Phone Calls From God

By Stephen W. Cote and Ann Lynes

Craig Henry was, with a saint's resolve and devil's absolution, the last person Christine Wolfe wanted her youngest daughter, Tabitha, to have any sort of doings with. Craig's roughnecked, sandy brown hair had been only the beginning of the arguments, though was later forgotten when Tabitha, in a quarrelling lover's delirium, told Christine that Craig was spending most of his money on electronic devices and police paraphernalia commonplace in a detective's office or confiscated from a hoodlum. Realistically, Christine thought Craig should arm himself with a college degree, at least to enable him to comprehend the complex instructions for all of the various pieces of electronics he was so fond of. Spiritually, however, Craig was on Christine's black list since he was not only not Catholic, but also not anything. Christine would have much preferred that Tabitha spend her time with a heretic, perhaps a Jew or a Protestant, even a Baptist, rather than an Atheist. She tended to disregard most of the absurd Pagan spin off religions, such a Witchcraft, Satanic Rituals, or whatever the youngest generation was using to break their mothers' backs with.

Christine prided herself and her place. Jeromy, her late and dear husband, had provided her with a comfortable home on the outskirts of Redmond, Washington, actually in a city zoning neutrality between Redmond, Issaquah and Woodenville. She arobasized with her church group, aptly named The Divine Comment for their conservative views and published criticisms on contemporary censorship of pornography, and stayed fit, even as she approached her fifty third birthday.

The absence of a television did not ever leave Christine with any regrets since donating it to Saint Vincent De Paul. Most of the programming lately had been rubbish, especially when she observed that the youths would rather spend their time watching Mighty Morphin Power Rangers rather than the 700 Club, as she had done when their age, or play Nintendo rather than read a decent novel. Utilizing her main, double barreled firearm, as she so proudly referred to her multi-lined phone, she would spend her early morning hours reading the newspaper over a bagel and an espresso, settle down with a good book, then arm herself with her telephone in the afternoon.

At two thirty, the phone rang and Christine quickly turned the caller over to the speaker phone, as per her common practice since the receiver rubbed the plate in her chin that held her dentures in place. "Christine Wolfe's," she said, smiling, even though she knew the caller would only be able to hear her brightness, not see it. "Jesus be with you."

Muffled sobs whispered through a layer of speaker phone static. "Mom," Tabitha's voice pleaded.

"Tabby," Christine said with dismay, "whatever is wrong?" When Tabitha started to explain, Christine only heard the word 'Craig' and missed everything else her daughter had said. "I'm sorry, honey, can you repeat that?"

"He didn't pay Washington Water Power again. They're going to turn off everything tomorrow unless we give them fifty one dollars by Tuesday." Tabitha indeed sounded upset.

Christine rolled her eyes and looked at her desktop calendar, counting the days. With a sigh of understanding, she said, "Let's see. Today's Friday, the ninth. Didn't you get paid today, honey? Can you cover it this time?"

"Mom!" Tabitha wailed, "I had to buy the groceries and pay the phone bill and pay the charge card bill."

"Why don't you two come over for dinner tonight? I'll write a check for you then and you can pay me back next week. I'll have to check the mail though and see if my insurance check or social security check came. It may not come until next week." Christine tried to put as much sympathy into her voice as she could.

"Thanks mom," Tabitha sniffed. "I've gotta go right now, but is five okay?"

"That's fine, honey," Christine smiled to the speaker again. "I'll talk with you then and maybe together we can straighten that boy of yours out."

The receiver clicked and Christine sat back, rubbing her eyes. She had plenty of money in her savings account, but had no intention of fighting rush hour traffic to get to the bank on time to transfer enough to her checking account or withdraw any from savings. As she gazed thoughtfully at the desk, the telephone rang again. She performed the same routine of clicking it over to the speaker phone. However, an eery voice spoke before she had the chance to get in a proper word of greeting edgewise.

"Both checking deposit statements are in the mail." The receiver clicked.

