The Book of Samuel

CHAPTER FOUR

Death of God

Sam was distracted at the family dinner because he was anxious about his fathers' dinner guest. He knew the "cop" wasn't a local deputy or Goldendale police officer, and he wondered if OD was in some kind of trouble. The possibility that Jerry was in trouble didn't occur to him.

Even Markie, who had never before sat at the large table with almost the whole tribe, saw that her best friend was unusually quiet. His grandfather tried to draw him out occasionally, and Sam would join the conversation for a few minutes only to subside into reflection again.

As the kids, including Markie, were cleaning up after dinner, Marshall cornered Sam and suggested they duck out for a few minutes. Sam looked up from drying dishes and saw that things were under control. He hung up the dishtowel and made his way to the back door where he waited for his cousin. The two walked in silence toward the closest outbuilding. When they reached the building, Marshall slid down, sitting with his back against the exterior wall. Sam found a place to sit across from him. The air was cooling as the sun began to set — as much as the air ever cooled in Goldendale summers. The few clouds, tinged with orange from wildfires burning farther east and north, made the deepening blue of the sky starker.

An outsider looking at them wouldn't have guessed that they were from the same family; one of them was dark and the other fair, though both were about the same height. Their body language, however, betrayed long familiarity. Although Sam thought this discussion would be uncomfortable, he regarded Marshall and JT as brothers with advantages. They were as close as brothers, but he didn't have to live with them. Sam looked up from the point on the ground where he had been staring to find the inquisitive eyes beneath the blond curls of his cousin.

The plan for his talk with Marshall evaporated in confusion about his cousin's sexuality, his own feelings about Markie, and his worry about his grandfather. To him nothing seemed simple this summer, and he felt like crying, but knew that crying would do no good.

Taking a deep breath, he started as far from the central issue as he could. "Do you think JG is okay?"

He hasn't been okay since Grampa died, but he doesn't seem any worse to me than he ever does. I mean he jokes around and has a good time with us. Sometimes he seems happy. JT is more sensitive to the sad part than I am, maybe because he's here a bit more often to see Grandma Vi as well."

"The three of us should talk about seeing if we can kick-start his social life."

"Oh, I'm not sure that's a good idea at all. Dad told me that some losses you never get over. No one can replace Grampa."

Now the irritation that had been building in Sam erupted. "I know that, Marsh; you don't have to treat me like an idiot. It wouldn't hurt him to meet someone else even if he never has another great love. Your attitude really pisses me off sometimes."

Now Marshall looked as if he might cry. The edge of crying is a terrible precipice for thirteen-year-old boys, and an unspoken agreement to help each other avoid falling over that edge formed. Sam sighed audibly, and lightly touched the bottom of his fist to the top of his cousin's thigh.

"Geeze, Sam, sorry. What's really bothering you? You've been acting weird since you got here. I've never seen you so on edge before, and why are you so pissed off at me? Does it have anything to do with your dream?"

"No. The dreams are just strange." He told Marshall about both dreams and how the dreams had characters that Grampa had written but never published — in writings he had never read.

"What characters?"

"Prithvi and Agni. Agni's face was exactly like pictures we've seen of Samuel Marshall."

"Well, you're right. That's plain strange."

"The dreams say I'm supposed to keep some promise and repair a brotherhood. When I said I didn't have brothers, Agni said I was a fool."

"And, you don't have any idea what he meant?"

"No." Sam couldn't avoid the most important question any longer. "Are you into Markie?"

"Is that what you think? That's why you're so pissy?" Only Marshall's smile prevented Sam from responding more angrily.

"She's obviously interested in you," Sam said sullenly.

"She seems nice. But, I think she's more interested in you." Sam wondered at his cousin's statement. Both his and Marshall's perceptions of where Markie's interests lay seemed to fit the girl's behavior just fine.

"Marsh … are you gay?"

Marshall laughed loudly. "Shit, I don't know." Then he said much more quietly, "I don't think I'm straight, though, either. How about you?"

"So far, no sexual feelings for other boys. So, are you confused or bisexual?"

