Chapter Three
Greg kept his promise for about a month, but Dad kept pressuring him for this and that, and when it came right down to it, I know Greg considered God first and, of course, over his wife. Things went back to almost exactly the way they had been. However, once in a great while Greg would stop long enough to give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, tell me he loved me, and then out the door and over to the church he’d go.
I appreciated the little gestures. I knew he loved me. But he loved God and church more. Which in some ways might by many seem okay, considering the way we had been brought up to believe, but I was once again feeling abandoned and already pulling a heavy load with my own duties, not even including all the numerous errands I ran for my two pastors.
Life was grueling to say the least.
I hadn’t completely forgotten about the library books. I kept returning them and checking out more, but I barely had time to glance at them, let alone, read them. Then one day it happened –
Greg found them!
I was in the laundry room loading the washer when I heard, “Brenda!”
At first I thought he was hurt, he yelled so loud. I dashed out of the laundry room to find him standing in the bathroom door, a book in each hand, shaking them angrily at me.
“What … In God’s name is this?”
“Ah …” I stuttered. “I really had believed he never would find them. Not fully thinking with all my brains, I stupidly asked, “Where did you get those?”
“You know where I got them, Brenda!” he angrily retorted. “Behind your feminine products! I was looking for toilet paper, and look what I found!”
“The toilet paper is under the sink,” I replied as calmly as I could.
He sat the books on the toilet seat and rudely stuck a palm in my face. “Don’t! Don’t even try to shrug this off as nothing. You and I are the only two people living here. And your father is the only person who might come in our bathroom. God knows I didn’t put them there… and neither did your dad!” He seemed to be making an effort to calm down, taking in a couple of deep breaths before speaking again. “Please tell me why you would read such garbage?”
That was when I pointed out that there were all kinds of books on mythologies and other religions in Dad’s library.
He shook his head so hard it vibrated. “Not the same thing! Those books are there only for reference, Brenda. So your father and I can counteract anything anyone tries to propose as a valid argument.”
“I kind of get that, Greg. But the library books have been written by noted scholars – famous men and women. They have worked years and years on researching them. I am just looking for the truth!”
“You have the truth!” he yelled. “Jesus Christ is your savior. And anything else is of the devil!”
I had always known that Greg and Dad were really set in their beliefs, but it wasn’t until that moment that I understood just how set Greg was. “Oh my God!” It slipped out. I couldn’t help it.
“Don’t!” he yelled again, face red, perspiring now. I thought he was going to have a stroke. “You do not take the Lord’s name in vain, Brenda! And don’t you ever bring such trash into our home again! Is that understood?”
Dad suddenly appeared in the room. “Thought I heard yelling,” he said, eyes going back and forth between me and Greg.
Greg handed the books over to my dad.
Dad took one look at them and was instantly slack jawed. He just stared at the titles for a minute, and then turned each book over to look at the backs, and then back again. Then he focused his stare on me. “Brenda! What is the meaning of this? How could you?”
Really angry now and feeling more defensive than I’d ever felt in my life, I hotly replied, “Easy! I’m tired of being treated like you are treating me now! Like I am some kind of imbecile who can’t think for herself! Tired of being treated like an ignorant slave!”
Both frowned, staring at me in disbelief.
“You’re not a slave, Brenda,” Dad said.
“Oh yes I am! I am a slave to a religion that I’m not sure I really believe in anymore.”
“Brenda!” Dad was beside himself, shaking violently.
I took a good look at the both of them, and suddenly I felt sorry for them. I did love them, but I didn’t love all the rules and strict obedience to a religion that I had serious doubts about. “I’m sorry, Dad… Greg,” I finally said. “But I just wanted to know the truth. And I see absolutely nothing wrong with that. I really would be an idiot if I didn’t want to know.” I turned and stormed out of the house, for I too trembled violently and had to get out of there.
I didn’t even bother to grab my car keys, but my small change purse with my bank card sat on the coffee table. I grabbed it and stuck it in my back pocket, where I already had my cell phone.
