The Regime: Evil Advances (17 page)

“I’m sorry, Jeff. I don’t know what else to say.”

“You’re sorry. That’s easy to say now. And Mom can’t hear you.”

“All right. You going to let me up now?”

Jeff just shook his head.

“Don’t hold back if there’s more,” Cameron said. “I don’t need this the whole time I’m here.”

“Yeah, whatever’s most convenient for you, Cam. You just let me know.”

Cameron wanted to slug his brother, knowing full well Jeff probably wanted to smack him too. Maybe that would get it out of their systems. Maybe they ought to come to blows at the funeral and let the whole family see it.

From behind him Sharon put a hand on his shoulder, and Cameron was stunned at the effect it had on him. She didn’t say a word, but he felt she was communicating sympathy, forgiveness, a caution to keep his temper, all that. He looked forward to getting a moment with her sometime over the next few days.

To Irene’s abject disappointment, Rayford traded assignments with someone and had to fly Sunday. She was convinced that he worked hard to do that on purpose, but it didn’t deter her from taking Chloe and Raymie to New Hope.

She hadn’t even told Jackie she was coming, and the look on her friend’s face alone was worth the trip. Jackie immediately introduced her to Pastor Vernon Billings, a dapper, genial man in his mid- to late fifties. Irene was

struck by how accessible he was to everybody. New Hope was, of course, much smaller than her church, but still she wasn’t used to a senior pastor who mingled with the congregation like this.

Irene felt bad that Raymie appeared petrified of the new place and people, but he was brave and didn’t cry. She assured him he would have a good time and that if he behaved she and Chloe and he would go out for chicken after church.

Chloe was in full slouch-and-scowl mode, though she did make the effort to be cordial to Jackie. Irene asked if she wanted help finding her Sunday school class. Chloe said, “Boy, I don’t know, Mom. You think I’ll ever be able to find it in this huge complex? You want to hold my hand too and introduce me to my teacher?”

“All right, just get going.”

“You’re not going to pin my name to my shirt?”

“Goon!”

All Irene wanted was a more personal, genuine experience with God, one that matched her new relationship with Him. She had determined to not let whatever she discovered at New Hope reflect poorly on her church. But she couldn’t help it.

The first thing she noticed, after the humanity of the pastor, was how many people welcomed her, asked her name, and said they were glad she was there. She thought it interesting that none asked about her husband or family. Maybe they had learned to avoid embarrassing divorcees or widows and to wait to learn about the family situations of newcomers.

The service proved much more informal than any she had ever attended. This church sang hymns similar to those she was used to, but they seemed more robust and energetic. She thought Rayford would like it, but who knew? Maybe he would find it all a little too overt.

The pastoral prayer was different too. Informal. Not written and read. But it was the sermon that really moved Irene. No homilies. No lofty pronouncements. No performing. Pastor Billings merely pointed people to the passage he was going to speak on, and all over the sanctuary came the rustling of onionskin pages.

Irene quickly located John 2:12-14:

I write to you, little children,

Because your sins are forgiven you for His name’s sake.

I write to you, fathers,

Because you have known Him who is from the beginning.

I write to you, young men,

Because you have overcome the wicked one.

I write to you, little children,

Because you have known the Father.

I have written to you, fathers,

Because you have known Him who is from the beginning.

I have written to you, young men,

Because you are strong, and the word of God abides in you,

And you have overcome the wicked one.

Now that was one confusing passage. Irene couldn’t help but wonder why she had never heard it before in all her years in church. Probably because it was obscure and would take some explanation. It wasn’t one of the majestic, beautiful passages that just sounded good to the ear from the get-go.

She couldn’t wait to hear what Pastor Billings had to say about it.

TWENTY-THREE

With relatives in from all over the Southwest for the funeral, Cameron found himself having to face them all the day before. One by one and in groups and families they descended upon his childhood home.

He had never felt so much like a foreigner. Cameron had no idea whether his imagination was in overdrive or if he was really able to read everyone’s thoughts by their expressions, faces, mannerisms, and body language.

