "Someone is pulling our leg."
"Son of a bitch," Lila said bitterly, "it serves you right, Jake, talking about God that way. You'll be cursed and your soul will be damned. 'Let him who is without faith depart.'" She took a long drag of her cigarette, "Well, husband, you know the rest."
Spence shook his head. "I saw it with my own eyes and I still can't believe it."
Willie turned in his seat towards Spence and muttered, "Cool. I gotta tell Joe about this."
"No!" Karl said sharply, "Not a word to anyone. If this gets out, we'll be the laughing stock of the county."
"What
about someone from the University?" Spence asked. "Maybe they have a paranormal psychology department over there."
"Let's not rush this thing," Karl replied. "We'll wait a few days then decide if we want to bring in an outsider."
"Maybe they could help with my bad dreams," Meg added hopefully.
"We'll see." Big Jake said. His hands shook. "I, for one, am going to get some sleep." On his way out the door, he stopped next to Meg. "Try not to raise the roof tonight with your screaming, missy. I'm exhausted."
After he'd left, Meg said bitterly, "He acts like I do it on purpose."
"Mom," Willie said, "You want me to sleep on the couch in your room for a few nights?"
Meg smiled at him, thinking what a wonderful son he was, while also thinking guiltily she'd rather have Spence for security. "Thanks, sweetie. I'll be okay. The funeral is over. The wake is over. Maybe it will all just go away now."
"Yeah, right." Willie said, "Whatever you say, Mom."
After they'd all discussed the unusual happening and gone to their separate bedrooms to retire, Meg found herself pacing her room, unable to sleep. So many questions were in her mind, questions without answers.
She padded down the hallway and paused outside the bedroom where Big Jake had put Spence. She knocked softly but there was no answer. Still hesitating, she opened the door and tip-toed in. The room was silent and dark, but there was a light on in the bathroom.
She looked in and saw Spence leaning on the marble vanity with both arms, head down, as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was naked except for his briefs. Her blue eyes appraised his muscular body, roved freely up and down his fine physique, his well-developed arms and back, and she tried to capture the picture in her mind forever.
As teens, they had been limited to cars and grassy knolls. And, the other night, they were both in such a hurry, neither one got a chance to appreciate the other's body.
Suddenly, his head came up and he glanced in her direction. A slow smile began on his lips. His eyes wandered up and down her body, taking in her wild blonde hair, thin nightgown and bare feet.
"I thought you weren't going to tempt me," he said finally.
"Who's tempting?" she said, "I'm flat out asking."
He strolled up and grabbed her by the waist with one arm. Pulling her close, he said softly, "Do you love me?" His lips barely touched hers and she smelled aftershave and mint as his other hand crushed the hair on her nape.
"I...yes," she whispered.
He kissed her hard then, kissed her cheek and neck as she gasped with pleasure. His hand came over, caressed one breast and the other casually, slowly, then rubbed her mound, making her wet through the fabric.
"You're ready, aren't you?" he whispered against her lips. "You're always ready for me. Say it."
She moaned. "I'm so ready, Spence."
Pulling down his briefs, he pushed up her gown and held it around her waist, while he started entering her. "Like this?" he asked, as he pulled one of her legs up and toyed at her opening.
"Yes," she gasped, "like that."
He entered her fast and stifled her cry of pleasure with his lips. His hand came down on her buttocks and he pressed into her rhythmically.
"Did I tell you," he said softly, as his lips touched hers, "that in this light, you look like an angel?"
She was close to her climax now and he knew it, as he baited her, "Angel, mine, say it."
She gasped. "Angel, yours."
Their bodies moved freely and they melted into each other. Hearts, minds, souls; for a brief instant, they were one.
*****
At seven o'clock Monday morning, Lila walked unsteadily into the church, dipped her hand in the water and her right hand went to her forehead and across her chest. "In the name of The Father, and of The Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen," she whispered. She moved through the nave to an aisle seat in the pew.
A feeling of sorrow mixed with intense relief flooded over her, as she smelled familiar candle wax and as she watched the sun flood through the multi-colored stained glass church windows. This was her place. Big Jake couldn't touch her here.
Father Damien, the young, dark haired priest, entered with Simon Liskey, who placed the Book of Gospel on the altar. The corporal was spread, the bread and wine brought, and the Liturgy began.
"Blessed be God forever," she chanted automatically.
Her mind wandered back to the wake yesterday, and the glass afterwards, hovering in mid-air. Spence. He spoke of the University and paranormal psychology.
She had to warn him. She was so uncomfortable about it all. The churches forbid conjuring up the dead, and the danger was spiritual, not physical. Yet, the glass had hit Jake on the forehead.
She sighed, still repeating the Mass response automatically. It was all so confusing, she must ask Father Damien.
