Part 4 (1/2)

”You're not telling me to compromise?”

”No. I'm just telling you to be wise. Be discreet.”

He thought about that a moment, and finally-finally-he relaxed and smiled. ”Okay, Travis. I gotcha.”

”All right. That's all I'm going to say.”

The bra.s.s handle on the big paneled door yielded, and the door opened. There were two other men in the foyer, and the moment I saw them, I thought I'd seen everything. Howard Munson and Andy Barker were standing on either side of the sanctuary door, peering into the sanctuary like two kids sneaking a peek at something forbidden. They turned as we entered and recognized me at once.

”Travis!” said Howard, the older one with the balding head and wire-rimmed gla.s.ses. He offered his hand. ”Great to see you again!”

I introduced him to Kyle and told Kyle how he pastored the Gospel Light Pentecostal Tabernacle over on the southeast corner of town, that little white chapel near the grain elevators.

Howard introduced Andy, a young wheat farmer with stern-looking eyes even when he smiled. Howard said nothing about the small, independent Bible study Andy led in his home, a little group that had split off from Howard's church over a dispute about- well, about Howard. I didn't tell Kyle about Howard having a strong, negative opinion about every other church but his own, but Kyle may have noticed my surprise to see these two together and within the walls of a Catholic church. Of course, neither had actually gone farther than the foyer.

Howard looked through the sanctuary door again, shook his head in pain and disgust and muttered to us, ”Incredible. Just incredible.”

The sanctuary was a comfortable, intimate place that could seat, I figured, about a hundred wors.h.i.+pers. It was warmly colored, with dark wood pews, red carpet runners down the aisles, and bra.s.s fixtures. The crucifix was in its traditional location, on the front wall above the altar, illuminated by a ceiling-mounted spotlight.

There were at least twenty people occupying the pews toward the front. Some were kneeling, some were sitting, all were looking steadfastly at the crucifix. I recognized the couple I'd seen at Judy's the night before sitting right on the aisle.

”They're waiting for the crucifix to cry again,” Andy whispered.

”Incredible,” Howard repeated, shaking his head again.

The ladder Arnold Kowalski had used to reach the crucifix was still where he'd left it, and now a man sat next to it reading from a psalm book.

Howard leaned close. ”That's some kind of lay a.s.sistant sitting up there. I understand if anything happens, he's there to maintain order and a.s.sist people climbing the ladder.”

What was I feeling? Awe? Foreboding? Even in my skepticism, I couldn't escape the fact that, real or imagined, nothing like this had ever happened in Antioch.

”Where's the meeting going to be?” I asked.

”Uh . . . I think in the fellows.h.i.+p hall.”

I could tell Howard didn't want to go into the sanctuary. He asked in a whisper, ”Is there another way to get there?”

I pointed toward a door at one end of the foyer. ”I think it's through there.”

We went through the door and down a hall to a sizable, multipurpose room. Most every church has such a room for wedding receptions, potlucks, and socials. At one end was a large pa.s.s-through into a commercial-sized kitchen, and coffee was available on the pa.s.s-through counter. Four folding tables were arranged in a square in the center of the room, and already the other ministers were mingling.

”Hey Travis!” Sid Maher, the Lutheran pastor, stepped up to shake my hand, and I introduced him to Kyle. He was tall, dark-haired, and bespectacled-a likable guy. His burden for unity among the pastors made him even easier to get along with, and he was glad to see me-with caution. ”We're going to be sharing information and concerns, but I don't think we'll need to debate anything.”

”I just came to listen,” I told him.

He smiled and patted me on the arm, then turned to Kyle. ”You have some tremendous shoes to fill.”

”I think he brought a pair of his own,” I quipped, and Sid laughed.

We helped ourselves to some coffee.

Burton Eddy stepped up to introduce himself. He was short, with black, horn-rimmed gla.s.ses, and wild brown hair. He pastored the local Presbyterian church and was, to put it mildly, a liberal. ”Welcome to the booming metropolis of Antioch!” he told Kyle in his whiny, sneery voice. ”How's the church going?”

”We're taking this town for Christ,” Kyle announced unabashedly.

Burton gave him a fatherly pat on the shoulder. ”You'll get over it.” Then he turned to me. ”Travis, I never got a chance to extend my condolences to you. Marian was a saint if ever there was one.”

”Thank you. You're right.”

He laughed. ”On that we can agree!” He looked around the room, checking out who else was there. ”And I trust we'll strive for consensus on other matters today?”

”I'm just here to listen,” I repeated.

He gave me the same pat he'd given Kyle. ”Good to see you.”

Sid Maher was chairman of the ministerial and was taking his place at the center of one table. Kyle and I were headed for the table when a big-framed man with heavy jowls came up to greet us-effectively blocking our path to the chairs. He spoke to Kyle first and didn't even look at me. ”And you must be the new minister at the Pentecostal Mission church.”

”That's right,” Kyle said boldly, shaking the man's hand. ”Kyle Sherman.”

”Armond Harrison,” the big man answered. ”Pastor of the Apostolic Brethren.”

Kyle hesitated-digesting the church's name, I figured-before saying, ”Okay.”

”I understand you've brought a guest today?”

Kyle hesitated again.

”He's talking about me,” I told him.

”Oh! Yeah, sure. Travis and I are together.”

The big man weighed that for a moment and then gave a slow nod. Then he moved in closer-so close that Kyle had to s.h.i.+ft his weight backwards-and peered at Kyle through his thick bifocals. ”Of course, you were aware that this meeting is just for the ministers.”

”I'm only here to listen,” I told him in as pleasant a tone as I could muster.

”And Travis is my guest,” Kyle confirmed.

Armond Harrison directed only the briefest glance at me, then spoke to Kyle. ”I suppose each minister is free to bring a guest.

Nice to have you here.”

He turned away as Kyle and I took our places at the table.

”What was that all about?” Kyle whispered while trying not to look like he was.

”It's a great story,” was all I said, sitting down. With one discreet glance, I saw Armond Harrison settle like a sinking s.h.i.+p into his chair directly across the square from me. He caught my glance, and his narrowed eyes sent a clear message back. It was just like old times.

Sid opened the meeting with a prayer and then made some opening comments. He thanked Al Vendetti, sitting to his immediate left, for opening Our Lady's facility to the other ministers-I think we all nodded in agreement except for Howard. ”It's the first time we've ever met here, which is one historic note. The other might be the large attendance.”

We laughed politely. I counted ten ministers. Nancy Barrons, Brett Henchle, and I brought the total attendance up to thirteen.