Harbinger in the Mist (Arms of Serendipity) (19 page)

An egret flew out of the reeds, startling Eli. He jumped and the boat rocked violently. Lindsey toppled out into the water. She tried to swim, but there were so many weeds in the water the held her down. She couldn’t breathe. The weeds were wrapped around her neck.

No, hands were clenching her neck, choking the life out of her. And she wasn’t surrounded by water, she was in open air.

Lindsey’s eyes shot wide open and she stared up at the ceiling of her room. Moonlight shone in the windows, casting a calm glow across it. There was no one there, but
something
was holding her by the throat. She couldn’t breathe. She kicked and clawed at the bed, tearing the covers off of her, and at the non-existent hands encircling her throat, but her protests were in vain. Her fingernails only raked her own skin. But she couldn’t break the invisible hold.

Eli rushed into the room and grabbed her from the bed. The vice-like grip on her throat instantly dissolved into the silent night air. She sucked in huge gulps of air, holding her hands to her throat.

“Are you OK, Lindsey?” Eli asked, staring deeply into her eyes. “Did it hurt you?”

“No, it scared me more than anything. How can something without a body do that?” she gasped.

“This thing is more powerful than we thought. We’re going to have to get help.” He looked helplessly at the ceiling.

“I am so going over to St. Francis’ tomorrow to ask the priest to bless the house.” She rubbed her neck.

She had pondered this option for a while, but after tonight, her decision was made. She wasn’t sure what to say or how to do it, but she was going to that church and she was going to get a priest to come here even if she had to drag him here by his collar and rosary.

“That is a great idea,” Eli said, setting her upright on her feet.  “Can you walk?”

“I think so,” she rubbed her raw throat again as she took a couple of tentative steps.

“Why don’t you come down and sleep on the sofa tonight?” He asked, grabbing her pillow.

She let him lead her out of the room and down the stairs.  He fetched a glass of water for her and turned the television on. They watched part of a late night talk show in silence. But Lindsey was very aware of the fact he was sitting only a few inches away from her. Sleep eventually beat the hormones and she started to slouch down on in her seat. Eli put her pillow on one end of the sofa and handed her a blanket.

“Lie back and sleep, Lindsey.  I won’t let it harm you. I’ll be right here all night.” He sat down on the opposite end of the sofa and put her feet in his lap.  She fell into a fitful slumber as he watched over her.

The next morning, Lindsey looked up the address to St. Francis of Catholic Hill Roman Catholic Church in nearby Ritter. Karen had talked about the new church a couple of times at work, going so far as to invite her to Mass.  

She asked Eli if he wanted to come along, but he said that he had some things that he needed to do but wished her good luck. She jotted down the address, rechecked the driving directions online, and headed out.

The church was located in a remote area down a long, rural road about 25 minutes from Retreat House. Life was starting to pop up in the little town of Ritter in the form of a gas station, a fireworks stand, a boiled peanut vendor, a mom and pop diner, and a hunting supply store that had a large Confederate flag hanging from its awning. A green road sign with an arrow pointing ahead and the words “Catholic Hill” outshined by a large, bright pink billboard in the background that advertised, in silver, glittery letters:
GIRLS! GIRLS! GIRLS! Big city entertainment, small town hospitality. New complex at the corner of Ritter Road and Hendersonville Highway! Free buffet lunch from 11 a.m.-3 p.m.!

She stopped at the small gas station to ask for directions, as she hadn’t seen a sign for the church yet and wanted to make sure that she was headed in the right direction. Near the station, erected in a grassy patch of land, stood a bronze plaque. It read:
CATHOLIC HILL. Settlers from Ireland of the Roman Catholic faith in this area helped form the ecclesiastical territory of Colleton, Beaufort, and Barnwell Districts under Bishop John England in 1831. The Church of St. James the Greater was dedicated on this site on December 10, 1832, and remained in use until destroyed by fire on April 12, 1856.

An old man was putting plastic numbers on the gas price sign with a long pole. She asked him if he knew of the church and he told her to drive another three miles or so and she’d see it on the left. “Ya can’t miss it,” he promised.

