Leaving Angelus

By Steve Fenby

The Jennings family is like many others, until a boy living at a salvage yard is taken in as a new member of the family. As the boy's light grows brighter with the gift he's been given, eyes from another room grow cold, sending them on a course to destroy the newly adopted intruder that has stolen the family's love. Their lives explode on impact, shattering all they've ever known. Ten years later a dark, resurrected fate is pulling them back. Good and evil have returned to finish what they started. This is the story of all things lost and found. Of love and hate, faith and the unfaithful, of dreams and dreamers. Yet most of all, it is the timeless story of escape.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steve Fenby
• Release date: Apr 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301111848

Steve Fenby

I grew up in small towns. Sometimes they didn't have any more than a little general store on the main road. When the surf was up on Lake Michigan, it was riding the waves. Dirt roads, trails, rivers and trains led you to a new adventure just beyond the next turn. There is a limitless imagination that can live in a place that seems so empty. Today I live outside the city in a small town once again. As a husband, business owner and writer.

Book preview

1

Winter was holding onto March like an angry bear. Beyond the lights of town the wind swept snow over empty hills like a white dust over the land of a strange and distant planet. The ground crunched and squeaked under my boots as I walked home from shoveling Mr. Field's driveway. He was usually pretty cranky and his house always smelled like cabbage from the door. In the beginning that's as far as I wanted to go inside. But he always gave me five dollars, even if it seemed painful for him to give up the money. My parents said I should help out Mr. Field, as he was old and didn't have a young man's back anymore. The first time I knocked on his door I was scared. It looked like he probably ate kids like me every night for dinner. I came to know he just pretended to be mean all the time. That previous summer I was with a friend, talking like boys tend to talk, standing around the corner from the Five and Dime. As I told him how smelly and mean old Mr. Field was, an unnoticed shadow on the wall turned and walked toward the street. It was Mr. Field. He got into his car alone thinking no one had noticed him and began to cry. I started to think maybe I'm the only friend he has and maybe he's not so mean, maybe he's just sad. He never said anything about it and I think by the time I showed up to mow his grass the next week we were ok. We even gave each other presents come Christmas. He had one under the tree that he handed to me when I knocked on the door with his. I gave him a video of It's a Wonderful Life and he gave me a season's pass for the train that ran from Angelus to Logan. It was a great present. I think we were friends from then on.

I took the usual short cut through Mrs. Murray's backyard and looked in on Madeline her old hound dog, but the igloo-shaped doghouse was empty. As I went by I could see Madeline was safe and warm inside, intently watching a show on TV. Beneath the slow deserted swing of the streetlight above the intersection, I could see our church. Pastor Lincoln Mordel's blue Ford sedan was parked in back alone and the church windows were a dim red glow. We went to church at least once a week, often times three or four depending on the time of year. There were fund raisers, special musical guests, vacation bible school, field trips, community out-reach, prayer meetings, holiday potluck and more. It was a pain.

The tips of my fingers were starting to sting from the bite of a cold winter night. The front door of the church was usually kept open until dark and then locked to keep out any mischief. The side door was, in a way, unlocked. Even though there was only a metal plate where the handle would be, someone that was forgotten long ago had designed a crude yet effective means of access. I took the twisted piece of metal from the ledge over the door and slid it between the door and its frame. Piece of cake. I took off my gloves and let the warm air of the church begin to thaw my hands. I had been inside after hours before, never to really do anything bad, there was just something about the strange quiet there at night when it was empty and dark. Sometimes it scared me, but sometimes it felt like the safest place in the world. I really don't know why I went in, maybe to rest a while and warm up or maybe it was simply to be some place I wasn't supposed to be, whatever the reason, I went into the chapel. I was there only a minute or so it seemed, when I heard Pastor Mordel and what sounded like Mrs. Mordel coming from inside the office door behind the curtain of the baptismal pool. It was the kind of pool where the person to be baptized is dressed in a white gown and taken into the water to their waist then laid back until they are totally immersed. The wall around it was decorated with a scene of an oasis emerging from the dessert and curtains that could be drawn together from each end but were always left open, except for tonight.

