Cat felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
Could his dream be so strong that it got into her head from so many miles away? That didn't make sense. Between here and there, thousands, maybe even millions of people were having nightmares. She hadn't even told Lee that she had gone to St. Louis, so it wasn't as if he could project his dream to her or even think of her in St. Louis as he fell asleep either. Another possibility startled Cat: that she and Lee had a connection that could span the distance.
She felt her heart hurt. Actually hurt.
Unable to sleep, she shrugged off the Lee problem and decided to get up and poke around. She dressed in a pair of loose jeans and the "Champion for Christ" sweatshirt Anita had given her as a gift. Hope had briefed Cat on the dress code, which specifically outlawed her high school sweatpants, not because they were from a Catholic high school but because they had writing across the butt, which would attract the male gaze, presumably. Cat wandered through the dormitory—there was a nice common space filled with brand-new couches and a flat-screen TV—and into the main church hall, which was always open. The altar wasn't ornate by Catholic church standards, but it was impressive, with an enormous metal cross affixed to an angled section of wood behind the podium, all of it backlit by about a hundred or so lights.
She thought about Jim Plantation's dream, the one with the snakes, the disgusting shack, and the cabinet full of angels. Snakes were a pretty obvious metaphor for the devil. And there were so many of them—temptations everywhere. The horrible shack, a den of iniquity. He'd mentioned something about his aunt never being there, and about her being with men. Maybe Jim had been raised by her, and she was too busy to really care for him. Who knows what the comment about men could signify—either a loose lifestyle or an illegal profession borne of necessity? Cat didn't want to judge the aunt, but she did feel some compassion for a child raised in that shack, whether it was a real place or just how Jim thought of his childhood home. The church cabinet full of angels definitely represented a life of deliverance and order in the midst of all that chaos.
"Trying to tune in?" A voice from behind startled her. She turned. It was Anita Briggs, walking up the aisle toward her.
"You're up early," Cat said.
"It's good for the soul," Anita replied. "When the sun comes up in the morning, that's when I feel closest to God."
Cat realized then that Anita reminded her a little of Granny Grace. A less attractive, less cosmopolitan version, but this woman carried herself with the same depth and wisdom. Cat felt a bit of regret as she realized that Anita truly wanted to save her, not for the growth of the congregation, but for Cat's own good.
"Will Jim be giving the sermon this morning?" Cat inquired. She'd arrived in time for the Friday social, helped the Teen Scripture Squad finish the banners on Saturday, and was eager to continue her investigation of Jim. She'd turned up very little on Saturday, and it felt as if her case were growing cold.
Anita blanched at her question, however. "Oh, Jim. No. There's been... some sadness in our church. A tragedy. Jim and his family are taking some time to recover from the loss privately. He's on leave."
Cat felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. Jim wasn't even here? How could this be? Now what was she going to do?
"Sadness?" she asked gently, though she was certain that Jim had simply used his assistant director's death as a convenient cover story for leaving his church duties behind while he stalked his wife and child in Seattle.
"One of our church administrators... passed recently. He was one of the founders. It was a tremendous loss for our entire congregation." Anita stared up at the cross as if thinking of something she couldn't discuss.
"Oh," Cat replied. "I'm so, so sorry."
Anita shook it off and offered Cat a wan smile. "All part of God's plan. We don't have to understand it to accept it."
They stood in silence for a moment, looking up at the cross. Then Cat asked, "Who's going to give the sermon?"
Anita smiled weakly. "That would be the Reverend Chambers," she said. "He's been with the church as long as Larry and Jim have. He used to host services in his home when we were just a small gathering of hopefuls." She paused, as if remembering some long-ago time. "Come, help me get the coffee brewing and set out the cornbread and fruit. We won't get the same crowd what with Jim gone, but they'll still want snacks after services."
Anita was right about the crowd. Admittedly, Cat had nothing to compare it to, but Wendy and the other girls had regaled her with stories of packed pews, everyone on their feet and singing. It was a decent crowd for a church service these days, she thought, but there was a dampened sort of feeling when Rev. Chambers took the podium. He was a good speaker, but he lacked the enigmatic quality she'd seen in Jim's recorded sermons, which she'd watched online.
