The Good Atheist (14 page)

“I just found out he’s still alive, and probably in hiding somewhere,” I said.

The shock on their faces was evident. All of them except Jorge. He didn’t look a bit surprised. I tucked that tidbit away for future reference.

“What makes you think that?” Collin asked.

I told them about the letters, and the conversation I had with the Inquisitor the other day. “The Inquisitors don’t know where he is, and they’re looking for him. That means it’s very likely Dad is in hiding,” I said. “I was hoping you guys might have some idea where he might be.”

Rashmir shrugged. “The only place I can think he would go is right here. This is where he’s got people he can trust.”

“That’s why he can’t ever come back here. This is exactly where the Tolerance Bureau would be waiting. A man on the run can’t ever go back home, or anyplace he used to know,” I pointed out.

“And so he can’t contact anyone from his former life,” Clive added.

“Because it’s too risky,” Collin said.

“Well, that may be, but I can’t think of any good reason that would keep a man from contacting his own son,” Rashmir growled.

“Unless he’s not much of a father to begin with,” I said.

“That’s not the way it is. He talked about you all the time, and it was obvious to everyone he cared,” Jorge said. “If he is free and not getting word to you, it’s because it’s too risky for you. He doesn’t want to put you in danger.”

“Why would it be so dangerous for me?”

“Son, you have no idea,” Rashmir said, shaking his head. “The Tolerance Commission can and will destroy your life if they get a sniff of religion. And that includes coming after your family or anyone close to you.”

“Then I have nothing to fear. I don’t believe in God.”

“You don’t have to be religious to get into trouble,” Rashmir said. “I’m not religious, let alone Christian, but--”

“But we’re still working on him,” Jorge interjected with a smile.

Rashmir chuckled. “But I still got into some serious hot water with the Tolerance Police for my unorthodox views. I was hounded by Inquisitors for months, made my life an absolute hell, and finally driven out of my teaching post at the university. I moved up here soon afterwards.”

“Any idea why my father converted? I’ve been trying to figure it out. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

They all looked at each other, a question passing between them. “I don’t know if I can tell you the exact reasons your father converted,” Clive said. “We had many conversations and we talked about a lot of things.” He knitted his eyebrows and stabbed a fork into more hashbrowns. “He was stuck for a while on some science questions.”

“It was Clive that helped him with a lot of those questions,” Jorge said.

Rashmir grinned ear to ear. “That’s why we call him the professor.”

“Maybe it would help you to come out to our Bible study. A group of us get together once a week to study the Bible,” Jorge said.

Bible study? I thought. I had no idea people still read it, let alone got together to study it. I thought the Bible had been committed to the dustbins of history along with
Mein Kampf
.

He was taking a huge risk in inviting me, yet it seemed natural to them that they would extend the same friendship to me that they had with my grandfather. But I was still hesitant. “Look, I don’t see how that will help.”

“Your dad read the Bible and came to our studies. It may help you understand his thought processes,” Jorge said. The Bible study met at Jorge’s place, and he gave me his address.

Breakfast was winding down and it was time for everyone to get going to whatever it was they had to do. Rashmir had to open the hardware store and Collin had his repair shop. It wasn’t clear to me what Clive did.

On the sidewalk outside we said our goodbyes. They each shook my hand and told me how happy they were to get to know me, that my grandfather had talked often about me and it was nice to finally meet. They invited me to breakfast again which they seemed to have on a pretty regular basis.

I got into my car and drove back to the cottage, wondering what I was getting myself into. I’d met some of my grandfather’s friends, and they didn’t hesitate to include me into their circle of friendship. Yet it was my duty as a citizen and Freethinker to report them to the Tolerance Commission.

As I drove back to the cottage, I thought about this duty, and even as I thought about it I knew I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. They had confided in me and accepted me as a friend. Grandpa had been one of them, and turning them in would be like turning him in.

But the discovery that they didn’t know where Dad was disturbed me. I was no further along in my search.

