House of Darkness House of Light (39 page)

“I don’t know who she thinks she is…some old flame who literally carries a torch, but she wants you, Roger. A
very
old flame by the looks of her! And the smell! She wants
you
, she wants our children and she wants me dead and gone from this house. There is no doubt about it. I
know
her intentions now.”

No making light of it…not then…not ever. No need to draw an illustration this time ‘round; Roger got the picture. He’d seen a reflection of the damage done in a mirror, as if needles gouged the skin off his back. He saw the shock and horror of the ordeal reflected in his wife’s eyes. They felt pure empathy for one another. There was no one to blame, save the spirits haunting them in the night at light of dawn. She took him into the parlor, there to examine the clock, repeating the incantation line by ominous line. No doubt about it. His only reply uncharacteristically muted, almost prayerful: “Jesus Christ.”

During the month preceding this episode, their electric bill quadrupled. The following month it was reduced to a fraction of the amount required to run a household and feed a demon. It took some time for the proper connections to be drawn between manifestations and their power source but finally, Carolyn realized the expenses incurred had nothing to do with leaving their lights on. The house was being utilized, as was its inhabitants; its main energy supplies being routinely circumvented with reason, for nefarious purposes. After this, the most dramatic of manifestations, the energy drain on their house abruptly ceased. Spirit surge accomplished; they required respite and replenishment.

“The countenance is the portrait of the soul, and the eyes mark its intentions.”

Marcus Tullius Cicero

 
fire and brimstone

“No religion is a true religion that does not make men

tingle to their finger tips with a sense of infinite hazard.”

William Ernest Hocking

There was a subtle vacancy, a longing in the child. She needed to believe in God, to feel some kind of spiritual connection; something more than prayers by moonlight: Contact. Andrea began seeking the truth about life and death from a young age and this deep craving for knowledge grew along with her. By fourteen she was attending church sporadically, whenever she could get a ride, she would go on her own. By fifteen, she was singing and playing guitar in the choir. Confirmation classes began. She had taken the plunge, attending several sessions just prior to being summarily dismissed from Saint Patrick’s Church in Harrisville, Rhode Island. Thank God!

This youngster was a misfit from the start. She never felt any true sense of belonging but wanted to attend, to be wherever her two closest friends were, so she went where they worshipped; back to Saint Patrick’s, there to receive formal instruction in creed, doctrine and dogma of the holy Roman Catholic Church. Confirmation classes were supposed to be a type of school of
higher
learning; ironically, held in the parish basement every Wednesday evening. She attended the sessions for three weeks; until her intellect interceded. Once her sense and sensibilities were offended, she returned the favor in kind.

Raymond Perreault and Timothy Robidoux were a tremendous influence in Andrea’s life and remain so decades later. Both are brilliant. They met on her first day of school, as desks were reassigned to accommodate a new student. They met alphabetically; a perfect metaphor to describe their shared love of literature. Timothy sat directly behind, Raymond in front: wedged together as they were in room B-3 of Burrillville Junior-Senior High School. It was to be her greatest blessing; a gift. Their friendships generated spontaneously in the form of cerebral combustion. She has treasured that fire they set in her soul ever since. With so much in common, the three of them soon began spending a great deal of time together outside of their classroom. Tim played trombone in the band; Andrea, flute. Raymond convinced her to become involved with him in Poetry Workshop. They attended nearly every class together and were often involved in projects as a team. The odd triptych of personalities proved a wonderful blend, providing quantum leaps in consciousness as they learned what they shared and shared what they learned. During the time of “The Mod Squad” they were the original Geek Squad, all but inseparable. Both young gentlemen were frequent visitors to the farm, though she’d spent time at their homes as well, and all three families integrated with a delightful ease. When the time came for two former altar boys to make their pledge to the church in Confirmation, she was cordially invited to join them on the spiritual journey; an ill-considered decision they would all soon come to regret.

