Chapter Five
Things really weren’t a lot better, not where my dad was concerned anyway. Still, the fact that Greg stood up for me that day meant a lot to me. Also, he was trying hard to be a better husband; actually began to cut his time with Dad down and spend more time with me at our place.
He even served me breakfast in bed one Saturday. Not only was I surprised by the gesture, I was equally amazed by the fact that he could cook. He made me the best scrambled eggs I’d ever had, cinnamon toast, bacon and freshly, hand-squeezed orange juice.
“That was delicious!” I said when he came in to get my tray. “I had no idea you could cook.”
His smile held a hint of pride. “I used to think I would be a chef when I grew up,” he explained. “Used to cook for my mom and dad. That is, before we moved here and I began frequenting your church.”
“What changed your mind?”
“I felt the call to the Lord, Brenda.”
“Yeah. I should have known better than to ask that question.”
There was a flicker of hurt in his eyes. “You’re still very angry with us, aren’t you?”
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. But, I can see you are really trying. You’re trying harder than I ever thought you would.” I threw back my covers, got up and began making the bed. Greg set the tray aside and helped me. I smiled thankfully. “You do love me, don’t you?”
“Yes I do, Brenda. And I am so sorry for the way we have treated you. Especially my part in all of it. That day in the park when Dad hit you – Well, it was a big eye-opener for me. It was for him too. Only, not as much.” He looked away as though pained by what he believed.
“Greg, look at me. Please!”
He faced me again.
“I do love you. Honestly, I’m not sure I love you as much as I once did. Still, I do care for you deeply. And the change I’ve seen in you since that day in the park has brought us much closer.” I smiled encouragingly. “I think that maybe there’s a chance for us after all.”
His eyes filled with tears. “Oh Brenda!” He grabbed me in his arms and hugged me tight. I could feel him shaking against me.
“It’s okay, Greg. It’s okay. I know you love me now. And I promise I will work with you. Work on our marriage.”
He pulled back sniffling. I grabbed him a tissue from a box on the nightstand and handed it over. He honked into it and tossed it in the small trashcan by the bed. “And I will too. Dad may not like it, but from here on out, you come first.”
“Seriously?” I could hardly believe my ears.
“Of course I will still assist in pastoring, etc. But you are the most important person in the world to me. I don’t want to lose you – ever! From now on, if I have to choose between you and the church, I will choose you!”
“Oh my gosh!” I was crying too. “I would have never thought that I would hear you say something like that.”
“Honestly, neither did I. But I got to thinking about our wedding vows and Matthew nineteen: six: Where it says ‘let no may put asunder’—Well, I’m a man … Your husband. And your dad’s a man. And the both of us were putting yours and my marriage asunder.” He sniffled. “And the irony of it is – We were doing it in the name of the Lord! There’s just something wrong with that.”
“Oh Greg! I do love you!” I kissed him sweetly. Right at that moment, my heart leapt with joy. I felt everything was going to be all right from there on out. And it was for a while, but only a short while.
All of a sudden there was a rise of so-called demonic possessions in several of the local churches. At first Dad was, or appeared to be, sensible about it and stated before the whole congregation that it was a good possibility that many, if not all, of the ‘demonic possessions’ were simply mentally ill folks who could use a good psychologist. To my knowledge, Dad had never cast out any demons before anyway. I almost think the idea of it kind of frightened him.
Then one of our own parishioners, Jennifer Wilkes, an attractive twenty-year-old daughter of one of the deacons, Harry Wilkes and Jean Wilkes, began acting strangely one Sunday night service. At prayer call, she suddenly ran up to the platform and, throwing herself prostrate across the floor, began screaming obscenities at my Dad and Greg.
Dad was so shocked that he just stood there staring in incredulity with his mouth open. Greg was also stunned, but only momentarily, before going over to the young woman, who then jumped up and scratched him across the cheek, bringing blood.
Of course I quickly got up and ran to my husband, but he was caught up in the moment, reacting, I suppose as a lot of pastors would, laying his hands on the woman’s head, praying and ordering the demon to come out of her in the name of Jesus.
Getting over his shock, Dad joined in, praying along with him. Jennifer clawed and fought them furiously, but they didn’t back down. Harry came up too and took hold of his daughter from behind and they wrestled her to the floor. (Months later it was learned that she had been watching the local news about the alleged demonic possessions on the news before attending services that night.)
