Piercing the Darkness (16 page)

“Tell him I’ll call him back,” said Mark. Cathy went to tell him, and Mark returned his attention to Tom. “You want to tell them?”

Tom didn’t hesitate. “I’m stepping down as headmaster of the school; I’m going to take a leave of absence until this whole thing gets cleared up.”

Jack was ready to debate that move. “Who says?”

“The school’s in trouble because of me. If we’re going to save it at all, I’ve got to get out of the picture.”

He was right. Every man at the table hated to admit it, but he was right. There was a long, fidgety silence. They all looked at the table or out the window or around the room, and only occasionally at each other.

Mark decided to break the silence. “Tom and I talked and prayed about it, and we agreed that all of us have to face the facts as they are: the ruckus is over him; he’s the center of the controversy. Now I know we’re all standing with him, but the matter of his innocence is secondary. The biggest and most immediate concern right now is the confidence of the parents and the community. That confidence is taking
a real beating right now, and it’s going to be hard to get it back if we keep Tom in his position.”

Jack fidgeted, looked this way and that, and then gave the table a pound. “But, Mark, we can’t do that! It’d be like admitting Tom’s guilty!”

Doug jumped in. “But, Dad, some people already think that! I’ve talked to some folks just today who are ready to give the whole thing up, just pull out of the school and let it die. They’re knocked on their backs by this thing.”

Mark cut in. “But that’s part of the warfare, guys. Satan set this whole thing up so he could weaken us with gossip and slander. We need to do as much as we can to protect ourselves from that, or at least provide no fuel for the fire.”

Tom explained, “If I stay at the school, we won’t be able to convince anyone that we’re truly concerned about all this.
I’m
concerned. I’m willing to step down in good faith until we can get all this trouble resolved.”

“We’ll do all we can to keep the academy open. Mrs. Fields will stay on and teach the remaining kids in her classes. I’ll take charge of the remainder in the upper grades. Tom, what’s the prospective enrollment?”

Tom had scribbled down a tentative list. “Um . . . I guess we should go for a worst case scenario . . . which would mean that Judy Waring will take out her son Charlie . . . and then there are the Jessups and their two . . . and then the Wingers with their three . . .”

“What about the Walroths?” asked Jack.

Mark answered, “I’ll be calling him. I think I can talk him into hanging on for a while.”

“So we’ll leave those two children in?” asked Tom.

“For now.”

Tom wrote them back in. “Okay. That means five kids are out of Mrs. Fields’s class. Her enrollment’s cut in half. My class is down by one. That isn’t too bad.”

“So for now we’ll be able to survive,” said Mark. “But tonight we’ll have to talk about Tom’s salary while he’s out, plus some more volunteer help to keep things running—I won’t have time to do all the bookkeeping and administrating. Then we’ll have to reassign the bus route
now that the Wingers are out and get someone else to organize the hot lunches now that the Warings are out.”

“Donna Hemphile called today,” Tom remembered. “She’s very supportive of the school, and willing to put in any time she can spare when she’s not tied up at the door factory.”

“Who?” asked Doug.

“Donna Hemphile,” said Mark. “She’s a supervisor at the Bergen Door Company, a single gal.”

“Yeah, she’s nice,” said Jack.

“Anyway,” said Tom, “she says she’ll take care of hot lunches, probably two days a week.”

“Good enough.” Mark wrote it down in his own notes. “Okay, other things to discuss tonight: We need to update you on what Wayne Corrigan told us, and what we have to do to fight this thing in court.” Mark looked at Tom. “And there’s also the latest report on your kids.”

Tom looked tired. He’d been through quite a battle already over that issue. “Wayne Corrigan called this afternoon. He finally got in touch with someone at the District Court in Claytonville. They had the hearing today, in Judge Benson’s court. It took about ten minutes, I understand. I guess I didn’t miss anything; they would have barred me from the courtroom anyway. The judge approved the removal and set a date for the trial in October.”

“October?” Jack exclaimed. “So what happens in the meantime?”

“I’m supposed to get some counseling, but from a court-appointed counselor. I’ll be able to visit the kids, I don’t know exactly when, and it’ll be controlled; a social worker will have to be there . . .” Tom couldn’t continue.

“Well, I say we fight this thing,” said Jack. “Let the others run and hide. If being Christian is too tough for them, well, they can’t say Jesus didn’t warn them. But let’s fight it! Let’s go to our knees, and beseech the Lord to show us a way out of this. Our God is greater than any lawsuit or any bunch of social service bureaucrats! He’ll stand with us, and that’s . . . well, that’s my final word on the subject!”

Mark looked around the table. “So how about the rest of you? Let me hear from you now, before we take another step.”

“Let’s fight it,” said Doug.

“We’re in this for the Lord,” said Bob. “He’ll help us.”

Vic raised his hand to be counted. “Hey, if it had to happen to us, then it had to happen to us. Looks like we’re first in line, guys. If we fall, all the other Christian schools are going to fall next. We’d better give them a good fight, with the Lord’s help.”

Mark felt the hand of God upon these men. He met Tom’s eyes, and through Tom’s tears he saw a quiet confidence.

“Then let’s go to prayer,” he said, “and let our agreement this night be settled in Heaven.”

They joined hands around the table, making their covenant with each other and God.