The voices beyond the door exchanged a few arguing words and then suddenly stopped. For an instant I stood motionless in the aisle by the window, and then the door behind the curtain opened. I had to run or hide, giving myself up was not an option that I wanted to face. So I crawled under a pew and prayed. I figured it couldn't hurt. I watched the feet of my judge and jury as they slowly moved down the center aisle looking for the unexpected visitor. The next row was mine and this is where he stopped. Pastor Mordel's pale, gaunt face appeared to burn a deep red from the dim light through the windows. His pupils filled the sockets of his eyes, and looked as black ivory reflecting an ocean of shifting embers. He was looking right at me. I wanted to cry out, I was so terrified. I wanted him to speak so as to seem like only a man, or better yet by some miracle of fate to remain unexplainably hidden so he would just go away. Just as I felt the sweat on my face turn to ice, he turned and walked away. Pastor Mordel went back to his office. I only heard two words from the other voice behind the door beyond the curtain before it fell silent, it was as if he had covered her mouth and pointed to the aisles of the dark and empty church. The light went out in his office. He locked the door behind them, and then left through the back. I stayed quiet in my hidden place, until I built up enough courage to make my move to the door where I came in. I pushed it open just enough to see outside and the cold March air howled through like something begging to come in. I slipped through the door hitting the frosty air, quickly putting distance between my ambitious feet and the church. Pastor Mordels's car was gone and his house was without a flicker of light. Without thinking I powered straight away from where I'd been, ignoring the fact that this wasn't my way home. A car pulled up beside me.

William.

Dad!

Need a ride?

Sure, thanks.

My dad was coming home from work just outside of town. I was so glad to see him. We talked about silly stuff, like how ice fishing sucked and how Mr. Pemgree had decorated his hardware store window with a giant basket spilling light bulbs and a sign that said, Your Place for Spring Ideas. By the time I was home I had all but forgotten earlier events. It was just so good to be home.

2

Three months had gone by since that night at the church and Pastor Mordel never missed a beat at the pulpit, and boy did he beat pulpit with a vengeance. But today we would be going to the church for an occasion of the first order, my oldest sister Peggy was getting married. It had been a rocky road for Peggy and Jeff, but ever since he proposed she was going to have this wedding come hell or high water.

The house was an ebb and flow of people. We didn't have a small house, but with us kids, two dogs, six out of town guests and my parents, we were over capacity. This of course was not counting the well-wishers, passersby, vendors and other help for the reception that was to immediately follow the service here at the house. With the tents up and all the cars, you would have thought the biggest event in the county was on the edge of taking place.

Jeff had been married before, but that ended in a rather abrupt manner when he was caught over at the Palace of Pleasure getting more than his lap danced by his regular purveyor of carnal treats, Palace of Pleasure headliner Chimera Love. That was two years ago and my dad had long ago showed Jeff his gun collection and had the talk. Peggy kept him on a pretty short leash. She was an unusually fastidious woman, but then again, she was an absolute knock out to boot. She was my sister, and I even thought she was the prettiest girl in Sander County. It looked to some as though she had landed the prize; his family owned half of Angelus and what they didn't own they were working on, to complete the profile, Jeff was an only child. So Peggy had the whole thing mapped out. Oh there was going to be a family, but she wanted more, a lot more, and usually found a way to get it. I loved Peggy. She was always kind to her pesky little brother. She made me feel smart when I felt like a dummy, she could make me laugh when the world hated me, and she stuck up for me. I was proud of Peggy and would do anything for her. So, even though half of Angelus thought Jeff was of questionable character, just about everyone had confidence in Peggy.

It was time. I hopped into the last car to the church. My dad was at the wheel with Uncle Frank by the window and my brother Walter sandwiched in between. I sat in the back with my aunt Mary and my other sister Penny. Peggy was the oldest at twenty-one, then Penny sixteen, Walter fourteen and that's right, me at twelve.

I hope that girl knows what she's doing. I've heard too much about this guy and most of it points to less than God fearing ways. You know how Peggy is, she's just plain stubborn like someone else I know (my dad flashed a look in the rear-view mirror). I doubt that man knows the first thing about being a husband to Peggy. She's not a dancer you know. I can just see that little thing now, staying up waiting for an excuse from a two-timing man. It makes a woman old before her time you know. Clara Demone, you know her, out on Dexter road, they found her mumbling in her robe rocking on the sofa staring out the window waiting for that dog Herman. No one could tell for sure how long she'd been in that very spot…, went Aunt Mary until a voice came from the front seat.

Aunt Mary, could you turn off the gas coming from your mouth before we all choke from the fumes, said Uncle Frank.

Thank you Frank, said my father without as much as a turn of his head.

Frank just nodded and Aunt Mary sat mute stewing in her juices. I sat as close to the door as I could, ready to pull the handle and bail from the car. But before I could hide my free hand from Aunt Mary, she grabbed it with both of hers for consolation, along with the soggy hankie she'd been using to wipe various leakages from her rhubarb face. I pulled with all I could short of being out right violent but to no avail. I measured the injuries I would probably incur by jumping out of the car, and just as I chose great bodily injury from the pavement just outside the door, the church was in sight. We stopped, I bailed. Straight to the bathroom I ran, soaping my hands twice at the sink before remerging. My sister Penny was by the door to the church with a look of half empathy and half delight at my misfortune. I probably would have felt the same way.