She spotted the parking lot baking in the sun, little waves of heat rising from the nearly perfect asphalt, a few minutes later. The medieval looking church was obviously new. A sign saying
St. Francis of Catholic Hill Roman Catholic Church; est. May 2010
sat close to the front of the building. It was built in what she would consider typical Catholic fashion – extremely Romanesque. The building was two-stories-tall with at least 20 undecipherable lancet windows along each side.  Spires from atop the side chapels reached toward the sky as if attempting to reach God Himself in heaven above. A large, gold cross rose from the church’s massive steeple. Based on the layout, with chapels jutting out on each side, Lindsey bet that the church itself, if viewed from above, would be in the shape of a cross. 

On the ground, lush flower beds were filled with buds in a variety of colors and type – roses, aster, tulips, lavender, and primrose, amongst others. Life-size statues of St. Francis holding a baby deer and surrounded by various woodland creatures, of the Virgin Mary with her hands clasped in prayer, and of Jesus holding up two fingers in a pious salute gazed back at her.

The church, while being absolutely beautiful, did not belong here. It stood out a mile. It belonged, instead, in a remote European village where it could be appreciated. Certainly not here where locals were bartering peanuts, gas, and fish bait, nor near a sign advertising a strip club full of bare naked girls and free buffet lunch.
Who even eats at a strip club
, she wondered briefly. She looked up as she reached for the handle on the large side door. One of the chapel arches had a gargoyle hanging from it.  The serpentine creature glared back at her with vacant, stone eyes. 

Yep, definitely out of place.

But right now, she was very glad that both this place and the priest inside were here today.

Lindsey pulled on the heavy, solid wood door and entered the darkened vestibule. The church was aromatic, a mixture of incense, burning candles, wood polish, and worn hymnals. The door echoed shut behind her.

She walked into the nave of the church and looked at the rows and rows of glossy, wooden pews. From the outside, the tall, pointed windows appeared black, stark. But from the inside, they were awe-inspiring. The sun shone through them, making them glow; they almost seemed alive. Each window was stained glass with an image of Jesus, Mary, the apostles, or the saints and seemed to convey a story. Dust motes stood suspended in the colored sunbeams as they reached down to the flagstone floor.

 In the front of the church sat a large, marble altar, its top covered with a crisp, white cloth.  A Bible propped open on a stand, a gold chalice, and a large arrangement of flowers were displayed in the center of the altar cloth. Behind the altar were three ornate chairs sitting under a humongous stained glass window that depicted the crucifixion in painful detail.

In a corner to the right of the altar was a large basin, presumably for baptisms, and a golden tabernacle which sat on a pedestal under a large, burning candle that hung from a gilded chain.  In the other corner sat a large table that held dozens of flickering votive candles.

“Hail Mary, full of grace,” she heard. It was whispered quickly, but in this space, even the smallest sounded echoed.  “The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus,” the voice continued.

In the second pew from the front, a woman with a black lace cloth covering her white-haired head knelt with her elbows resting on the back of pew in front of her. In her clasped hands, she held a long, weathered rosary. It dangled as she prayed, her fingers moving slowly from bead to bead as she made her way through the meditation. The crucifix that hung from the end of the string of beads clanked against the pew in front of her.

It was a serene, calm place. With the exception of the praying woman, the church was empty. Her heart sank at the obvious absence of a priest. As she turned to leave, an elderly man entered the church, removed his black fedora hat, and dipped his fingers in the basin by the door. He made the sign of the cross – touching his wet fingers to his forehead, chest, left shoulder, right shoulder. He smiled when he saw her.

“Hello, my dear. Do you need some help?” he asked, concerned. She must’ve looked out of place.

“I’m looking for a priest. Are you one, I meant, are you him?”

“Oh no, my dear. Father Langham would be in the confessional. Just over there, my dear.” He pointed to a small door along the right wall in the back corner. He smiled again and walked past her. He knelt down on one knee briefly at the end of a pew, stood, and entered the row. He pulled down the kneeler that was attached to the back of the pew in front of him. It clanked on the stone floor with a clack, the sound reverberated off the rafters and caused the praying woman in front cease her utterings for the briefest of moments.

