Heaven (new version)

chapter 8: wasteland

Saint Agatha's stood out like a pearl upon a wasteland of dirt. The building was newly painted. Its wooden exterior shone pristine against the early morning sun. Pitiful yellowing flowers whose heads hung like crucified Jesuses sprouted from the ground. Patches of grass sat lifeless among the dirt. With every step Father Caleb took, dust was kicked up. The land was dry and brittle and had caused many of the farmers to lose their crops this year. Some blamed the fact that Hally's Beauty Parlor used too much aerosol hairspray, some blamed that damned strip joint, and those who stood on the tightrope of faith blamed God.

"You all did a wonderful job in restoring Saint Agatha's," Father Caleb commented as Delores and he entered the church. "It surely doesn't look as though it's been empty for a whole year." Casting a look around, his gaze reached a far corner of the building, one a mortal would not have been able to see from such a distance. Inside a veil of shadow, a little black spider was spinning a web.

"Too long, if you ask me," Delores commented. "We did try to get other priests to come, but no one wanted to. It's like we're cursed." She furrowed her fuzzy brows. "I know what it is, it's that horrible club, Father." Then she added in a hushed tone, "It's where most of the citizens of Heaven go on Friday and Saturday nights. During the weekdays, folks are good as gold." She nodded as if agreeing with her own self. "Come the weekend though," Delores clutched her chest as if she was going to have an attack. "They all go there to..." she lowered her voice even lower, "sin."

When Cal raised a brow, Delores elaborated. "Club Purgatory is Heaven's local..." she tried to say the word, but though her lips moved, sound did not come out.

"Bar?"

Delores' eyes went wide. "Oh, no. If only. There is alcohol there, of course." Then she added in a dramatically pained whisper, "God save us all." Taking a breath, Delores looked at Cal and spoke normally again, "It is a place of ill repute. Forgive me for being blunt, Father Caleb but it is a stripping club. There are disgusting people there taking off their clothes for money and God knows what else they may be doing."

Touching her arm gently, Caleb frowned. "Some women must do what they must do to make ends meet. We shall not cast the first sto –"

"Oh, no, Father," Delores cut him off with a waggle of her index. "It is not women. It is men. And men go there to watch the other men take off their...their... Good heavens, I can't even finish my words sometimes when I discuss that place." Looking like she would faint, she planted herself in the nearest pew and began to fan her face. "I do not cast stones. It's simply a matter of fact. God would agree with me, a God-fearing woman, wouldn't He?"

When his thoughts took over, Cal wilted into the pew next to Delores. Here we are. Two terrible people pretending to be holy. I'd be an asshole if I were to judge like she's doing. Not because I am a priest. But because I am a killer. "I do not judge and neither should anyone else," Call said softly.

Ignoring him, Delores Cullen went on. "In the months before Father Lucas died, there were only a couple of handfuls of people coming to church. Everyone else was too full of that cheap alcohol they serve at that disgraceful place to be able to wake up and attend mass as good Christians do." Sighing deeply, she took a handkerchief out of her pocket and wrung it anxiously. "I was always at church, as was my husband before he passed, and naturally, Travis." Lifting her hand, she began tallying people off as she named them, "The Delanys were always here, all five of them. James Cooper. Sara Green and her sister Louise. Joel Patterson and his great-aunt Marsha." Delores stopped, huffed, and added, "And that dirty black person."

At that moment, Caleb wished she hadn't offered to show him around the church because at that moment he felt like striking her.

Father Cal was a tolerant man. He was forgiving and kind for longer than he wanted to be at times. But there was always a line people crossed that tested his tolerance. It was at these moments he truly wondered how he did not kill these dreadful horrors cast upon society and bury them in the woods. My sins keep repeating, he thought bitterly before shaking his dark thought away. "Delores," he said firmly.

Lifting her watery gaze to him, Delores slapped her hand over her mouth and mumbled, "I didn't mean to say that out loud." Lowering her hand a touch, she spoke in an embarrassed hush, "He's a dancer at Purgatory but he was here every Sunday singing and praying. He knew he was not welcome so he always sat in the back where we could not see him and those garish outfits of his. But we knew he was here. We did not want him because he works there, not because of the colour of his skin. People of all races are welcome as long as they are like us."

Caleb wanted to shake his head because he realized she was not as good a Christian as she thought. But as a priest, all he could do was offer pathetic counseling to any confession and if that didn't work, tell the sinner how many Hail Marys to say. There were some days when he wished he could tell certain people to fuck off. This was one of them.

"Anyway, Father," Delores let out a little laugh, "we're good people here. Good Christians. We have been hoping and praying for a decent preacher to come and lead us into God's good word again." Lifting her gaze to him, she pursed her lips into a thin smile. "You are a good man, Father Caleb, I know. Deep in the marrow of my bones, I know a good man when I see him. I'm a very good judge of character."

All Cal could do was nod. He knew he was neither good nor a man – not a human man anyway. But he had been lying for so long, there were actually days he believed. If only a bit.

Looking to the far corner where the spider danced around her web, Caleb felt his heart take a slow beat. God was in this building, regardless of Delores and her venomous tongue. Turning to the altar he vowed that anyone and everyone would be welcomed into his church. It did not matter how much a sinner they were. He would turn no one away.

Rising, a faint smile feathered his lips – it was all he could manage after what he heard. "If you don't mind, I'd like to spend some time alone here." When Delores looked crestfallen, Caleb added, "To get to know the church better. Familiarize myself with everything," Delores opened her mouth but before she could utter a syllable, Caleb quickly said, "by myself if you don't mind," but Delores made a funny sound like she was going to object. To shut her up, Father Cal said, "Sister, Delores."

"Oh, my word." Breaking into a wide smile, Delores nodded and rose out of the pew. "Yes, of course. Shall I get Travis to pick you up in an hour? Show you around town before tomorrow's sermon?"

Putting his hand on her shoulder, Cal felt bile rising in his throat. "No, thank you." Directing her gingerly to the door, he opened it and took his hand off her arm only when she was outside. "I appreciate all you have done and I will see you tomorrow."

"Bright and early, for church" exclaimed Delores happily.

Caleb nodded, "Bright and early." Then he closed the door, leaned his head against the frame, and swore under his breath.

* Fun fact: Aerosol hairspray was a big bad thing in the 80s. This is why I mentioned the beauty parlor. We all later began to use non-aerosol which was like watery glue and sucked.