The church bell began to ring; it was time for Peggy and Jeff. The church was all dressed up like a giant cake. I had been there for weddings before, but today was different. Never had there been this many people within these walls. I hadn't seen my mom all day; she had been busy with the countless details of such an occasion. When she finally emerged, she looked wired, tired, happy and sad all rolled up into one. My dad went to my mother and gave her a kiss and a smile that said I still love you. I hoped that Peggy and Jeff would be so lucky. The music began and the procession ensued. I had never seen Peggy and Jeff like I did that day. I knew I was losing part of my sister, but she looked so happy, and he looked as though he wanted to keep her that way forever.

A blizzard of rice seemed to pour from the sky as the royalty for a day came through the doors and down the steps of our church. In an instant they were swept into their limo and driven away. Everything around me seemed to go on without me, as if I was watching from the top of the steeple, high above all the lives that knew where to go. It was as if part of me had to grow up, but I didn't want to come down from my point above.

Back at the house the party rose with a steady swing. The day was as grand as could ever be for Peggy's day. Her guests laughed and danced under a canopy of blue until the sun warmed the other edge of the world and the stars spread themselves across an eternal sky. I thought of saying my goodnights and goodbyes to a few, but through my tired eyes I decided nobody would miss it. I walked to the side of the house heading for the stairs that led to my room.

I need a hug from you Will, said a voice from behind me out of the dark.

Peggy!

I ran into my sister's arms as she knelt on the grass. All my love for her went into that hug, I didn't want to let go. Finally, she gently pushed me away and held me in front of her. Her worried, tear-filled eyes looked right at mine as she spoke.

Will, promise me something. Never let go of that kindness that lives inside of you, remember, even if you think it's lost, I'll know it's still in there. I love you Will. If you don't come see me, you'll break my heart.

She kissed the top of my head, let me go and ran to Jeff waiting in the car. With a last wave she was gone. I lay in bed that night and imagined her in a place far away, a place where she would always be happy, and then fell into my dreams.

3

After everything was stacked, folded, rolled up and picked up from the wedding the night before, I followed the railroad tracks into town. Summer was finally here.

The old steam engine only ran on the weekends now. It had been preserved by the City of Angelus and Mr. Emery, the long-time engineer, conductor and general authority on trains. Mr. Emery was busy sprucing her up for the Fourth of July, but it was still going to run on time for Sunday afternoon's ride to Logan City. It was about an hour before the whistle blew for all aboard and the train would pull out of the old station downtown.

The fourth was three weeks away but the town was already bustling with preparation. This was the biggest thing all year for the town. People came from far and wide for a celebration that lasted the entire week. There were events of every kind imaginable including the big parade, huge fireworks and of course the carnival.

Our little town was big enough for most, but never enough for the others. You'd hear people complain about the big city, as well as hear them dream of it. Newcomers from the urban world were viewed by some with suspicion, yet for others they held a sort of metropolitan celebrity, although this perception was generally held by that of the younger citizens of Angelus. Most youths felt these transplants represented a world they wanted, but only saw on a TV screen or heard people talk about. The rest of the town was filled with all the various colors of personality that you might expect to find on your street, then again maybe not. I didn't really understand why some needed to believe that the grass was greener where the ground was mostly cold and gray. I liked our town. The tree-lined streets, the river that ran lazily under the Main Street bridge, the movie theater, the ice cream at the coffee shop, the fountain in town square, all that stuff.

Having some time to kill, I went into the drug store to get a pop, and was stopped cold just inside the door by who I saw at the counter. I felt all funny, kind a like when you go over a steep hill really fast in the car and your stomach takes an extra second to come down. I hadn't seen Baily since last summer and seeing her now made me feel all warm on the inside and cold on the outside. I had to do something. Should I duck back through the door or should I walk right up to her and ask her what she's having? It's not like we weren't friends last summer. I even held her hand the day before her family left to go back home last year. So it's not like we didn't have a past. I had to ask myself, what are you gonna be, a man or a mouse? The fact I was neither was beside the point. I had to make a decision, otherwise I might be suspected of some sort of hanky-panky as I lurked behind the sunglasses display. Somehow I found a fearless bone in my body and stepped toward the soda counter.

Hi Baily.

Hi Will, she said, as her little face lit up with a big smile that made me melt.