As both had been spared any altercations with spirits, it was not a topic for conversation. They did not know her family had a strange reputation in town or, for that matter, within the church. Neither of them was prone to gossiping nor tolerant of those who did. They had accepted Andrea on her own merits, without prejudice. Timmy and Ray were mature, open-minded, well-adjusted individuals who came from loving homes. Their parents welcomed Andrea, embracing her as a member of their family; welcome respite for a young lady whose tumultuous life frequently required a discreet escape. Faith Perreault was a fabulous cook and Lorraine Robidoux had a concoction brewing in her glass ginger jar on the kitchen counter, known to all as Brandied Fruit Sauce; a delicacy when drizzled over a bowl of French vanilla ice cream. Access to it was based on threats made / promises kept; good, you get some…bad, you don’t…how she’d kept her five rambunctious boys in check. Andrea realized how fortunate she was to know such remarkable people. Her extended family provided kindness and support, a sense of normalcy for a child whose home life was anything but…and nobody ever mentioned anything about what they might have heard around town. Even if they had known the reputation of the farmhouse and the family who dwelled within it they would never abandon a friend or pass a harsh judgment upon the Perrons. Heads turned when Andrea entered their church basement. There she sat, wedged between two altar boys whose families were prominent members of the church and their community. All three of the youngsters felt the scrutiny. Parents talk. Kids listen.

The first couple of sessions were designed as a refresher course, reiterating much of what Andrea already learned of the Catholic religion, including the structure of its hierarchy: Pope, cardinals, bishops, separate (though entirely unequal) priests and nuns, Mass, Immaculate Conception of Mother Mary, the saints, the Rosary and the Stations of the Cross. The third class began and presumably ended with the subject of
SIN
, concluding about an hour earlier than anticipated for Andrea. As the students entered the hall they saw a large reversible chalkboard boldly listing
The Ten Commandments
. On the other side, beginning with Original Sin, then listed a breakdown of
all
other sins, both mortal and venial, in order of significance. As this lesson progressed the students listened attentively, never questioning their ongoing indoctrination. The room became stiflingly hot, as if Satan himself was present; undoubtedly due to the fire and brimstone, a frequent mentioning of Hell and Damnation. Fear. Guilt. Sin. Shame and more shame. Andrea found herself becoming an increasingly uncomfortable participant, disapproving of the priest’s treatment of subject matter. He, too, appeared to be uncomfortable, though not for the same reasons. It was as if he had drawn the short straw and had to be the one to impart information on issues he did not care to discuss. Yet there he was, up on the podium, stoically stiff, talking to a group of teens who longed to be anywhere other than where they were on a Wednesday evening. Even though the floor remained open to questions for the duration, not a single hand went in the air until the precocious young lady heard something she found utterly unacceptable. It was time to mount her challenge, which would culminate in confrontation. Up went the hand. Down went two friends low into their seats, undoubtedly wanting to crawl behind or hide beneath metal folding chairs.

Out of character for Andrea, the girl was not one to instigate or antagonize anybody, especially an elder or any authority figure. However, she believed this challenge was warranted. She asked for an explanation of “Solitary Sin”. Ray and Tim were mortified. Crouching down on either side of the culprit, it was the only way to avoid detection…or guilt by association. A penetrating white hot glare: the eyes of a priest spoke to what he obviously considered an inappropriate comment. He refused to answer her question as posed. Andrea pressed onward, perched at the edge of her seat in anxious anticipation of an answer she already knew. Suddenly, the priest had the rapt attention of their entire classroom. His face began to redden and swell, as if he’d been hit with a flame-thrower; a voice steadily rising with his blood pressure. Throughout this altercation he refused to refer to the word “masturbation”. Unimpressed, Andrea asked him why sex of any kind was such a taboo issue in the church; why married couples could not practice birth control and were only allowed to envision procreation while engaged in sexual activity. She wanted to know why he was reluctant to openly discuss it in a room filled with adolescents at a critical time in their physical and emotional development. He became angry and even more embarrassed while she continued her commentary unabated. Since sex seemed to be a topic by proxy, Andrea wanted to discuss abortion and homosexuality as well as celibacy and the ecclesiastical elevation of men as juxtaposed to their overt subjugation of women, dispossessed of any real authority or position in the Catholic Church, as if suffering some diminished capacity to spread the word of God; based not on heart or mind but genitalia. A flustered priest lost his temper, accusing Andrea of deliberately interfering with his lesson then insisted the tenacious teenager leave class immediately. She did so, never to return. It was a long walk home on a frigid spring night. She took every step wondering if friends would be as angry as their priest or forgiving of her; equally fearful of a reaction she’d receive from her parents. It was wasted worry…on both counts. Mom was upset because she had not been called for a ride home; distressed her eldest daughter had walked so far, alone in the dark. Carolyn did not consider the questions she had posed to be disrespectful. Instead, she found them thoughtful and erudite, as did her two Catholic friends. “Told you so” was her mother’s frame of reference; having forewarned a youngster anxious to establish an association with the church, knowing she might not like what she heard.

