Apocalypse Burning (51 page)

“Amen.”

“I forgot because I tried to take on the responsibility for everything that happened,” Delroy said. “I felt guilty because I didn’t talk my son out of making a career in the military. I felt guilty because I didn’t know my son was going to get killed.” He paused. “Coming here, seeing this church the way it was only yesterday, hurt me, brothers and sisters. Hurt me all the way to my soul. The things that had been done to this church were horrible.”

“Amen.”

“Coming back here after everything that’s happened in the world,” Delroy continued, “reminded me that I didn’t just step away from God; I stepped away from my daddy’s teaching too. It embarrasses me to have to admit that.” He waited a moment. “But I am. And do you know why I admit that, brothers and sisters?”

They waited expectantly.

“Because when it’s all said and done, I am my daddy’s son.” Delroy looked at them. “I am my earthly daddy’s son, and I am a child of God.”

“Amen.”

“My son died in a war,” Delroy said. “He was also a child of God. So when I was away on my ship, do you know who held him as he died?”

“God,” the congregation answered in unison.

Delroy turned and slapped the pulpit the way his father used to. The sound cracked through the church. “Brothers and sisters, I
know
you can surely do better than that.”

“God!” came the answer, loud enough to ring through the church.

“Do you know who comforted my son when he died?” Delroy demanded.

“
God!
” the congregation cried.

“And do you know who made sure my son was not alone when he died?”

“GOD!”

“That’s right, brothers and sisters. It was God.” Delroy felt the fire and passion stir in him that he hadn’t felt in years, the fire and passion that he’d never truly unleashed in his capacity as chaplain in the navy. “Now there are a lot of bad things that have happened in the world over these past few days—things that many of you are only now beginning to understand.”

“Amen.”

“I came among you,” Delroy said, “a forgotten son who was almost a stranger. A stranger even to myself. Do you know who welcomed me into this church?”

“God!”

“That’s right, brothers and sisters. Because no matter what you do, no matter where you go, all you have to remember is that you have a loving Daddy in heaven who will always welcome you back home again.”

“Amen.”

“But I’ll tell you another thing a good daddy does,” Delroy said. “A good daddy tells you when you’ve fallen short of the mark.”

A quiet descended over the congregation.

“I have to tell you that
we’ve
all fallen short of that mark. Take a look around and you’ll see that you’re not alone. Maybe you even think you’re in good company.” Delroy paused. “The thing is, you might even be in good company. But you know what?”

The congregation waited expectantly.

“God already took His faithful,” Delroy said. “And He took His children. So I expect a lot of you are sitting around feeling mighty sorry for yourselves.” He looked around at the congregation. “It’s mighty scary sitting here knowing that the book of Revelation tells us that awful things are going to happen to all of us who have been left behind.”

“Amen,” a few people said.

“Some of you might even be thinking that God has thrown you away, that He just flat doesn’t care anymore. You know the problems you have. You know the mistakes you’ve made in your life. But you know what?”

No one spoke.

“God knows too. He knows all about them. But I’ll tell you something else.” Delroy paused. “God loves you.”

No one said anything.

Delroy struck the pulpit again. “Are you awake, brothers and sisters? I just told you that God loves you and there you sit like a bunch of knots on a log!” He felt the anger of his daddy upon him then. So much was now so clear to him. How could it not be clear to the people sitting out there? “Do you know who provided this church?”

“God did,” someone said in a timid voice.

“Yes, God did,” Delroy said. “But did you see how God put this church here? Through you.” He pointed at various people. “You and you and you and you, and all of you. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t pulled together and done what God wanted you to do.”

“Amen.”

“God brought us all together here in fellowship,” Delroy said. “And He brought us together so we would learn. So learn!”

“Amen.”

“God took all of His faithful from this world and moved them right on up into the next. Do you know what you’re supposed to do now?”

They all looked at him.

“I don’t want you to think of this place as a world anymore,” Delroy said. “In seven years, this place won’t even be here anymore. Not in the shape it’s in. It’s going to be something better. Something beautiful. And it’s going to be that way for a thousand years. Can I get an amen on that?”

“Amen!”

Delroy walked through the church the way his daddy had, making some of the congregation cringe in their pews. “I want you to think of this place by another name.” He turned his back and started back up to the front of the church. “Somebody ask me, ‘What name, Chaplain Delroy?’”

“What name, Chaplain Delroy?” Reynard Culpepper asked as he sat on the front pew.

Delroy turned and faced them again. He saw Glenda standing in the doorway. She wore her Sunday best and looked like a dream. His heart ached and he almost faltered.

But she smiled at him, and there was some of the old promise in that smile that touched him deeply.

“I want you to think of this place as Halfway,” Delroy said, growing stronger. He kept his eyes on Glenda, wondering if she was going to stay or leave. “Can you say that with me? Halfway.”

“Halfway,” the congregation responded.

“You know something about Halfway?” Delroy asked. “It’s a whole lot better than No Way. Can I get an amen?”

“Amen.”

Before he could stop himself, Delroy began to walk the length of the center aisle, and—God help him—it seemed longer than the
Wasp’
s flight deck. And as he walked, Glenda did too. He met her halfway, took her by the hand, and looked into her eyes.

“Chaplain Delroy?”

Turning, Delroy saw Phyllis on the front row next to Walter and Clarice Purcell. “You bring your missus right on up here where she belongs,” Phyllis said as she scooted one of her boys out of the pew and had him sit on the floor in front of her.

Holding Glenda’s hand, Delroy gently guided her to the front row. She sat by Phyllis, who patted her on the arm.

“And why do we call this place Halfway?” Delroy asked.

No one answered.

“Because God has met you halfway,” Delroy answered. “He has given us a second chance at redemption. For all of you who were doubters, you’ve now got proof that there is a God and He is alive and working in this place.”

