Fighting for Farmington: Destruction is Inevitable (Harmony Series Book 2)

by JR Thompson

  “Hold on,” Victoria said with a sigh, shutting the door in Collin’s face. She couldn’t stand that man. He’s probably here to ask for another favor. Probably had the notion his shadow was gonna kill him in the middle of the night.

  “Who was that, hon?” Brock called from his bedroom.

  “Mr. Paranoia himself. Do you want to speak with him or do you want me to tell him to get lost?”

  “What does he require?”

  “How should I know? Collin said he wishes to talk to you and promised he’s not here to make our lives any more difficult than they already are.”

  “Hmmm…,” Brock replied. “We’ll see. I’ll be out momentarily.”

  Better him than me, Victoria told herself. I’ll find something to keep myself busy until they’re through talking. With that, she grabbed her Bible off the mantle and sauntered out to the back deck. It was a bit nippy out, but she didn’t care as the low temperature somehow helped calm her nerves — even if a faint smell of smoke was still lurking in the air.

  Opening to the book of I Peter, she started to read in verse one but couldn’t make herself do it. I wonder what that imbecile wants now? She raised her eyes just in time to catch sight of a female cardinal swooping down to the birdfeeder. “Stupid bird. Shouldn’t you have flown south for the winter?” Still, she watched as the cardinal ignored her and continued pecking at seeds for a few seconds before flying away as quickly as she had arrived.

  Victoria glanced at her Bible again, but only for a moment. Something in her peripheral vision caught her attention. “GET OUT OF HERE!” she fussed at the neighbor’s cat.

  Bible reading seemed next to impossible in light of the circumstances. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before Brock joined her on the deck.

  Apparently Collin remembered a conversation he and Brock had back in Clayville — about Brock’s desire to work with folks who were terminally ill. Even though it wasn’t exactly the same thing, Collin had heard about a local pastor who was seeking out the right candidate to take over the ministry he had been overseeing. For decades the man and his wife, along with the help of volunteers, had constructed houses for families who had lost everything due to floods, fires, or other dire circumstances. The pastor and his wife felt they were getting too old to continue that portion of their ministry and were hunting for a Christian contractor who might have the heart for that type of work.

  “So… what do you conjecture?” Brock asked. “Should I look into it?”

  Victoria sighed. “I don’t know. Consider the source, Brock.”

  Brock appeared to be annoyed. “Explain your meaning.”

  “Do you honestly believe Collin is worried about your best interests right now? He’s simply in a hurry to get us out of here.”

  “Aren’t we in a rush to secede?”

  “Well… yes, but—”

  “Then it’s determined. I’m calling them.”

  Victoria crossed her arms and let out another sigh. “If you presume that’s a wise idea, go for it. Who am I to stand in the way?”

  Paying no attention to her sarcasm, Brock whipped the phone out of his jacket pocket right then and there.

  “Hi, I’m pursuing an opportunity to commune with Pastor O’Malley… this is Brock Pearson… I was inquiring about the construction ministry…”

  Victoria watched her husband intently for a couple of minutes — that is, until the anxiety on his face became alarming. His expression told her he was buying into whatever that pastor was trying to sell. I can’t look at him anymore. If I do, I’m gonna say something I’ll regret, she told herself.

  Forcing her eyes to the pages of her Bible, Victoria pretended to read. She wasn’t about to let Brock know she was actually interested in his conversation. For ten minutes, she ran her finger along the scriptures, turned pages, and absorbed absolutely nothing.

  Finally Brock hung up the phone. That’s when she found out the guy owned a five-bedroom, three-bath home in the middle of Farmington — right next door to the guy’s church. Whoever assumed the role would get to live in that house and would be able to treat it as if it was his own. The ministry was funded by more than three hundred supporting churches from throughout the United States. That support paid for all pertinent building materials and allowed the ministry’s director to receive a meager salary of $1,200 per month in addition to having free room and board.

  If anyone had ever despised checking their mail, it was Brock. Bills, bills, and more bills. That’s the way it incessantly advances, he told himself, stopping at the box on his way out to the car.

  Grabbing a handful of mail, Brock closed the lid and begun pilfering through the assortment of clutter. One envelope caught his attention; it was addressed to him, but there was no return address. Puzzled, Brock opened the envelope carefully. Inside was a money order for $500 along with a short note which simply read, “Thank you for taking care of our son.”

  Wow, Brock reflected. $500? I didn’t foresee that converging.

  With a smile on his face, he hopped in the car and rushed off for his meeting.

  I’m going to envisage this as a stupendous manifestation, he told himself as he drove along. This is potentially the recess we’ve been awaiting.

  Ten minutes later he pulled into Paul’s Taco Stand, where it didn’t take long to notice an older gentleman leaning up against his car. The man smiled as Brock pulled in next to him.

  “Nice to meet you,” Pastor O’Malley greeted as Brock stepped out of his vehicle.

  “Pleasure to make your acquaintance as well,” Brock replied, unable to ignore the preacher’s attire. “I wasn’t cognizant this was a formal occasion. Please exonerate my appearance.”

