Authors: KM Rockwood
“Why’s that?”
Isaac shook his head. “Xavier’s been lax in his morals lately.”
Interesting way to put it. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t really know. He’s been missing from some of the services. He says he’s visiting his son, but I don’t think he is all the time he says he is.”
“His son? Is that the young kid that I’ve seen around here a few times?”
“Yes. Father Peter gave him money to hire a lawyer and go to court to try to get custody.”
“Away from the kid’s mother? It’d be hard to convince the court that raising a kid in an environment like the Tabernacle would be a good idea.”
“I know. And I think Xavier’s been spending the money on…
inappropriate things
, shall I say, rather than paying the lawyer.”
“What are ‘inappropriate things’?”
“Some kind of drugs.” Isaac stared at his mug. “Who am I to talk? I’m drinking coffee. With caffeine.”
“Caffeine’s not expensive enough to make a difference in paying a lawyer. And it’s not gonna get you in trouble.”
Isaac glanced around and lowered his voice. “I heard him talking about buying a
gun
. That might be expensive.”
“That
would
be expensive. What did he want a gun for?”
Isaac’s mouth twitched. “He says he’s got lots of enemies, so he has to protect himself. And he says if the court doesn’t give him custody of his son, he just might take him anyhow.”
“That would be a dumb thing to do. After that, he’d
never
get custody. And he might lose whatever visitation he has.” But Kelly’s ex had done a couple of stupid things, and he was fighting for custody of
his
kids. The hearing was Monday, I reminded myself. I hoped Kelly didn’t drink all weekend and show up for court hungover. Or not show up at all. “And what does the kid’s mother do that Xavier and Father Peter think is so terrible?”
“She’s sending him to the public school. Father Peter says that’s indoctrinating him against all the values of the Tabernacle.”
I warmed my hands on my coffee mug. “That doesn’t make sense. Didn’t most of the members of the cult…
Tabernacle
…go to public school? Didn’t
you
?”
“Yes. But that’s one of the reasons why it’s so hard for me to become worthy. I have so much I need to put behind me.”
“So Xavier thinks he’s going to use a gun to go get the kid away from his mother?”
“That’s what he says. But Father Peter says they must be patient and let the goddess settle things. He says now that she’s got her own children, she’ll understand what Xavier’s going through and arrange for his son to come to him.”
I considered pointing out that the goddess was a mother cat who had no notion her kittens even had a father, much less think that he should take them away from her. Isaac looked so sad and confused, though, that I decided not to add to his mental overload.
“
Do
you sell drugs?” Isaac asked.
“Look,” I said. “I’m on parole. I’ve got years of back up time. If they decide I’ve violated, I get locked back up to finish it up. I don’t need a new conviction. You can be sure that, if they found any drugs on me—or in me—I’d be back in prison so fast it’d make your head spin.”
“How would they find out?” he asked.
“When you’re on parole, you don’t get normal rights. They can search you anytime. Pull you in without a warrant. Search your place. Demand a piss test. No need for probable cause or anything else. Just cause they feel like it.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
“Fair don’t enter into it. You want parole, you agree to their conditions. Otherwise, you can stay locked up. Some people do—just mandatory out so they won’t have to put up with all the bullshit of parole.” Not me, though. Not when I would be looking at a minimum of twenty five more years.
Isaac looked around the room. “You like living here?”
“Sure as hell beats a prison cell. And I got the key in my own pocket.”
He nodded and took a sip of his coffee.
“Can I ask you a question about the Tabernacle?” I asked.
Isaac brightened. “Oh, yes! We’re supposed to encourage people to talk about the Tabernacle! Father Peter says you never know where your next convert is going to come from. Sometimes it’s people you’d never expect. Rich people, who donate their money to the Tabernacle. And since the goddess has already shown that she likes you…”
“Whoa. Don’t get your hopes up,” I cautioned. “And I got no money to donate. I just wondered about the name—it’s kind of an odd one. Why do they call it that?”
He put the mug on the rickety table. “Father Peter says it’s because none of us have proper fathers. Except maybe Xavier. Some of us aren’t even sure who our father is. So it’s like our conception was some kind of mistake, almost like no human man was involved. So Father Peter is father to all of us.”
I guess that made sense in some distorted fashion. “What about Xavier?” I asked.
“Father Peter is Xavier’s real father. Father Peter said it’s really hard for him to share his own father with all of us, but we’re brothers. That’s why we call ourselves the Brethren. And why Xavier gets special privileges.”
That part didn’t sound especially good. But who was I to disagree? “Did you have a place to meet before you moved the Tabernacle upstairs?”
“I’m not sure.” Isaac frowned. “I didn’t join until they established the Tabernacle here. Father Peter says the goddess wants us here, so he can seek his roots. He was born in this town. Besides, his grandson, Xavier’s son, lives here, and they have a sacred obligation to the child.”
“The kid Xavier wants to take by force.”
“Father Peter says we could all raise him, here in the Tabernacle.” Isaac was warming to his subject. “Switch off like we do with the goddess. We could all be the kind of fathers and uncles we’ve never had.”
I finished my coffee. Isaac’s was only half gone.
“Did you know your father?” he asked me.
“Yeah, I did.” I would have been a lot better off if I hadn’t, though.
“Did you live with him when you were a kid?”
“From when the old man got out of prison when I was thirteen until I got locked up,” I said. “Maybe three years.”