8

Later the same day I was in the spare bedroom at the back of the cottage, packing up Grandpa’s things and sorting through what I wanted to keep or throw out, when I heard voices coming from the living room. I froze. My first thought was that I was being burglarized.

“My goodness, what a mess,” a female voice said. Not usually the first words of a burglar, I thought, and went to see who it was.

Lucy was in the living room with a small battalion of ladies armed with mops, buckets, rags, and spray bottles of cleaning solutions. “Your grandfather lived like a typical bachelor,” she said when I entered the living room. “What a mess.”

I wondered if anyone ever knocked in this town. Lucy introduced her two companions as Charlene and Maxine. Maxine looked around with a disapproving frown. “Hasn’t been swept or dusted in years,” she said. She was a short, heavyset woman of indeterminate age.

“I’d been after your grandfather for years to get some help with this place,” Lucy said. “But no matter. We’ll have it spic and span in no time.” She hoisted her broom and bucket and marched into the kitchen. “Don’t mind us. You just carry on with whatever you’re doing.”

I went back to my sorting and packing while the three female tornadoes cleaned around me. I still did not know whether I wanted to sell or keep the place, but either way the place needed to be cleaned up. A few hours later they were done, and I thanked them profusely as they got ready to go.

Lucy flicked her hand at me. “Don’t think anything of it. That’s what neighbors are for.”

“Well, let me pay you for your time,” I said.

The three women frowned at me like they’d just been propositioned. “You don’t have to pay friends,” Charlene said.

“Your grandfather was like a father to me. Any family of his is family of mine,” Lucy said. Charlene and Maxine nodded in agreement. They packed up their cleaning things and left, making me promise that I would call them if I needed any more help around the place. They seemed to take the view that as a man I was naturally incapacitated in such matters.

I finished sorting through the spare bedroom and moved onto the den. Throughout the afternoon dark clouds gathered across the sky while I read and sorted through Grandpa’s book collection. The sun went down and huge drops of rain began to rattle the dark windows. I lit some lanterns around the place, sat down in an oversized easy chair, and kept reading by the light of a lantern. More books sat on the floor around me in stacks. I was reading voraciously, trying to understand what it was my father and grandfather believed, when a gentle rap at the door disturbed me.

I got up, wondering if it was Lucy coming back for something, or maybe one of Grandpa’s friends dropping by. The wind blew some of last year’s leaves into the living room when I opened the door.

A very traditional-looking young woman stood in front of me, soaked by the rain, wet purple and green hair plastered against her cheeks. One side of her head was shaved. She wore tight black jeans and a green hoodie. Small silver bolts pierced her eyebrows and cheeks, and she wore a traditional nose hoop. Her lips were pierced with silver loops. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-one or maybe twenty-two.

A small child clung to one of her hands, and she held a suitcase with the other. A second kid clung to her leg. All three were drenched and shivering.

I looked into the darkness beyond them. The only car in the driveway was mine.

“Yes?” I said.

“Are you Ben Callaghan?” she asked. Her voice was hesitant and tinged with nerves.

“I’m his grandson.”

She shifted her weight and looked around. “I was told to ask for Ben Callaghan. Is he in?”

“Did you know my grandfather?”

She shook her head. “No, but I was supposed to ask for him here.”

“You’ve got the right place, but I’m afraid he has passed away.”

A look of nervous uncertainty passed quickly through her eyes, and she glanced around. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I don’t mean to sound rude, but why are you here asking for him if you didn’t know him?”

She looked down at her children and then back at me. “I was told your grandfather would put us up for the night, just until morning.”

“Who told you that?”

“Our contact at the last station. The man who drove us here.”

“Contact? Last station? What are you talking about?”