I had on jeans, a red tee-shirt, and tennis shoes. I took off running, running as fast as I could. Dad and Greg both called to me, but I ignored them. There was no solution to the argument. So, I saw no point in continuing it.
There was a park a few blocks down. I ran and ran until I reached it, found a bench away from the street that was behind some trees and collapsed there. I didn’t want Greg or my dad to find me.
I was grateful that there weren’t many people in the park, for I desperately needed to be alone. I did see a tall young man with blond hair not far from me feeding peanuts to some squirrels. He was dressed in jogging attire and I thought nothing of it.
I let the tears flow. And flow they did. I must have cried hard for ten minutes, burying my head in my hands on my lap.
“Are you okay, Brenda?” a pleasant male voice inquired.
I glanced up into the handsome face with kind blue eyes. At once, he reminded me of the man I had had in the dream not too long ago. But he didn’t look exactly like the man in my dream. “Do I know you?” I quickly tried to wipe the tears from my face with my bare hands.
He handed me a clean tissue. “Always carry them,” he said, smiling politely. “…Allergies,” he explained.
“Oh! Ok… thanks!”
“Please forgive me for my intrusion, but you looked as though you could use a friend.”
Suddenly I remembered that he had called me by my name. “How did you know my name? Have you been to my Dad’s church?”
“I’ve dropped in a time or two.”
“Oh! I don’t remember ever seeing you there.”
“I definitely remember you. You’re always up at the front with you dad and husband. I tend to hang back.” He gestured with his hand to the bench. “May I?”
“Certainly.”
He eased down beside me. I smiled into his fine, chiseled face. That was when I noticed that his eyes had a strange slant. The same slant as the man in my dream. I trailed my own eyes across his face. He was really fair. What’s more, he had no blemishes of any kind that I could tell. Flawless as a newborn baby. Only, there was a maturity about him that defied his youthful appearance.
I was going to ask him what his name was when he said, “I’m Erick, by the way.”
“Erick, huh? Not sure I’ve ever known anyone personally by that name before. Of course, I’ve heard it.”
“Not as common as some maybe.”
Just his being beside me had an amazing calming effect. I almost forgot how upset I had been.
“Do I detect a smile?” he inquired with a most captivating grin.
“Wasn’t aware that I was,” I commented with surprise.
“Much better than all those tears of anguish.”
I realized then that I definitely was smiling. Who was this amazing man? I looked into those strange but oh so beautiful eyes, and could have easily got lost in them, but was rudely brought back to the harsh reality of my family.
“Brenda!” Greg called from behind.
I snapped my head around to see my husband running towards me, and my father not too far behind. I turned to my friend – but he wasn’t there! “What the—?”
&nbs
p; Then I could swear I heard his voice, clear as a bell in my head, “Don’t worry, Brenda. I’m still around.”
Something strange was happening. Where did he go? Greg reached me, and then Dad, but I no longer felt the anguish I had only ten minutes before, for I knew I had a friend; possibly a very special friend. That gave me the strength to do whatever it was that I needed to do.
“I just had to get away,” I said, speaking with amazing calm and actually smiling up at the two very perplexed men in my life.
“You need to come home with us right now, young lady!” Dad said with his authoritarian voice.
I stood and faced him. “I’m not a child, Dad! You do not speak to me that way. You treat me with respect!” His jaw dropped. I turned to Greg. “The same goes for you! I am not your slave! I am a grown woman and I deserve the same respect as anyone. Just because you two are ministers of your chosen faith, doesn’t give you the right to treat me like some second-class citizen. You treat me as an equal – Or I am out of here! Is that understood?”
Both were speechless momentarily, as I took off walking very fast back to the house.
A minute later, Greg caught up to me. “Brenda… I know you’re upset right now. But this behavior of yours is unacceptable!”
