Diamonds and Cole (8 page)

“So, you must be Chad.”

“That’s right. Who are you?”

“He’s no one,” Christopher barked. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

“Yeah, leave,” Chad echoed.

“How long you been a tweaker, kid?”

“You think you’re so smart. What makes you think I use meth?”

Allen Christopher looked from his son to the stranger in his backyard but didn’t speak.

“Well let’s see. Your skin looks like hamburger, your gums are swollen, you’re skin and bones, you smell like a chemical plant, and you’re sweating like it’s a hundred degrees out here. Should we look for tracks, tin foil and lighter, or bags of pills?”

“Chad, what is he talking about?”

“Rehab.”

“Shut up. Who are you, anyway?” Chad shouted.

Across the lawn came Ann. She must have taken after her mother. She was neither tall nor slim like her father. Ann was no more than five-two and about 50 pounds overweight. Her tank top was too small, and the top of her sweat pants was rolled down, exposing a flabby belly like the white underside of a fish. She had small breasts, and her stomach protruded beyond them. Unlike her brother, she had clear, smooth skin and a nice color. Her eyes were light brown, almost golden. When she reached them, she planted her feet, and folded her arms across her chest, where they seemed to rest on her belly.

“What’s going on?” Ann said, nervously uncrossing arms and pushing her hair behind her ears with both hands.

“Hello, Ann. My name is Cole Sage, and I’m talking to your father about your mother and her condition.”

“My mother’s dead!”

“He’s referring to Ellen.” Christopher still seemed stunned from Cole’s exchange with Chad.

“She’s not my mother!” Ann said angrily.

“Ellie is an old friend of mine, Ann.”

“I want you off my property. Now!” Christopher shouted.

Cole reached up and took Christopher by the collar. He twisted the shirt around his hand until he was sure he had Christopher’s attention. Christopher grabbed Cole’s wrist but then released it when he looked into Cole’s eyes.

Chad immediately dropped to his knees and sat cross-legged on the grass. He had a noticeable twitch in his right cheek.

“Are you going to behave and listen to what I have to say?”

“Just don’t hurt my children.”

Cole laughed. “It’s your ass I’m about to kick, but nice sentiment anyway.”

Christopher nodded. Cole released his shirt.

“I came here,” Cole began, “because a dear friend of mine said she was in trouble. How she ever got tangled up with you three, I will never understand. She wanted my help, and now I see why. I will help her any way I can. First, I want to know where Erin is.”

“I don’t know.” Christopher spoke first.

“Not good enough.”

“Who cares about that stuck-up little bitch?” Ann snarled.

“I do and her mother does. Do you know where she is?”

“Hell, I hope,” Ann sneered.

Chad chuckled. “Good one.”

“How about you, zit face? You know where she is?”

Chad started to get up until he saw the look Cole was giving him. Then he twisted, pulled at the grass and re-crossed his legs. “I don’t care where she is.”

“I don’t even know her, but somehow I think she is very lucky.” Cole shook his head in disgust. “You had Ellie sign a power of attorney when she got sick. She wants it back,” Cole said looking straight into Christopher’s eyes. “She’s going to seek legal counsel to help straighten out her affairs,” Cole bluffed.

“And you think I’ll hand it to you?”

“Could save you a lot of money and trouble.”

“She has nothing.”

“California law says she owns half of the proceeds from the house you sold. So, I guess that means this one, too.”

“Without my support, they would’ve put her in County Hospital. She’d be a
welfare case.”

“And you would let that happen?”

“I have my family to look out for.”

“She’s no longer part of your family?” Cole said in amazement.

“She chose to go to the nursing home. She—”

Cole suddenly whipped the back of his hand across Christopher’s face with all his strength. “Next time you lie to me, it will be my fist. Your treatment of Ellie is, is—” Cole couldn’t think of a strong-enough comparison. “She gets sick, you dump her in a home. Hell is too good for you.”

“Not that I owe you an explanation,” Christopher began, “but I work hard for my money. It is
my
money and I will spend it how, and
on whom
, I choose. Ellen made her choice. I took her in. I gave her a home, and her spoiled brat, too. She’s not even my kid. With everything I’d done for her, she chose Erin over me and my children. After that, I had no desire for her, no need for her. Frankly, what happens to her now is not my concern. I’ve let her stay on my insurance and haven’t divorced her, just out of pity. If she wants to play the ingrate, I’ll cut her off without a cent. Do you have any idea what it costs to care for her?”