An aunt seemed to assume that he was so grateful to be home and away from the strange and exotic East Coast that he might even consider transferring to the University of Arizona. “They have a writing program, don’t they?”

“A journalism course? Oh, I’m sure. But I’ve just a few months until graduation at Princeton, and then …”

“Yes, I heard about the position at the big paper. The
Boston Sun
or some such.”

“The
Globe
.”

“Um-hm. And you have to wonder if those Boston Brahmans have ever even heard of Tucson.”

“Believe me they have. And I’ll try to represent us well there.”

Others were so overly sympathetic that Cameron read in them a belief that he felt terribly guilty for having been unable to see his mother before she died. An elderly cousin clucked that he must forgive himself. “I know you would have been here if you could,” she said.

Still others were plain in their judgment of him. An uncle quizzed him about how it came to be that he was late. “And you couldn’t borrow some money, get an emergency fare, prevail on a friend to get you out here somehow?”

“I did everything I could, sir. And as it was, I just missed seeing her.”

“Didn’t you know how bad off she was?”

“Dad and Jeff tried to tell me, but maybe I just didn’t want to accept it.”

“Well, you should have been here.”

“Were you here?” Cameron said. “Did you see her?”

“Well… ah … no, no. But we knew it was going to be soon. Anyway, Cammy, she’s your mother.”

Yeah, I got that.

Cameron was impressed with his father and worried about him at the same time. His parents had not had the best of marriages, but they had gotten along and spent nearly thirty years together. He’d seen the pictures of them in their courting days, when both were young and

thin and obviously putting their best feet forward. They also looked dreamily in love in some pictures, something he couldn’t remember seeing in person. They were not physically or verbally affectionate, but they were nice enough to each other.

Cameron was sure his dad would be panicky and feel lost without her for a while. But he was being the consummate host, thanking every person individually for coming and saying just the right things. He was fine, he said. It was hard, though he had known it was coming. He felt a little numb, had done his crying in private and was sure more was to come. But for now he wanted to remember her the way she was before the cancer overtook her.

Most impressive to Cameron, however, was Sharon, Jeff’s wife. While Jeff was distant and quiet—and most gave him his space—Sharon assigned him to look after their son and daughter, apparently to occupy him. Cameron was only guessing, but it appeared Sharon didn’t want Jeff moping around, saying angry things, casting aspersions on his little brother.

It was obvious from Jeff’s demeanor that he meant to play up Cameron’s slothfulness until he could wring no more benefit from it. The attention had always seemed to be on Cameron, but here was a way to step into the spotlight. Jeff was a sympathetic character, the rock-steady stay-at-home guy.

With the funeral planned for midmorning the next day, guests and relatives began abandoning the house for their hotels early in the evening. Jeff took his kids home

to put them to bed while Sharon stayed to help her father-in-law clean up. Cameron tried to get his father to just sit, but he insisted on keeping busy. Between the three of them, the place was tidied in way less time than Cameron would have predicted.

When his father allowed himself to be talked into going to bed early, Sharon started making noises about getting home. And though she grabbed her coat and headed toward the door, she paused and sat in the living room, looking up at Cameron.

“How are you doing, Cam, really?”

“I’m all right. I should have been here, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

“Jeff will get over it,” Sharon said. “I think his anger is misplaced. There are other things going on there. You’re just a convenient target.”

Cameron snorted. “I always have been. Why should that change now?”

“He really loves you, Cam.”

Cameron waved her off.

“I’m serious. He does. He doesn’t talk a lot about it. There’s jealousy there, sure. And self-righteousness. But a wife can tell. He talks about you a lot. Wonders. Worries. Cares.”

“You don’t say.”

“I do say. You know how I can tell what he really thinks of you? By what he tells other people. A person can’t talk to him for five minutes without his bringing up your name and what you’re up to.”

“I’m surprised.”

“Don’t be. He always wanted to leave Tucson too, you know. Just felt obligated to stay, especially when you went.”

