John Saul - The Right Hand of Evil

"Ellie, you look lovely," Father MacNeill said, reaching out to take both her hands in his own. "I swear, if I weren't a priest you could positively turn my head!"

Ellie felt a flush rise on her face, but pleasure turned to embarrassment as her son spoke.

"What's going on?" Luke demanded. "How come you're all dressed up?"

Before she could reply, Father MacNeill turned to Luke. "We're going to the meeting. Perhaps you'd like to come along."

Luke's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What meeting?"

"To protest the permit the council's considering issuing to convert the old Conway house into an inn."

Luke's expression hardened as his gaze swung accusingly back to his mother. "That's a bunch of crap!"

Ellie's shocked eyes flicked toward Father MacNeill. "Luke! Don't use that kind of language in front of-"

"I'll say whatever I want," Luke declared, his voice rising, his eyes flashing angrily. "Just because you don't like Jared is no reason to-"

"It doesn't have anything to do with Jared Conway," Father MacNeill broke in. Luke swung around to glower at him.

"Bullshit!" he said. "You got it in for Jared same way as Mom does. What the hell's going on?"

"That will be enough, Luke!" Ellie's cheeks burned with shame. "How dare you speak that way to Father MacNeill?" She turned to the priest, her hands playing nervously at the buttons of her dress. "I'm sorry, Father. Ever since he started hanging around with this Jared person-"

"He's not 'this Jared person'!" Luke broke in, his voice trembling with anger. " You don't even know him!"

"I don't have to know him," Ellie said, doing her best to keep her own voice under control. "I know he's a bad influence on you, and that ever since he came to town, you haven't been the boy I raised!"

"Maybe I don't want to be 'the boy you raised,'" Luke shot back, his voice mocking his mother's words with mimicry. "Maybe I want to be whoever I am! Did you ever think of that?"

"I just want you to be the best person you can-"

"No you don't!" Luke flared. "You want me to be whoever Father MacNeill thinks I ought to be. You think I don't see how he runs us? All I ever hear is Father Mack says this and Father Mack says that! So now you're gonna go down and make a jerk out of yourself in front of the whole town, just 'cause Father Mack says so? Jesus!"

"How dare you?" Ellie flared. Her temper snapping, she took a step toward Luke and struck him across the face.

The sound of the slap silenced the room like a shot, and for a moment not even a breath was drawn. Ellie, her hand stinging, froze, and her eyes flicked toward the priest.

Luke's eyes narrowed to slits as he took in his mother's glance, his fingers touching his face where the mark of her hand was already starting to show.

Father MacNeill instinctively took a step back, as if somehow to distance himself from what had just happened.

"That's right, Ma," Luke said, his voice so low it was no more than a rasping whisper. "Hit me. Hit me, then look at Father Mack to see if it's okay." His eyes fixed balefully on the priest. "What about it, Father?" he asked, his voice injecting venom into the priest's appellation. "Did she do all right? Did she do what you wanted her to?"

"I'm sure I can't countenance violence under any circum-" the priest began, but Luke didn't let him finish.

"Don't give me that! You think I don't know what's going on around here? It's Jared! You don't like him, and Ma doesn't like him, and Sister Clarence doesn't like him, and Father Bernard hates his guts. You think I don't know that? You think Jared doesn't know it? Well, guess what, Father? Jared's not going anywhere!"

"This has nothing to do with Jared," Father MacNeill replied. The careful neutrality he always tried to maintain when talking to any of his flock had started to crack under Luke's onslaught, and his voice took on a chilly edge. "Although it's obvious his influence on you has not been a positive one. And it isn't just your mother and I who object to the Conway house being turned into a hotel. There are many people who agree with us."

"Not 'us'!" Luke hissed. "You! And I'll bet every single person who agrees with you goes to St. Ignoramus, right?"

"Luke!" Ellie cried, again stepping toward her son, her right hand rising reflexively.

"Don't!" Luke told her. His body quivered with fury as he glowered at her. "Don't you dare hit me again. And don't you go to that meeting, either! You hear what I'm saying?"

"Your mother is free to go anywhere she wishes, young man," Father MacNeill admonished Luke. "And I will not tolerate your speaking that way to her. 'Honor thy father and thy mother that their days may be long'!"

"I don't have a father!" Luke raged. "My father's dead, remember? You're not him." He wheeled on his mother once more. "If you go to that meeting, I hope you get hit by a truck!" Turning away, he stormed toward the front door.

The silence that fell in the living room as Luke slammed the door behind him lasted longer than the one that had followed Ellie's slap.

"He didn't mean it," Ellie finally breathed. "He didn't mean it at all."

Father MacNeill, though, wasn't so sure. To him, it had sounded as if Luke Roberts meant every angry word he'd uttered.

Every single one of them.

"Mommy! Wanta see!"

Janet lifted Molly out of the stroller and held her up so she could see the people milling around in front of Town Hall. Why had she let Ted talk her into bringing Molly? What possible interest could a meeting to discuss a zoning variance have for a sixteen-month-old? Still, what choice had there been? She'd called five possible baby-sitters, but by the time she talked to the fourth one, she knew the search was futile. Two of the girls hung up when she told them who she was, and the other two had excuses that sounded so flimsy, she was sure they'd made them up on the spot. Only the last one had been honest enough to admit that there wasn't enough money in the world to get her to spend even a few hours alone with a small child in "that creepy old house."

"Jared can take care of her," Ted suggested, but Janet shook her head, surprising herself at how quickly she'd dismissed the suggestion. And she stuck to her position, despite Ted's arguments, though she could not bring herself to voice her growing mistrust of her own son.

Mistrust.

How could it be that in the few short weeks since they'd moved to St. Albans, the implicit trust she'd always had in Jared-the certainty that she could always count on him, even when Ted had been at his absolute worst-had completely eroded? And yet there it was. So many little things, slowly accumulating like the tiny trickles of water that eventually merge together to form a mighty river. None of them particularly serious taken individually, and all of them easily explainable. Certainly Ted had explained them to her over and over, reminding her that Jared was almost sixteen and starting to stretch his wings.

Of course he wouldn't spend nearly as much time with his sister as he used to. Of course he'd value the privacy of his room in the basement. All boys his age start testing the limits of authority at school. And at home. Janet had listened, unable to argue, since everything Ted said made complete sense. Yet nothing he'd said, none of the reassurances he'd given her, had counteracted the cumulative effect of all the small changes in Jared's personality.

She no longer trusted him.

Where once she'd felt nothing but a mother's normal surge of love when he came near her, now her guard went up and she felt herself tense.

The same way it used to be with Ted.

She stopped short, realizing that it was a perfect description of how she felt. It was as if all the traits she'd hated in Ted-which had vanished since they moved to St. Albans-had transferred themselves to Jared!