A Mighty Fortress (55 page)
Authors: S.D. Thames
“I think you can say that. You have to have faith to believe what I just said.”
I nodded. “The problem I’ve had with faith is, well, I just need to see things to believe.”
Pastor Evans nodded back. “Join the club, my friend. But sometimes, sometimes we just need to look closer, Milo, to really see.”
“Milo,” the man behind me whispered, seemingly in my ear. I turned my head a few degrees, but couldn’t see him. Still, he whispered my name again. I did my best to smile at the pastor. Then I said, “Here’s another question for you. Do you believe in angels?”
“Milo!”
I turned this time, and Gus stood right behind me, plain as day. His white hair was bright enough to light the room. I looked him up and down, confirmed that he was indeed wearing a black guayabara.
I wanted to ask him if he was in mourning or something, but I was already drawing enough suspicion from Pastor Evans.
Then I realized the pastor had been talking for nearly a minute, and I had no idea what he’d just said in response to my question about angels. Given that I was staring at one, maybe it didn’t matter that much.
“Milo,” Gus said with a firmer voice. “I told you we have work to do.”
I raised my hand to quell him, and Pastor Evans arched his brow.
“Does that answer your question?” he asked.
“Milo!”
I smiled at the pastor. “I think it does, at least for now.” I laid a twenty on the table. “One more question, if you don’t mind.”
“You’re pushing it,” Gus hissed.
“What are you going to do about it?” I whispered to Gus.
“What?” Pastor Evans asked. “I didn’t say I minded, Milo.”
I gathered a weak smile. “Sorry, pastor, that’s not what I meant. I meant, what do you think of Johnny Cash?”
“As a singer and songwriter?”
I nodded. “Sure. And as a man?”
“To be honest, I think I own every record of his.” He grinned. “Even the hymns.”
“You think… you think he was really, you know, you think his faith was real, or was it just something he sang about?”
He tilted his head and studied me for a moment. His mouth started moving, but I couldn’t hear a word he was saying. It was as though Gus had hit a magic switch and the room filled with loud majestic music that overpowered every other sound in the room. It lasted about thirty seconds, and as soon as Pastor Evans closed his mouth, the music stopped on a dime.
I thanked the pastor for his time. Gus was hissing at me now, and I was doing my best to stay patient in front of the pastor.
“I hope we can do this again, soon,” I told Pastor Evans. “Unfortunately, something urgent has come up, and I need to get to work.”
He said he understood, rose, and shook my hand.
As I said farewell, I glanced at Gus, then back at Pastor Evans. I studied the pastor for any sign that he noticed there was a tall figure clad in black waiting impatiently for me to follow him out the door. I saw no such sign.
I followed Gus out the door, grumbling, “You sure are impatient for an angel, you know that?” The heat greeted me warmly, reminding me I was still in good old Tampa, Florida. Once I reached the parking lot, I realized there was no sign of my ethereal friend. I turned, about ready to return to the barroom and have one more with the pastor. Hell, maybe this time I could even hear his answers to my questions.
But a voice whispered across the parking lot like the wind.
We have work to do, Milo.
I looked around the parking lot. I was alone. It was just me and the sun overhead. I looked around again, but this time my line of vision was blurred by trails of white light.
I took a few steps, unable to find my car, and I rubbed my eyes. The lights only multiplied, and before I knew it, I couldn’t see anything but different shades of light multiplying and expanding like a kaleidoscope in my vision.
I kept walking, and for a moment it felt like something had picked me up off the Earth, and I was ascending toward a destination I could feel but not see. It was just a light, warm and inviting, but unlike the light of the sun it had no beginning or end. It was so close I could feel it burning inside of me and seemingly through everything I’d ever touched or wanted to touch. And no sooner had it picked me up and embraced me with glowing warmth than it set me down again. And a gentle breeze passed over the parking lot and the surrounding crape myrtles and foliage seemed to shiver. Then my eyes cleared, and I was finally able to locate my car as the tropical wind whispered one more time.
We have work to do, Milo. We have work to do.
So I got in the Volvo and got to work.
A Note From the Author
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Acknowledgments
I first published this book serially between December, 2015 and April, 2016. I owe a huge thanks to my wonderful beta readers and reviewers who provided helpful feedback and encouragement during that process. Special thanks to Brenda G, Donna P, Roger H, Tulay L, Alex S, and my own dear mother (yes, moms can make great beta readers, so long as you make them promise to be honest and you ignore all the good things they say). Also, a special thanks to Susan C for the invaluable comments she provided on the final parts of the book and her keen proofing of the final manuscript.
Working with copyeditor Floyd Largent on this project was a pleasure. Floyd had edited my stories “The Vargas Deposition” and “Lost and Found.” He really went beyond the call of duty on this project by keeping to schedule, understanding Milo so well, and even at times helping me to understand my characters better. Thanks to Heidi Sutherlin for the great cover design.
As always, thanks to my wonderful family and friends who support my writing. You know who you are.
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Copyright © 2016 by S.D. Thames. All rights reserved. This book or any portion of it may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the fair use of brief quotations.
Cover design by Heidi Sutherlin.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, incidents and events either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.