She took a step back. “There seems to have been some kind of mistake. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

She turned around and walked away, taking one of the children by the hand and carrying the suitcase in the other. The older child scampered behind her. As they left the shelter of the porch the wind and rain whipped up with a vengeance. I stepped out onto the porch and watched them walk up the muddy lane towards the highway and disappear into the darkness. There was no sign of a ride, no headlights further up the lane, and my nearest neighbor was two miles down the highway.

 I stood for a moment staring down the lane, wondering where she thought she was going and how far she expected to get in this weather with two kids. I briefly considered calling them back, but I dismissed the thought. She was a complete stranger and not my problem. So I let them go into the darkness, shut the door, and returned to my comfortable armchair.

I tried to get back to reading, but concentration proved impossible. I couldn’t get the woman and her kids out of my mind. Their ride had obviously dropped them off and left. There was no place for them to go except back up to the highway, and there was no shelter that way.

I gave my head a shake. They weren’t my problem. I didn’t ask to have them dropped at my door. But then some of the verses I’d read in my Grandpa’s New Testament came to mind.

Love your neighbor as yourself.

Treat others the way you would have them treat you.

They had come here looking for my grandfather. Someone who didn’t know that Grandpa had died told them to come here, and fully expected him to help. I still wasn’t sure why this should be my problem, but decided I could at the very least do this for my grandfather’s sake.   

I got up, grabbed my coat hanging from a peg by the door, and put on my shoes. Outside the cold drizzle soaked me, and I turned up the collar of my coat. I sloshed through the muck towards my car. It sensed my approach, the lights came on, and it lifted from the ground a few inches. The gull-wing door swung open and I climbed in.

I drove slowly up the long drive towards the highway, peering ahead through the gloom looking for the family. My headlights caught them huddled under a large maple tree halfway up the driveway. I stopped next to them and lowered the window.

“Get in,” I said. The passenger side door swung up for them. Wind-whipped rain sprayed into the car.

She didn’t move.

“What are you going to do? Stand out here in the rain all night?”

The two children turned their faces up towards her. The woman looked at me, and then down at the children.

“Go,” she said with a nod. The two kids scampered around the car and climbed into the back seats through the passenger door. The woman came around with the suitcase and hefted it onto the back seat next to the kids. Then she got in beside me and I lowered the door.

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome to stay with me, or I can drive you somewhere. Do you have someplace to go?”

She shook her head. “No other place… other than back home.” From her tone that was clearly not an option. I wondered if she was having problems with a man.

“So you were just going to wait under the tree all night?”

“Our next ride is supposed to get us at your place in the morning,” she said.

I turned the heat up in the car so they could warm up. The rain was still falling, and the wipers swished back and forth to keep the windows clear. “This isn’t making any sense. Why did you come here if you didn’t know my grandfather?”

She shook her head. “The man who dropped us off told us to walk down the lane to the cottage and ask for Ben Callaghan. That’s all I know.”

“And then what?”

“Another ride picks us up.”

“Look, I don’t mind helping if I can, but you need to help me out here. What aren’t you telling me?”

She stared out the window, not answering. The pattering rain and swishing window wipers were the only sound.

“Are you running from someone?”

“If you don’t want to help us, I can understand that.”

“You appear out of nowhere in the middle of the night knocking on my door. I don’t think I’m being unreasonable.”

Finally she turned to me, and held me with her deep dark eyes. “I’m on my way to Canada. I’m supposed to meet the people getting me into Canada here in the morning. I have no way of reaching them to change our rendezvous, so I had to stay close.”

I stared at her while some of the pieces fell into place. It wasn’t an accident that they had come to my door. They had not picked my cottage at random, like runaways heading towards a light in the dark. The lights from my cottage can’t be seen from the road. The person who had dropped them off at the end of the lane had given her my grandfather’s name and told her to come here, that he would assist them on their clandestine trip to Canada. And apparently my grandfather was in the business of helping such people. The only conclusion I could come to was that he was some kind of link in a chain that would help get these people to Canada. Obviously the news of my grandfather’s death had not reached the right people.