Marshall laughed again. "You should talk with Uncle Lucas and Uncle Jerry about categories. For a bright kid, you can be dense."

"Have you ever tried to talk with a scientist about categories?"

"Hey, you have an artist there, too, but I suspect Uncle Lucas is the harder one to talk to."

"No, not exactly. He answers any questions I have, except he won't share most of his early life." Then he voiced his greatest fear. "I wonder when he'll get sick. I don't think I'll do well when that happens."

Marshall scooted away from the wall and moved to sit beside Sam so that they both faced the wall. He put his arm around his cousin. "Maybe he won't get sick."

"He will … I know." In a breath's time, Sam thought of life's certainties — safety, food, shelter, clothing, love of family, all of which OD had not known until he was Sam's age. Sam himself had never struggled to survive. He knew he wasn't, like his father, injured and interesting. All this he thought in the time it took to gulp in a single portion of air, and then the tears came. Marshall used the arm around Sam's shoulder to pull him in tight. Shuddering, Sam cried, "I don't know what we'll do without him."

Marshall knew better than to try to fix what couldn't be fixed. He just hugged his cousin, trying to imagine how he would feel if his father were ill.

#

On the following Sunday, Agent Kesh waited outside the Brothers in Grace Church until he saw the man he needed to talk with. Kesh was a broad-shouldered man of thirty-five who wore a dark suit and whose head was shaven. He approached the slightly obese man he had identified from a photograph. Jeremy Foster, his hair thinning and his waistline thickening, looked like a high-school athlete gone to seed.

Ted Kesh walked up to Jeremy, extended his hand, and said, "We heard some powerful preaching in there this morning."

Jeremy was unsure of what to say because he couldn't remember meeting the man who addressed him. "The Word of God should be music to our ears."

"I especially admired the remarks on abortion and homosexuality."

Jeremy relaxed a little. "We believe in the inerrancy of God's Word. God has been very clear about the dangers of homosexuality and the agenda of homosexuals."

"Yes, He has indeed. I'm visiting your town, and I understand that you have a number of openly queer residents."

That comment elicited a wandering diatribe about fags raising children and their evil influence — influence that had convinced many gullible people in the community that their chosen lifestyle was legitimate. Kesh could see the anger rising in the man and realized that the issue was deeply personal for him.

Jeremy asked the agent, "Are you born again in Christ?"

"I'm a Latter Day Saint."

"Oh. Well at least you got your views on fags right. You know there's an LDS church a few blocks up." Jeremy started to turn away. He wasn't sure whether Mormons were much better than fags.

"Oh, I know, but I need to talk with you for a few minutes if you have time." He pulled out his credentials and held them toward Jeremy. "I'm Agent Kesh with the Department of Homeland Security."

Jeremy whipped around and looked closely at the credentials. "Homeland Security? Why do you need to talk with me?"

As Agent Kesh replaced his credentials in his back pocket, Jeremy caught a glimpse of the Glock 22 in the agent's hip holster. "Just a few questions. Shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes."

"Where do you want to talk?"

"Your house might be convenient." Kesh wanted to see the inside of the house and would only be able to do so if invited.

"All right, I guess. I'm in the F-150; you can follow me."

The trip to the modest home took only ten minutes, and, after parking on the street in front, Kesh followed Jeremy inside. Kesh had noticed Jeremy's lack of a wedding ring, and the inside of the house looked as if no female lived there. He stood until Jeremy indicated that he should sit in an upholstered chair, while Jeremy sat on a sofa. "You said you had questions."

Ted opened his portfolio and pulled out photographs of the same two men that he and Chertov had shown to the sheriff. "Do you recall meeting either of these two men?"

Without looking at the photos very carefully, Jeremy said, "No. I've never met either of them."

Kesh leaned forward in the chair and fixed Jeremy with a calm stare. "Look, Mr. Foster, these guys are suspects in a terrorist plot, and it would be very unfortunate if anything were to happen and you were connected to them."

Jeremy did what he had done his whole life. He was strong when confronting someone smaller or weaker, but when someone stood up to him, he lost all courage and folded.