Christine smiled and stood up, walked over to the front door, and only then stopped and glared back at the phone. The voice had been very cool and lustrous, though with subtle harmonies she could not place, it didn't sound quite human. More importantly, she didn't recognize the voice as belonging to anyone she knew, and wasn't sure how, whoever it was, knew what she would get in the mail, or that the mail had even arrived. She dismissed it as a prank call, perhaps Tabitha playing a silly game in the hopes of avoiding a credit conflict by having her water and power shut off, bolstering her courage with her own special brand of humor.

Christine ran outside and fetched the mail - indeed the voice on the other end had been true - and returned with several advertisements and the direct deposit statements. She wrote a check for Tabitha, placed it in the drawer of the table near the front door, and then sat down in front of the phone again.

For over half an hour, she folded her hands, refolded them, and prayed to Jesus. At a quarter past three, the phone rang again. Christine felt her blood curdle when she reached for the speaker phone button. "Christine Wolfe's, Jesus be with you." There was a long silence from the speaker phone and Christine held her breath. When she was ready to chide the obvious prankster, a wave of relief passed over her.

"Mom," Tabitha's voice came through softly. "Can we make it six? Craig is going to work until six so he can get in more overtime tomorrow."

"That's fine honey. I'll see you at six then." Christine waited for Tabitha to say her goodbye's and hang up, then looked strangely at the telephone. When the phone rang several moments later, she hesitated before she reached to touch the speaker phone button.

"Your daughter must not let her fiance work late." The voice was different this time, hushed and pensive, though rather dignified, perhaps with a slightened twang of a British accent.

"Who is this?" Christine demanded. "I have caller identification and am writing down your number."

"This is a matter not to be trifled with. Your daughter's fiance must not work past five." The line went dead.

Christine touched the speaker phone button to hang up her end with a palsied hand. The voice - that seductive, strange, beautiful voice - flooded her imagination and prayers. She was not sure what she should do, but then checked her caller ID box and became rather nervous discovering it was blank. Her first instinct was to call the police, but then she pondered the situation a little further. Would it be so terrible if Craig didn't work another hour? She was long overdue giving the boy a good scolding as it was, so decided to first call Tabby.

The speed dial rattled off Tabitha's number. Tabitha answered the phone, sounding as if in a hurry. "Hello? Tabitha speaking."

"Tabby, it's me," Christine said, feeling a bit flustered again. "I'd sooner have you and that Craig over at five. Father Jay is coming over and I'd rather not have you two walking in an hour late. Do you think Craig could do that for me, honey?" She referred to Father Jay, the priest she swore stopped aging at twenty one.

Father Jay - for Father J. Archibald - was a very old friend of the family. He had not only married Christine and Jeromy more than thirty years ago, but had baptized Tabitha and her other daughter, five years Tabitha's elder. It seemed fitting that he also lay Jeromy to his final resting place with the Heavenly Father.

"Mother," Tabitha broke in rather abruptly. She sighed and gave in, "I'll call him. He can work the extra hour tomorrow, but if he isn't able to get his pay tonight, we'll need gas money to get back home."

"It's only thirty minutes at most, honey. And you have that economy car." Christine always thought Tabitha believed her to be a shrew when it came to money.

"And my economy car is having an economy crisis right along with me, mom." Tabitha paused, "look, I'll call Craig."

"Thanks, honey." Christine was about to hang up when she heard Tabitha chortle in the background.

"And mom?" she said with a fair tone of wit.

"Yes, honey?"

"That gives you two hours to get Father Jay to change his plans and eat with us."

Christine gaped. "How did you ..?"

"Craig said he saw him today at the market, shopping for his famous linguini. He's supposed to go to the Thompson's." Tabitha rang off.