About a week later a terse letter arrived from the bishop of the Archdiocese of Providence: message well-received. Carolyn informed her eldest she was no longer welcomed to participate in Confirmation. Class dismissed! Andrea was not considered to be
a good fit
, finding fault with principle tenets of the church. Mother reassured daughter of her worth and place though she always privately doubted it would ultimately be inside an oak pew. The two spoke at length about faith and freedom of religion. Carolyn never did try to channel her children in any specific direction; she was not that kind of indoctrinating influence. Rather, she encouraged them to explore the world as they found it, as each intrepid spirit endeavored to find her own way along the path of life.

Though she perceived it as rejection, Andrea had no intention of returning to the church. She’d accepted the fact that she was a misfit, gratefully so. Her vision of a higher power, the concept of God she had already developed was far more expansive than any religion she knew which existed on the planet. A conscious decision made to learn more, to study God; thus began a lifelong fascination with philosophy. Andrea would soon discover immersing oneself in religious study does not necessarily bring one closer to God. Truth be told; it prompted more doubts, which is, in itself, an avenue toward faithfulness. It was then she found the metaphysical poets; transcendentalism was appealing.
Emerson’s Essays
, Thoreau’s
Walden
and Whitman’s
Leaves of Grass
were three fine volumes commanding her attention. These thinkers seemed to find solace in concert with Nature. A reverence and respect they’d bestowed upon the natural world captivated the youngster, an element of their literature to which she could wholly relate; the worship of Nature as God. During this period of rapid growth, an occasional pause for reflection was called for as a Natural conversion began; transformation, turning her away from organized religion and into the woods. She came to consider religion incompatible with common sense and sensibilities. Seeking inspiration, she’d gone to the forest, looking down, then up. Locating a proper niche; perhaps she was a pagan.

The recovering Catholic was not offended by the dismissal, knowing in her heart and mind she did not belong there in the first place. Her concept of God was unrestricted; not based on the limitations imposed by doctrine or dogma. Essentially, it was bigger than they could imagine, continually evolving as a perception of power as being; God as infinite mind. Not harsh or judgmental in application of Natural law; not cruel or exclusive; no intolerance allowed. A not-so-subtle predisposition toward natural science was taking root in her consciousness. The notion of Original Sin was, in particular, pure absurdity: anathema to the young lady who knew the difference between good and evil, right and wrong; darkness and light. Self-righteously policing her behavior; recognizing it as a matter of personal responsibility, the idea of being
born
in sin was idiotic. Andrea did not rely upon a higher authority. She
was
a higher authority; a living manifestation of God-consciousness. Ultimately, she alone would determine how best to live her life. Neither Holy Ghost nor dastardly demon had the right to interfere or intervene in a supremely personal process.

The spirits were not culpable in any conceivable way; not even a rumor or innuendo of their existence appears to have factored into a decision made by a bishop to expel her from the Catholic Church. Innate intellectual curiosity was quite enough to do the trick. Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!