Part 8

It was hot and stuffy in the shop, but Jonah was used to it. He glanced up at the clock, 6:45. If he worked quickly he could still make seven o’clock mass with Becky. He began cleaning up methodically. He put the finished pieces away and swept away the swarf. Once finished in the workroom he moved into the office. Mr. Keller had a habit of leaving the office a complete mess. Jonah tried to explain that tidiness and orderliness were necessary for a business but Mr. Keller was set in his ways. Jonah, therefore, added office cleaner to his cumulative job description. The position had just been a summer job for him, but when Mrs. Keller became ill Jonah stayed on and maintained the shop. When she eventually passed, he had already missed half of the new school year, so he decided to continue as an apprentice. Even if he hadn’t missed school he would have never left Mr. Keller in his time of need. In the office, he shut down the computer and set the phone to voicemail. There were several mail items scattered on the desk. None of them had been opened. He tossed them in the "In" basket and grabbed the contents of the "Out" basket as he switched off the light and headed for the door. The summer sun was setting but it was still warm outside. In the distance waves of heat radiated off the hard top. He locked the door to the building and headed towards town.

As he dropped the outgoing mail in a post office box the church bells began to toll. "Perfect timing." he thought. He strode across the square and by the seventh toll he was within arms reach of Becky. She was waiting for him outside the doors of the church. He stared at her for a moment, took her in. She was wearing a simple summer dress that danced in the light breeze. Her hair was tied in a loose twist allowing for a few strands to tumble out. She was squinting her eyes looking up at the bells and he could see her lips mouthing "seven". She was counting along with the bells. He knew in just a second she would look in his direction so he quickly stepped behind her and leaned in to kiss her neck.
Instead of being pleasantly surprised Becky shrieked right into his ear. He had forgotten how easily startled she was. She quickly recovered and lowered her arms when she recognized him. Then he saw a flash of anger, "Jonah!" he cringed at the sound of his name uttered with so much fury, "How many times have I told you not to scare me like that!" Her voice began to lose its edge and her eyes soften as she finished the last bit. He knew she wasn’t really upset, but he should have known better. "I’m sorry Becks, I didn't mean to. I just was gonna do this," and he pulled her into him and kissed the crease where neck and shoulder meet. He tasted the saltiness and breathed in her smell, a scent he would know anywhere. He didn’t want the moment to end but there was mass to attend and plenty of time later to finish what he’d just started. His eyes met hers and knew they were mirror images of his, full of love and hope and desire. "Come on Becks, let's get this over with so we can sin for real at home" he whispered. "Jonah," she said coyly. He reached for her outstretched hand and led her into the church.

Seven

Paul Keller closed the door to his bedroom and just stood there staring at the wall. He had missed his daugther so much the first two years! But by the third year his wife Claire had been diagnosed with (insert disease that connects with childs disease) and his longing for Sandy turned into bitterness.

He had to take care of her on his own, couldn't even get in touch with Sandy to tell her that her mom was dying. The anger that came from her leaving town slowly burned into rage, as Claire lay in bed wasting away. Not a single day went by when she didn't ask about Sandy and every time she did, Paul felt like a long needle was being stuck into his heart. Paul had to cut down on his hours at work and Jonah White, his apprentice at the metal shop, who was only 17 at the time, had to learn fast and put in sixteen hours of work most days. He couldn't find anybody else who knew how to fix sheet metal, hydraulic systems, and do electrical repairs to replace him, nor could he afford to pay anybody else. There wasn't that much work around after Sandy left, but metal work was time-consuming and the little there was kept him and Jonah plenty busy.

Keller's Metal Shop's motto, painted on the sign outside, promised attention to detail and repairs that had your machine "up and running in no time!" but Paul found it very difficult to pay attention to his work. With his reduced hours at the shop and Claire's hospital bills, they were barely scraping by and soon he started taking out loans at the bank. The situation grew worse every month and when his wife passed away, he had to beg Bill Brinner at First Federal Bank for one last loan to pay for her funeral. He had to put down their house as collateral and Bill still gave him the smallest possible amount the bank could afford to risk on a guy like Paul: $1100.

Claire was buried in the cheapest casket available and the flowers around her grave had been picked by Paul himself. Very few people showed up at the funeral and for that he was glad. He felt almost as much grief for losing his wife as for the undignified burial he had given her. But he knew this wasn't his fault. Things wouldn't have been that way if Sandy had stayed. All she had to do was close the deal and millions of dollars would pour into town. So much metal work would be needed that Paul would have to start a workshop to teach some of the locals the trade. He would avoid hiring from out of state, folks he knew came first, even if he had to teach them from scratch. Either with outsiders or locals, business would be booming and Keller's Metal Shop was poised to grow by leaps and bounds. Instead, Sandy turned away and took their deal to another town. She was responsible of the economic downturn of a town that was barely surviving before she left and flat out collapsed when she took with her the development deal that would finally bring prosperity to Merryville. Because of her, Claire was buried in a casket so flimsy that Paul shuddered to think how much rest she had gotten before the insects starting breaking through the thin wood.

