through, only worse. He'd suffered the dislocating pain of still being standing after murder had been committed, but not the betrayal of his own father. He had no idea what to say to a kid in a situation like that.
"I'll help, if Harvey here doesn't," Stanley said.
"No, that's all right. I've got it," Harvey said.
Remna led him across, and introduced him to the kids. "This is Mr. Davis," she said, which triggered bugged eyes. She laughed. "Not the pastor Mr. Davis. This is his brother, Harvey Davis. But Mr. Davis to you."
Harvey hadn't been introduced by his normal, non-topsider name in forever. He also didn't know that one of his brothers had become a minister, much less that he was serving here. He felt rather horribly out of the loop, but was determined not to show it.
"I believe we met before," the eldest boy said. "I'm Eric."
"It's been a long time, but I remember a go-cart race worth remembering," Harvey said, shaking the boy's offered hand.
Eric clearly didn't know whether to be pleased that his incredibly good go-cart exploits were remembered, or embarrassed that he was being remembered for something he was trying to file away as little boy stuff.
Another Tolman boy, a few years younger, moved closer to stare harder at Harvey. "Are you sure you're not Mr. Davis the pastor? With something funny on your face to fool us?"
Harvey shot Remna a look, for a clue on how to handle this.
"I'm sure," Remna said. "And you'll see in a minute or two when Pastor comes in. As for that on his forehead, that's a pilot's brand. Mr. Davis has been behind enemy lines as a spy, and so he had to let himself be branded like pilots up there are branded. It's a shame those people are so evil, but people who try to get by without God generally do come up with crazy schemes for trying to keep everything in order. It's hopeless, but they don't know that."
"Nobody's introduced me, but I'm Brian," Harvey's skeptic said.
"Pleased to meet you," Harvey said.
"And this is Colleen, and that's Jef," Brian said.
"I'm pleased to meet you, too," Harvey said.
Colleen gave him a hug, leaving tear stains on his pants. Jef, about two years old, followed suit. He looked to be on the edge of a screaming and crying fit. Eric and Brian looked like they could die of mortification. Harvey smiled gently at them. "I've heard a little bit about what happened. I'm sorry. My wife and two kids were murdered, and I know it's tough."
"Becky's face was blown off," Brian reported. "Have you ever seen that?"
"Ah, there's Anthony," Remna said. "Time to sit down and listen."
Harvey was glad she'd given him a hint which of his brothers was pastor, because at the distance he wasn't sure he'd have been able to tell, especially not after such a long time away, especially since Tony and Bruce shared so many mannerisms.
Colleen leaned against Remna. Jef crawled into Harvey's lap. Brian sat in the middle. Eric, not sure which sibling needed watching the worst, seesawed until Remna pointed him next to Harvey, on the outside of the group.
"We're going to start with Hymn 27," the pastor said, from the pulpit.
In the back of the church, Stanley Charbonneau smiled when he got to the proper page in the hymnal. It was a hymn most famously used in times of plague; a good, rousing reminder of God's spiritual strongholds available to the believer in times of unspeakable worldly trouble. He figured it was for the benefit of the Tolman children, and he approved. He was usually a lusty singer, but this morning he felt he should put even more beef into it, to bolster the orphans among them. He apparently wasn't the only one in the room to have reached the same conclusion, because it was the heartiest opening hymn in many a month.
-
Harvey, out of practice regarding corporate worship, distracted by the confused and sorrowful toddler in his lap and by the toddler's siblings on either side of him, and further unfocused by the novel experience of watching his formerly-the-prodigal-son brother delivering a sermon, didn't get much of the message. He did better during the singing, since he was participating, but he wasn't doing well there, either. When it came time for communion, he used Jef as an excuse to not get up and go forward; the boy had fallen asleep, after all, and it would be a shame to wake him.
At the end of services, he wasn't sure whether to offer to stay with the kids a while, head up to greet his brother, or what. Stanley solved the dilemma by scooting up and telling Remna, "Sorry about this, but he has work to do. I need him back now. Probably he'll have time to chat some other day" and steering him away. After they'd maneuvered out of earshot, he said, "Probably, we have enough leeway if you really need to visit with someone, but…"
"No, that's fine. Another day will do," Harvey said, dutifully.