HIGH ABOVE THE
town, hovering between Heaven and Earth, his wings a soft, blurred canopy, Captain Tal overheard the transaction. The saints had bound themselves together in prayer according to the will of God; the Lord Almighty had received their petition. There was agreement, and that agreement was now sealed.

“Good,” said Tal, “good enough!”

IN CLAYTONVILLE,
the demons abruptly called it a day. The last of them swooped down, spit out some insults, and then soared off like a crazed swallow into the night, leaving Chimon and Scion alone on the roof of the motel. The sudden silence was jarring.

“Well,” said Chimon, “did we get a prayer?”

“Looks that way,” said Scion.

They sat on the roof, their swords resting on the shingles, their eyes scanning the sky. Below them, Sally Roe was lying down to sleep.

Perhaps now they would all have some peace for the night.

CHAPTER 11

THE BERGEN DOOR
Company was a noisy, dusty place employing about a hundred people, the only real industry to be found in Bacon’s Corner. It was Friday morning, and during the regular work shift the planers, sanders, saws, and drills produced such a deafening din that ear protection was required and also a lot of lipreading.

Ben wore ear protection—little sponge-rubber earplugs—and also safety glasses as he walked through the factory. He’d never been here before, and found it a fascinating place, with the smell of sawdust filling the air, and doors, doors, doors everywhere, some stacked, some standing, some riding the forklift down to the loading dock; small doors, big doors, cheap doors, exquisite doors.

He was catching a few glances from the employees as he passed by. The sight of a uniformed police officer often roused curiosity, as if “something” was up. He just smiled cordially at the hefty women, the sawdusted men, the part-time students, the single mothers. He recognized many of them, including Donna Hemphile, busily supervising a big material sorting project. She recognized him and waved.

“Hey, Ben, what are you doing here?” she hollered.

“Oh, just a little business,” he answered, probably not loud enough for her to hear him. He was hesitant to talk about it.

Up ahead, at the center of all the hubbub, was the enclosed office space of the floor supervisor, Abby Grayson. She spotted him through
the office window and gave him a wave. The front office had already called ahead, and she was expecting him.

“Come in out of the racket,” she said, throwing open the door.

He stepped inside the little cubicle and she closed the door after him, shutting out the noise.

“Have a seat,” she said. “You must be that new cop. I don’t think we’ve met before, and maybe that’s a good thing, you know?”

They went through some friendly introductions. Abby was a homely but personable lady in her forties; she and her husband were real career people in this place. She’d just received her twenty-year pin, and he his twenty-five.

“Well,” she said, “we’re all pretty shocked. Sally was a good worker. It’s too bad she didn’t open up a little more. We thought she might have some deep problems, but . . . Hey, we
tried
to be friends; what can I say?”

“I’ve heard from several people that she was reclusive,” Ben said.

“Yeah, pretty much a hermit. We invited her to the last Christmas party, and I think she almost came, but then she found some excuse and stayed home. She didn’t get out much as far as any of us could tell.”

“You wouldn’t have any photographs of her, would you?”

“Funny you should mention that. I guess she hated having her picture taken. We were all going to pose for a company picture . . . When was that? I think around Labor Day, and I remember she just kept hiding behind people and turning away. Ehh, some people are like that.”

“So what kind of person was she really? What were some of your impressions?”

Abby took a moment to consider the question. “She was bright and intelligent, good with her hands, and caught on to the job right away, really easy to train. But there was always something a little strange about her.” Abby smiled about a thought that came to her. “Well, I suppose I can say it now. You know . . . I think she was hiding something. A lot of us thought that.”

“Hiding something?”

Abby shook her head and chuckled. “Oh, we came up with all kinds of silly notions, talking about her maybe being a fugitive from the law, or an ex-con, or a witch, or a hooker, or a lesbian . . . It was pretty silly, but when people are that secretive, that quiet, you wonder about
them a little. It’s only natural.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Was she any of those things to your knowledge?”

She laughed. “No. It was talk, nothing but talk.”

“But still you think she was hiding something . . .”

“I don’t know. She just acted like it, I guess.”

Ben chuckled to keep the atmosphere relaxed. “Well . . . how about a description? What did she look like?”

“Oh . . .” Abby’s eyes drifted about the room as she reconstructed an image of Sally Roe in her mind. “About my height, and I’m 5’ 6”. Red hair . . . long . . . I saw her brushing it out once; it went down to about the middle of her back. But she kept it bound up in a checkered scarf when she was working here, so you never saw much of it.”

“Color of eyes?”

“Color of eyes . . . Boy, I never gave it much thought. Seems to me they were brown.”

“How old was she?”

“Thirties. Maybe a little older.”

“How about her weight?”

“Pretty good,” and with that comment Abby laughed. “I don’t know, she looked all right to me, enough to be jealous about, anyway.”

Ben had heard enough for now. He stood up. “Well, thanks a lot. If I think of any more questions I’ll give you a jingle. Oh . . .” He scribbled his phone number on a piece of paper. “If you come up with anything you think I’d want to know, just give me a call at home. It’ll be fine.”

“Sure thing.” She stood and shook his hand. “Well, it was a real shock, just really tough news.”

He nodded.

“And then that news this morning about the Christian school and what that teacher was doing! What a world, huh? You just never know about people . . . It’s kind of scary.”