Rev. Chambers talked about the power of prayer and the people he'd seen healed by it. "Some are healed physically, some emotionally, and some spiritually," he said. "Jesus’ spirit breathes through us all, healing in all ways."
To Cat's surprise, he addressed Jim's absence head-on: "Our captain has left the helm, and I understand you could feel bereft. We can only trust in God's light to bring our leader back to the fold."
After the service, Cat mingled with the congregation members, trying to tease out information without arousing suspicion. She'd so far discovered that Jim had been gone for close to three months. People were speculating, spurred on by Rev. Chambers' speech, that he had abandoned his flock. She definitely got the sense that his period of grief should have ended a respectful amount of time ago, and since nobody had seen hide nor hair of him—it was expected that he and his family would continue to worship, even if he were taking a break from the altar—people were becoming worried, resentful, and in some cases, even alarmed. "Jim's congregation needs him," muttered one woman to another, who nodded and closed her eyes as if to hold back tears. "And Jim needs us," the woman replied.
Cat tried to make this odd rift left by Jim's absence work for her, with some success. She found out that Jim and the assistant director, whose name was Larry Price, had been best friends since their boyhoods in southern Missouri. Rev. Chambers himself told her this as he polished off his second helping of cornbread. He was a distinguished older gentleman who carried a black cane with a silver tip shaped like an eagle. She held his coffee cup for him as he wiped his hands and beard with a napkin.
"The two were like brothers, except they got along better than most brothers," he told her. "There wasn't a decision that Jim made that he didn't discuss with Larry first."
"Why would he kill himself?" Cat whispered. "I'm sorry to ask. I just... I just joined the church, and the suicide thing has me spooked."
"I can't answer that, miss," he said. "Why does anyone? It's not for me to judge, that's for the Lord, but personally, I think it's a sign of moral and spiritual weakness."
"Did Mr. Price seem... weak?" Cat asked.
The man paused, looked up at the ceiling, fingering his cane. "Yes. In some ways he did. He was definitely Jim's shadow."
"Maybe he could never live up to Jim," Cat suggested. "Maybe he never felt good enough."
"No," the man said. "It wasn't like that with Jim and Larry." He spotted someone across the room and seemed to have grown weary of Cat's line of questioning anyway. "If you'll excuse me..."
"Certainly." Cat suddenly felt self-conscious, standing there by herself. She looked around the room for a familiar face and saw Anita's bright red hair, pulled into a ponytail. When Anita turned, she locked eyes with Cat and smiled. Cat smiled back.
Cat didn't want to push her luck with this crowd any longer, and besides, it skewed much older than the age she was pretending to be, and that made her feel doubly conspicuous. She decided to see who else was still around from the Teen Scripture Squad.
Back in the dorm, she found Tina packing a bag; she was headed to stay with her parents for a couple of days. Cat had met them in the refreshment lounge, and it was easy to
see the resemblance, as her mother looked like a fortysomething Barbie, and her father reminded Cat of John F. Kennedy. The other girls were out shopping at the mall, Tina said.
Cat plopped down on her bunk bed to chat. Instead of the thong underwear commonly worn by most college-aged girls, Cat noted, Tina had a stack of neatly folded white briefs in front of her on the bed. Cat couldn't help herself. She picked one up, unfurled it, and waved it.
"Seriously, Tina? These look like surrender flags."
Tina grabbed it out of her hand. "And I suppose you wear a G-string every day," she snorted.
"Not every day. Only when she's stripping," quipped Wendy, who'd come into the room just then.
"I thought you were at the mall," Cat said. She'd been hoping to get to talk to Tina alone. Her parents were close to church leadership, she'd noticed. They might know more and could have said something in front of Tina.
"Nope, not today," said Wendy. "The mall is depressing when you can't buy anything. I'm broke, and the fosters aren't forthcoming."
She always referred to her foster parents as "the fosters," which Cat had quickly realized was a put-on, the girl obviously trying to affect an emotional distance from them.