"Will it, now?" a voice nearly the duplicate of his said.
Harvey turned to look into a face uncannily like his own, except for lacking a brand. No wonder the children had been suspicious. "When did you lose your baby fat?" he asked, by way of hello.
"While you were gone, obviously. Welcome home, Harvey. Are you staying a while?"
Harvey looked to Stanley to answer that.
"The honest answer is we don't know," Stanley said. "And cut him some slack, will you? He got yanked in yesterday, without expecting to be yanked in. Half his head is probably still topside, just from inertia."
"That's a fine way to talk to your pastor," Harvey said.
"He can take it," Stanley said. "Besides, he told me once that he likes honesty over politeness."
"I believe what I said was that I don't like dishonesty parading as politeness," Anthony said. "If I didn't, that's what I meant."
"Clue me in," Harvey said. "People are referring to you as Anthony. Do you want me to call you that, or Tony? Or is this going to be one of those 'gotta learn nuances of protocol' situations?"
"Anthony if you can remember it. No sweat if you don't. Can you come to my office for a few minutes?"
Harvey looked to Stanley.
"Define a few minutes," Stanley said to Anthony. "If it's under a couple of hours, I think I can square it with the lieutenant."
"It won't be that long. I've got parish rounds to make. We had a couple have a miscarriage yesterday, Mr. Ritter probably won't live out the week, the Tolman kids need a visit, and that's just the start of things. But I'd like to talk to Harvey before he leaves."
Stanley started to ask if he wanted to talk to him as a long lost sibling, a brother in Christ, or as a pastor overseeing his flock, but decided it probably wasn't his business for one thing, and for another he was holding up the show right after being clued in on needs of the congregation. "I'll be at Ott's house, checking for news to take back to the boss, unless you want me elsewhere," he said.
"I'll see he gets there," Anthony said.
The other men saw Harvey stiffen just a wee bit, and guessed (correctly) that he wasn't enjoying being treated more or less like a prisoner. On the other hand, there really wasn't much they could do about it; all people coming back from secret service had at least a short probation.
Stanley went off to visit the Otts, and the brothers headed through the church to a small office that showed hints of a woman trying to help make it nicer.
"So, I didn't know you were a minister. Anything else I should know?" Harvey said.
"I'm not married, nor have I gone feminine in my tastes in décor. I just don't have the altar society ladies in hand yet. That explains the interior decorating, if that's what you were wondering. Sit down and stop getting sidetracked."
"You aren't going to let them take over the church, are you? I'd hate to think I've been risking my neck for a society that's making doormats of its men."
"It isn't happening. I promise. Now, do you want to tell me why you skipped communion, or do you know yourself?"
"A little kid whose daddy killed his mommy and blew his sister's face off was having a nice nap finally. Should I have disturbed him?"
"I'll give you that much, with my thanks, and not just for Jef. Eric and Bria
n also benefitted by you taking them under your wing for a while. Especially Brian, it looked like. If I thought that was all, I wouldn't have chased you down. But you looked all too relieved to hide behind the little kid. What's up?"
Harvey started to whip out a smart answer, but caught himself. His brother, or perhaps his brother's too-helpful decorating committee, had placed a crucifix on more than one wall, so that it was nearly impossible for a visitor to find a place to put his eyes without having Christ's torn body reminding him of the seriousness of following this particular Lord. Harvey tried lowering his eyes, but the floor had crosses woven into the rugs; not as a deliberate pattern, but as a coincidence of the geographic design. A neat trick that was; you weren't committing sacrilege by walking on the rugs, but they could niggle your conscience, if you had one.
"You can book a passage to Tarshish, Jonah, but that won't work, either. That's been proven," Anthony said.
"Bad analogy. He was a prophet. I'm not," Harvey said, bringing his eyes back up. "Besides, he didn't want to help people. I do."
"You got my point, though?"
"Look, it's been years since I've been in a worship service or had communion. I have a lot to work through."
"Not least of which is?" Anthony prompted.
"Oh, I don't know. Devoutly hoping, just yesterday, that I could find some way to justify killing my co-pilot, maybe?"
"Before or after the fact?"
"What?"
"Did you actually kill him?"
"No. He's a prisoner over at the base. He's healthy, too."
"I'm