Melissa Foster: Chasing Amanda

Eventually, Rodney released her, and Pastor Lett landed with a thud. Rodney moved like an excited child, his hands wriggling at his sides, his feet marching quickly up and down. The jeans he wore were baggy at the knees and bunched around his ankles, as if he were wearing someone else’s clothes, though his shirt was tightly stretched across his enormous chest and fleshy stomach.

Pastor Lett put her arm around Rodney’s waist. Rodney’s eyes grew wide, spying Molly, and he pushed out of his sister’s grip and approached Molly with an enormous grin. In the flash of a second, he swooped her into his arms and lifted her off the ground, laughing, “Molly find girl!” His jubilant voice boomed, ricocheting off of the clouds. Pastor Lett came to her rescue, pulling on Rodney’s arm, urging her release. “Ma?” Erik yelled. Cole looked at Pastor Lett expectantly. Rodney continued to spin, and Molly thought she might be sick. “Rodney! Put Molly down!” Pastor Lett demanded. Betty hurried to Molly’s aid, “Rodney Lett, you put that girl down right now,” her voice left no room for negotiation.

Rodney stopped, mid-spin, and lowered Molly toward the ground. She stumbled, dizzy, and lowered herself to the safety of the still ground beneath her. Rodney stooped next to her, his brown eyes open wide, concerned. Betty and Pastor Lett had their hands on Molly in seconds, insuring that she remain on the ground. “Molly hurt?” Rodney asked nervously. “I’m okay,” Molly said in a whisper. She eased herself up to her feet. Rodney rose to his feet and locked eyes with Molly’s. “Rodney hurt you?” he asked sheepishly.

Molly reached out to Rodney and put her hand on his massive arm. “It’s okay, Rodney,” she said, forcing a smile. “It was fun. I’m okay.” She watched the smile spread across his face. “Molly like it?” Rodney asked in his husky voice. “Yes, Molly like it,” she nodded. She gave Pastor Lett and Betty a look that said she was alright. “Erik?” Rodney asked simply. Molly nodded toward her son. “Erik,” she confirmed, “and my husband, Cole.”

Betty was flawlessly efficient, serving turkey sandwiches and fruit and ensuring that everyone had a substantial amount of food, drinks, and properly-set silverware. She and Molly had a comfortable conversation about how long she’d been caring for Rodney, which, it turned out, she’d been secretly doing since two months after he’d been beaten. Their secluded property had provided the perfect cover. She was cheerful yet proper, sitting with knees bent and her legs crossed at the ankles and jumping up when Pastor Lett could not reach the salt, passing it to her promptly. It was evident that she was a natural caregiver and seemed to enjoy every aspect of it. Betty excused herself to get something from the kitchen, and Molly watched her hustle into the house.

Rodney ate voraciously, as if he hadn’t eaten all day. Pastor Lett chided him, “Slow down, honey. Your food isn’t going anywhere.”

Rodney immediately slowed his chewing to a waltz as opposed to a samba, watching Molly out of the corner of his eye. Molly whispered, “I eat fast, too,” which made him laugh out loud.

After lunch, Rodney insisted on showing Molly his bedroom which had windows on two sides and dark-colored sheers parted to let the sun shine through. Molly hardly recognized the room from the last visit when it had been shrouded in darkness. She walked in, expecting the Knowing to find her. She felt nothing unusual. “What a beautiful room, Rodney,” she said. Pride filled his eyes.

Suddenly, Rodney darted out of the room as quickly as his large body would allow. He thumped up a flight of stairs, hunching over to avoid hitting his head. Molly, Cole, and Pastor Lett followed him into the quaint, finished attic. There were toys scattered about, and one corner had drawings tacked up on the wall. Molly turned questioning eyes to Pastor Lett. “This is Rodney’s playroom,” she whispered. Molly lifted her chin toward the drawings. Cole came to her side, “Please, Molly, tell me they mean nothing.” She laughed and snuggled into his side, “Don’t worry. I don’t feel a thing.” Rodney rushed to the stairs, startling Molly. “Rodney go. Find Erik.” They found Erik and Rodney in the backyard. Rodney stood with his back to the house, his eyes locked in a gaze with Erik’s. “Rodney?” Molly asked. “Are you okay?” Rodney did not answer. She moved to Erik’s side. “Erik? What’s wrong?” Pastor Lett moved protectively to Rodney’s side. “Mom,” Erik’s voice was strained, “I kind of still feel the guy.” She turned and looked at Rodney. “Rodney?” “No, another guy,” he shifted his gaze to Pastor Lett. “What’s going on?” Molly asked in Pastor Lett’s direction. Pastor Lett looked down. Erik did not. “It’s her, Mom,” he said. “Pastor Lett,” Molly said, in confusion, “what the hell is going on?” Pastor Lett stepped forward, holding Molly’s gaze. “I need to show you something.”

Pastor Lett walked with Betty, speaking in whispers, just ahead of Molly, Cole, and Erik. Newton and Hannah were already inside the Perkinson House, and she was thankful for their presence.

“You’ve done a lot to this house in a day, Pastor Lett,” Molly said with feigned interest. Erik hurried around her, toward the rear of the house. Pastor Lett nervously followed him, ignoring Molly’s comment.

“Molly,” Pastor Lett said nervously as she neared the rear of the house, “how long has Erik had visions?”

“Why do you—” she turned to follow his gaze and saw Erik kneeling at the cellar doors, his palms flat against the cold metal. “Oh my God!” She ran to his side, leaving Cole a few steps behind. Pastor Lett registered Newton’s fleeting footsteps rushing toward them. Erik’s hands appeared frozen to the cellar doors. He looked over his shoulder at his mother, his eyes pleading with her. Molly kneeled next to him, her hand on his back. “It’s him,” Erik said, his eyes falling back down to the cellar doors, the lock.

“Who?” Molly laid her hands on top of his. “My God,” she said under her breath. She looked over her shoulder at Pastor Lett, anger in her eyes. “How could you?”

“Molly, it’s not what you think!” Pastor Lett said quickly. She had hoped that she would have been able to explain before Molly found out on her own.

Newton moved swiftly between Molly and Pastor Lett. “Molly,” he said, “Pastor Lett’s done nothing wrong. Please, let her explain.”

“Let her explain why there’s a man locked in a cellar? Newton, what are you thinking?” she said angrily. Her eyes fell back to her son, who appeared to be unable to move from his kneeling position.

“What the hell is going on?” Cole demanded, seeing the fear in Erik’s eyes, the anger in Molly’s. No one moved or answered. “Erik?” Cole rushed to his side, then looked directly into Molly’s eyes. “Molly?”

“There’s a man in there, locked in.”

Cole’s eyes met Pastor Lett’s, cold and angry, filled with rancor. He lifted Molly to her feet, then took Erik by the shoulders, and with all of his strength, and all of his tenderness, he lifted him back, away from the cellar door. Molly rushed to Erik and wrapped her arms around him. Erik stared straight ahead, as if his mind had somehow been damaged by the scene. Cole confronted Pastor Lett angrily. “Open it!” he demanded. Pastor Lett could not speak, she was in a state of panic. “Open the goddamn door, Pastor!” Cole yelled. Newton came forward, trying to calm the situation, “Cole, please, before this gets worse, please let us explain.”

Hannah, hearing the noise, came running onto the back porch. “What is going on out here?” She took in the scene: Erik, shivering and enveloped in his mother’s arms, Cole, angrily confronting Pastor Lett, and Newton, soft and small, standing between them, trying to make peace.