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.

The Journey begins...

The black sedan came to a halt in front of the church just outside the village. The sun was beginning to set and the roof of the church took on a serene orange shade. The driver craned his neck and looked back at the raven-haired woman he'd just driven for the last two hundred miles. He flicked his tongue and made the toothpick jutting out of his mouth switch from the left to right side of his face. Just like in the last two hours, the man didn't say a word.
Sandy picked her bag up from the seat next to her and pulled on the handle to open the door. She stepped outside and the humid air hugged her body like an old friend. Through the open window she looked at the driver trying to figure out if she should say anything. She had already paid for the ride and they hardly had any other business to discuss, so in the end she decided to dip her chin ever so slightly to signal that their transaction was done. The driver got the message, put the car back in gear and made a u-turn without so much as returning the nod. The dust kicked up by the tires hung around Sandy as she stood clutching her bag and looking up at the church's bell tower. She half expected the bells to start to toll.