Chapter 3

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On Sunday morning I drove an hour to attend mass at Our Lady of Lourdes, one of only three Catholic churches within a hundred mile radius of Laurel Hill.  It was not an easy thing to get away from my parents that morning.  It may have been my father who could not understand my career choices, but it was my mother who could never accept my new religion. In her mind Catholicism was synonymous with idolatry.  The statues, the stained glass windows, the scripted prayers, and the Eucharist were all odious to her evangelical mind.  It didn’t matter how many times I told her I was still a Christian, that I still believed in Jesus, she remained absolutely convinced that I had set myself on a path that would lead me straight to hell.  But I was not going to give it up.  It was the one thing from my life in California that I could still hold onto, and I would not let it go.  And besides that, I loved it.  There was something about the formality, the ceremony, the sense of reverence when I walked into the sanctuary, that spoke to me on a very deep level.  Despite my mother’s conviction that the Catholic faith was a dead faith, when I went to mass I felt a closeness to God that I had never experienced as a child in the Baptist church.

So this morning I found myself in a small church, more of a chapel really, just off of Highway 119, looking forward to feeling for just one hour like I was actually home.  But of course it wasn’t home, really.  It was not my community.  The men and women who knelt beside me were people I had never seen before in my life.  They did not know my parents.  They had not been my school teachers and babysitters when I was a child.  I would never stop for a quick chat with them as I poured their coffee at Rick and Rhonda’s. Many of them did not even know each other.  Many were just like me, driving for miles to partake of the Body and the Blood and then returning to their little towns dotted with Baptist and Pentecostal churches, but nothing for the handful of devout Catholics who lived there.  They were strangers to me, and also strangers to each other. But they were my people.  Or at least the closest thing I had to that.

After mass I quietly got into my car and began the long drive home.  By one thirty I was starving and still ten minutes outside of Laurel Hill, so I pulled into the next fast food restaurant I passed.  Given the choice of eating alone in a restaurant or eating in my car, I opted to go inside where at least I would have the luxury of a table.  I ordered a burger, fries, and a medium iced tea and found a quiet place by the window where I could sit and eat.  Just before I took my first bite of burger the door opened and I glanced over to look at the person who had just come in.  I couldn’t believe my eyes.  It was him.

He saw me as well, and waved before going to the counter to order.  I waved back and tried hard not to come across as a giggly schoolgirl.  But playing it cool proved much more difficult when he turned and started walking in my direction with his tray.

“Hello again.”

“Hello.”  I hoped my voice did not sound as shaky as my knees felt.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

“No, it’s just me.  Have a seat if you’d like.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at me and once again I had that sensation that he understood me completely and that he was the only person in the world who did.

I shook off the feeling, reminding myself that I didn’t even know him.  Had never even had a real conversation with him.

“So, you come to my restaurant two days in a row, and then I see you here today.  I’m beginning to think you’re stalking me.”

He laughed and again I caught a glimpse of the shy boy that lurked just under the surface, covered up by the image he presented to the world.  “I promise I’m not stalking you.  This place is a few minutes from my hotel, that’s all.”

“Hotel?  There’s a hotel around here?”

“Yeah, the Economy Motor Inn.  It’s just outside of town.”

“Oh…God…I thought that place closed down years ago.”

“Well, it doesn’t look like any repairs have been done in about twenty years, but it’s still open.”

I grimaced, trying to imagine actually having to sleep in such a place.  “Is it clean at least?”

“My room smells like cigarettes and there’s a huge stain on the carpet, but I’ve seen them changing out the sheets and the towels, so that’s something, I guess.”

“Wow, jeez, are you gonna have to stay there long?”

“I haven’t planned when I’m going back home, so yeah…probably.”

A sudden idea occurred to me.  “If you’re gonna be in town for a while you should talk to Big Mack.”

I caught him off guard and he almost choked on his Diet Coke as he tried to hold back his laughter.  When he finally composed himself he said, “Big Mack?  Really?  You actually know someone who’s named after a hamburger?”

Now I laughed.  “Well I think it has more to do with the fact that his name is MacPherson and he’s six foot four and about three hundred pounds. The hamburger thing is probably completely unrelated.  But seriously, you should try to get in touch with him.  He lives in town, but he has a place on the river that I think he rents out from time to time.  You know, on the rare occasion that someone actually wants to come and stay in Laurel Hill.  I’ve been out there a few times.  It’s nothing fancy, but it sure beats that dump they call a hotel.”

“Okay, great.  Do you have his number or something?”

