Keohane, G. - Solomon's Grave

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Vincent hovered near the gravesite, but not so close as to look impatient. He would make no move to lower the casket until the lead cars in the procession had rounded the far curve out of sight.

Waiting gave him time to calm down. He didn’t like people asking him questions about anything not related to work. Then Dinneck asked about the men’s club, of all things. The timing of the kid’s question so soon after Quinn’s visit was troubling. Still, all Dinneck wanted was information. To help his father. It bothered him. Vincent thought of his notebook. His notes were his own; they were between him and God. Let Dinneck get his answers somewhere else.

Still, last week the young preacher had reacted oddly when he saw John Solomon’s grave ( Entries “816” and “817” he thought reflexively)—and now this.

The cars moved on, rounding the corner and passing out of sight. Vincent carefully pulled away the Astroturf to reveal a small winch at one side of the hole. He offered his own prayer for Mister Gipson, then slowly lowered the coffin. He worked steadily, but was unfocused. He thought again of his notebook. He did not like it when so many entries crossed paths.

Chapter Twenty

“I still think he might not be ready.” The gray-haired woman leaned against the kitchen counter and took a long sip of tea. Ralph Hayden knew that Gabby Zawalich had more to say on the matter than that single statement. The pause was simply a way of collecting her thoughts. Gabby was one of the few parishioners who still referred to Hillcrest Baptist as “the new place.” Most younger adults in the parish were too young to remember a time when the church wasn’t here. Gabby and Hayden’s wife had been as close as friends could ever be. After Jean’s death, the woman standing in front of him had taken it upon herself to be Ralph’s self-appointed guard dog. She was also one of the church elders, the only one who continued to express reservations about their newly-appointed pastor.

Hayden waited, hands loosely clasped behind his back. The few remaining mourners sat on Karl Gipson’s living room couch, pouring over a yellowed photo album spread across the lap of his daughter. They took turns pointing to pictures and relaying stories about the man.

No sooner had Nate Dinneck excused himself and returned to the church to finish the paperwork, than Gabby ushered Ralph into the kitchen. He knew what was coming.

“It’s not that I don’t think he’s technically qualified, mind you. His grades in school were exceptional, and Reverend Burke couldn’t say enough good things about him. Emotionally, though, given his age....”

“Gabby, Sunday shook a lot of people up, but honestly I think his little ‘spell’ was an aberration. I haven’t seen anything since to worry me.”

Her teacup was a delicate china piece with intricate roses etched along the lip, now with a blotch of red lipstick. She placed it on the counter atop its saucer.

“All last week, Ralph, he seemed so, I don’t know, distracted. You must have noticed.” She cast a quick look into the living room and lowered her voice. “First Art stops coming, won’t talk to anyone about it, not even Beverly. Now Nate has that episode during the reception. I don’t want to start comparing the sins of the father to—”

“I wouldn’t call Art taking some time off for personal reflection a sin, Gabby.”

She waved her hands in front of her. “I know, sorry. If that’s what it’s about. But you’ll be leaving Monday. Do you really think Nate Dinneck is ready to run the church on his own? I’m serious,” she added when Ralph was unable to suppress a grin. “Another incident like this weekend’s and I won’t be the only one wondering if....”

She hesitated again.

Ralph’s smile faded. “Wondering what?”

“If we hadn’t made a mistake in choosing him. It’s a big move for someone so young, so much going on with his father and all.”

Ralph took Gabby’s small hands gently into his. He gave them a squeeze. “Honestly, I think he’ll do fine. I’ll stay in touch while I’m at the monastery. If I sense anything wrong, I’ll cut my visit short and move back to town a few days early. You have the number. Call me any time you want.”

She nodded.

“Then let’s keep this between us, for now at least. Give Nate a fighting chance. Don’t forget that when I came to town I wasn’t the flawless specimen of liturgical perfection standing before you now.”

She smiled. A good sign.

He said again, “Nate’ll do fine.”

He wondered, however, whether he really believed that himself. Dinneck had been less distracted this week. There would be bumps. No one should expect otherwise. It might take some time, but they had plenty of that.

He squeezed Gabby’s hands again and together they returned to the living room to rescue Karl’s daughter from the photo album.

Chapter Twenty-One

Nathan stood at one end of a massive blue room. Like the walls, the ceiling and floor were also painted a bright, sky blue, with no clear delineation between them. Looking too long in one place made him dizzy. The sole object in the room anchored his vision. The door. It stood opposite him, painted black, twice as big as any door should be.

He squeezed his hands into fists and thought, Not again. Please. No more nightmares .

He knew this was a dream, or maybe another waking vision like he’d had on Sunday. He didn’t remember going to bed, couldn’t recall what he’d been doing—before this room appeared.

Something pressed into his left palm. He opened his hand, saw the key. Like the door, it was the right shape but oversized, a child’s toy rendition. There was no door knob. Rather, the keyhole was built into the black wood where the knob should have been. Light shone through it. Wherever the door led to, it was bright. Another room? Outside, maybe.

He turned around. Maybe he could walk out of this dream of his own free will. He had expected to be paralyzed, rooted to the blue floor, but he was able to turn. There was no other door. Just a wall. It might have been blue, like the others, but he could not tell.

It was covered with monsters scrabbling along its surface. Ugly, horrible things, some brown, others white with red splotches, others still darker or stained green. They had two arms and legs, or only one, or four, or six. He stepped back. They swarmed over the wall like wasps on a hive. Their heads were pocked, scarred, misshapen. Some of them had the distinguishable features of eyes and noses, other less identifiable orifices. All of them, though, were wrong . They were terrible, misplaced. And laughing.

They were laughing at him.

As a group, they scurried to the floor, flowing like mud around and behind him. The now-exposed wall was streaked with grime, smelled of old garbage and excrement. Nathan dropped the key and covered his face. As he sank to his knees, he felt their horrid presence pass by but never touch. They were too close to him.

“ Nad ei tohi seda võtit saada! ” shouted a woman’s voice. The voice was young. He didn’t recognize it. “ Nad avavad ukse! ”

She must have been speaking to him, but what she said made no sense. The language sounded familiar, maybe Russian. The voice was urgent.

He pulled his hands away.

One of the creatures from the wall stood less than a foot away. Its brown and yellow face was malformed, looking like it had been pounded out of clay by an angry child. One milky eye considered him for a moment; then the bottom of the face split. More rotten garbage smell. It had opened its mouth to make more of that laughter-noise. Two chipped teeth were visible before it closed again and the thing reached down and grabbed at something in front of Nathan. It moved quickly and with the caution of a dog snatching food from its master’s plate.