Of course, the entire congregation caught the fever of the moment and moved forward, standing around the intense scene.
I simply stared. Something just didn’t sit right with me about the whole thing. I wasn’t buying it. I could only watch for so long, and turned and went to the house and got the First Aid kit and brought it back to dress Greg’s wound. By that time the ‘demon’ had been exorcised from Jennifer, and she was being cared for by Dad and a number of the church members.
I went up to Greg, who had pulled away from the scene now, simply observing, and had him sit down on the other front pew, opposite where the circus that Jennifer had created was going on.
He shrugged as he spoke to me. “I’ve never seen that happen before,” he admitted. “I’ve heard of it… but never witnessed a possession.”
“Honestly, Greg. You know what I think?”
He turned his gaze up to me. “What?”
“I think she was acting.”
His brow furrowed. “No! That was too crazy. I don’t believe she was acting.”
“Okay. Think about it though. There is kind of a possession-fever going through the community. And people have a way of running with things when they get excited.”
“That’s true. Still, I don’t believe that’s the case here.”
“All right,” I said with a smile. “You’re the professional. Simply voicing my perception of the whole thing.”
Returning my smile, he said, “And your viewpoint is appreciated. You know that.”
He stood then, as Dad was approaching, looking all smug and self-important.
I excused myself and took my seat, waiting for Jennifer and her family to exit the church, along with about half the congregation. It appeared that this one particular service was going to see an early finish.
I sat there for several minutes, while Dad and Greg discussed the events with the members who had remained. Tired of waiting, I went on out. It was dark now as I headed across the way to our house. That was when I saw Erick. He stood on the corner of our lot, under the streetlight. This time, he wore jeans and a red tee-shirt, and his golden hair hung gently at his shoulders. I glanced behind me and saw no one else coming out of the church, so I turned back and walked on up to him.
He flashed a beautiful smile of perfect teeth. “Interesting evening?”
“To say the least. More like a three-ring circus.”
He chuckled, apparently amused. “You could say that.”
“Were you there?”
“Witnessed the whole thing.”
“Maybe I’m wrong, but I think she just wanted attention.”
“Looks like she got it.”
“Brenda!” Greg called from behind.
“Looks like your hubby wants you.”
“Kind of looks that way.”
“Well, you have a good rest of the evening.”
“You too.” I turned and waited for Greg to approach.
“Why didn’t you wait for me?” he inquired.
“Just tired.”
“What were you doing standing under the streetlight?”
“Talking to the tall blond-headed man that comes sometimes. Said his name is Erick.”
“Huh? What blond-headed man? I didn’t see anyone with you.” Looking uncertain, he glanced around. “I don’t see anyone around, Brenda.”
I took a quick glance too. Erick was nowhere to be seen. “He’s a jogger,” I replied, returning my attention back to my husband. “Probably ran off before you got close enough to see him.” I did wonder, though. That wasn’t the first time Erick had just vanished on me. “Is everything squared away at the church? Or do you need me to go back and help with anything?’
“Your dad said it could wait until morning. I think this evening’s service kind of shook him up. Truthfully, it rather unnerved me as well.”
“I already voiced my opinion on the matter.”
He went to protest but stopped himself. “Okay. Let’s just go home and go to bed.”
“Agreed.”
That wasn’t the end of it though. The fever had set in. It was as though the entire community had gone nuts with a rash of ‘demonic possessions’. At the very next Wednesday prayer-meeting, Agnes Grafity, an elderly lady in her late sixties, who normally seemed mild-mannered, stood up suddenly in the middle of a prayer and screamed at Dad to go fuck himself.
I have to admit, that though embarrassing, I sniggered. I’m not sure why, but it struck me as comical. This time, Dad and Greg were prepared, had their scriptures picked out and ready for such an outburst. Dad and Greg, along with a couple of deacons, immediately had the elderly woman surrounded.
I have to hand it to her. I believe Agnes gave a better performance than Jennifer.
They got the old lady down on the floor, but she was still shrieking obscenities at the top of her lungs.
Greg held a wooden cross over Agnes’ face and she spit on it, and called him a mother-fucker.
Suddenly, church service had become interesting.