"Am I interrupting girl time?" Wendy lilted, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Wendy, that's not very nice, and it's Sunday, even," scolded Hope.
"Well, I don't know why you're acting so sanctimonious with me. When I walked into the room, the two of you were discussing G-strings."
"Cat was making fun of my lady briefs," Tina said.
"Oh, those," Wendy shrugged. "Big deal. We all wear them. I mean, mine don't quite offer the same, ah, coverage as Tina's," she pulled down the edge of her skirt to reveal a pair of modest hip huggers, "but then I'm not as hot as Tina, either, so I don't need a chastity belt to keep 'em away."
Tina blushed, laughing. Wendy and Cat laughed, too.
Just then there was a knock at the door. It was Tina's parents, who whisked her away after a few niceties, leaving Cat alone with Wendy.
"So what kind of underwear did you bring?" Wendy asked, bounding up and heading toward Cat's chest of drawers. They hadn't dressed in front of each other, as the practice was to dress in modesty in curtained changing rooms, or she wouldn't have had to ask, as the bunk beds were in such close quarters otherwise. She flung Cat's top drawer open and picked up a pair of white lace bikini bottoms.
"These are sweet," she said. "I haven't seen anything but cotton in a really long time. Not since the last time I was with my mom..." Wendy's facial expression clouded.
"Where is she?" Cat asked, taking the bikini out of Wendy's hand and stowing it back in her drawer.
Wendy shrugged. "I don't know. Hanging out at Diamond Dick's, probably." It was a strip club with a shady reputation that had been busted for drug trafficking and prostitution in the past.
"Oh," Cat said. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, Mom's a real winner," Wendy said. "She used to be a stripper, but she's too old for that now. She just hangs out there for the drugs."
Cat sat down on Tina's bunk, facing Wendy, who was perched on the edge of hers.
"What's your mom like?" Wendy asked Cat. "Wait. Let me guess. You have like seven siblings, 'cause you're Catholic, so she doesn't use birth control. That's why you're here. It's not that the Catholic Church wasn't your bag, it's that you never got enough attention."
Cat smiled. "I wish that were true. Actually, I'm an only child. But my parents wanted to have more. They just can't."
"Well, doesn't that suck?" Wendy said. "I've never understood it. My mom shouldn't have had any kids at all, and yours should have had, like, twenty. There's no justice in that."
"Wouldn't Anita say it's all part of God's plan?" Cat asked.
Wendy snorted. "Yeah, she would. I get it. I do. It's just the hardest thing for me to deal with here. I mean, it's not fair. It's not fair I had my childhood, and Tina had hers."
Cat let the silence between them linger for a few beats. Then Wendy spoke up again. "So how are you liking it here, anyway?"
"It's so nice," Cat gushed. "Everyone's really welcoming, more than I thought they'd be. But I guess..." She paused. "I guess the suicide thing is freaking me out."
Wendy's face clouded again. "Yeah. It's more than freaky. It's positively unexplainable."
"What do you mean?" Cat asked. "Nobody saw it coming?"
"Nope. Larry Price? He was awesome. He taught me to box. I had a... lot of anger issues when I first came to this church. So the fosters enrolled me in his boxing class. He taught me how to take out my anger on the punching bag, and how to defend myself. And he was just a great guy, always happy and positive. I can't see him blowing his head off."
"Is that how he did it?"
"Yeah. Brains and blood splattered all over the wall behind him," Wendy said. "He lived here, you know. His office and living quarters are behind the main hall. It's all closed up now, though." Cat saw tears in her eyes.
They were silent again for a minute.
Then Wendy spoke. "Anita says you're going to college."
"That's the plan."
"Where?"
"Seattle. My grandmother lives there."
"Oh."
"What about you?"
"I was liberated last month," said Wendy.
"Congratulations!" said Cat. "Is that like being confirmed?"
Wendy looked at her quizzically and then laughed. "What? Oh, no. Liberated from the foster care system. When I turned eighteen."
Cat suddenly understood why Wendy would want to distance herself from "the fosters."
"Are your foster parents still in touch with you?"