Sandy's betrayl sent Paul through most stages of grief. First there was shock, then denial. She must have had a good reason for doing this, was all he could think for a entire week. Soon after he felt guilt, maybe it was all his fault, maybe he didn't raise her right. Guilt was then followed by a long stretch of anger and a brief bout of depression. Out of the seven stages doctors talk about, Paul had not experienced bargaining or acceptance. The former because he had no one to bargain with. The latter because he still wanted an explanation before he could have his closure. The road from shock to depression was a bitter one, but he had not travelled it in vain. Sandy was back and he would be damned if he didn't close this wound once and for all.

Six

It was the smell of cat piss and coffee grounds that hit her first. Then it was the mounds of dirty dishes in the sink, piles of junk mail and old newspapers on the table, and the dirt of past ten years that overwhelmed her senses.

“Jesus. What a mess." she said to the empty house. While covering her nose and mouth she reached over the kitchen sink and yanked up the shade and window. Through the stream of light the dust particles danced in the air like dirty snowflakes. She turned back to the door and wedged it open with a stack of newspapers. She knew the effort was futile since there wasn’t a chance of a breeze and the house needed hurricane winds to air it out. She was making her way across the kitchen to inspect the damage of the rest of the house when she heard the screen door creak open behind her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” a man’s voice snarled.

“It’s nice to see you too, Pa.” she said without turning around.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said as she turned to face him. “You pissed a lot of people off leaving the way you did. Including me. So what the hell are you doing back?” He glared at her, daring her to answer.

She knew he was angry, there was no doubt about that, but it was the fleeting sense of hurt that caught her attention. It was brief but present, like a child who gets picked on at school and fights the urge to cry by fighting the bully instead. Hurt or not he was putting up a fight now and she’d be damned if she was going to be the one to step down.

“I'm here to tell you you need a housekeeper. I've seen dark alleys in the projects that feel more like a home than this place." she decided to fight back with the help of her old partner: sarcasm. He had always hated it and he wasn't having any of it now, so she decided to tone it down. It was still his house. “Listen, dad. I got as far away from this place as I could and made something of myself. It was the best decision I ever made and I've never looked back." She looked down at the boards on the floor, her body language offering a truce. "Most fathers would be proud.”

“So what, you here to rub it in?” he almost chuckled. “Or to do some more damage? There are a few businesses in town you ain't ruined yet.” he said contemptuously. He stood there for a moment, waiting for her answer. He wasn't ready to let go of so many years of pent up anger, but there was so much more bubbling inside of him.

"Can I stay here?" she asked, taking her eyes off the floor and looking at him blankly. He hadn't seen his daughter in ten years and all of a sudden she was standing in his living room asking for shelter. "I'll clean up the place" she said.

He stared at her for a few moments and then headed for his bedroom. "I'm gonna take a shower." he said finally. "You can start with the dishes."

"O.K." was all she could muster. He had the right to be mad at her and she was thankful for the place to stay, but she couldn't bring herself to show any remorse or gratitude. Not now, not in front of him or anybody in this town. Her armor was staying on this time.

Five

Caleb watched her open the vine-covered gate and stride in from his window, only five houses down. She’d been shaken up by their encounter, but now she seemed to regain her composure. It wouldn’t be so easy to humiliate her now, but it would be even more satisfying. He turned back from the window once she was inside and made his way into the kitchen. His father was boiling the water for the coffee he made the old-fashioned way every morning and every afternoon. Francis Turner hated the way these modern coffee makers made it either taste like plastic or just luke warm. Coffee was meant to be hot, even in the summer time. So he would boil the water, put the ground beans in the paper filter and at six o’clock, in the morning and in the afternoon, the smell of fresh coffee filled up the entire house.
“Guess who’s back in town, old man?” asked Caleb as he walked in.
“Too early for Santa Claus, too late for the bunny. I don’t know, your mother?”
“No, somebody who’s actually among the living.” said Caleb.
“Can’t blame me for hoping. I still wish I’d had a chance to put her in the ground.” Fank said as he looked at the kettle and waited for the water to boil.
“Sandra Keller.” Caleb could hardly suppress the grin on his face.
“The not so prodigal daughter returns.” The kettle started to whistle and Frank pulled it off the stove and started pouring it into the filter. “It may not be Santa, but I’m guessing somebody will be up all night tonight like it was Christmas eve, huh?”
Now they were both grinning and the smell of coffee surrounded them and made the familiar even more familiar, if that was possible. Ten years ago she had made her getaway and had left them wanting more, but with Sandy home, everything was back as it once was.
“Make sure she gets what she deserves this time, Cay. Revenge is best served cold.” Frank stared at his son, the message clear in his eyes.
“Don’t worry. Her timing couldn’t be worse, but she’s back. And I’ll be a monkey’s tick if she doesn’t pay for what she did to us.” Caleb said, staring right back.
“Good. Now,” he said as he sat down at the kitchen table “grab them muffins and let’s have some coffee.”