Christine grimaced and folded her hands together. She had not accounted for Craig knowing anyone who worked with the church. Nor had she expected Father Jay to have any invitations to dinner. Though it was a Friday and she shouldn't have used the date as an excuse to play along with a prank phone call. Something worried her, though, and she couldn't shake the feeling that strange, mystic eyes were upon her, watching her even then with more scrutiny than they ever had in her entire life.

Christine placed her finger on the button to speed dial Father Jay when the phone rang.

"Christine Wolfe's, Jesus be with you." She heard an odd, though distinct sound in the background. She recognized it as the same background noise the prank calls had.

"Tell my son to reread Isaiah one, four."

"Please stop this," she demanded, but the phone line went dead before her voice first broke past her lips.

Christine hung her head in her hands, licking her lips. She couldn't remember what Isaiah one, four was, though shook her head to herself and prayed that the prankster would stop harassing her. She speed dialed Father Jay.

"Only God's footsteps knows the road to salvation." Father Jay sounded tired.

"Father?" Christine let her voice hang with a question.

"Ah, Christine, my daughter. Can I do anything for you?"

"Yes," and Christine broke off. She fought to remember what Isaiah one, four was, but still couldn't remember. "Father, do you remember Isaiah one, four?" She asked, hoping not to annoy him with a petty question. Though, she couldn't see how a question about the Good Book could be petty. She then added in, before Father Jay could answer, "Tabitha tells me you are going to the Thompson's tonight."

"Ah, sinful nation, a people loaded with guilt, a brood of evildoers, children given to corruption! They have forsaken the Lord; they have spurned the Holy One of Israel and turned their backs on him." Father Jay remained quiet for a long time. "And yes, I am." He inhaled, "Oh, dear me, Christine. I should have known you'd be concerned. But they say that their son, Yuri, has been reformed. He's been in prison for eight years, wrote me almost everyday."

Christine was lost. She had forgotten all about the Thompson's being of a criminal element, given to wickedness, especially with their middle son, Yuri, dealing drugs and being put in prison. "They are armed with bows and spears, they are cruel and without mercy."

"Jeremiah fifty, forty one. Dear child," Father Jay laughed softly, a very relaxed, gentle laugh of friendship and concern. "I don't think it is quite that bad. Yuri made a mistake and he has made his amends."

"He dealt cocaine to fifth grade students who had just received communion," Christine argued weakly. She didn't feel that it was argument, but that something higher, a superior force, compelled her. "And remember Revelations .."

"Dear, are you picking these at random or are you guided by a higher purpose?" Father Jay did sound really tired on the other end of the phone.

"Father Jay," Christine gave in, "I have had a really trying time today."

"Then pray with me, and remember with me our triumphs we made that day in the confessional."

The day was forever etched onto Christine's mind.

Jeromy's death had not been expected, though it was not sudden either. It was a planned death, right until the very end when he suddenly died in Christine's arms. The doctors had claimed it was a blood clot in the brain, though one doctor confided in her that it was his honest belief that her husband had been poisoned. The doctor who had given Christine the first report was a woman, and Christine was more apt to believe her than the male doctor, who sounded outright crazy insane.

But the death had been a trying experience. And Father Jay was the only one in the entire world who was able to put the pieces of her life back together. He encouraged her to establish the Divine Comment. He helped her deal with Tabitha's absurd attraction to Craig, the Atheist. But the day Father Jay referred to had nothing to do with Jeromy, Tabitha, or her own life. It was a secret so dark that it could not withstand the light of day. It had been safely tucked away until the pain of Jeromy's death somehow washed over her and caused this other locked away memory to resurface.

Christine was dressed in an emerald green gown, kneeling on the plush bar positioned against the wall of the confessional, close enough so her body brushed against the wood. Father Jay's voice carried delicately - a fleeting sound of angels singing - through the screen.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed are though amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, Amen." Both Father Jay and Christine repeated the 'Hail Mary' four more times before Father Jay turned his attention directly to her.

"Has there been any significant change since last we spoke?" Father Jay tried to sound formal and not identify Christine, but both knew each other. She had chosen him and he only had need to wait for her.

