Chapter 20

What did Chloe mean by his church being haunted and run by a coven of witches?

He entered the main sanctuary from the back and caught his breath. He resolved to step into the darkness. His heart pounded in his ears. He kept his arm out and shuffled through the vestibule. In the sanctuary, as if alive, stained glass windows, depicting Biblical scenes, glowed from the streetlights. He turned, a stunning rose window sang with color. He found a light switch. Byzantine Moroccan, wrought iron chandeliers, hanging from chains, burst bright. 

Was it him or this place? He had to admit, he was spooked. Ready to bolt, he proceeded to the chancel. The quiet pressed in. He could hear his blood flow. Hundreds of hymnals yielded a smell like grandma’s bedroom.

Was it possible for a building to be female? Was it possible for a church to be feminine and erotic? Sensual curved staircases tethered two pulpits to the chancel. He ran his fingers along its flesh-like bannisters. The domed ceiling was like a swollen belly. In the stillness, intimacy beckoned yet frightened Jerry.

 Jerry climbed up into the balcony and planted himself in the front row. Perhaps a sanctuary provided refuge from the Babel outside, enough to hear the whisper of God.  Or maybe God is experienced with the congregation assembled. With all the pews filled, magic ensues. 

Truly this was a place of magic, from transubstantiation, to baptismal washing away of sin, to the presence of God. But how about a coven of witches? Is that the same magic?

Suddenly he felt a hand descend, as light as breath, on his back, like Chloe’s had earlier. Gasping, he swiveled around. No one. He bolted upright and left the balcony. 

He reached the bell tower. This sentinel stood five stories tall. As he ascended the concrete stairs, he sang loudly Carol King’s You’ve Got a Friend to ward off phantoms. His sound reverberated off the stone walls. At the top he spotted not bells but two large loudspeakers. These Westminster chimes were a tape recording, he realized. A thick layer of dust covered everything. A handwritten message scrawled on the wall read “To all who read this, your day just got better.”

In the corner, a solid shadow, he froze. 

“You don’t mind if I don’t get up,” the shadow said.

Jerry almost fell backwards down the stairs.

“Who are you?” Jerry said.

A man rolled over and pulled down the sleeping bag. 

“It’s a little late to be asking questions, don’t you think?”

“Ya know, you better start talking, or I’m calling the police.”

“OK, OK, don’t get your panties in a bunch. I should actually be the one asking who you are. But since you asked first, I’ll go ahead. I’m Tom Byers, the minister, sorry, the former minister of this place.”

Stupefied, Jerry peered through the darkness. He perceived a protruding stomach, a dark beard streaked with gray and wild hair. 

“What are you doing up here?” asked Jerry.

“I live here, for now anyway.”

“You can’t do that.”

“What are you going to do? Arrest me?”

“This is vagrancy.”

“And this is church. Where’s your Christian spirit, Mr. I-want-to-take-action-and-speak-the-truth Princeton guy?” 

Jerry clenched his jaw.

“So give me a little grace,” Tom continued. “Anyway, I’m responsible for your promotion. You should thank me.”

Crushed beer cans and cigarette butts littered the floor; a large bottle half filled with dark yellow liquid rested in the corner, a red and white cooler in the other.

“Don’t you have family?”

“My wife kicked me out. Says I have a drinking problem. And spare me your judgment. This is fine. It’s private, quiet, except on the hour. I’ve been thinking about disconnecting the wires. Do you think anyone would notice?”

“Where are your clothes, your possessions?” 

“In my camper, so yes, I do have another place to stay, you caught me, busted, but I have some unfinished business here and don’t ask me what.”

“How long do you plan on staying here?”

“I don’t know, couple of days, weeks. I’m not bothering anyone. Relax. I might be able to give you a pointer, or two, or three.”

“Or not.”

“Or not.”

“Do you need help?”

“Well, now that’s mighty Christian of you. Yes, please bring me one of those food bags. I’d appreciate that.”

“I can do that.”

“Thank you, Jerry. Oh, and don’t tell Helen about this, in fact, best not to mention this to anyone. You know how churches are.”

Jerry nodded. He guessed he did.

“Our little secret,” Tom said with a wink.