“And Erin’s inheritance? How do you justify that? It’s from her grandparents, and as you so plainly admit, no relations of yours. You need to give up power of attorney. You are on dangerous ground here.”

“This is none of your business.”

“I’ve made it my business. Hear me and hear me well: I am not a sick woman confined to a wheelchair. I have little in life that matters to me more than those I love and who need my help. If you do anything to harm Ellie or make her life unpleasant, you will answer to me. God help you if you put me in that position. Am I clear?”

“Are you
threatening
me?” Christopher glared.

“I am
promising
you.”

“You heard that. You’re my witnesses.” Christopher turned toward his children, who sat gazing up at him.

“A dope addict and a neurotic, overweight, nail-biting daddy’s girl? They’ll look great in court.” Cole almost laughed.

“Get out of here! Now!” Christopher screamed.

Chad started to get up. Cole shot him a look, and he sat back down again. Ann was crying and biting her nails. Blood was running down the side of her palm from chewing too deep on her little finger.

“I’m going. I’ll find Erin. You will give me power of attorney. You had better not go near Ellie. You abandoned her, and you’re going to pay for that.”

Cole started to leave, then stopped and turned back to face Christopher. “I can almost understand a self-centered pretty boy like you turning his back on a sick wife, I really can. God knows what you have turned these two into. But if you are any kind of a man at all, you’ll get that kid into rehab. And look at her, look at her hands, her weight. They both need help. Don’t you see that? Or are you going to dump them, too?” Cole threw his hands up in a gesture of total exasperation, turned and walked away.

“He can’t talk to you like that, Dad. I’m going to kick his ass!” Chad jumped to his feet and started toward Cole.

Christopher blocked Chad’s movement with an arm across his son’s chest, stopping him with little resistance. “Oh, for God’s sake, Chad,” Christopher said in a dismissive sigh, “you’re not going to do anything.”

Cole got in the car and sat looking out the window. Had he been wrong about Ellie? How could she have chosen to be in the lives of those people? The adrenaline that had been pumping so furiously was starting to subside. He felt a bit shaky as he turned the engine over.

“What a bunch!” Cole said aloud as he pulled away from the curb.

The meeting with Christopher had gone badly. He didn’t expect to be welcomed with open arms, but it was worse than he imagined. There were issues far deeper than he thought. Christopher clearly resented whatever Ellie had told him about Cole. The daughter was a basket case and the boy was in a dangerous spiral. Christopher had rationalized what would be considered in any divorce proceeding as improper handling of community assets. It was, in his eyes, the natural course of things.

Cole realized he had no legal grounds to pursue Christopher or insist that he relinquish power of attorney. He probably had broken a couple of laws in the last few minutes, not the least of which was assault. He didn’t understand the dynamic of their relationship. Ellie still held some regard, misguided as it was, for Christopher’s keeping their marriage contract in her absence. Christopher, on the other hand, saw himself free to do as he pleased. This attitude, Cole was sure, started long before Ellie’s illness.

There wasn’t much else he could do today, so he decided to have a look around. In a town this size, Cole was sure gossip would be plentiful, and there would be much to learn about Allen Christopher.

SEVEN

The one consistent thing Cole kept hearing as he asked around town about the zoning, real estate, and the poorer side of town was reference to “the old preacher out there”. Like the guy said, “When you ain’t got nothin’ you got nothin’ to lose.” Cole was pretty sure he knew where to find the preacher people kept referring to. Hopefully, he knew something that would shed some light on Malcor.

The gravel’s crunch under the tires made a throaty sound as Cole pulled into the parking lot of the Friendly Tabernacle. Except for the splotches of graffiti paint-over, it looked just like he remembered. A remnant of World War II, the jumbo Quonset hut was a strange corrugated metal building—a perfect half dome with a flat front and back, like someone cut a tin can in half long ways and stuck it in the ground. The sign in the front sputtered and crackled its neon message, JESUS SAVES. A worn, faded canvas banner proclaimed REVIVAL NIGHTLY.