"Father," tears filled her eyes. Never before had she felt so lost, afraid and dirty. "I have done a terrible wrong, Father."

"Easy, my child. Ask and thou shall be forgiven."

"Please forgive me, Father," she begged. And how she had begged. Even though her beloved husband had died, she could not think of how she had been tempted down such a sinful path and feel even worse than the loss of her Jeromy.

"What is it you wish to confess, my daughter?" Father Jay only expected her troubles to be rudimentary. A burned casserole or spilt milk.

"My daughter," she began, but was unable.

"Is it Tabitha?" Father Jay offered, becoming more personal for the sake of helping Christine through her trials.

"No. Alexis. She was seeing that Jeffrey, the trouble maker from Bellevue, and was pregnant - she is only sixteen - and .." she was, again, unable to continue.

"The weight of the sin has passed, my child. Let is travel beyond you, the ordeal is over. You have only to confess your sins to God and he shall forgive." Father Jay began to sound a little agitated, though as always, held himself with reverence befitting his position.

"And I was so mad," Christine clenched her fists, "so very mad at the both of them. I made her .."

"An abortion," Father Jay whispered, offering it as a suggestion, though understanding.

"I made her have an abortion," Christine said, feeling the sin, as the Father had told her, pass through her. She began to feel the warm, light-headedness of God's fingertips upon her crown, reaching into those darkest places, forgiving those sins she was sincerely sorry for.

"She did not make this decision for herself? You made the choice?" Father Jay asked incredulously. He had, momentarily, lost his ability to speak above a whisper.

"Yes," she said, feeling completely filthy. She shivered in the small cubicle, feeling a wave of cold, ethereal air pass through her. The sin.

"My child," he said distantly, "my daughter," he said a bit louder.

"I'm so sorry!" Christine broke down again in tears.

Father Jay walked Christine through a very old form of penance, though she still thought there was no salvation for a murderer.

"I am going to share something with you that you must never reveal to anyone else." Father Jay waited for Christine to promise she wouldn't say anything. "I, too, have sinned in my past, and upon my begging for forgiveness for my worst, God reached from the sky and touched me, signing me a song, the song angels sing. It is from Psalms one fifty one."

Christine was immediately quiet. She knew her bible well enough to know that was one more than her version of the King James bible had, as Psalms went.

Father Jay continued as if his gift from God was commonplace. Though Christine imagined that a man of the cloth with his timber would often receive small gifts from God to help guide the flock.

"On a distant shore, miles from land, stands the ebony totem, in ebony sands, a dream in a mist of grey, on a far distant shore. The pebble that stood alone and driftwood lies half buried, warm shallow waters sweep shells, so the cockles shine. A bare winding carcass, stark shimmers as flies scoop up meat, an empty way, dry tears. Crisp flax squeaks, tall reeds make a circle of grey in a summer way, around man stood on ground."

"I," Christine stammered in a whisper of tears. "I don't understand, Father, what does it mean?"

Father Jay laughed gently, "we do not question a gift from our God. We accept it. Its use will always be unfathomable until God chooses to enlighten the bearer."

Christine recited Psalm one fifty one with Father Jay over the phone. She opened her eyes, not aware she had kept them closed throughout the recital, and gazed at the LCD display of Father Jay's phone number.

"Father Jay, I know this is a lot to ask of you, but given the circumstances, could you postpone your dinner engagement with the Thompson's? I've been having a hard time with that Craig of Tabitha's and I'm operating under the pretense that if we could all sit down together, we could work this out quickly and expeditiously." She inhaled and waited.

Father Jay hummed on the other end. "Are you sure this is not just out of a hidden derision for the Thompsons, Christine? I do owe their son a dinner, as I promised him, but I cannot water the thorns for sake of the rose, either."

"Father!" Christine said, blushing.

Father Jay's voice sounded stern, "I expect that I won't need to cook, though, so I'm not going to come prepared for it."