"Oh, yeah," Wendy replied. "But they're pretty busy with their new projects. Justin and Jennifer, aged eleven and fourteen. Brother and sister, been in the foster-care system for five years. Justin's special needs."
Cat already knew the answer to her question, but the investigator in her made her ask it anyway. "Are they sending you to college?"
Wendy flinched, but then smiled. "They gave me a dorm fridge, the one Foster Dad had out in the garage. The rest is all on me."
"Why don't they—"
Wendy interrupted Cat. "Don't even go there. You don't understand. It's not like they're made of money. Foster Mom is stay-at-home, so there's no paycheck coming from her. Foster Dad sells insurance. They're very nice people who've devoted themselves to the Lord's work. They saved my life, and that's enough. Besides, I don't need a free ride. Wendy Lewis makes her own way in the world."
Cat smiled. "Wendy, you're all right."
"Catholic girl, you're not so bad yourself. But you better get rid of the stripper undies. I hear Auntie Briggs has a weak heart, and when she sees those on laundry day, she'll think it's the Rapture."
Chapter 10
P.J. Simms stood on the pitcher's mound waiting for the next batter to take his place. He glanced up into the stands for Cat as if he knew she'd be there. She was close enough to catch his eye, plus she was wearing the wide-brimmed white hat she told him she'd be wearing. P.J. tipped his cap to her and smiled, then turned back to wind up his next pitch.
He struck the batter out, and Cat knew that one was for her. P.J. would be waiting for her after the game. She felt her heart grow warm at the thought.
P.J. played beautifully, making her feel proud. Hardly a batter got a hit off him in the first three innings, and in the next two, he got several outs when runners tried to steal bases. By the top of the seventh inning, the Cardinals led the Braves 5-0. During the seventh-inning stretch, one of the ushers brought her a red rose. "It's from P.J.," he said with a wink. There was a note wound around the stem. She carefully unfolded it. My darling Hope, it said, I'm yours in Christ. Love, P.J.
Or at least that's what Hope's mind told her it said, Cat realized, as the words on the page were unintelligible scribbles, as in all dreams. The part of the brain that processes the alphabet and written language isn't accessed during dreaming,
she knew, so any writing that actually appears in a dream is illegible.
Hope touched the golden cross around her neck, a perfect match to the one she knew P.J. wore underneath his uniform. Cat felt for the edges of Hope's mind, which was full of sentimental daydreams about a man she'd never meet in person, and pried her own mind away from Hope's. It worked. Cat finally had the technique down. Out of Hope's head, Cat sat back in a seat to watch the game. She was curious to see what would happen when Hope met P.J. The girl was always prim and proper; of all the girls in the precollege program, Hope toed the party line the best. But her interest in P.J. Simms bordered on, well, bona fide obsession, so maybe she cut loose in the safety of her own mind.
The Cardinals won, of course, as Hope was calling the shots in this dream world. Cat followed Hope down to the dugout.
At the entrance to the dugout, the security guards simply nodded to let Hope through, and Cat followed unseen. There was the door to the locker room. Hope went to the door, put her hand on it. Cat expected her to push through, but she stayed there, with one palm touching the door. Cat wanted to know what she was thinking and feeling, but being out of Hope's body meant she was separated from Hope's mind, too. Hmm... Could she go back in? Cat walked up behind Hope and tried reversing what she'd done to remove herself from the girl's mind. She listened very carefully for Hope's thoughts. She listened to the sounds of running water, metal locker doors banging shut. She stepped closer so that her invisible self was inside Hope's form. Nothing happened.
She remembered Granny Grace's description of how to pull herself out of someone, by meditating on the areas where the two consciousnesses parted. To reconnect, she must have to meditate on the place where she and Hope were essentially the same. Cat thought back to her own high school crush, the singer of a rock band. Cat knew everything about him, his favorite food, what he liked to sing in the shower, the fact that he wore his hair parted on the right when touring on the East Coast and on the left when touring on the West Coast. Cat had had fantasies about following him, living on the tour bus with him, waiting for him in hotels. How he'd look past the throngs of screaming girls and only have eyes for her...
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