Wind Over Marshdale (35 page)

****

Rachel waited until the very early hours of the morning before calling the cab. She had no desire to start another scene with any one of her family. At about five-thirty a.m., she pulled up in front of Sherri's parents' house. She'd called her friend the night before, so they were expecting her. Sherri had left a key outside in the mailbox and she let herself in.

After depositing her bags near the front entrance, Rachel found her way to the homey family room where the Christmas tree was set up. She plugged in the lights and sat down cross-legged among the unopened presents to stare into the twinkling branches. How different it seemed from the tree in her mother's parlor. Her mother's tree was perfect. Perfectly shaped. Perfectly decorated. Perfectly cold. This tree was overladen with mismatched ornaments, most of which hung from the bottom branches within a child's reach. It was in no way symmetrical, with branches protruding and bare spaces gaping. Yet it embodied the warmth and coziness of a family that loved one another.

“Did Santa come yet?” a small voice asked with a yawn. Rachel turned to see one of Sherri's nieces standing in the doorway. The four-year-old was still in her pajamas and she dragged a well-worn teddy by her side.

“Looks like it,” Rachel observed, looking over at the stockings that were now stuffed to overflowing. “But it's kind of early. Nobody else is up yet. Come over here, Shayah, and sit with me for a while.”

The little girl padded on bare feet to Rachel's side, then curled up in her lap. They snuggled like that for some time, mesmerized by the sparkling tree.

“See,” Shayah said, pointing to one of the ornaments. “There's baby Jesus. He's lyin' in his munger.”

“Yes, I see him in his little manger,” Rachel agreed, correctly enunciating the mispronounced word.

“He was borned at Christmas. It's his birthday.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Where is he now?” Shayah asked.

“In heaven, I suppose.”

“Why?”

“Because that's where he lives.”

“Why doesn't he live here?”

“Well, some people say he does. They say he lives right here in your heart.” Rachel poked the little girl's chest and she giggled.

“He must be pretty small,” Shayah observed.

“He doesn't live inside of you in that way,” Rachel tried to explain, remembering what Con had said. “He's God, so he is very, very big. He's everywhere and he helps people to be good.”

“Why?”

“Well, because he's God and that's what he does.”

“I been good,” Shayah announced.

“That's good.”

“So Santa comed.”

“Yes, that's right.”

“How does Santa get to all the houses?”

A large male figure loomed in the doorway for a moment, then came shuffling into the room. It was Lawrence, Sherri's older brother and Shayah's father. Rachel was glad for the rescue.

“Hey, Squirt. You're up awfully early,” Lawrence said, lifting his daughter high in the air. She squealed with delight.

“Santa comed! Santa comed!”

Soon the rest of the family began to meander into the family room. There were Sherri and Dan, and her two brothers Lawrence and Grant and their families, along with her parents.

Before long, the once quiet room became a madhouse of flying Christmas wrap and cries of pleasure and surprise as the gifts were opened. This was what Christmas was all about. The warmth of a caring family.

No one asked Rachel why she had come to spend Christmas Day with them rather than with her own family. They just accepted her as one of them and carried on.

Sherri came and sat by her friend. “Kind of a madhouse, huh?”

“It's okay. I like it,” Rachel smiled. They sat that way for a bit, just watching, allowing the companionship to envelope them. “I've decided to leave early,” she finally admitted. “There's nothing here for me anymore. I'm flying back the day after tomorrow.”

“Really? You can't wait for us on the thirtieth?” Sherri asked.

“No. I just need to get home. Back to my own space where I can breathe again.”

It was true. There was absolutely nothing left for her here. Her family had proven that. At least in Marshdale she was needed and had a sense of purpose, even if her heart ached with loneliness. A broken heart was so much easier to endure than a crushed spirit.

 

Thomas let out another puff of crystalline breath as he shoveled the snow off the narrow walkway leading up to the trailer. It was good to be outdoors using his muscles, breathing in the fresh air. He was an outdoor kind of guy and looked for any excuse he could.

Their quiet little family Christmas had gone well, he thought and now that the big day itself was over, they could relax and enjoy some down time before the rush of school and work began again. Ryder was hanging out at the Changs and Whisper was playing at Laura Wilson's house. Whisper seemed to enjoy mothering Laura, the Down syndrome girl, and since she didn't get many invitations to play at a friend's house, he said okay. He was all alone. Just him and the rolling prairie hills to the west.

He continued shoveling until he heard the crunch and pant of someone running up the snow encrusted street. He squinted and recognized it to be one of the Wilson children. “Mr. Lone Wolf!” the boy cried, waving frantically.