Four

“God hath not promised skies always blue, but God hath promised strength for the day. Please just give me the strength.” she said softly.
The simple prayer had comforted her in the past; she hoped it hadn’t lost its clout. She’d let Caleb get to her before and wasn’t about to let it happen again. She was stronger than this, stronger than him. She took a deep breath and pushed herself up off the ground. Once standing she attempted to wipe the mascara tracks from under her eyes and smooth her dress. She turned and headed for the door. She was reaching for the handle when she stopped and thought for a moment. She turned and faced the altar, gave a small bow as she crossed herself and said a quiet “Amen”.
“If there is someone up there I should at least be respectful,” she thought. And with that she strode out of the church.
Even with her bag in tow it was not a difficult walk to the house. She had made the trip between church and home so many times she probably could have done it with her eyes closed. As she rounded the corner she could see the old mailbox barely sticking out from under the morning glory vines. The plant had taking hold of the trellis it was provided years ago but had since consumed everything else in its path; including the mailbox. It was late in the day so the flowers were losing their color and the petals beginning to curl. She reached through the vines to find the latch for the gate. It squeaked open and she stepped into the yard. The first thing she saw was the old pick up truck up on cinder blocks in the corner of the yard. “You know you’re a redneck when,” she mumbled. Maybe Caleb was right; maybe things can’t change. “No,” she though firmly. He may have been right about things around here but he was wrong about her. She had changed; she had no doubt about that. With a new sense of purpose she headed for the front door.

Three

She got halfway through an Our Father, but had to stop because she couldn't remember all the words. An awful feeling flooded over her and she realized not everything about her Catholic upbringing was lost. Guilt was still very much an instinct. She tried to push the feeling aside and start over again in her own words when she heard a noise behind her. Guilt gave way to embarrassment and she felt silly for trying to talk to a god she hadn't called on in so many years. She heard the main door creak open and shut quietly. A triangle of light illuminated briefly a row of pews on the opposite side of the church, but a large column kept her from seeing who had walked in. She realized she was holding her breath and had to make a conscious effort to fill her lungs again. Footsteps echoed in the empty church and came in her direction. Her heart beat faster in her chest as she looked over her left shoulder and whispered under her breath "Please, don't let it be Caleb. Anyone but Caleb. Please. I'm not ready..."
"Look who's back in town." said Caleb. Sandy looked up at the ceiling and said:
"Thanks again." Caleb stopped at her row, blocking the exit, but did not venture in.
"I see your sarcasm is strong as ever. Still blaming God for all the trouble you get into?"
"No, Caleb, I still blame a lot of it on you" she hoped her voice wasn't as shaky as she felt.
"Well, I'd feel bad, Sandy. But I just don't"
"You never cared about anyone but yourself, Caleb. Why change now?"
"You haven't changed much, either. You look as good as the day you left."
"Fuck you, Caleb."
"Whoa, now. I know you'd want to, but not in the only church in town, baby."
Sandy got up and pushed past him and was almost to the door when he called back.
"Don't forget your bag, sweetie."
"Fuck." Sandy muttered under her breath. She turned around and walked back to where he stood with a grin on his face. She reached for the bag and yanked on it, but he held firm and pulled her within inches of his face. She wanted to let go and step back, but held her ground.
"Now remember, Sandy. You may be a big shot in New York City, but you ain't shit here. Don't come in here, digging up the past, kicking up dust like you're gonna change the world. Don't think you're bigger than you are." His grin disappeared and his eyes stared at hers like lasers. "Nothing's changed, you hear? Nothing ever changes around here."
"Are you done?" she said and yanked on the handle again. She felt tears welling up and fought hard to keep her face dry.
"Not yet. Not by a long shot" he said and shoved her as she tugged on the bag again. She wasn't expecting it and fell tumbling to the floor. He chuckled and walked by her on his way out. His footsteps echoed away and she heard the door creak open again. "I'll see you around, baby." He slammed the door and once again Sandy found herself on the church floor, her face covered in tears.

Two

She stood there for a moment, staring at the bells, not exactly sure what to do next. Then, as if by divine intervention, they tolled and beckoned her in. She walked up to the entrance and pushed hard against the door. It opened much easier than she expected causing her to tumble into the church; her footfalls echoing within the stone walls. She had remembered everything being so much larger and menacing. The ceilings and stain glass windows didn’t seem half as tall, and the altar looked as if it was only a few steps from the back of the church. It felt tiny and quaint, as if this was the portion of the church where the children celebrated their mass and the main church, for adults, was elsewhere. Like Thanksgiving dinner where the children are seated at a miniature version of the adult table. It was dark and cool in the church, a contrast to the bright humidity she had left outside. Out of habit she dipped her fingers in the stoup of holy water and crossed herself. She then walked down the center aisle, genuflected and slid into a pew. Then she did something else she hadn’t done in a long time, maybe also out of habit. She knelt on the wooden surface and prayed.