I did, however, almost feel sorry for Greg. He really and truly believed the old woman was possessed. And I suppose Dad did too. Still, I harbored a lot of resentment towards him, and just could not bring myself to feel any pity for him. What’s more, I was beginning to see that this was actually feeding his ego from the ‘importance’ of what he was doing.
Oh my God! I thought, and turned to glance at the church entrance. Erick stood just inside the door. He winked, shook his head at the transpiring spectacle, turned and walked out.
It was another ten minutes before the ‘demon’ was finally cast out. At which time, Agnes suddenly came to her senses and declared that she couldn’t remember a thing.
I had my doubts. Seemed like a way of getting attention to me, albeit a bizarre way.
That wasn’t the end.
The news media became involved. Not only the local newspapers but KWEX and WOAI were suddenly interested. Our community, including our church, even made the national news one Friday evening. I simply wanted to bury my head in a sand dune someplace, and didn’t hesitate to hide at the first sign of reporters.
Of course, our church wasn’t the only one caught up in the fever, but I know Dad soaked up the attention, and most of it did seem to be focused on us.
What really worried me though was Greg was beginning to see himself in a more important light. It was one thing dealing with my normally egotistical father, but Greg and I had finally been getting along for the first time in a while. Now this! I sensed I was losing my husband again. And I wasn’t sure that I would get him back this time.
He and Dad threw some classes together on casting out demons – as though they had been doing it all their lives. I did try to talk some reason into Greg one evening while I had him captured long enough to sit down to a pot roast dinner. I noticed he was agitated but I thought it was because of all the hectic things going on. I suggested that they possibly were taking things too far, meaning that maybe they had taken on more than they could handle. He became pissed and haughtily told me I didn’t know what I was talking about. It was at that time he reached in his back pocket and pulled out the folded paper of the witch’s calendar that I had hidden in the church piano. “The piano tuner gave me this about an hour ago!” His eyes were now red with fury. “I know you put it there!”
“Months ago! I had forgotten all about it. I swear, Greg! I knew you’d be angry if you found it. I didn’t know where else to hide it. But that was before! I’m not with the group now. Believe me!”
“Well! That’s all nice and great,” he sputtered sarcastically. “But I am pretty sure now that your dabbling in witchcraft could very well be responsible for all these demonic possessions, especially in our church! For all I know, that piece of paper has a curse on it, and that is why you left it in the piano.”
That did it. Something inside me froze. I stood and glared at him, shaking so hard I was temporarily speechless.
“Sit down, Brenda! We’re not finished! I didn’t tell your father about this, but I should.”
I found my voice and replied, “I really don’t give a damn now if you do!” It was as if he had wrapped ice around my heart. At that moment, all the love and warmth I had felt for him, after our renewed feelings for one another, simply withered away and died – an autumn leaf blown away by the harsh winter wind. “Okay,” I calmly replied, fully aware that I would not address it again.
There was no reason to.
I didn’t sit, though. I just applied my anger into furiously cleaning up the mess in the kitchen, slamming pots and pans around and being as noisy as possible. I had no appetite. I just wanted him to eat his supper and go back to the church where Dad was waiting for him.
He did eat, though I had halfway expected him not to. Ignoring my fury in silence, he stuffed his face and pushed his plate aside. When he rose from his seat, he looked at me, tossed his napkin aside, and said, “Good roast.” I had the distinct feeling that part of him wanted to say he was sorry, but he chose not to. It was too late anyway. I think he knew that. He hurried out the front door over to the church.
“Thanks!” I said to the empty room.
I knew Greg and Dad would probably stay up until midnight or later, plotting their tactics for fighting off all the ‘demons’.
As far as I was concerned, the only demons around were the ones in their pinpointed heads.
“Idiots!” I spewed and went to the bedroom and plopped heavily down on the end of the bed. I wanted to leave. This time, for good. I wished that I knew where Mom was, but I didn’t. That was when I once more wondered where she had acquired the money to leave Dad. Then it hit me. There was the grocery allowance for the church dinners and etc. She must have saved a portion of it every month until she had enough to get a place, just taking a little out at a time. But I didn’t want to wait for three or four months. I was done.
I knew Dad kept it in a small safe in the church office. And I knew the combination; had known it since I was six. I couldn’t get it at that time, for they were there. I would have to wait. Still, I wanted to get out of there as soon as I possibly could, so I pulled down one of the two large maroon duffle bags that Greg and I used when we traveled, which was rarely. Mine had my name on the side.