Thomas dropped his shovel and strode in his direction. “What's wrong?”

The boy stopped, leaning over and panting for a moment in an effort to catch his breath.

“What is it? What's going on?” Thomas asked more urgently.

“It's Whisper,” the boy replied between gulps of air. “She… she fell through the ice.”

“Where?” Thomas demanded. A horrible, sick feeling enveloped him almost instantly.

“The slough over by the old elevator. I told them not to go on, but—”

Thomas cut him off. “Take me.”

They sped the block and a half in Thomas's SUV to the site of one of the town's remaining dilapidated grain elevators. It had been scheduled for demolition in the spring. Out behind the train tracks was a pond and on the pond he could make out the form of a person, lying flat on her belly, apparently holding onto something. It was Laura Wilson, holding on for dear life to Whisper, who had fallen through the ice.

Thomas rummaged for the length of tow rope that he kept stashed in the vehicle and then ran the rest of the way to the slough's edge. He stepped gingerly onto its snow covered surface and simultaneously heard and felt the give underneath. Stepping off, he tried a fresh spot. When it yielded the same result, he got down on his own stomach and inched his way forward like a snake. “Hang on, girls,” he called. “Just try not to move, okay?”

“Daddy!” Whisper cried. “I'm cold.”

“I know, baby. But Daddy's coming. Just hang on, okay? Don't let go of Laura's hand.”

When he got within ten feet, he took out the rope and tossed it toward Whisper. “Grab the rope, honey, and hang on tight. Kick your feet like you're swimming. That's it. Laura, you grab the rope, too and move backwards. Good girl. You're both doing fine.”

The hole became larger as Whisper fought her way out, but soon she was up on the surface of the ice. Thomas pulled more quickly and once both girls were near shore and safety, he jumped up and grabbed Whisper's shivering body.

“Hey! Help Laura into the vehicle,” he yelled to the boy, dashing for the relative warmth of the vehicle. “Daddy's got you now. Everything's gonna be alright. We need to get you home where it's warm and dry.”

Relief pounded through is body, his limbs still vibrating from the increased adrenaline. If anything had happened to his little girl…well, he would never be able to forgive himself. Just the thought of what might have been had he arrived a few moments later was enough to send a fresh wave of fear rolling through his core. Thank the Lord for guardian angels like Laura Wilson.

****

Con sat outside the church, mustering enough courage to go inside and confront the pastor once and for all. The images he'd seen on Todd's personal computer were enough to make his toes curl. There was no way they'd popped up by accident. Not a video in midstream. Somebody had to call him out on it. It looked like he was that someone.

He'd thought about sharing what he'd discovered with Ivor, but then thought better of it. The Bible said to settle a dispute one-on-one with someone first. He needed an admission from Todd's own lips before he could go elsewhere with the information. And he'd decided he wasn't about to do anything until after Christmas. There was no point in ruining the entire holiday for Carol and the children. But Christmas was over and there was no way he was putting it off until the New Year.

With a heave, Con pulled himself from his vehicle and trudged toward the now ominous building.

Con found Todd in his usual place—his office. This time the door was wide open, so Con marched right in. Guess he only needs to lock the door when he's hiding something, Con scowled. He could hardly stand to look at the man. It made him cringe just thinking about the hypocrisy. The filth.

“Hello, Con,” Todd greeted. “What can I do for you today?”

“Answer a couple of questions,” Con stated.

“Okay,” Todd responded with a friendly smile. “Have a seat. So what's on your mind?”

“What were you viewing on your laptop the other night when I came to the church?” Con kept his eyes squarely fixed on Todd's face. The other man seemed to pale visibly and he blinked several times.

“Which night was that?” Todd asked.

“Okay. Let me make it a little plainer,” Con continued. “Do you know that you've got pornography on your personal computer?”

“I, um, sometimes these things just pop up without warning. It's the craziest thing,” Todd said, laughing nervously. He was sweating now.

“I don't buy that,” Con countered. “I think you have a problem with porn. Can you deny it?”

Todd's eyes narrowed. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing? What grounds are you basing this—this lie on?”

“I opened your computer when you went to the washroom,” Con admitted. “It was snooping, I know, but something prompted me to do it. I saw it, Todd. I saw the video you were watching.”

Todd absorbed this. He was silent for several seconds until his face became a crumbling mass of anguish. With gigantic sobs he buried his face in his hands, his body shaking uncontrollably.

Con watched. He should get up and comfort the man. Put his arm around him and offer to pray for him or something. But he felt nothing. No compassion, no sympathy. It was like his heart was hard and his former pastor's brokenness only made him feel more disgusted.