"Okay," he said, pointing to one of the pictures, "that one came out here a couple of months ago, and I met him at a church function. We got to talking, and he asked about the collection of fags across US-97. I told him about the queer doctor and his queer son and their friends, and I told him about how they import a bunch of little fags every summer."

"Is that all that you told him?"

"I told him some of the places they usually go and when they usually showed up."

"Did this guy say why he wanted that information?"

"He just said that people have to make a stand — that white heterosexual male Christians need to take our God-given place as leaders."

"And, you didn't think that was a threat of terror?"

"Not in so many words."

"Did the guy say whether or not he was a member of any organization?"

Jeremy thought about lying, but then his fear got the better of him. "Some group in Vancouver — National Socialists or something."

Rising from the chair, Kesh extended his hand to Jeremy. The warm handshake was a message that Kesh shared many of Jeremy's views, a message that couldn't be quoted by anyone later. "Thanks, Mr. Foster. I appreciate your honesty. I'll show myself out."

When he was in the van, Kesh pulled out his phone and dialed his partner. "Hey, this may not be a goose chase after all. Let's talk at your hotel."

#

As Kesh rode to his meeting with Chertov, Lucas and Jerry, over an early lunch, resumed the discussion of how to manage the visits next week of the kids from the center in Portland. Lucas was convinced now that the threat from the religio-fascists was close to zero. "I think we shouldn't change our plans. The visit is a big deal to the kids, and I don't want to send a message that they should hide every time some assholes spout off."

"You know I'm a little more cautious than you, but you're probably right about this. Why don't we walk over to Jim's and talk to him, North, Annie, and the Js?"

Lucas smiled, nodding to Jerry, and headed for the door. On the walk over, they noticed Sam and Marshall side by side facing the wall of one of the barns on Jim's property. Marshall's arm was around Sam's shoulders. The distance prevented a clear picture of what they were doing. Jerry said, "I wonder what that's about."

"Life, love, and brotherhood, I suspect."

"Markie?"

"Probably. Let's leave them to it." He and Jerry agreed that life is a series of sorties that should be made from a strong base. The base was the parents' concern, and within reason, the sortie adventures were the concern of the emerging adult. Lucas especially understood that while trying to keep Sam from pain would make his and Jerry's lives quieter, doing so would stunt the boy.

As he often did, Lucas reached for Jerry's hand, and they walked quietly to the house where Lucas had lived until he found his way to California.

Inside, the grownups gathered in the formal living room to discuss next week's visitors. North and Annie now helped out at SMYRC, as did some of their graduate students at Portland State. Frank Gerard, a psychiatrist who had helped both North and Lucas and was a mentor to Jason as he did his psychiatry residency, was still on the board of the Center although he had retired from his practice. He would be out to do some therapy gardening when the visitors came.

From the hum of the general discussion, North pushed them all to business. "We're settled on four, then?"

Among the nods, Jim said, "I want to bring one of the kids from Celilo over." Celilo was the cancer treatment center at Mid-Columbia Medical Center in The Dalles where Jim still did pro bono work occasionally.

"Is he very ill?" Jonathan asked.

"Yeah, he is, but I understand we'll have a pediatrician and an oncologist around."

"Okay, point taken. How's his immune system?"

Lucas interjected with a grim smile, "No worse than mine, I suspect."

"Maybe a little worse, Luke," Jim said. "Unfortunately."

North asked, "How old is he?"

"Fifteen. He identifies as gay, not that it matters here."

"Is he likely to survive the cancer?" Jonathan asked.

"No. I've talked with his mother, and she'd like him to have some fun now before he can't later. He's out to her but not to his father. I told them that I'd discuss inviting him with you all."

Jim looked around the table and saw every head nod. "How about if he stays with us here?" Annie asked.

Lucas laughed. "You think he'll need mothering?"

"Hell, yes, and a place to find some quiet if he needs it."

"And you think he'll be able to find quiet with Vee in the house?" Jonathan asked.

Jerry added, "The others will be at the hotel; probably a good idea to have …" He looked to Jim.

"Armin."

"… Armin stay here. Jon will be close at hand at Vi's, then."

North concluded, "Anything else we need to discuss?"