At one time, this odd little building was the neighborhood movie theater, home to several thousand Dust Bowl refugees. The Del Rio showed cowboy serials, pre-War “B” romances, and Buck Rogers-style science fiction. That was before the city passed an ordinance declaring the little gravel parking lot too small for the 200-seat tin movie palace. The fact that most people walked to the Del Rio was of little consequence to the city fathers, who didn’t like the looks of the “Okie firetrap” anyway.

Then Edwin Thessalonians Bates came back to town. The little Quonset hut had sat empty for three years when the traveling Evangelist saw a “For Sale” sign nailed to the front door. To him it was a sign from God and, upon this rock, Brother Bates was going to build his church. Not one to take “no” for an answer and certainly not one to hesitate to speak on behalf of the Almighty in His absence, Brother Bates struck quite a deal: Not only did he get the building for no money down (30 years before infomercials) but upon assuring the owner his “Eternal real estate holdings” would be determined by the outcome of the transaction, there was also to be no payment due for six months. Nearly 40 years later, E. T. Bates was the unofficial mayor of “the poor side of town.”

Tonight, about a dozen cars occupied the lot. At the rear of the lot, under the single light bulb that glowed over the back door, sat a red 10-year-old Cadillac. Brother Bates would be present for the services this evening. The gravel crunched underfoot, and Cole made his way to the front, remembering years before when his grandmother would take him to her church as if it were St. Peter’s in Rome. Of course, she would have never compared this sanctified ground to “the dwelling place of the Scarlet Woman.” Nevertheless, she had puffed out her bountiful chest, lodged her well-worn Bible under her arm, and led them in to wait upon the Lord.

“Cole, get ready for a blessing!” she had told him. “The fire is falling, and His Spirit has come to dwell in this place! Blessed be the name of the Lord! Hallelujah!”— before they even got out of the parking lot.

The front of the tabernacle still sported poster boxes from the old Del Rio. Now instead of “Cattle Queen of Montana” and “Lady of New Orleans” one sheets, there were hand-lettered butcher paper signs reading:

Services Nightly 7:00

Lay Your Needs Before the Lord!

Miracles! Healing! Prophetic Messages!

Edwin T. Bates, Evangelist

Not much had changed.

The lobby still had the thick red carpet of the Del Rio, now threadbare in spots. Silver duct tape held some of the seams together, and dark sections told the tale of a leaking roof. The snack bar now displayed tapes, books, and pamphlets by the featured Evangelist. Cole wondered if Guinness had a record for the longest running nightly revival.

“Good evening,” chirped a woman in her 80s. Her hair was curled tightly and held in place by a thin black hairnet. It almost glowed from the bluing that once made the white brighter but now had dyed her thinning hair a pale azure tint.

“Good evening to you!” Sage said brightly.

“Your first time with us?” Her pale gray eyes sparkled behind frameless gold wire glasses. Memories of his grandmother swept over Cole as he took in the old lady smell of flowered soaps and inexpensive dime store perfume, probably purchased before he was born. Her dress was a shiny rayon floral print, just like his grandmother used to wear, and was accented with a yellow-and-orange-colored glass broach. True to his memory, her feet were squeezed into a pair of black lace-up shoes that her ankles overran. Sage smiled at her warmly.

“Have you been around here long, ma’am?”
Ma’am? Where had that come from?
He hadn’t called anyone “ma’am” in 30 years.

“Oh mercy,” she reflected, “about 35 years, I expect. I came to one of Brother Bates’ meetings the first week he was here. Mercy me, that’s more like 40! My husband, Jack, was still working at the cannery when I first got the baptism. Mercy, mercy, he’s been gone 12 years now. Emphysema. Lord love him. He wasn’t saved ‘til the last, but we’ll walk the streets of glory together now.”

“Maybe you knew my grandma, Zelma Park?”

“Mercy sakes, I loved Sister Park! You’re her grandson! How long has she been gone now? Oh, how I loved to hear her daughter Minnie sing and play the guitar! Mercy, mercy, ‘Mansion Over the Hill Top.’ Oh, what a blessing they were!”

The thought of his Aunt Minnie playing guitar and singing brought an uncontrollable chuckle from Cole. The longstanding family joke was the way his dad would say, “Minnie, I’d rather hear you sing than eat. I’ve heard you eat!” At that, she would always slap her brother on the shoulder and squeal “Yoooou.”