With a jerk, Con stood up and stalked from the room, shutting his ears and the church doors on the sounds of anguish. Disillusionment, in its purest form, was a bitter pill.

****

Thomas sat on the sofa, his Bible open in his lap. The children were nearby, safely snuggled together under a blanket, watching a movie. “Thank you, Lord,” he whispered. “Thank you for saving my little girl today.”

He was thankful for Laura Wilson, too. There was a time when he thought she wasn't good enough to be his daughter's friend, but he knew now that it was just as wrong as any other form of prejudice. Laura didn't care about the color of a person's skin. She just loved people. It was the way God wanted all people to live.

Thomas continued to pray silently, as he watched Ryder and Whisper, their eyes fixed on the moving pictures; their heads touching, the blanket tucked up under their chins. “Thank you for showing me what's important and rescuing me from myself. I was almost ready to throw it all away for the promise of personal gain. I see now it was all a lie from the devil, trying to entice me away from You and Your plan. What a fool! Thank you that you opened my eyes without too much pain and sacrifice.”

“Daddy, your lips were moving,” Whisper noted, looking at her father before turning her attention back to the television.

“I know, baby. Daddy was just praying. I'm so thankful to God that I still have my beautiful princess, that's all.”

As he surveyed his children, Thomas realized his mission was not what he thought it was after all. It wasn't about the cultural centre, or uncovering a great archeological find, or even making people understand the rich history of his people. It wasn't even about civil rights. And it certainly wasn't about personal gain, be it power or prestige. It was about forgiveness and redemption. It was about accepting people where they were at, even if they hurt you. And most of all it was about spiritual freedom, not only for himself, but for this place. He knew that now. He had as many lessons to learn here as anybody, but he also had a job to do. A mission of repentance. And it was about time he got back to it.

He unfolded himself from the sofa and kissed the tops of both his children's heads before heading for the telephone in the other room. He picked up the phone and punched in the numbers. It rang twice before someone picked up on the other end.

“Hello, Con? I'd like to ask your forgiveness.”

****

For the second time in one day, Con McKinley found himself sitting outside the church, gathering the strength needed to go inside. This time it was less about confrontation and more about asking forgiveness— his own. He realized that he'd been judgmental earlier; unwilling to extend the same kind of grace that Christ Himself would have under the circumstances. It had taken a phone call to set him straight.

Thomas Lone Wolf had called, asking him for forgiveness. Apparently he'd been harboring bitter feelings ever since he'd seen Rachel and Con together. Con knew the feeling since his own jealous insecurities about Rachel had found an easy target in Thomas. They'd prayed over the phone and Con left the conversation with a much lighter load, knowing that God was already busy restoring relationships.

Thomas had also re-extended his invitation to join him in prayer out at Old Man's Lake. Thomas felt strongly about it and, for some reason, Con did too. If ever a town needed freedom it was Marshdale. Sexual immorality, gossip and prejudice were running rampant, and if there was a connection to the sins of past generations, then the sooner it was dealt with the better.

Not only were these three issues a plague in the town at large, but they were tearing the church apart, too. And that was what he was doing here. He was about to start the first round of cleansing; not with a rod, but with love.

The interior of the church was dark and quiet. Almost eerily so. Pastor Todd's office door was shut, but there was no noise coming from within. Con rapped once with his knuckles and then tried the door. It opened easily.

Todd was sitting at his desk, his face a weary mask of spent emotion. The crying had stopped, but its evidence remained in his swollen eyelids, bloodshot eyes, and puffy red-pocked face. He was a broken man whose features showed he had resigned himself to a fate fatale.

“I'll resign of course,” Todd opened the conversation, his voice strangely calm. “Have you told the board yet?”

Con shook his head, taking a seat across from Todd. “I haven't mentioned it to anyone.”

“So why are you back?” Todd asked. “Haven't you seen enough of my shame? Or would you like more?”

“If you want to talk more, I'll listen,” Con offered. “Or we can pray. Whatever. I'm here to apologize for my initial reaction. I want to be a friend to a brother in need, not come down on you with the rod of condemnation.”

It looked like Todd might lose control again, and Con focused his gaze on the floor, giving the other man a few minutes to get a hold of himself. Finally Todd cleared his throat. “Thank you. But why? I don't deserve it.”

Con shrugged. “It's what I would want if I were in your shoes. Jesus said that whoever was without sin should cast the first stone. I know that isn't me, so I'm here to listen instead. Help you through this if I can.”