“Amen.”

“All you have to do is look at the wonders God has wrought.” Delroy looked around, aware of Glenda sitting so close. “But Halfway means something else too, brothers and sisters. You have to take stock and figure where you’re halfway
to.”

“Amen,” Reynard Culpepper bawled.

“You’re on a trip now, brothers and sisters,” Delroy said in a quieter, more intense voice. “You’re on a trip and you’re halfway. But my question to you is this: Are you halfway to heaven? Or are you halfway to hell?”

“Amen.”

“That’s the message God has put on my heart today, brothers and sisters,” Delroy said. “Are you halfway to heaven or are you halfway to hell? And if you’re halfway to hell, do you know that you can turn around and get back on the path to righteousness? Do you know what it takes, brothers and sisters? Do you know what it takes to get right with God?”

“Your daddy knew the answer to that one, Chaplain,” Reynard Culpepper called out. “He done taught it to me all them years ago. You want to get right with the Lord, why you just up an’ take one step. Just one step in the right direction.”

Delroy smiled broadly. “That’s right, Brother Reynard. You take just one step in God’s direction. Not only will He help you with all the rest of the steps, He’ll help you with that first one.”

“Amen!” Reynard yelled, throwing his hands high into the air.

A shadow darkened the church’s doorway, causing a silence to fall over the congregation.

The man standing there was old and white haired. His back was bowed from years of hard living. Scars mixed with the hard lines on his face and the map of alcohol veins. He wore jeans, a pearl-snap cowboy shirt, and cowboy boots. He carried a Stetson in his gnarled hands.

“Is that right, Preacher?” the old man asked in a dry voice brittle with age. “All it takes is one step to get back close to God?”

Walter Purcell had already stood and made his way back the side aisle to intercept the old man.

Delroy knew the old man in an instant. He tried not to let his hurt, anger, and confusion spill over. “That’s right,” Delroy answered.

The old man rubbed his face. “Do you know who I am?”

Delroy nodded. “I know you.”

“Name me,” the old man challenged.

“Clarence Floyd,” Delroy said in a hoarse whisper.

Whispers rose in the congregation. Evidently several people knew who Clarence Floyd was.

The old man nodded. “A lot of people say I killed your daddy all them years ago.”

“What do you say?” Delroy asked.

Floyd hesitated. “He was sassin’ me. Talkin’ down to me like I didn’t know nothin’. Makin’ me out like I was stupid. Some kind of moron. Him black as the ace of spades talkin’ like that to a white man in front of other white men.”

Indignation ran through the church. Several men stood up, ready to fight.

Delroy raised his hands and froze them in their places. “I don’t want any slurs in this church.”

“Weren’t no slur,” Floyd said. “Didn’t intend no slur. Just tellin’ you how it was. It was awful hard comin’ here today, Preacher.” He looked around. “I heard about the church, though, an’ somethin’ told me I just had to come. I wasn’t hearin’ voices. Been through some of that in my life too, but this weren’t nothin’ like that.” He worked his jaw. “Just knew I had to be here.”

“Why?” Delroy asked.

Floyd sucked air through his teeth. “Because I hear the world’s comin’ to an end. An’ I believe it.” He took a deep breath. “When I was a child, I used to believe in Jesus an’ God. But I got away from it. Fell in with some bad men an’ some evil women, an’ got me a taste for whiskey.” He shrugged. “Women are harder to come by these days, but I can still afford the whiskey. Doc said it’s gonna kill me one day, but it ain’t yet.”

“Why did you come here today?” Delroy asked.

“Couldn’t stay away,” Floyd said. “Been thinkin’ about what’s goin’ on in the world. To me, even the first day, it was plain as the nose on your face. Had to be the hand of God what took them people up.” He grinned, but there was no mirth there, only anger and sadness. “An’ in all that gatherin’, He done up an’ missed me. Can you believe it?”

“You’re interrupting my service,” Delroy said.

“I reckon I am.” Floyd made no move to walk away, just stood there looking like death in a Renaissance painting.

Delroy walked back toward him, watching Walter tense up. “Why are you here?”

“I had to come see you,” Floyd said. “Heard it was you. Heard you were Pastor Harte’s get.”

“I am.”

Floyd wiped his face with a hand. Tears watered in his pale blue eyes. “I killed your daddy, Preacher. Shot him stone-cold dead all them years ago. Watched him die right out there on the porch of this church.”

Startled exclamations ran through the congregation.

Anger burned through Delroy, violent and hot.

“I had to come here an’ tell you that,” Floyd said.

“Why?” Delroy’s voice was so tight it turned the word into a dry whisper.

“Because you’re the onliest man I can meet face-to-face that could possibly hate me as much as God must after ever’thin’ I done,” Floyd announced. “So I figured I’d come to you, tell you what I done, an’ let you tell me to go straight to hell or kill me where I stand because I just don’t care no more.” He wiped at his face and tears ran into the scars and wrinkles. “I know God hates me. But He don’t answer an’ I knew you would. An’ if you, a man of God, cain’t forgive me, I know God ain’t goin’ to.”

Delroy stared at the man who had taken his father away, who had brought so much pain into his life. He didn’t know what to say.

After a long, tense moment, Clarence Floyd turned, clapped his hat back on his head, and walked out the door.

“Clarence Floyd,” Delroy called, stepping out onto the porch where his father had been shot down.

Floyd froze, then slowly turned around.

“I can’t promise that I’ll ever forgive you,” Delroy said. “I’m just a man. A struggling man. But I’ll tell you one thing I know for sure.”

Tears continued to run down Floyd’s seamed face. He looked so out of place, a withered scarecrow cowboy at a nearly all-black church.