"That is fine, Father. I appreciate this. Jesus be with you." Christine waited for Father Jay to pass on a blessing and then hung up.

She glanced about the room and made a phone call to Ruby Tyler, her co-conspirator in the Divine Comment. Arrangements were made to petition the city council to ban Where's Waldo for the topless woman the artist had tried to slip in. It wasn't until four thirty that she was able to begin dinner and set the table.

When the phone range at five o'clock, the same time Father Jay rang the doorbell, Christine rushed to the front door to let Jay in and then ran back to the phone. She hit the speaker phone.

"Here I am! I stand at the door and knock." The line clicked.

Christine looked abashed, glancing to Father Jay.

"Revelations," he started.

"Three, twenty," Christine continued, "yes, I know."

"Rather strange phone call. I imagine one of the high school students who don't quite agree with your work with the Divine Comment."

Of course! Christine said aloud, at least to herself. She had not thought it to be one of the hoodlums that probably knew Tabitha and had conspired with her in this demented, prolonged joke. "Please come in. Would you like something to drink? Tabitha and Craig will be along anytime now."

Father Jay walked into the front room, touching various things, the picture of Jeromy on the table near the couch, the statue of Mary on the fireplace mantle, and then the top of the phone. "You have caller ID. Whose number is it?"

"I didn't look this time." Christine walked back to the phone and peered at it, revealing frank astonishment. "It's from the church."

Father Jay frowned, "No one was there when I left and the office is locked." He forced a smile and embraced Christine. "I'll have a glass of water, thank you."

While Christine poured a glass of wine for herself, and a water for Jay, Tabitha burst through the front door. "Mom!" she called excitedly.

"Father Jay is here, honey. Where are your manners?"

"Hi, Father Jay," Tabitha said. She was dressed in jeans and a white, plain blouse. "Mom, you wouldn't believe what happened at the autoshop where Craig works."

Christine returned from the kitchen and handed Father Jay his water. "Is Craig alright?" she asked worriedly.

"He's fine. That's the amazing thing. Right when he was leaving, the hydraulic jack broke. A BMW crashed down and luckily no one was under it, but if Craig was still working, it would have fallen on him." Mist had collected around the edges of her eyes.

Father Jay offered Tabitha a consoling hug. "The Lord works in mysterious ways, Tabby."

Christine bit her lip. "Where is that Craig now?"

Tabitha pointed outside, "still in the car. He is pretty shaken up. I'll be right back, I want to see if he is alright."

After Tabitha had left, Christine turned to face Father Jay. "Earlier today, that stranger called and told me not to let Craig work past five." She held the wine glass in both hands.

Father Jay moved to the couch and beckoned Christine over to join him. "Some people say that it is becoming harder and harder for God to work miracles around modern day technology. But I wonder," he broke off, looking off into the distance.

Christine laughed in disbelief, shaking her head. "No." She frowned and felt angry. "No!" She set the wine glass down. "Father," she shook her head again, "someone is coming dangerously close to murder. It wasn't a coincidence."

Father Jay raised an eyebrow and for a moment almost looked frightened. "Christine," though he paused. He simply nodded.

Tabitha returned with a very quiet Craig holding her hand. Both of them greeted Christine and Father Jay again and then joined them in the front room.

"Oh, Tabby, before you go, I left an envelope for you in the stand near the door." Christine didn't need to tell her daughter it was a check. She wondered if Tabitha could smell money in all its forms.

"How have you been, Craig?" Father Jay crossed his legs in a very feminine fashion and folded his hands together, interlacing his fingers into a dangerous gambit of digits.

"Fine, thank you sir." Craig scratched his head.

"Any plans for the future, or just content to work at the autoshop?" Father Jay didn't sound insulting or demeaning, simply curious.