These week-long visits were designed to give the kids experience in a rural setting among people who valued them and many of whom were like them. Frank Gerard had long ago pointed out that kids couldn't strive for what they couldn't imagine. Originally, Tom, Jim, Vi, and Jason, along with North, Annie, and Jon, had provided an example of what kind of lives could be achieved by gay and straight people of conscience: lessons in struggle and love. Above all, being in Goldendale meant that the kids didn't have to look over their shoulders; they were safe here, and they could relax and have fun.

#

At the Quality Inn in a ground floor room facing US-97 Chertov answered Kesh's knock on the door and invited his partner on the assignment in. Chertov was in shorts and a T-shirt since he was through for the day, while Kesh wore a dark suit, looking every bit the Mormon Elder that he was. Kesh's unremitting devotion to the Church increasingly irritated Chertov as did Kesh's deep well of self-righteousness. Still, the younger man had to admit that Kesh did his duty. He motioned Kesh to a chair and sat on the king-size bed. "What'd you find?"

"I talked to Jeremy Foster, who admitted contact with Markham. About a month ago, Markham was out here asking questions about the good doctor and his family."

"And I suppose Mr. Foster shared whatever he could with the lunatic."

"I'm afraid so. Markham and Short know when Doctor Jansen, his family, and his guests will be here and have a general idea of their itinerary for the visit."

"How would you proceed if you wanted to attack Jansen or his family and visitors?"

"Given his resources, I think Markham or both of them are already here. If I were them, I'd camp until I was ready, but not in an improved campsite. Too many people could identify them in a busy campground. Then I think, given their backgrounds, limited resources, and this location, that they or one of them will stage a medium or close-range sniper attack."

"I agree. We should brief the sheriff and the tribal police and ask them to keep an eye out at out-of-the-way camping areas. Maybe we'll get lucky. In the meantime, I'll try to talk some sense into Jansen, and we'll have to keep a closer eye on him."

"Jeff, sometimes I despair at the kind of people we have to protect."

"What? You can't be serious."

"Yeah, yeah, I know he's a genius, but he's a queer, and I don't care what he does for the military, he shouldn't be allowed to teach and practice his lifestyle openly."

"So, we should just let these nuts kill him?"

"Of course not. If I have to put my body between him and a bullet, I will. I'm just saying that the 'nuts,' as you call them aren't entirely wrong in their beliefs about homosexuals."

Chertov swallowed his initial retort before speaking, instead simply stating, "If you have a problem with carrying out the mission, I want to know that now."

"You know me better than that. I'm going to get some rest." Wondering what bug had gotten up Chertov's butt, Kesh left the hotel and began the drive across the river to his motel in Oregon.

Chertov phoned the sheriff and gave him a briefing on his partner's conversation with Jeremy Foster and asked him to check unimproved camping areas when manpower permitted. Mark Morgan agreed to liaise with the Tribal Police agency and suggested that he would deploy less-formal surveillance of the wilderness areas around the city.

"Please tell anyone who spots either of these two not to do anything. Just report the sighting to you, and then you report to us. We'll get a game plan together. The sooner we locate Markham the easier this will be."

The younger Homeland Security agent thought for a moment about the mission. His assessment of the mission had changed when his partner had confirmed that one of the homegrown terrorists was present in the area. He knew that Kesh assumed that apprehension of the nut was the endpoint. His definition of the endpoint had changed. He wouldn't hesitate to take Markham and Short out if circumstances allowed. Whether or not they succeeded this time, they would feel encouraged to try again.

He didn't mind people spouting off about his sexuality, but when they took up arms, he would treat them as the amateurs they were, and he wouldn't subject himself to internal moral debate. He knew that some people thought that this definition made him no different than Markham and Short, but he knew that simply wasn't so.

#

Jon and Jason planned to pile all the kids into two vehicles on Saturday for a trip to what was left of Adams Glacier the week before their guests were to arrive. The traditional family gathering would take them up to Divide Camp at the base of Mount Adams — Klickitat — where the younger generation had camped since they had to be carried up the trail.

