Look but Don't Choke

Chapter 12

            

            Abbey’s mother lived in one of those old neighborhoods where people live for most of their lives and pass on the land to their offspring. The houses were small and the yards were close but you could call your neighbor your friend and depend on them to watch your house while you were out.

            I saw the house long before we stopped. I’d prayed that it wouldn't be that house but somehow I knew. You’d think by now I would have learned that God routinely screens my calls.

            “Is that it?” Harley said from the passenger seat, disbelief in his voice.

            I looked down at the address that I’d scribbled down on a scrap of paper. “Unfortunately.”

            The paint on the old siding had long faded. An old car was parked in the driveway, more beat-up than the house and probably dead. The most peculiar thing, though, was the various signs picketed in the overgrown lawn.

            Repent

            The End is Close

            Turn to Jesus

            Hell is the Sinner’s Paradise

                       

            “Oh good Lord,” but it was pointless, I’m still on God’s shit list.

            I parked the car and we got out and walked up the path to the front door.

            The one that caught my eye was a simple sign that advertised for The Church of Our Heavenly Father. That explains where all those pamphlets came from in Abbey’s apartment.

            “Well,” I said. “The good news is I know how to spin this.” I rung the doorbell. “Follow my lead.”

            When she opened the door I spoke before she could register that there were two of us. “Good afternoon, ma’am. My associate and I are going door to door to spread the good news.”

            “Good news?” she blinked, confused.

            “Oh yes. Jesus,” I paused for dramatic effect. “…is coming. Do you have favor?”

            I could feel Harley stifling a laugh beside me. He was no stranger to how difficult I’d been about church. Still Mama had made me go every Sunday rain or shine, in sickness and in health. No negotiations.

            Mrs. Collins straightened up at the mention of Jesus and said, “Why yes I do. I am well acquainted with our Lord and savior.”

            “Well alright. That’s exactly what this heathen world needs. More Christians to sing his praises.”

            “And I will continue to sing those praises as long as there is air in my lungs and a song in my heart.”

            “Halleluiah!” Harley’s tone was borderline mocking, but she didn’t catch that.

            He was so over-the-top I had to stop myself from grimacing. “Do you have a church home?”

            “I do. I’m a member of The Church of Our Heavenly Father.”

            “I’ve never heard of the place,” I said.