“No, but his name is Benjamin MacPherson.  Everybody in town knows him, and I’m pretty sure he’s in the phone book.”

“I’ll definitely check it out.  Thanks.”

He was quiet for a moment as he started on his meal.  I watched him, gradually working up the nerve to ask the questions that were burning inside me.  Finally I cleared my throat and took the plunge.

“So…uh…where are you from?”

“Atlanta.”

“Oh, do you like it there?”

“It’s like any place, it has its pros and cons.  I’m enjoying the peace and quiet out here.  And the lack of traffic.”

“I guess that’s one of the pros that we have.  So what do you do in Atlanta?  I mean for a living?”

“I’m just like you.  I work in the family business.”

My goodness, you’re not one to give too much information, are you?  Out loud I said, “And what business is your family into?”

“Real estate.”

“I knew it!” I exclaimed, getting excited despite my best efforts to play it cool.  “That’s why you’re here right?  You’re building a subdivision? Developing the riverfront?  My dad said you asked a lot of questions about the river.”

“No, my dad’s not into anything quite that large scale.  He just buys old houses to fix up and then either sells or rents them.  And this trip is personal, not business.”

He was quiet again, and I could tell he was trying very hard not to say too much.  There was something he did not want me to know.  I pressed on.

“So you have some family around here?”

David looked up at me, smiled briefly, and then looked back down at his food.  “Not that I know of.”

This was going to prove very difficult.

“Okay, so no family.  Maybe an old friend?  Old girlfriend?”

He shook his head.  “Nothing like that.” Pause.  Then finally, “Let me ask you a question.  You’re a spiritual person, right?”

I was silent for a moment, unsure what to say.  Where on earth is this going?  “Sure I am.  But how do you know that?”

“You wear a crucifix around your neck,” he said, glancing toward my chest.  “And you’re all dressed up on a Sunday afternoon, so you must have been to church.  I just made a guess based on that.”

“Okay.  So what does that have to do with things?  Don’t tell me you came all the way out here to find a church.”

“Not a church, no.”

“Okay, then what?”

He was quiet for another moment. Then he said, “So you’re a Christian, probably a Catholic, right?”

Who was this man, Sherlock Holmes? “How do you know I’m Catholic?”

“Because after church you’re stopping at a fast food place on the highway instead of eating at home with the family.  And the only reason you’d be out on the highway is if you went to a church out of town.  So if you were Baptist or Pentecostal, or even Methodist you wouldn’t need to be out here.  There’s plenty of that right outside your front door.  How did I know you were Catholic specifically?  That was a lucky guess.”

I smiled.  “You’re a little creepy, you know that right?”

“I’ve been called that before.  But I’m harmless, I promise.”  He paused again, as if trying to decide whether he wanted to continue.  “So tell me something.  As a Catholic, do you believe everything your church teaches?”

Why was he so interested in my religious beliefs?  This was getting strange, but I had to know what was going on, so I answered.  “I keep my mind open to all of that.  But I’m also open to the fact that I might be wrong.”

“So you believe in God?”

“Yes.”

“And what about beyond just God?  What about other aspects of the spiritual world, or the supernatural world?  Do you believe in any of that?”

“Like what, specifically?”

“Anything…ghosts, psychic powers…anything.”

“Well there’s a lot that I believe is possible, but there’s also a lot that I think is not very likely.”

“Like what specifically?” he asked, turning my question back around to me.

“Well, the two things you just mentioned.  Both possible.  Ghosts very likely…I mean physical death can’t just be the end right?  Surely something of who we are goes on after our bodies are gone.”

“So psychic powers you place in the category of not very likely?”

“I think that if it were happening we’d know about it.  There’d be scientific experiments proving that it’s real, and we’d all see it on the news and read about it in magazines.  It seems like that would be a fairly easy thing to test for.”

“So ghosts yes, telepathy no?”

“I suppose.  I don’t understand.  Does this have something to do with why you’re here?”

“Something.”

“So what, you’re like a realtor by day, paranormal investigator by night?”

“Not exactly.  I told you, it’s more personal than that.”

“Personal how?”

“Look, I don’t know if I’m ready to get into all of that.  I just have some things I need to do here.  Speaking of which,” he said, rising from his chair and going to empty his tray, “I actually have an appointment in town in a few minutes.  I’ll be seeing you around, I suppose?”

“Yeah, I’m in the restaurant almost every day.”

“Great.  Well, see you later, Sarah.”

“See you later, David.”

I just sat at the table as I watched him walk out, feeling more confused than ever.
 
 
 
 
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