The Curse of 1977 (Book 2)

Chapter 19

Charles sat inside the quiet office of his former church waiting patiently while viewing the walls that at one time bore all of his personal property. From one end of the small office to the other he carefully studied until his eyes met up with the middle of the floor.

Charles sat and stared at the grimy carpet where a small chair once sat. In the chair was a young man that Charles once knew; a young man that he spoke so fondly to one Sunday morning a time ago.

The man scratched at his growing, grey beard. He wore his jacket that smelled of aging sweat, while his dingy, white undershirt underneath stuck to his chest. His corduroy pants looked as if they hadn't been pressed in weeks, while his shoes still wore the dried up dirt stains of his ill-fated trip to the country.

Charles remained in his seat, still looking down at the middle of the floor with a drooping bottom lip. All he could hear was his son's voice speaking to him. It didn't matter what he was saying, as long as Isaac was talking, Charles could keep the image inside his head.

The office door abruptly opened, behind it appeared Mr. Hawthorne, who with a bible in hand, also wore a vexed frown upon his light-skinned face.

Charles immediately pulled himself out of his trance before sitting up and paying absolute attention to Hawthorne who sat down behind his desk and placed the bible in front of him.

"I found it in the janitor's closet, of all places." Hawthorne said while pointing at the bible. "Brother, do you know how it even got in there?"

Shaking his head from side to side, Charles replied with a grin, "I can't even begin to imagine."

"Well, it's yours." Hawthorne smiled back before gently shoving the book towards Charles.

Charles reached and retrieved the bible. He sat back with it and ruffled through the pages. "It looks like it hasn't been damaged at all."

Hawthorne sat and thoughtfully stared at Charles in the most pitiable way. The man folded his hands and asked, "Charles, aren't you hot?"

Taking his eyes away from his bible, Charles waved his hand saying, "Nah, I'm fine."

Hawthorne then sat back in his chair. "Did you know that Sister Woods' granddaughter had her baby last month?"

With a simple smile, Charles replied, "No, I didn't. That's good."

"Have you heard from Lynn and the baby lately?"

Charles leaned over in his seat and sighed, "No, Lynn is out there somewhere. All I can do is pray for the child."

"Well, she is grown; I guess she has to find her own way in the world."

"Yeah, I reckon so." Charles groaned.

A deafening silence lingered all around the men like dense fog. The longer it was quiet, the less Charles could think of something to say.

"We got a few new members last month, too." Hawthorne mentioned from out of nowhere."

"Well, praise Jesus for that." Charles mumbled with a humble grin.

"We were gonna try and have our picnic last Saturday, but—

"Was I wrong for sending Isaac to that hospital?" Charles unexpectedly asked.

Hawthorne sat with a paused appearance written all over his face. It seemed as if the question were offsetting to him, considering the paleness his face took on at that moment.

"Brother, I...I can't answer that for you."

"I can't answer it either." Charles' head hung.

"You have to understand, you just up and left everyone."

Sitting back, Charles said, "I didn't know what else to do."

"You could've stayed here with your flock. We were all here for you."

Charles sat and looked back at the middle of the floor for a moment before turning back to Hawthorne.

"I just feel like something left me."

"How do you mean?"

Charles folded his arms. "I feel like when Isaac was taken, something was taken from me as well. And I'm not talking just about him physically, but...something departed from me." Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

"What do you think that something was?"

Charles waited for endless seconds before saying, "My tongue won't let me speak it."

Hawthorne sat back and sighed, "Well, you certainly didn't leave me with a very easy job when you left. You never told me how difficult being a pastor would be."

Charles looked at the man with a sharp eye and said, "You've been my friend and deacon for over seventeen years. How could you not be prepared?"

"Man, you never told me about all the people in need that would be coming to me for all kinds of help." Hawthorne giggled. "I had one young man ask me to help him fight some gang a couple of months ago. Do I honestly look like I can fight?" He pointed at himself.

Both men just laughed for a while before coming back down and settling. To Charles, just having the opportunity to joke, albeit briefly, was like hearing a favorite song from long ago; it felt good for a moment until the tune faded.

"You should've never left, Charles." Hawthorne seriously stated at Charles.

Charles just sat and looked at the man in frozen time. His stare was locked on the pastor until a knock at the door erupted.

"Come in!" Hawthorne said out loud.

From behind the door appeared an older, black lady with some papers in her hand. "Good afternoon, Pastor. I have those minutes from the—

The woman paused at the sight of Charles' presence. Charles stood to his feet and stepped forward to the woman only to have her back away slightly.

"Sister Mary." He smiled. "How have you been?"

Appearing dismayed, Mary pressed her thin lips together as tight as she could before replying in a cold tone, "Fine. She then turned back to Hawthorne. "These are the minutes from last Wednesday's prayer meeting."

"Thank you, Sister." Hawthorne said as he took the papers and placed them down onto his desk.

Charles watched with a heavy stomach as the woman simply turned, without taking another glance at him, and walked out the door.

"Well...I'd better be going myself." Charles murmured with a cotton mouth.

"You don't have to leave so soon, Brother."

"Yes I do." He turned to Hawthorne and extended his hand for a shake.

But rather than shake his hand, Hawthorne instead grabbed Charles and pulled him in for a healthy hug.

"You need anything, just let me know." Hawthorne whispered into Charles' ear.

As the two released each other, Charles stood back with his bible in hand and said, "I need for God to speak to me."

With that, Charles walked out of the office and through the sanctuary that lead to the front door.

As he carried on through the peacefully quiet area, he felt something tap him on the shoulder from behind. Charles immediately stopped right in the middle of the floor, in between the aisle of pews. He wanted to turn around, but he knew better. Instead, he simply ceased his every movement and listened.

