“I don’t understand.”
Penny checked the intersection ahead of them and drove through. “You must step inside the storm, Megan. You must draw the storm to you like a lightning rod draws lightning, and you must become the very eye of the storm. You must dare to tell the world the truth and put God’s work ahead of everything else.”
Megan thought about that. “Even if I believed that was true, I don’t know if I could do that.”
“Pray to God to help you.”
A lump formed in Megan’s throat. “I have been praying. I pray all the time. But I don’t think He’s listening. Or maybe He just doesn’t care about me. Every time I think things are going to get better, something else happens that puts me even deeper into this mess. It’s like I don’t even have a choice about what I’m doing anymore. My life just continues to get worse. I don’t think I even know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”
“The Bible says that God never gives you more than you can handle.” Penny reached across and patted Megan’s arm. “Some people, my dear, can just naturally handle more than others, so God gives them more to do.”
“If that’s true, it’s not fair.”
“No. No, I suppose it’s not. It’s just what is.”
Tears came to Megan’s eyes. She wiped them away. “I’m scared, Penny. Really scared. And I feel so alone.”
“I know. I know how you must feel. But you are not alone. I saw those young people with you, and I’ve talked to a few of your friends this morning. Only briefly, true, but it was enough. You’re not alone.
You have their hearts and their prayers.” Penny passed out of the front gates. “Let’s you and me go have something to eat. We’ll talk about what we can and can’t do, about what we should and shouldn’t do, and we’ll figure out what we will do.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“Planning’s a deceptive process,” Penny said. “You’re often deceived because you have the audacity to even consider taking the bull by the horns. Things always look easier on paper. When that trial starts in the morning, I’m sure things will be plenty hard then.”
Church of the Word
Marbury, Alabama
Local Time 1003 Hours
Slowly and warily, Delroy turned toward the voices he heard behind him and got to his feet. His body screamed in protest from all the abuse it had suffered recently. Automatically, he brushed the dust from the knees of his dress whites.
A black woman hunkered on her knees just inside the doorway of the church. She was thin and worn, wearing a shabby coat that had long ago seen its better days. She had on purple hospital scrubs and wore a name tag over one breast. She was at least in her midthirties but she looked older. Her curly black hair was cut short, framing a triangular face that had worn hard over the years. She had her arms spread across the backs of three teenagers. Two girls in jeans and jackets knelt on her right, and a boy who was almost a man knelt on her left.
“Reverend,” the woman said in a hesitant voice as she gazed at Delroy hopefully. “You are a reverend, right?”
Delroy looked at her. “I’m a United States Navy chaplain, ma’am.”
“That’s the same thing, ain’t it? You’re a preacher?” The hope in her voice was thick and fragile. “A man of God?”
Oh, Lord, Delroy prayed, help me here, because I don’t know quite how to answer that. You know my faith hasn’t been what it should.
“I struggle to be, ma’am,” Delroy answered.
“When I first saw you in here, dressed all in them whites, and me tired as I am from working a double shift at the hospital last night, I swear I thought you was an angel. Thought all that white was for sure angel wings.”
Delroy felt embarrassed. He should have known better than to wear the dress whites. No matter where he went, he was sure to attract attention. “No, ma’am.”
“Then when I saw you praying in this abandoned church, I thought it must be some kind of miracle.” Tears sprang from the woman’s eyes. “Don’t know how much you know about this place, but we ain’t had no preacher here in four years.”
“Aye, ma’am. I’d heard that.”
“I didn’t mean to intrude if you was wanting to be by yourself,” the woman said. “I … I …” She looked helplessly at her children. “I just need some help. With my chir’ren.”
Delroy nodded. “I’ve got some money I can spare.” He started to reach for his wallet.
“No, sir,” the woman said, holding her head up with a touch of hot pride. “I don’t mean money, Reverend.”
“Chaplain,” Delroy said automatically.
“Chaplain.” The woman wiped the tears from her face. The girls were crying with her now, and it was plain to Delroy that they were all scared. “I ain’t needin’ money. I’m needin’ answers.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know many answers,” Delroy admitted. “I’ve got a lot of questions myself.”
“You’re a man of God,” the woman accused. “You read the Bible. You trained for this sort of thing.”
“What sort of thing?”
“All these people disappearing, Reverend.” The woman’s hand shook as she continued to wipe at her face.
Delroy reached into his pocket and took out one of the monogrammed handkerchiefs Glenda had ordered for him and kept in regular supply. He crossed the room and handed the handkerchief to the woman, then helped her to her feet. She seemed so fragile and light, and she trembled terribly.
“One of my chir’ren disappeared when all them people disappeared,” the woman said. “His name was Rashad. I came home that morning, fount my other three chir’ren, but I didn’t find Rashad. I was so scairt. I thought somebody done went an’ stole my baby.”