I faced him squarely. “I am defending my rights as a human being! If you have a problem with that, get a divorce!” And I took off running; not because I was upset. I just felt like running. It felt good. I felt good! I loved my husband and my dad, but I also loved myself! Had I listened to Mom, none of this would be happening right now. And where was she? I hoped that she would come home someday.
Greg and Dad didn’t try to keep up with me. For one thing, I believe they were both exhausted. I just went in the house and continued loading the laundry in the washing machine. I did hear them come in shortly and go in mine and Greg’s bedroom, more than likely to discuss me.
I made myself fresh coffee and took it with me to the front porch and sat down on the bottom step. I half expected them to come out, but they didn’t. After a bit, I heard the back door slam and knew they were heading over to the church. I thought, hoped, that maybe they understood that there was no arguing with me.
A week passed with the three of us barely speaking to one another, and then only when necessary. I went ahead and did the women’s meeting on Tuesday afternoon, ran the errands and did the chores. What’s more, I took the books back to the library. But it had nothing to do with Dad and Greg demanding me to.
I didn’t need them anymore.
I knew there was something more, something I felt sure wasn’t written about in any mainstream publications that I knew of, and maybe not in any. And if it was, it was well-hidden and little publicized.
I hadn’t seen Erick anymore, but he had promised that he would be close, and for some crazy reason I believed him.
I did, however, decide to pay Nancy a visit one afternoon. She worked at Baskin Robbins. It was hot, and I thought it a good day for ice cream, as well. So I dropped in. She seemed a little surprised to see me, but smiled as she waited on a teenage boy with spiked red hair first. When she was done, I told her I wanted two scoops of coffee ice cream. She handed it over, and I paid for it. Then I apologized for the way I had behaved that night at her house.
The teen had left and there was only an elderly couple sitting at a table on the far side. She rinsed off the ice cream scooper and set it aside and then looked up at me. “It’s okay, Brenda. I understand. It takes a while for people to change when they’ve been so conditioned all their lives to believe something, even when it isn’t true.” She leaned in just over the glass top. “I know. It took me a while. But I couldn’t be happier now. Wicca is where I belong. And Wicca is where I’m going to stay!”
“When is your next meeting?”
“On the full moon. We always meet on the full moon and other pagan holidays.”
“Oh?”
She held up a forefinger. “Just a sec.” She pulled her purse out from under the side counter, took out a slip of paper and handed it over. “I just happened to have this in my purse. It’s a calendar of our events for the next six months. Take it. I have extras.”
“Oh! Thank you!” I took it eagerly and stuck it in my back pocket. I headed out the door with a great feeling. Hopefully, in Wicca I would find the spiritual happiness I’d been so desperately searching for.
Where would I hide it that no one would find it? Then it hit me – the church piano! No one ever looked inside the church piano. Soon as I arrived home, after making sure Dad and Greg were busy in the office, I looked over the schedule quickly, memorizing as much as I could, folded it down as small as I possibly could, and then I slipped quietly into the church and lifted the lid to the black baby grand and stuck it down in the bottom of the piano, under the strings. I felt sure no one would find it there.
I had piano lessons as a child and often played for services. Something else expected of me when the other pianist, George Fontaine, couldn’t make it. To make sure the paper wouldn’t interfere with the action of the keys, I sat down and played a couple of hymns.
I must not have been thinking, for Dad and Greg both suddenly stood beside me, all smiles. Apparently they thought I was having an uplifting moment and realizing that I had been in error of my ways. I smiled back at them, not indicting otherwise.
“Sounds lovely,” Greg complimented. “Are you thinking of playing a piece for Sunday service?”
“You want me to?” I asked, evading the question.
Dad was pleased and said, “It would be wonderful.”
“I can do that.” I put the hymnal away in the bench and stood. “I guess I should get ready for the ladies’ group,” I said, glancing at the time on my wristwatch.
Smiling very pleased, Greg kissed my cheek. I smiled back and waltzed out of the church. Maybe I should have felt guilty, but I didn’t. I saw no way where I could be completely honest with them, for they had made it clear that such an attempt would be impossible. I knew what I had to do.