Lindsey entered the little room which was no bigger than a closet. It was completely bare, with the exception of a small kneeler in front of a screen through which she could see the silhouette of a man’s face. She had seen people confess in movies, but she wasn’t here to give a confession, just to ask for help.

“Um, good afternoon, um, father,” she tried.

“Good afternoon, my child,” responded a kind voice. “How long as it been since your last confession?”

 “Well, I’m not Catholic. I’m not here to confess anything. I just need some help and I wasn’t sure where else to go. In the movies they always go to a priest for help, so I thought I’d start here.”

“Help with what, my dear?”

Lindsey gave the priest a quick run-down of what was happening in her home and her worries that something evil was there. She finished by saying, “I was hoping you could maybe bless the house or something.”

“This is highly irregular, I must say.  Home blessings aren’t magic. They take a great amount of faith from all parties involved for them to work. Are you a believer, my child?”

“Do I believe in God? Yes.”

“Do you pray regularly?”

“Well, no … I wasn’t really raised going to church or praying or anything. But believe that there is a God and there is a Devil.”

“My dear, that is most assuredly a start, but there is so much more to it than that. I can certainly come out and bless your home, but I will need your help, your prayers, and your belief that our Lord Jesus Christ can force the evil away. Anything less actually gives the evil entity power to stay right where it is.”

“Oh. OK.”

“My advice is to go home and pray about it. I can give you some holy water, a crucifix, and a Bible to carry home with you. Pray about it and then call me. We’ll schedule something.”

Lindsey drove home with the items in the passenger seat of her car. She wasn’t sure what to do. The idea of hanging a crucifix in her room or sprinkling holy water around felt awkward. The priest said that it wasn’t magic, but it felt that way. But she vowed to at least try it though. Seriously, what harm could it do? She could ask Eli for help since this was going to be his gig in a few years.

She was surprised to see Maddie sitting on the steps in front of Retreat House when she pulled up. She hadn’t expected to see either of the twins today because they were supposed to be helping set up for the party later in the evening.

“Hey, girl! What’s up?” Lindsey bumped the car door with her hip to close it.

“Oh, the farrier is at the barn, so I thought I’d come over to tell you the news.”

“The what? And what news?”

“The farrier – a hoof care specialist. Anyway, I found a solution to this thing in your house!”

“Really?”

“I called my aunt last night. She’s clairvoyant. I told her all about this thing and turns out she’s free for the next few nights.  She said that she heard stories about this house when she was a kid and would love to come out and do a reading!”

“She’s a  … what?”

“A clairvoyant. You know, a psychic. She can, you know,
see
the spirits, watch their stories unfold like a movie or something. Does that make sense? She can go through the house and tell us what this thing is and why it’s doing what it’s doing.”

This day was getting stranger and stranger – from a priest who wanted her to hang a crucifix on her wall and douse her room with holy water to her friend wanting to bring a ghost whisperer into her house. But what the heck, right? If any of this could work, why not?

“When can she come over?”

“How’s tomorrow evening?”

“Tomorrow is great. But it has to be after mom’s gone for the night.”

“I’ll give Aunt Sadie a call and tell her it’s a go. She was really excited when I told her where you lived. I’ll tell you what she said later tonight. You’re still coming, right?”

“I wouldn’t miss it!”

“Cool beans. We’ll see you around six. Oh, and don’t eat anything between now and then. Dad’s fixing enough food to feed half of the Lowcountry.”

Maddie skipped off toward her house. Lindsey took the front steps two at a time. Aimee was reading the paper from the sofa and Eli was staring out of the back window, absent-mindedly rosining his violin bow. They both looked up when she peeked in. She waved and then went up to her room.

Lindsey put the plastic bottle marked “Holy Water” by her bed and the crucifix face-up on her dresser. She went into her bathroom to take a shower in preparation for the festivities tonight.

When the door was shut behind her, the big, dark shadow person crossed her room and brushed the crucifix off the dresser. It landed, Christ down, on the floor with a soft thud.