There was a presence along with him inside the sanctuary. He had felt its weight time and time before. Amidst the ominous silence, he was completely surrounded. It was such a dreadful feeling that the man wanted to drop to his knees which were already trying to buckle beneath him. But he stood strong until he was eventually able to at least turn his head to his right to see a person standing down at the altar.

It was an old woman adorned in an all snow white dress. Her hair was totally white, as was her face that looked as if it were dipped in white paint. She was waving back at Charles in a delightful manner while smiling a mouth full of blood-stained fangs at the man.

Something inside of him wanted to scream out loud, but Charles was aware that such an action would have been futile. The old hag just waved in all her ghastly glory before Charles' legs found the will to move.

The man turned around and stormed out the front entrance. He didn't even check behind him to make sure the double doors were shut all the way; he just persisted in moving as fast as he could to his car.

Slamming his bible onto the hood, Charles whipped his car keys out of his pants pocket before a person came trotting out from behind the vehicle as if they were hiding.

Out of instinct, Charles swung around with both of his fists drawn before he recognized the individual.

"Lynn?" His eyes lit up in surprise as his breath left him. "Child, what are you doin' here?"

Shaking with her arms outstretched, Lynnette carefully approached Charles. "I...I saw your car here." She timidly stammered. "I just happened to be in the neighborhood."

Charles stepped towards the woman and embraced her as hard as he could; Lynnette returned the gesture, only her hug seemed to feel even more aggressive, as though she didn't want to let go.

Politely prying himself away from her grip, Charles looked down at her and asked, "How...how are you doing, sweetheart?"

"I've been better." She meekly replied.

With just one glance Charles could tell otherwise, but he also realized that he himself wasn't too far from judgment. A swelling of pity dropped deep down into his gut. For the first time in months he took his own anguish and set it aside.

"How is Isaiah doing?"

"Uh, he's fine." She hastily answered. "Look...I need to talk to you."

The two just stood in the church parking lot gazing at one another in the strangest manner possible. He couldn't speak for Lynnette, but Charles was at a complete loss for words on so many levels. He was elated to see her, and frightened all at the same time.

Clearing his sore throat, Charles smiled and said, "Of course you can talk to me. Get in on the other side."

At once, Lynnette carried herself over to the passenger side of the car. The second Charles closed his door a burst of heat immediately struck him across the face. However, it wasn't heat from the temperature, but rather that of emotion. He hadn't forgotten what he experienced back inside the church, but with Lynnette's sudden appearance from out of nowhere, an outpouring of panic overwhelmed him to where his feet began to tremble ever so slightly. There had to be a link, he thought to himself.

The man cut on the ignition and pulled out and onto the road. He made sure to roll down his window first before suggesting the same for Lynnette.

The moment she rolled down her window, Charles said, "I've been trying so hard to reach you these past few months."

"I know, and I'm sorry." Lynnette sighed. "My parents can be overbearing at times."

"Don't be sorry, I understand." Charles modestly replied before taking a quick glance at the young lady. "So...how have you been all these months?"

It took a moment before Lynnette finally said, "I've been better. Just working and stuff."

"I bet Isaiah is getting real big by now." Charles smiled from ear to ear. "I sure do miss that little scratch."

"Mr. Mercer, I really do need your help right about now." Lynnette desperately looked over at the man.

Promptly, Charles withdrew his smile and asked, "What's the matter, child?"

"It's...it's my mother. She's been acting real strange lately."

"What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know for sure. She's just talking really weird and...

Charles looked over to see Lynnette simply trail off and away as though her mind had been transported to another planet.

"Lynn, what's wrong?"

"Huh?" She shook back awake. "I'm sorry, I just got lost for a second."

Charles drove down the road while trying his best to keep his eyes off of the young woman the best he could.

"I don't quite know how to tell you this, but...I don't think I'm the right person to help your mother."

"Why not," Lynnette looked at the man.

Exhaling, Charles replied, "I haven't pastored since March, honey. As a matter of fact, I don't do much of anything these days. And as you can see, I'm a little worse for wear."

The car in which both individuals were inside was quiet for a while. The sound of rushing wind blowing by was as loud as being next to an airplane's turbine. Charles tried in earnest to lose himself within the

noise.

"Did you hear about the animal attacks these past few days?" Lynnette feebly asked.

"Yeah, I read about it in the newspaper. I'd still like to know after all these months how Isaac was able to escape the thing and not all these other people. But I guess—

"Please...stop talking about him." Lynnette began to whimper.

Charles looked over at the woman with a worried look on his face. "Honey, I didn't mean to upset you." He gently reassured. "All I can say is that...I'm so very, very sorry for what happened. I never got the chance to say that to you."

Bursting out into uncontrollable tears, Lynnette said, "I don't have anywhere else to go! I wanna leave this city and just run away!"

Seeing a gas station only a few yards ahead of him, Charles pulled the car inside and parked. He then touched Lynnette on the shoulder and asked, "What about your parents' house?"

Wiping tears away, she answered, "I can't go back there. I can't go anywhere!"

Charles' entire face began expunging so much sweat at that instant that he had to wipe his eyes every two seconds.

"Are you sure you don't have anywhere else to go?"

"No." Lynnette wept while shaking her head from side to side.

Out of weariness and worry, Charles dropped his head for a minute before looking back up again.

"Then why don't you come with me for a while, until we both get some things worked out."

Still wiping her face clean, Lynnette looked over at the man and smiled before wrapping her arms around his sweaty neck.

Charles wanted so badly to pull away from her, but her warm arms actually felt so good snaked around his skin.