As the service went on, Lila saw Harv Brewster enter through the side entrance. She frowned. He staggered, then righted himself and sat next to her in the pew.
His stench was God awful, she thought. He couldn't have bathed for days. She snuck a quick look at him. He wore a filthy, once-white dress shirt, wrinkled black pants and black shoes that had seen better days.
He hiccupped loudly, before he repeated the hiccup and muttered to himself.
She tried to focus on the Psalm reading. "For Thou has been my stronghold, and a refuge in the day of my distress." Father Damien's rich voice wrapped around her senses, before waves of stench came to her from Harv. Like a hound from hell, she thought.
Father Damien took communion and she joined the others in line to receive hers. Harv's smell followed her and he elbowed her, muttered again, and she ignored him.
When she got to the altar, Father Damien wouldn't meet her eyes as he placed the wafer on her tongue. She knew he was upset with her about the funeral, and the fact that she and Jake had let Reverend Tyler officiate instead of him. She regretted her decision now, but it was too late. She vowed she would make it up to Father Damien somehow.
As she moved aside to go back to the pew, there was a sudden crashing noise and a collective gasp from Father Damien and the parishioners.
Harv Brewster had fallen on, and splintered, the altar. Wine cups and chalice spilled red, and wafers hit the floor. He stood and looked down at the mess, as if confused.
Lila grabbed him by one arm. "Harv, for God's sake, get out of here," she hissed.
Simon Liskey and the Father seemed frozen in place, but soon, were moving to clear up the mess.
But then Lila noticed Harv's arm was cut badly and he was bleeding on the church carpet. "Good Lord," she uttered, as she guided him towards the back of the nave. He followed like a docile child. In the lobby, he wet his pants.
"Wait here," she told him firmly. After grabbing a roll of paper towels from the restroom, she wrapped a few around his cut, and tried to sop up his urine mess with the rest. Gingerly, she picked up the towels and threw them away.
She glanced into the nave and realized they had cut the service short, and it was almost over.
"Do you live around here?" she asked him quietly, while applying pressure to his gash.
"Yeah," he slurred, "but the wife, she up and kicked me out."
"Is that why you're here?"
He nodded. People were dispersing now in the church and talking in the aisles.
Lila made a decision. "You'll come home with me. We'll get you cleaned up, so your wife will want you back."
His blood-shot eyes came up and met hers, before tears ran down his cheeks and he began to sob.
"Come on," she stated, "come with me."
*****
Simon Liskey saw her come in at the start of services. Tammy. She sat in a back pew, eying him in that way she had. It was a sexual look, and he wondered if anyone noticed, especially Father Damien. A flush went up his face.
She ran a graceful hand through her long black hair. Oh, the things she had done to them both with that hand. The pleasure it b
rought to him, as he had watched her. They had both watched each other.
As if reading his thoughts, she smiled broadly. He almost tripped himself up on the way to the altar, and tried to concentrate on what he was doing. Father Damien was watching him now, and he never liked mistakes. Plus, it was unsettling the way Father could almost read his thoughts sometimes.
As the parishioners lined up for communion, his eyes went compassionately to Lila. She looked thinner to Simon, frail, almost ethereal. She was dressed smartly, as usual, in a powder blue suit with matching heels. Of all the people who lived in Lacene, she was the one he most admired. She lived her faith and, he thought, how many people actually did that?
Father Damien poked him in the back and he realized a parishioner was waiting for the wine cup. He complied, hastily, while stealing a glance in Tammy's direction. She still sat, but seemed to be reading his thoughts about Lila. Tammy never took communion, and he doubted she was even Catholic. No Catholic could ever do the degrading things she did. It just wasn't possible, he thought.
A crashing noise brought him out of his reverie. The wine cups were spilled, as Harv fell, and the wine mingled with his blood on the altar. Wafers scattered here and there, as people gasped and the church grew silent.
This had never happened before. The altar was splintered, and Father Damien didn't look in control anymore.
Everyone stood, awkwardly silent, as Lila led Harv from the nave.
Simon looked up to see Tammy, hiding a smile behind her hand. "Hell," he muttered as he bent down to begin cleaning the mess.
*****
Spence slept soundly until ten in the morning. He reached over, but Meg was gone from his bed. His hand ran down the sheet as he thought of last night. He and Meg had gone at it like a couple of newlyweds, after the first time. He just couldn't get enough of her.
But, he suddenly remembered his eleven o'clock appointment with Davey, to get the notes on his parent's case, and he quickly shaved and showered.
Meg, Karl told him, had gone to a doctor's appointment, so he headed out on his own.
Monsoon moisture had given way to dry, scorching air, and he put the top down on his car, grateful for the breeze. As he drove along the back roads, he saw the damage caused by the floods.
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