On Friday, as they were trying to get everything in order for the trip the next morning, JT ran into Vi's house, looking very much like a horse that had been ridden hard.

"Fire!"

Jon told the boy, "Calm down a minute. A fire? Where? What kind of fire?"

Still a bit breathless and seeming to have seen the end of the world coming, JT tried to give them the details. "A forest fire. I was over at the restaurant when the fire trucks went out. I ran all the way back. It's north and east of here. Come out — you can see the smoke!"

Jon was immediately worried about the other buildings on the property as JT grabbed Jon's hand and pulled him from his chair, leading him to the back door. As Jason, Jon, and the boy stepped from the mudroom onto the ground between the farmhouse and the outbuildings, the smell of burning wood was heavy on the swirling east wind in the afternoon air. A cloud of mostly white smoke filled the sky to the northeast of their property. The amount of smoke was impressive, more than the adults had seen before from the fairly frequent small grass fires over the past few summers. Fire, if it took hold in the dry environment, could put everyone out of house and home.

Jon told JT, "Go over to Turing House and see what's going on with Sam and the others there. If they need help, call us. Ask your Uncle Lucas to ride out a little to see where it is and where it's heading."

Jason put a hand on JT's shoulder. "I'll go with you and ride out with your uncle." From his experience growing up with occasional fires in the area, he was most concerned about the houses to the north and the monastery of St. John the Forerunner, a Greek Orthodox cloister and monastery close to the highway north of town. Looking to Jon, Jason suggested, "Take a drive over to the fire station and see what you can find out, will you?"

Jonathan left for the driveway, saying, "I'll let you know what I find out."

As JT and Jason started to walk over to Luke's place, Jason called Jim by cell phone. "Are North and the crew there?"

"No. I'm not sure where they've gone."

"Take a look out your back door and then call them, will you? I think they should get back as soon as they can."

Jim had apparently made his way to the back yard. "Shit!"

"After we check in with Lucas and his crowd, I'm going to ride out with Luke to see what's going on. Ben and Rodrigo might need some help. I'll let you know. Getting Mama to stay put is going to be a chore. Could you come over and stay with her?"

"After I get ahold of North and Annie I'll head over. You two, be careful out there."

The party that mounted and rode toward the smoke numbered three; Vi had insisted on coming along. Leaving JT to await the others, the three headed toward the east end of their property where they met Ben and Rodrigo who had all the hands available getting hoses ready to attach to the irrigation pumps. Vi asked Ben what he thought.

"I think we're all right. The wind is pushing the thing more north than east, and I don't think the wind will change enough to do us any damage."

Vi's relief was clear. Lucas went to Ben and Rodrigo and hugged them both. "Thanks for taking care of our home."

Lucas was surprised at how deeply he identified with this place and how rattled he'd been at the thought that it might burn. Leaving Ben and the hands, the remaining four rode out north to see if they could determine the size of the fire. Riding first steadily east until they thought they were on the upwind side of the fire, they turned north and followed the edge of the burn. Occasionally, a swirl of wind would extend the fire east for a few feet, but its steady progress was to the west and north. They could hear the crackling and loud popping of evergreens immolated as the fire burned away from them. In half an hour they knew that this one had already consumed hundreds of acres.

When they were satisfied with the scouting expedition, they stopped, and Rodrigo thought aloud, "I think St. John's is going to have a bad time tomorrow if the firefighters can't control it."

Jason said, "We'll see if the fire bosses or the Mother Abbess need help tomorrow. I think they have about twenty nuns in the cloister." As he thought about it, Jason made a decision. "It'll be better to have Mama make contact."

"I'll go over tonight and see her if she has time. The winds will die after sunset, but tomorrow could be a hard day, and the bigger fire crews won't begin arriving until tomorrow afternoon. We all should get some rest."

They turned back, Rodrigo returning to the fields. When they arrived at Vi's place, they found the rest of the youngsters waiting, along with Jerry, Jim, Jon, Annie, and North. JT ran up to the still-mounted riders. "Where have you been? I was worried."

Jason told his son, "Let's get the horses settled, and we'll talk about what we found while we groom them."