Craig cocked his head and looked at Father Jay strangely. He had only been to church when Tabitha went, and his fiance went only when her mother coerced her to. He had never been sociable with Father Jay, so could only assume Christine had told Jay everything about him already that she knew. "I'm taking the test and physical for the Police Academy next Saturday. I don't think I can do anything except be a jail guard since I don't have any college courses."

Father Jay nodded and offered a dry smile. "It's nice to see that you are pursuing what you are interested in. By the way you two," he looked at both Craig and Tabitha, "we should sit down sometime in my office and start making arrangements about your wedding."

Tabitha giggled irritably, "we haven't planned that far yet, Father."

"So Craig," Christine said, trying to break the formal ice that had been thick since Craig walked in the door. "Tabby said you bough some new equipment. Would it be something you'd need to be a jail guard?"

Craig smiled with the effort of a third grader on Christmas morning. "No, ma'am. The Woodenville Police auctioned off some old computer parts. I made a bid for a see-mid. It is really outdated, but it has been fun since they aren't suppose to sell those to the public."

Father Jay remained quiet, and Tabitha betrayed an annoyed stare at Craig.

Christine continued, noticing her daughter's annoyance. "What good is a 'see-mid'? Actually, first, what is it?" She reached over to Craig and touched his shoulder, "I'm curious, not to make trouble, but because it sounds expensive and I don't want you and Tabby to be buying yourselves into any financial problems."

Tabitha ignored her mother's blatant accusation that she had anything to do with Craig's purchase.

Craig shrugged, talking in tongues. "See-mid is an acronym for C M I D. It means County Municipal Identification Device. You have to have a police radio for it, but any scanner nowadays replaces one anyway, so that's no big deal. You just type in a name or a license plate number and it returns everything the county has on it. You can request more information and get data from the state. It doesn't let you change anything though, and it's really slow."

Tabitha and Christine both stared dumbly at Craig, but Father Jay narrowed his eyes slightly. "Curiosity is killing me, Craig. Why do you need something like that? It seems like a needless waste of money."

Tabitha cringed and Craig sat upright, looking directly at Christine. "Respectfully, if I'd known tonight was just an excuse to 'church me up' and go over my expenses, I'd rather have stayed at home." His tone was quiet, though sincere.

Christine sighed and offered her apologies, though Father Jay simply glanced away.

Tabitha hooked her arm with Craig's. "What's for dinner, mom?"

Christine stood up and smiled as if nothing had happened. "A first class suggestion, Tabby. Why don't we go to the dining room?"

Father Jay walked with Christine to the dining room, though Tabitha and Craig waited and spoke quietly with each other.

"What was that?" Tabitha lightly hit Craig's shoulder. "She always does this to you. If you make it hard for her with Father Jay here, she is going to make it harder for you anytime you come over here from now on."

Craig put both arms around Tabitha's tiny frame, "I'm in love with you, Tabby, not your mother. And it was Father Jay. He's a really nice guy, he really is, but .."

"But what?" Tabby placed her head on his shoulder. "Craig, we've had this talk before. You're not living by yourself anymore. We need to really watch our money until the both of us get better jobs and more pay."

Craig nodded and stepped back away from Tabby. "Today has just been really strange, that's all. It will be better tomorrow."

Tabitha looked back towards the dining room. "I hope so. It sounds as if mom has had a strange day also. Listen to her going on in there."

Craig and Tabitha listened to Father Jay and Christine talk. Tabitha pushed Craig towards the dining room and was close behind him when the phone rang.

Although Christine called out she would answer it, Tabitha picked up the phone. She didn't like broadcasting it over the speaker phone, but privacy wasn't her prime concern. The speaker phone made her voice sound even worse than when she talked on Craig's cellular phone.

Christine watched Tabitha nod and bite her lip, the turn and stare for a long moment at her mother. "Well, who was it?"

Tabitha walked back towards the dining room and simply shook her head. "Nobody important." She closed her eyes and tried to hold back her tears. The evening had indeed suddenly become very strange.

When Tabitha sat down at the table, she looked only at Craig.