  “You don’t owe me any apologies young man. I didn’t expect you to dress up. This is what I habitually wear when I’m out in public — unless I’m working on a project of course.”

  A full suit? Every time you’re in public? That’s… distinctive, Brock told himself.

  The men went inside and were pleasantly surprised to find no one in line. “Order whatever you want. It’s on me,” Pastor O’Malley offered.

  “Oh, that is nonessential,” Brock replied.

  The pastor smiled and motioned toward the register. “I want to and I won’t take no for an answer.”

  Right after Brock placed his order, Pastor O’Malley addressed the cashier. “Excuse me, ma’am, can I ask you a question?”

  “Absolutely. What can I help you with?” the lady replied.

  “Ma’am, this is a crazy world we’re living in. People are dying every day.”

  The woman began to show signs of concern and possibly even sympathy. She’s probably vaulted to the conclusion Pastor O’Malley is expiring, Brock theorized.

  The lady didn’t say anything. She silently locked her eyes on the pastor, waiting for him to continue.

  Continue, he did. “Now I understand nobody likes to ponder death, but it’s a reality — for all of us. Ma’am, this could quite possibly be your last day on earth. Are you confident that if you died, you’d spend an eternity in Heaven?”

  Brock, too uncomfortable to continue standing there, sauntered over to the drinking fountain so he could observe from a safer distance.

  “What kind of question is that?” the lady responded.

  “Ma’am, I’m concerned about your soul. When I die, I know —"

  The cashier cut him off. “Sir, we have other customers coming in. Can I take your order?”

  Pastor O’Malley took a deep breath. “Yes, ma’am. But if you choose to die without accepting Jesus into your heart, your blood won’t be on my hands—”

  HONK! HONK! A firetruck’s screaming siren and blaring horn made its way through the street just outside the restaurant. Another one followed close behind.

  Pastor O’Malley used the interruption to his advantage. “I tried to share the gospel with you and you chose not to listen… There have been a lot of fires breaking out lately — fortunately, to my knowledge eve
ry one of them have been put out without any fatalities.”

  “So?” the lady remarked, looking frustrated.

  “The flames of Hell will never be quenched. Those who make their home there by rejecting the gospel—”

  The cashier cut him off. “That’s enough, sir. Either place your order or move out of the way so the people behind you can place theirs.”

  Brock felt his own face turning red and he wasn’t even a part of the conversation. How embarrassing!

  After finally giving in and telling the lady what he wanted, the pastor joined Brock by the soda fountain. Neither of them mentioned what had taken place with the cashier. As a matter of fact, they didn’t speak to each other at all — not until they sat down with their orders a few minutes later.

  “When we spoke on the telephone, you mentioned your construction experience, but other than that I don’t know a whole lot about you. Would you mind telling me a little more about yourself?”

  Brock smiled nervously. “The crinkled pages of my existence are outstretched for public display. What information would you prefer I disclose?”

  Pastor O’Malley’s eyes lit up. “Tell me about your background. Do you have a criminal history of any kind? How stable is your marriage? I want to hear your testimony of salvation… Just tell me all about yourself.”

  Brock, as usual, spared no details. He told him about the cannibalism accusations, about how he had previously run out on Victoria and Scottie and had become homeless, how he had gone out with another girl while he was still married, how he had gotten saved and put his marriage back together, and even about the challenges he had been facing with the Russells.

  Pastor O’Malley seemed somewhat surprised at some of the stories Brock shared with him, but he appeared to appreciate his honesty. “Had you told me your life was perfect, your wife is perfect, your son is perfect, and your parents are perfect, I would’ve doubted your integrity. You do seem like you’ve endured quite a few trials, but I have a strong feeling about you,” he complimented. “What’s your assessment of this venture?”

  Brock shifted in his chair, improved his posture, and tried his best not to appear overly excited. “My wife and I have conversed in depth about this favorable opportunity and we are very much enticed. However, if it’s not too much to petition, we would appreciate our family having the privilege of inspecting the house. Is there an acceptable time within the next few days when you could assemble with us over there?”

  O’Malley suggested he could do better than that. He reached in his pocket, pulled out a key, and handed it to Brock. “The house is located at 452 Ball Lane. Check it out at your convenience and let me know your thoughts.”

  “Just that plenary? You’re going to transfer me the keys and trust me for their safekeeping?”

  Pastor O’Malley grinned from ear to ear. Lightly tapping the side of Brock’s shoulder, he answered, “Absolutely. I trust you. As I expressed on the phone, if you accept the position you can do anything to the house you want to. Leave it the way it is, repaint, remodel… I don’t mind as long as you keep it in tip-top shape.”

  6: Unnerving Hearsay

  The idea of squeezing out from under Collin’s thumb was invigorating. One more fresh start could be just what the Pearsons needed.

  “Wow!” Victoria exclaimed before her mouth dropped in awe. “This place is enormous! And did I mention it’s beautiful?”

  If the outside was any indication of what the inside would look like, Victoria’s yearning had come to fruition. It was an enormous one-story red and white brick home complete with newer double-hung windows and an oversized two-car garage to top it off. The lawn was small but meticulously kept.

  On the way through the front door, Scottie hollered, “I get to pick my room first!”