As soon as I sat down next to her, any plans I had of being cool vaporized. Yet somehow I managed not to say anything stupid, although I think I forgot every word I said the moment I said it for the first five minutes.

Hey, I was going to Logan on the train today. Do you want to come? It'll be my treat. What do ya say? It only takes a couple hours round trip and that's with an hour in Logan.

It waited with my fingers crossed thinking there was probably no way. She asked me to wait for a second and went to use the phone. While I waited, everything went in slow motion, the cars outside, the waitress wiping the counter, the second hand on the big neon clock above the mirror. Finally, the call was over. She was coming back. I couldn't tell what happened. The suspense made me teeter on my seat. I took a sip of my Coke and braced for the answer.

Ok.

So off to the station we went. I was a foot off the ground all the way. Mr. Emery was my friend and when he saw me coming with Baily I could tell he was going to play up my V.I.P. status.

I see you've brought a very special guest today William. I wonder if the young lady would like to blow the trains whistle for all aboard?

Her eyes went wide and she bounced ever so slightly off her feet, nodding yes with a smile. The look on her face when the sound of that whistle skipped though the air in every direction, was a face that I never wanted to forget.

The ride to Logan seemed like dream. We pointed and laughed at all that went by our window on the way. I wished that ride would never end. The train rocked and clacked its way along, through the forest and across the fields, with the sweet air of summer all around. We went to the little Zoo in Logan and I pushed her on the giant swings in the park until it was time to go back. Our return was quiet contentment as Baily laid her head on my shoulder and looked out the window. I think a part of me fell in love with her forever that day.

We pulled into the station at Angelus on time and climbed out of our car onto the platform. Then I walked Baily home, it wasn't far, her family had a summer cottage on the river ten minutes from town. You could walk with the water all the way there. When she saw her house our hands let go and she ran towards her yard. Halfway she stopped and turned with a beaming face and waved goodbye.

Even though I'd been with Baily most of the afternoon, I felt more than alone walking back to town. I didn't stop when I crossed the road to the station; I just followed the tracks toward home. I replayed the scenes of the day in my head as slow as I could and tried to picture what she was doing, as if I could fly above her house and see. I thought of the days ahead and how we'd be together, what we'd do and where we'd go. I could think of not a single care.

The next day was filled with family errands and chores, but on Tuesday I was free after lunch for the rest of the day. So after grilled cheese and tomato soup, I walked the tracks into town. Across the park and down to the river I went, excited to see Baily's face, remembering the way it looked when she last said goodbye. I got to the edge of her yard and stopped, somehow their cottage looked different today. I shortened my steps and searched for a sign of Baily. Finally I stood at the front door and listened, but the house didn't make a sound.

They left this morning Will, called a voice from just across the street.

Mrs. Thompson walked toward me as I stood on the doorstep. My heart sank so fast I had I catch my breath. Her old weathered face looked so sad under the shadow of her straw hat. I could say nothing as I met her at the side of the street.

Her parents had a big fight Monday night and today they all left. Your friend Baily snuck over and gave me this, hoping maybe I'd see you around here.

She handed me a letter size envelope. I took it and managed to say thank you. As I walked away, I held the envelope in front of me. My name was slightly smeared, as though it had caught the tears of my little friend and she had tried to wipe them away. I knew that there would be more tears inside. I opened the letter.

Dear Will,

My mom and dad don't like each other anymore. I think they thought that if we came back to Angelus that it would remind them of a time when they were happy and then maybe we could be happy again. It didn't work. We are leaving this morning to go back to the city. I know I'll miss you more than I've ever missed anyone. At least we had our own happy day.

Your Friend Always

Baily

I read it over and over again as I walked, wiping the tears away that blurred the world.

4

I dragged around my heavy heart and kept to myself for two days after Baily's letter. Finally, I rode my bike over to the Jones Salvage yard to visit with my friend Tyler. He had called the day before and I didn't want him to think I was mad at him for anything, plus I knew that being around Tyler would help me forget my woes. We were about as different as it seemed you could get. He was sort of a scrappy, wiry kid and strong as an ox although you'd never guess it by looking at him. Things had never been very storybook for Tyler, especially since last year. His father Rumford was coming home late one night from a card game in town and thought he passed his wife going down Old Route 10. It was dark and he'd had a few, so he passed the car off as someone or something else. When he got home the only one left in the house was Tyler. I knew things were bad sometimes over there. Some nights when things got too crazy, Tyler would run from the house and hide somewhere deep inside the acres of that graveyard of broken glass and rusted steel. Beneath the blue streaks in his words and those eyes determined never to cry was a voice that talked of a place he had to believe in, a place where things were different. Tyler and I hung out a lot. He liked to come