Christine served dinner - a quickly prepared chicken, salad and garlic bread with a pinch of basil. No one spoke until everyone was finished and the dishes had been cleared away.

Craig started to say something when the telephone rang again. He reached behind him to pick up the receiver and Christine asked him to put it on the speaker.

"Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken your first love. Remember the height from which you have fallen! Repent and do the things you did at first. If you do not repent, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place. But you have this in your favor: You hate the practices of the Nicolaitans, which I also hate." The phone line went dead.

"My God," Christine whispered fearfully.

"Revelations again," Father Jay said clinically, "two, four to six."

Tabitha looked blankly at Christine, "who the heck was that?"

Craig looked back at the phone and read off the number from the caller ID display.

"The church again?" Christine asked.

Father Jay shook his head. "No, I don't .."

"The sanitarium," a new voice said quietly.

Everyone turned and their faces became white, all except Tabitha's.

"Alexis," Christine whispered. "When did they .."

Father Jay swallowed and looked into his water glass.

Craig had never met Alexis before. She was a very sickly looking girl with gaunt eyes and tangled, matted brown hair. She only had a vague resemblance to Tabitha, but if he hadn't heard the name, he would never have known it was her sister.

Christine stood, though could not go towards her estranged daughter. Something repelled her from Tabitha's polarized sister. She reeked of evil and wickedness.

Tabitha placed both hands on the table. "There's something that has happened today that is very, very wrong."

Alexis said gravely, looking directly at Father Jay and Christine. "Something happened a long time ago that was even worse."

Tabitha's lips twitched. "Go on, Alexis." She took Craig's hand and held it tightly.

"You," she didn't specify who, exactly, "how could you? You left me there to die in that cage after that day in the hospital."

Christine closed her eyes, "what you did was wrong. You were so young. And you were so sick. A child would have killed you."

"Do you know what a smiles is?" She put both hands on the table, changing topics. "State Municipal Identification Library Ethernet System."

"That's a see-mid," Craig corrected.

"Shut up," Alexis said darkly.

"Child," Father Jay said softly. "This hostility is not necessary. Please, be at peace."

"What would happen if I went outside and typed in J. John Archer?" Alexis looked at both Christine and Father Jay.

"Honey, that's your grandfather's brother. My uncle. He's dead. He died in the war." Christine licked her lips.

Father Jay, however, slowly stood up.

"And what would happen if the first initial wasn't truncated, and re-entered as Judas John Archibald?" Alexis challenged.

Father Jay managed to keep from frowning. "Alexis, don't do this to yourself. There is no relation between the name Archer and Archibald."

"Please, honey, sit down. Does the sanitarium know you are gone?" Christine looked worriedly at Alexis.

"I was misdiagnosed as being a paranoid-schizophrenic with severe fits of depression. My own mother committed me when I was sixteen years old. Recently, a psychology student from Pacific Lutheran University who was studying cases at my former sanitarium found new evidence that the original diagnosis was incorrect." Alexis smiled coldly.

Tabitha remained quiet.

"Tabby, did you have anything to do with this? Is this where those phone calls were coming from?" Christine demanded.

Tabitha shook her head, looking blankly up at her mother. "No, mom, I swear, I had nothing to do with this at all."

"And what does this have to do with your grandfather and my last name?" Father Jay asked.

"Because my father killed your husband, mom, and is now trying to kill you for killing his unborn son." Alexis looked crossly across the table.

Craig stood up, looking back and forth between Tabitha's sister and Christine and Father Jay.

"Alexis, you're .." Christine said, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Crazy? No, I'm clinical sane, mother. They have me on the right drugs this time, despite interference by my real father."

Christine shook her head and placed it in her hands.

Tabitha suddenly exclaimed, "who is your real father then, Alexis?"

Alexis stared darkly at Father Jay.

Father Jay suddenly pulled a knife from his pocket and held it against Christine's throat.

Christine screamed, "What are you doing?"