  “Scottie, we haven’t made any—,” Victoria tried to tell him. It was too late; the boy was out of sight.

  “Check out this kitchen!” Victoria exclaimed as she gently slid her hand across the top of the stainless-steel range. “It’s stunning!” Glancing around the room in amazement, she found herself fascinated by the recessed lighting, textured ceilings, and the newly refinished hardwood floors. Victoria was in love and not just with her husband. She had never envisioned herself living in such a luxurious home. If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is, she reminded herself. “Brock, are you sure this guy’s legit?”

  “He possessed the keys, didn’t he?”

  Victoria shot Brock a doubtful look.

  “We can request documentation establishing ownership before we arrive at any conclusions. What do you surmise?”

  Victoria showed no expression for a moment. But that zeal — she couldn’t hide it long. Grinning from ear to ear she contended, “We’d be foolish to pass this up. Can’t you visualize yourself training Scottie how to build houses?”

  Titus, who had quietly followed them into the house, suddenly perked up. “Can I help?”

  Brock delivered the seventeen-year-old a confused stare. “Are you knowledgeable regarding construction?”

  “What do you think?” Titus replied. “Did you forget about the camera and the sound system?”

  Brock smiled. “In that case, you’ve got yourself a job!”

  Victoria felt as if she had died and gone to Heaven. But there was a problem. “Honey, our old furniture is going to look pretty out of place in here. We’re going to have to upgrade as soon as we can afford it.”

  Brock’s smile nearly doubled in size. “About that… well, it’s scarcely much, but this morning there was an unforeseen endowment in the mailbox of $500. I would have no objections to you utilizing it for whatever you’d like.”

  Victoria giggled. “Anything?”

  “That’s what I vocalized.”

  Rooting out good deals was Victoria’s specialty. In three hours, she managed to acquire a stainless-steel wastebasket, exquisite window dressings, and a used sofa in near mint condition. And I still have enough money left over to get a manicure, she thought.

  After driving up and down several streets, she managed to find a nail salon. It had been quite some time since she had gotten her nails professionally done.

  It didn’t take Victoria long to get the car parked and to sashay to the door. Once inside, she was asked to sign in and wait for her name to be called. Alluring little place, she told herself while glancing at the serene paintings donning the wall in front of her.

  “You must be new in town,” another customer said.

  “I am,” Victoria replied with a smile.

  “Nice to meet you, I’m Brandi.”

  “Hi Brandi, I’m Victoria.”

  “Victoria?” the lady repeated. “The Victoria who moved in next to the Baptist church I presume?”

  Gotta love small towns, Victoria told herself. “Word gets around pretty quickly, doesn’t it?”

  “Not always,” Brandi replied. “But word has it your husband is the new director of Laborers for God and around here, that is something to talk about.”

  Hmmm… Victoria thought. “And why is that such significant news?”

  “Oh, nothing,” the lady said. “So… it’s a pretty day out, huh?”

  Okay, something’s up, Victoria told herself. “Oh, yes, beautiful. But… I’m curious. Why is my husband’s choice of work such a hot topic in these parts?”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything,” Brandi replied. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Look,” Victoria snapped. “My family and I have been through a lot. If this ministry isn’t on the up and up, I’d like to know about it right now.”

  “Oh, it’s perfectly legit. It’s just that… well, you all must have some guts. I’d be terrified of what people would think of me if I linked up with that group.”

  “If you have something to tell me, please do. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  The woman took her glasses off and wiped the dust from her lenses. “Someone affiliated with that ministry is a wolf in sh
eep’s clothing. Building houses during the day and burning others by night.”

  “You think someone in the ministry is responsible for arson?”

  “I am certain of it,” Brandi said.

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Stick around a while. You’ll see that I’m right.”

  Victoria glanced down at her watch. “Look, I didn’t realize how late it was. I’ve got to go.” With that, she wandered out of the salon in a state of bewilderment. What will Brock think when he hears about this? she questioned herself. No, I can’t tell him. After everything he went through in Rhode Island, the last thing he needs is more drama in his life.

  Victoria got in the car and slammed the door much harder than was necessary. Gripping the steering wheel, she bowed her head and closed her eyes. “Dear God, please tell me Brandi’s mistaken. My husband and I have both made some terrible decisions in the past. It would destroy Brock to have to face any more difficulties right now. We just got out from under the foot of the Russells, and now these rumors are floating about. Lord, I need your help.”

  A pecking on the window startled her. Victoria stopped praying and upon opening her eyes found a female police officer standing at her window. “Everything alright, ma’am?”

  Victoria giggled. “Yes, officer. I was just praying.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with prayer. I’m a believer as well. Is there something I can do to help or something I can pray with you about?”

  That was the last thing Victoria expected to hear coming from a lady in uniform. “I don’t want to burden you with my problems.”

  “Ma’am, my job is to protect and serve. If I can serve you by lifting your needs up before a holy God, it would be my honor.”

  Victoria got out of the car. “My husband just accepted a position as the director of the Laborers for God ministry and —”

  “I understand,” the officer told her. “Our God is able.”

  “I didn’t tell you what the problem is.”