JT yelled back at the others, "Come help with the horses, and they'll tell us what they found."

Everyone walked with the dismounted riders to the horse barn and pitched in to remove the tack and curry the animals. As they worked — Lucas wearing his usual N-95 respirator — Jason related the details of the ride, including the size of the burn and their concerns about the houses and the monastery.

Annie volunteered to go with Vi when she went to talk with the Mother Abbess. Vi thanked her and suggested that Vee and Markie come along as well. "We'll make it a female delegation."

Vee rankled at the suggestion. "Those Byzantine idiots think my uncles are the embodiment of sin."

Vi rejoined, "Vee, we don't withhold help from a neighbor whose house is burning because we disagree with his religion."

Vee, never one to back down, even from adults, softly replied, "God's will, don't you know?"

Vi smiled at the girl. "I admire your spirit, and I don't think it's a mean spirit, so if you don't want to go, that's fine." Vi thought that of all the grandchildren Vee was the most like her Uncle Lucas and his mentor, Samuel Marshall.

Grumbling, Vee said, "I'll go, but if one of them starts in, I'm not going to be polite."

Marshall shrugged and said, "They may have benighted views of gays, but they make a helluva baklava and bake really good bread."

Behind his respirator mask, Lucas cut through the discussion of religion, asking Jon, "What did you find out at the fire hall?"

"BLM, USDA, and USFS crews will be here tomorrow and operating by noon, but until then, we'll have to make do with the volunteers from Klickitat and the surrounding counties. I spoke to the fire chief's wife, and she said they were worried about the houses east of US-97 along with the monastery. I think we all should be prepared to help, but we need to do it safely and not get in the way of the fire crews."

Looking at Marshall, Sam said, "Cool! We'll do whatever we can."

Jim looked at the boys and admonished them, "This isn't a game. You need to be with one of your parents or aunts and uncles at all times — period. You can share in the responsibility to protect our neighbors, but not at the cost of injuring yourselves." Looking at JT, Marshall, and Sam, he finished, "Got it?"

The three boys nodded, but Marshall piped in, "How come you didn't warn the girls?"

"Because their judgment isn't clouded by testosterone."

Vee and Markie giggled, feeling superior. Vee took a shot at her brother, "Don't worry, Marsh. You'll have good judgment eventually."

Friday dinner at Turing House was subdued. Glancing at his fathers and Vi, Sam imagined that this was the kind of dinner his namegiver might have eaten in an encampment in the Southeast Asia jungle — a dinner before the dawn would bring great risk and danger, before a helicopter dropped him and his men in the Ia Drang valley.

Sam thought that this was the kind of meal shared by people who didn't know whether or not they would survive the next day. That was how the meal seemed to an adolescent mind that imagined any great change as a cataclysm. He again looked at his fathers eating in silence.

The older men didn't imagine that any of their family might be in real danger the next day, but thoughts of their neighbors' possible losses preoccupied them. People living on farms outside Goldendale were used to a tenuous existence, but the possibility of utter ruin didn't often occur to them. Unlike Sam and his fathers and their extended family, their neighbors, even the Greek Orthodox religious community, had no other homes to which they could turn.

After Sam had finished the evening dishes, a knock at the door signaled the appearance of the rest of the females in the family. Vi answered the door and then ushered the girls upstairs. When they came down, they were all wearing scarves wrapped around their necks and covering their heads. This was almost too much accommodation for Vee to tolerate, but Annie had reminded her that being respectful wasn't the same as condoning someone's views. She and Vee were accompanying Vi, who had met with the Mother Abbess on more than a few occasions. Neither Annie nor Vee knew the extent of the Abbess's interest in Native American cosmology or the respect with which the nun had always treated Vi.

The drive to the monastery took them up US-97 through smoke blowing in from the slowed fire. Vi used the fog lamps to try to cut through the thick smoke. The trip that normally took a few minutes took twenty as she carefully threaded the way up the highway. Rear-end collisions were always a danger in fog, or now smoke, on this highway. When they reached the small loop drive in front of the monastery bakery, Vi pulled in and parked in front of the store. As she expected, the store was closed, and the four women left the truck and walked around the north end of the store building and then east to a dirt road that led toward the cloister and chapel.