Father Jay looked across the table. "That's right. Judas John Archibald, aka Judas John Archer, Christine's Uncle."

"And my father," Alexis said coldly. She coughed as if on cue. She calmly took an inhaler from her pocket and cleared her lungs.

Tabitha had fallen back against Craig and said in disbelief, "please don't hurt my mother, Father Jay. God forgives, right?"

Christine was in tears. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Alexis. But I didn't know he killed my dear Jeromy." She looked up, whimpering, "please, please don't harm them."

Suddenly, the phone rang.

Everyone stopped, even Father Jay who still held the knife to Christine's throat.

The phone rang again. Craig swallowed and looked around, moved one arm from Tabitha's waist from where he held her against him, and plucked the receiver from the phone very slowly.

Craig looked directly at Father Jay and swallowed. "It's for you." Craig listened for a moment and then said very quietly, "If a man shuts his ears to the cry of the poor, he too will cry out and not be answered." The phone went dead in his hand.

Father Jay sneered, "you fool. Who do you think that is?" He still held the knife to Christine's neck, and withdrew an Apple Newton from his hip pocket. "I didn't spend all these years planning, bugging this house, with phone taps and lipstick cameras just to be insulted and foiled by my own daughter and lover who gave up my child of God."

Christine gaped, still aware of the knife, finally seeing the symbolic link. "He," she looked at Alexis and then Father Jay, "was the father of your baby?"

Alexis frowned, "he raped me just like he raped you, mother."

"He loved me," Christine whimpered.

"He's evil," Alexis returned.

Father Jay's voice took on a very dark tone. "That's right, you bitch. Both of you. Did you really think that these phone calls from God were saving you? They have damned you all. Each of you has a secret that you can't let out. Christine, the faithful wife, has an illegitimate child by the village priest. Her daughter becomes pregnant by the same priest. Do you honestly believe anyone will listen to you? The only thing they will know is that you are the sinners and are blaming God for your pains."

Craig stood up, motioning for Tabitha to stay on the ground. "But you're not God, Father Jay."

"Stay back," Father Jay said, pulling Christine back against his leg.

Tabitha felt about in her pocket and pulled out her keyring with the taser on it. Sitting on the floor where she had fallen to, she pulled at Craig's sleeve for his attention, well out of sight from Father Jay.

"Father," Craig said again with a gulp, reaching down to take the taser from his fiance.

"What," Father Jay sneered again, moving the knife away from Christine's neck to drag her further away from the others.

"The person on the phone also said, 'you shall have no other gods except me.'" Craig held the small taser tightly in his palm and released the safety.

Father Jay looked momentarily perplexed, "it wasn't supposed to say that."

Craig extended his arm and fired the Taser. Father Jay immediately tried to cut Christine's throat but fell limply to the ground before his brain had time to process the command.

"It also said it didn't like being impersonated," Craig said. He then fainted dead away.

Christine spent the following years in the same sanitarium Alexis had spent so much time in. She would not have been able to cope with the invasion into her private life and spirituality had it not been for Alexis' support. Alexis, Tabitha, and even that Craig would visit her every weekend.

Alexis later confided in Tabitha that she was told by the psychologist that the student who made the discovery received a strange, anonymous phone call that directed him to a discrepancy in Alexis' record. When the police had removed all of the cameras and taps from Christine's house, where Alexis, Tabitha and Craig were living, they found a box of letters between Christine and Judas Archibald.

It was left as a matter for the record that Judas John Archer, aka, Judas John Archibald, had died ten years before, and that though it was proven Alexis' father was Judas Archibald, the Uncle of Christine Wolfe, Father J. Archibald failed to match any genetics or blood tests.

Craig never did tell anyone that the phone call he accepted that night wasn't from the Church, but from an unknown cellular service, and the only thing the voice said was, "let there be light."

Copyright Stephen W. Cote and Ann Lynes
Used with Permission

writers@mcint.com
Last Updated: December 9, 1995