Bones of Fire (The Fire Series #1)

Chapter 3

Edwin slowed down and flashed his high beams so that the oncoming car would switch from its high to low beams.  He stole a quick glance at his watch.  6:40 p.m.  His stomach tightened as he turned into the church's parking lot and saw all of the cars. There wasn't a parking space available anywhere.  Some cars were double-parked.  Others were crammed onto the grass.  

"Honey, who's speaking tonight?" Barbara asked, noting all of the cars.  

"Some guy named Jonathan Banks.  A missionary from South Africa or New Guinea or somewhere.  Supposed to be a good speaker.  Terrance Knox recommended him."  

"We don't have this many people even on Easter," said Andrew.  

"What's he like?"  Barbara's curiosity was aroused that so many people would come out on a Wednesday night to hear this man.  

"I don't know.  All I know is his name is Jonathan Banks." 

"Good thing you've got your own parking space, dad," said Sharon.  

As they approached the church door Edwin looked down at his shoes.  "Great," he said in disgust.  They were covered with mud, and there was also mud on the bottom of one of his legs.  

A grim-faced usher met the Styles at the outer door.  

"Hey, Bob.  How's it going?" Edwin asked, smiling.  

The usher didn't return the smile. He didn't appear to want to return a reply either.  "Oh, I'm doing fine."  His intonation implied that Edwin wasn't doing fine.  

The usher's awkward response puzzled Edwin, but he shook it off.  Bob was known to be moody.  

"How are you, Barbara?  Andrew?  Hi, Sharon.  And how about you little Christopher?" asked the usher, with genuine interest.  

Everyone responded positively.  

"See you right after the service."  Edwin gave his wife a peck on the cheek.  

"Okay.  Let's stop for ice cream on the way back."  Every season was ice cream season for Barbara. That was her one dietary weakness, although there wasn’t the slightest hint of this in her figure.  

Inside the sanctuary over eighteen hundred people were crammed into facilities designed for fifteen hundred.  There wasn't an inch to spare on the cushioned pews.  People sat practically on top of one another. 

Folding chairs were lined along the center aisles.  The walls were lined with people—several of them very dignified looking.  Ushers hurried up and down the aisles looking for room that wasn't there.  Chairs were set up at the front of the altar by harried ushers for some stragglers, to the consternation of others that had been standing for quite a while.  

The atmosphere was festive.  It was like a circus and a Super Bowl rolled into one.  Something that this church was definitely not accustomed to experiencing.  

Its usual services were without exception as predictable as the sunrise and as dry as desert sand. The church's bulletin was meticulously adhered to at all costs. Every Sunday of every week was exactly like the Sunday before. An unfunny joke. A few lifeless songs. A stale sermon. A merciful benediction. Boring.  Boring. Boring.  

Everyone knew it, but it seemed that no one was discontented enough to do anything about it.  They were like sick people who refused to take medicine for fear of getting well.  Health was feared more than sickness.  

Tonight was different.  The faces of most of the people were the same, but their attitudes were different—livelier, expectant.  Some even appeared to be enthusiastic.  Enthusiastic about church?  This was totally foreign to this church.