“So, again, it’s my fault.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. Maybe when your father is gone Jeff can sell the business and do what he wants wherever he wants.”

“What and where would that be?”

“You don’t know?”

“He doesn’t talk to me, Sharon. He hardly ever has, even when we were kids.”

“But surely you know of his love for horses and ranching.”

“Yeah. It was his favorite thing to do as a kid: spend time on a ranch, roping, herding cattle, rodeoing. What’re you saying? He’d become a rancher?”

She nodded. “Probably in Texas.”

“Well, more power to him. Whatever makes him happy.”

“That’s my motto,” Sharon said. “The kids make him happy, I think. I’m not sure I do anymore.”

Cameron was curious, as always, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to get into this. In fact, he was pretty sure he didn’t. But Sharon seemed to settle back on the couch, as if warming to the topic and hoping Cameron would pursue it.

“So, big day tomorrow, huh?” he said. “I suppose you’ve got a lot of work to do at the funeral too. It’s great how you helped out here. Like you were a daughter instead of a daughter-in-law.”

Sharon smiled but couldn’t hide the fatigue around her eyes. “Listen, Cam, when I married in, I bought in for the whole ride. Like it or not, I’m family now.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I like that you’re family.”

“Do you?”

“Of course.”

“Well, that’s sweet of you to say. I’m not sure it’s a sentiment widely shared.”

Where was this going? Cameron was struck by the fact that if he had been talking to someone else, someone not related, he would be dying to follow every rabbit trail, pursue every question, get to the bottom of the vagaries of every relationship. This was just too close to home. He no more wanted to know why Sharon felt unwelcome than he wanted to know why she worried she didn’t make Jeff happy anymore.

As he was to find out, both insecurities were rooted in the same fear. “People are put off by my faith,” she said.

Cameron knew that, but how was he supposed to respond? “They are?” he said.

She nodded. “I take it all a little too seriously, I guess. Or so they think. It seems to me that if we all believe in God and go to church, it ought to be the most important thing in our lives. Or am I missing something? What do you think, Cam?”

He shrugged. “Each to his own, I guess. Some people are more into religion than others.”

“I’m not talking about religion, Cameron. I’m talking about Jesus.”

And she wondered why people were put off? How

many people went around talking about Jesus? God was one thing. Even Christ was a little more theoretical. But talking about Jesus like you were on a first-name basis with the guy—the real guy—from the Bible? Cameron didn’t want to say so, but there was something a little brassy, a little in-your-face about that. He admired that Sharon was courageous enough to be plainspoken, but it should come as no surprise to her that it made some uncomfortable. People like him.

“Um-hm,” was all he could muster, smiling.

“How about you, Cam? Where are you in all this?”

So there it was. If she was going to put it to him like that, he would be honest; that was for sure. “Have to admit I’m probably where Jeff is,” he said. “He and I ran from our church as soon as we were old enough to talk my parents into it. They were disappointed, but they didn’t make a big deal out of it. I respected them for that. They kept going and they invited us to special events. Sometimes we would go. But I gotta tell ya, Sharon, if the church we grew up in is what God is all about, He’s boring. And I mean boring.”

“Well, that church is not representative; I can tell you that. And that’s the problem. At least you and Jeff were honest and on the right track getting out of there. Your mistake—forgive me for being so blunt—was that you thought all churches were the same. So once you were out of that church, you were out altogether. Am I right, or are you attending somewhere there in New Jersey?”

He shook his head. “Too busy. With work and school and …”

She looked him dead in the eye. “It’s not about busyness, Cameron. You just said so yourself. You got turned off to church or you’d find one.”

“Truth hurts,” he said.

“Yeah, but it’s less painful than lying to yourself.”

It was kind of her to refer to his as the lesser sin of denial than actually lying to her, which was what he had done. Sharon might tend toward the obnoxious, but she wasn’t afraid of the truth.

He shrugged. “Guilty as charged.”

She stood. “I’d better get going. But can I give you my pitch?”