Isaac brushed the damp hair out of his face. “You got sent to adult prison for murder when you were sixteen? Don’t they keep kids locked up separate when they’re that young?” he asked.
“Well, by the time it got all the way through the courts and everything, I was almost seventeen. Until then, I was in the county lockup. Believe me, prison’s a sight better than the county lockup.”
“Did your mother live with you, too?”
“My mother died when I was a little kid. Mostly I lived in foster homes.”
Isaac bowed his head. “My mother died, too. About a year ago. I was supposed to go to a group foster home and finish up high school, but I ran away.”
And ended up joining the Tabernacle. I wondered what I would have done if I’d had the opportunity to run away and been smart enough to take it.
Chapter 16
T
WENTY
Y
EARS
O
F
B
EING
locked in a cell most of the time had left me with very little desire to go out on Saturday night. I knew it affected some people differently, but as long as I had the key to the door and knew I could leave whenever I wanted to, I was content to stay in my apartment and read a book. The only place I’d prefer was Kelly’s house.
That didn’t seem like it was going to be a possibility any time soon.
My current read book was
Gods and Generals.
I was on a Civil War kick. We weren’t far from the Sharpsburg Battlefield, and the whole area was steeped in Civil War lore. The local public library had a collection that would satisfy a far more intense appetite than mine for related reading material.
My two rickety wooden chairs weren’t comfortable for long, so I lay on my bed. A cat cuddled up by my side might have been nice, but I knew the cat was far better off upstairs. The Brethren might be weirdos, but if Isaac were any indication, they would take good care of her and her kittens.
Tonight I was restless. I found myself wondering if the wallets I’d taped under the dumpster were still there. I’d planned to leave them alone until I’d figured out what to do with them, but they kept intruding on my thoughts, and I couldn’t concentrate.
With a sigh, I tossed the book down. I could see if I had an easier read among the other library books I’d gotten out, but I really wanted to read this.
I glanced toward the single window that looked out on the alley. Soon it would be dark. Not much chance anyone would be hanging around, and I could slip out the alley to check under the dumpster. Meanwhile, I’d fix some supper.
My food budget didn’t give me a whole lot of choices. I put a pot of water on to boil for both coffee and ramen noodles, and I sliced two hot dogs into my frying pan.
Fried hot dogs mixed into ramen noodles and a mug of coffee wasn’t exactly gourmet, but it tasted good and was filling.
By the time I was done, the only light that showed through the window was a dim glow from the streetlight. I cleaned up and went outside.
I walked past the entrance to the alley and glanced down it to make sure it was empty.
It wasn’t.
Someone was standing next to the door that led to the Tabernacle. Someone in regular street clothes, not the saffron robes the members wore.
Passing the entrance as if I had never intended to turn down it, I stepped into the dark recessed entry to the deserted storefront just beyond the alley. It was out of the wind, and I could see if anyone left or entered the alley. It couldn’t be too long before someone let the person into the Tabernacle or he—it looked like a he, but I couldn’t be sure—left.
After what seemed like forever—but was probably only ten minutes or so—I went back onto the sidewalk and approached the end of the alley, keeping next to the wall and in the shadows as much as possible. I peered down the alley.
He was still there. He was doing something to the lock on the door.
As I stood there, he stepped back and pocketed whatever he had been using, presumably in an attempt to pick the lock. He pulled a screwdriver from his pocket and went to work on one of the hinges.
I watched, fascinated. Getting through locked exterior doors without making a lot of noise or attracting attention was not easy. Not that it couldn’t be done, but the people I’d known who did it specialized and did it quickly. This guy seemed to be clueless. And he wasn’t paying any attention to anything going on around him, or he would have noticed me.
Why would anyone want to break into the Tabernacle? Not my concern. But I did wish he’d get going, one way or another, so I could see if the wallets were still there and get back to my book.
Evidently frustrated with his unsuccessful efforts to remove the hinge pin, he stepped back from the door and ran his hand over the doorframe. Then he moved down the alley toward me, still scrutinizing the brick wall.
I was about to retreat to the recessed entryway again when he stopped at the window to my place and inserted the blade of the screwdriver between the sashes.
He was trying to break into
my
place. I had no idea what he was hoping to gain, but I wasn’t standing by and letting that go unchallenged.
I slid up behind him. He concentrated on his task and didn’t notice me. I slipped one hand into his collar. I brought the other hand up under his chin and jerked his head back toward me.
As he tumbled backward, I sidestepped and got out of his way. He landed on his back on the asphalt. I raised my fists and drew my foot back, ready to kick him if he grabbed for me.
He let out a cry and covered his face with his hands.
Aaron.
I kicked the screwdriver down the alley so he couldn’t get hold of it and stood over him. “What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.
“Don’t hurt me!” He rolled over onto his side and curled up in a ball.
Reaching down, I took hold of the front of his shirt and lifted him to his feet. Glancing behind me to make sure no one was in sight, I slammed him back up against the wall. “I asked you, what the hell are you doing?”
He looked at me and sobbed. “Jesse.”
“Yeah. Jesse. You try to break into my place?”
His eyes opened wide. “Your place? I thought that led to the church basement.”
“The door you couldn’t get through does go to the Tabernacle. But my apartment’s in the basement and the window goes to my apartment.”
“I didn’t know. I thought it went to the church.”
“So you was trying to break into the Tabernacle?”
“Yeah. Most of the people are at some kind of feast at Father Peter’s place. Zee told me it’d be a good time to break in.”