The first unusual meeting took place as they approached the blue-roofed chapel. Two nuns dressed in black inner habits, called isorassas, were walking the perimeter of the chapel, clearing vegetation under the direction of an older nun wearing the outer robe, the exorassa, and the veil. The veil was generally worn under the chin rather than covering the face.

Vi approached the older nun with her hands palm up before her and politely asked to see the abbess. The older nun took Vi's hands in hers, and after looking into her eyes, extended her left arm toward the cloister. Vi, Annie, and the girls left the nuns to their work and walked along the dirt road to the long building in which the sisters lived. More nuns, novices and rassaphores in their outer robes were working near the convent building.

A stately older nun whose robe was like the others but whose veil was topped by a flat black hat walked to Vi as soon as she noticed her approach.

Vi extended her hands as she had to the first nun they had encountered, and the Mother Abbess's eyes held joy as she came to greet the Indian woman. The Abbess's face was framed by her veil, and Markie and Vee saw the happiness in her eyes as she took Vi's hands and offered a blessing. This was Gerontissa Theadelphia, the Abbess of this religious community of women. "We came to help, Mother," Vi said. "What can we do?"

The relationship between these formidable women was complex. The Mother Abbess knew that Vi's sons were gay and that Vi was entirely untroubled by the fact. She also knew Vi to be kind, full of good humor, and a tireless worker who unfailingly helped the less fortunate at every opportunity. Over the last decade, the women had deep discussions of their traditions and worldviews. Now, Vi had appeared with her troops to offer assistance in the face of a real threat.

The Mother Abbess had met Annie briefly but didn't know the younger girls. She introduced herself to the girls, taking their hands in hers.

The fire had interrupted the coenobitic rhythm of the sisters' lives. Now, they were preparing for the fire instead of attending to communal and individual offices. Theadelphia quickly asked Vi, "Perhaps you would store a few of the older icons at your farm, if it is out of danger?"

"We have a truck. What you trust us with, we will keep safe. What about the goats?"

"If you have room for them, take them."

"I'll send Rodrigo with a trailer."

After loading the truck with a number of very old religious paintings and artifacts, carefully wrapped, the truck was blessed by Theadelphia and sent on its way. "The men and boys will be here tomorrow to help fight the fire."

"Thank you, Vi. God be with you."

#

Sam barely heard the diesel engine of the truck returning from St. John's or Rodrigo leaving with the trailer. He was afraid to go to bed. "What if the fire blows this way while we're asleep?"

Jerry tried to reassure the boy. "One of us will be awake through the night. Ben and Rodrigo will be watching, as well. Tomorrow will be a test, so why don't you try to get some sleep?"

Sam grudgingly trudged upstairs to his room and flopped on the bed. He tossed about for an hour and thought he would never get to sleep.

Then he was holding the sphere and walking in a blue-tinged, cool place.

Sam started awake, bathed again in sweat. He looked at his docked phone — four AM. He crawled out of bed and took a shower. He would talk to JG about the dreams later. He went downstairs quietly to find his father sitting at the dining table.

"You're up early. Couldn't sleep?"

"Trouble falling asleep, and then a dream woke me up."

"The wind is already freshening. The smoke's getting much worse, and fire's pushing toward the highway north of us. We have some paintings, artifacts and the goats from the monastery. Vi and Rodrigo brought them last night."

"The nuns at the monastery don't like you and Dad or Uncle Jason and Jon, do they?"

"I don't think it's personal. I've met the head nun, and she was civil. They think of us as men trapped in evil."

"That's nuts. Vee sure was pissed at them."

"She was. I think I have a double whammy as far as they're concerned — I'm gay and a scientist."

"But, science isn't a religion."

"Not for me; it's a method. We always have to be wary of people of faith who think they're God's warriors. At least the nuns are humble, and they're not out trying to convert everyone. They're mainly praying and contemplating."

"Contemplating what?"

"God, I suppose."

"Do you ever think about God?"

"No. I leave that to physicists. I contemplate numbers.