“I guess God's not going to let me get away quite that easily,” Todd mused, allowing a crooked smile to flash across his face. “Right before you got here I was contemplating a little drive in the country. I was planning on driving my vehicle right off the ravine by Old Man's Lake. I figured you'd have the decency to leave a dead man's secrets be. Everyone else would think it was an accident and then Carol and the kids wouldn't get hurt.”

Con's eyes opened wide in shock. “You were considering suicide?”

Todd nodded. “It seemed a fairly attractive option under the circumstances.”

“You're the not the first man to struggle with pornography,” Con stated. “Not the first pastor, either. I was reading some statistics recently, and the numbers are actually quite shocking.”

“If only that was it,” Todd sighed.

Con surveyed the other man for a moment. “Oh? You want to share?”

“Why not?” Todd shrugged. “Let's see, where shall I begin? It probably all started when I was a teen. I got exposed to some light porn during high school, even though I attended a private Christian boarding school. It amazes me that parents think they're sheltering their kids by sending them there, but you can still get into almost anything, if you're looking to. Anyway, it wasn't a big deal back then and once Carol and I married, I figured I could give it up completely. I mean, why look at a picture when you've got the real thing, right? Anyway, that worked for quite a few years and I figured it wasn't a problem.”

“So what changed?” Con asked.

“It happened in our last church. The one we were at just before we came here. It was a vibrant church, a growing church, and I was a leader who was on fire for the Lord. All night prayer meetings, people getting healed—you name it. God was on the move and I was at the helm.”

“And?”

“I went to a ministry conference in Calgary. There were thousands there and we were worshipping and praying and just allowing God to have His way. While I was there I,” Todd hesitated and cleared his throat. “I met this woman. A really anointed song writer and worship leader. Or at least I thought she was.”

“Oh no,” Con groaned quietly.

Todd nodded. “Yeah. We spent quite a bit of time together, you know, talking and sharing and… Well, I know it sounds ridiculous now, but it almost seemed ordained or something at the time. That together we could make this really dynamic team for the Lord.”

“Only God doesn't work that way,” Con finished.

“Right. We corresponded by e-mail for a time, and then she got to asking—no demanding—when was I going to leave Carol and the kids and join her?”

“Did you ever meet her? Outside that seminar?” Con asked.

“Only once. And we never actually slept together, thank goodness, although I'll admit we didn't just keep it to talking,” Todd blushed. “By that time I was going to end it. I really was. Then one of the board members found and read one of her messages.”

“And you were asked to leave,” Con finished.

“No, actually,” Todd shook his head. “I did end it and I convinced the board that it was all a mistake. That she was a crazed lunatic out to ruin my reputation. It wasn't long after, though, that a similar situation did occur. A teenage girl from the church—the same board member's daughter in fact—accused me of sexually molesting her.”

“Did you?” Con asked point blank.

“No,” Todd said. “That's the irony. Eventually she confessed to making it all up just to get her father's attention, but the damage was done. Carol was devastated, even though I was innocent. I couldn't help thinking it was just punishment for not telling her the truth about the other woman. I guess I thought I was getting what I deserved, even if it was for the wrong reasons.”

“And the porn?” Con asked. “When did that start again?”

“Right after we moved here,” Todd confessed. “Carol had become distant. And I was still wracked with guilt over the other affair. It soothed me at first. Helped me cope. Now I can't stop.”

“Does Carol know? About any of it?”

Todd shook his head. “No. Other than the false accusations, she doesn't know any of it. If she's shut me out of the bedroom over something I didn't even do, what will she do with this information?”

“I don't know,” Con admitted. “But it seems to me God does.”

“Now you know why I just wanted to end it all,” Todd said. “I'm a man of the cloth, for goodness sake. I should know better.”

“You're human,” Con stated. “Not to mention a target. Satan knows if he can make you fall, lots more will follow.”

“Some excuse.”

“But true. I'm not excusing what you did, but God is a big God, full of mercy and compassion. He can forgive you.”

“But can Carol?” Todd asked quietly, searching Con's eyes as if he would find an answer there.

“I don't know. I do think she deserves to know the truth, though,” Con advised. “Satan would like nothing better than for you to keep covering this up. It's his way of keeping you in bondage.”

“But I'm scared…” Todd trailed off.

“Aren't we all? You just need to trust that God will take care of Carol,” Con said. The truth of his own words hit him square in the jaw. Isn't that what he should be doing? Entrusting his own concerns, namely his feelings for Rachel, into God's hands? “Come on. We'll pray together. I've got some things on my mind, too.”