I quickly grabbed all my clean underwear out of the middle drawer of the chest – glad I had washed clothes earlier that day – and packed in three pairs of jeans, two sweat shirts, two blouses, and four colored tee-shirts, including my favorite yellow one with Tweetie Bird on the front.
I stuffed in two skirts and two dresses, threw in my brush, comb, hair spray, and a couple of sweaters, along with my black dress-pumps wrapped in a small grocery bag. It was all I could do to zip the duffle bag closed. I grabbed my toothbrush out of the bathroom and the partly used tube of Colgate – there was a brand new one that hadn’t been opened. I left that for Greg. I dropped them in the side zip-pocke
t, closed it and went to the door. I looked across the way over to the church. Not seeing anyone, I figured I had a clear path. I had my keys in my pocket. I opened up the trunk of my car and tossed the bag in and closed it.
I went back in the house. I couldn’t leave yet. I still had to get the money out of the church safe. I went ahead and took my shower, dressed for bed, but left out a clean change of clothes folded in the washroom. Greg rarely went in there, and I figured that he definitely wouldn’t go in there at night. He’d be too tired when he and Dad finished up at the church. And even if he did, he probably wouldn’t think anything about the folded clothes sitting on the dryer. Just believe I hadn’t put them away yet.
After I showered and dressed for bed, I stuck the car keys in the toes of my tennis shoes. Except for the money, I was ready.
Greg finally came to bed just a little before one a.m. It wasn’t five minutes before he was snoring. This was my chance. I eased out of bed, stopping only briefly at the door, listening. He was still snoring. I grabbed my clothes out of the washroom, dressed in the bathroom, but didn’t bother to put on any makeup. I would do that later at a motel or wherever I ended up at.
Dressed, I headed over to the church, letting myself in the back door as the office was there. I knew the combination by heart. I am sure Dad would have never believed I would actually take money from the church. And there was a time when I wouldn’t have even considered it. But due to things being the way they were, I figured I had no choice. I spun the dial on the safe to the right at 9 and then to the left at 6 and back at 3. It clicked, and I quickly opened it. There was at least a thousand dollars in twenties, and smaller bills. I counted out five hundred, not wanting to take it all, and stuffed it in my purse. I shut the safe and spun the dial and left out the back, locking up again. Then I ran back to the house where my Kia was parked, got in, started it up and went to pull out and then slammed on my brakes.
A patrol car pulled in the drive blocking my path. Headlights shone in my face, almost blinding me.
“Oh shit!”
Dad was suddenly there, greeting the two officers, one a young black male and the other was a white woman in her forties. The woman grabbed me and shoved me against the police car, cuffing my hands behind my back.
Dad stepped up to my left side, face contorted in anger and dismay. “It never would have occurred to me that it could be you! My own daughter! How could you do such a thing, Brenda?”
I didn’t say anything. The female officer was spewing my Miranda rights to me.
Dad continued, “I was still in the church about ready to walk out the front when I heard someone enter into my office. I quickly called 911, but realized it was you when I saw you jump in your car.”
Greg ran out the front door then, tucking in his shirt, looking shocked by what he saw. “I woke up to the lights flashing,” he said. He addressed me, “What on earth has come over you?”
“If you don’t know by now, you never will,” I calmly replied.
The black officer, aware now that I was Dad’s daughter, asked Dad if he was sure he wanted to press charges.
Dad looked at me long and hard and then replied, “Definitely! She’s never going to learn if she doesn’t pay for her sins.”
“Okay,” the cop said, and nodded for the female to put me in the back. I was shoved in and the door locked.
Greg just stood there staring and shaking his head. He really did not understand. I almost felt sorry for him, but not quite.
Dad, well, he definitely didn’t have a clue. He never understood why Mom left, and he wasn’t about to understand now why I was so desperate to leave that I was willing to steal money from the church.
Neither of them got it, and I knew they never would. Now I would have a police record. How high a price did I have to pay for my freedom? What Greg had said to me earlier had been the icing on the cake. Well, this was it all boxed up and ready to go. No matter what happened to me now, I knew I was done with the both of them for good.
My only regret was I had no idea where Mom was.