The Visitation Part 12

"Mm. Not that many. But it got their attention, didn't it?"

"Oh yeah. You made it on the evening news."

"So I got what I wanted. We've created a buzz, as they say." He seemed rather tickled with himself. "But what are you thinking, Travis? Are you getting the point?"

I fidgeted and shifted the receiver to my other ear. "I didn't know there was a point."

"People need results. They need to see something. You know how it was: *Show us a sign so we can believe in you.' Give the people what they want and they'll show up."

I dug deep for some patience. "Doesn't it bother you that I have no idea who you are or why you're even calling me?"

He ignored me. "Be honest, Travis. Are you so much different from them? Haven't you ever felt the way they do? Haven't you ever wished I'd just do what you ask and not keep you guessing and waiting and wondering? Up until now you've never even seen me. I wonder if that's fair."

"You can quit the masquerade. You're not Jesus and you know it."

He paused just a moment, and then I could hear him stifling a little laugh, probably smiling. "Humor me, Travis, just for the sake of argument. You expected a lot from me when you were younger, remember? You thought I'd heal Andy and Karla. You thought I'd get you out of the shipyard. You thought I'd bring Amber back to you. You even thought I'd given you signs and prophecies, remember?"

If he was trying to scare me, he was succeeding. I had no words as I groped my memory for any clue about this man, any time or place I may have known him before.

"Travis, that's okay, don't worry about it. I'm only making a point. You expected a lot from me and I disappointed you. That's part of what you're dealing with, isn't it?"

"That was a long time ago. I was just a kid."

"So what happened to Andy?"

I didn't answer.

He goaded me. "Traaaavis . . . What happened?"

I snapped at him. "You're G.o.d. You tell me!"

"Remember the next day at school, Travis? Remember his hands shaking? Remember how scared he was?"

I could still see Andy and Karla together, confronting me in the lunchroom. Andy had skipped his insulin that morning, and now he was reacting. They were asking me what they should do. Karla was still wearing her gla.s.ses.

I told them, "Just believe. Believe and you'll be healed."

We prayed together, trusting G.o.d.

That afternoon, Karla took Andy home for some insulin. He made it through okay.

The voice sounded soothing, as if trying to comfort me. "So you can't blame people for getting excited. I'm doing things, Travis.

I'm actually making things happen. I've changed."

I'd been holding back the question because I knew he wouldn't answer it, but now there was no other thought or question available. "I want to know who you are."

He didn't answer it. "I healed Norman Dillard and Matt Kiley today."

This could have been good news, but not the teasing way he said it. "You did what?"

"I healed them, Travis." He dragged out the word healed as if he enjoyed making me hear it. "Just like I'm supposed to do. Norman can see without his gla.s.ses and Matt can walk. It's all over town by now. People are going nuts."

I just wasn't going to fall for this. "I'm going to call Matt and ask him."

"He isn't home right now. I think he's walking around town showing off."

"I'm calling him."

"You'll have to talk to Kyle Sherman first. He's about to call you. Talk to you soon."

Click. He was gone.

I kept the receiver in my hand as I pressed the b.u.t.ton to hang up my end. Before I could release it, the phone rang.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Travis!" It was Kyle Sherman. "Have you heard about Norman Dillard and Matt Kiley?"

I didn't want to hear about it from Kyle, but I did want to hear about it. I finally said, "Tell me."

He told me every detail. Apparently the town was still in an uproar and Matt really was taking a walk around the town to show off. "Norman and Matt say Jesus did it. They say he's in town, Travis. Remember what you said at the ministerial meeting? Well, it's happened."

I sat there, not a word coming to mind.

"What do you make of it?"

"Uh, I don't know, Kyle. I have to think about it." But what could I think about the man who mowed half of John Billings's lawn, called me after Jim Baylor had left, and knew all about Andy and Karla? "Did you see Matt yourself? Can he really walk?"

"Yes, Travis. He can really walk. He's healed. And Norman can read things far away without his gla.s.ses."

I just couldn't get into a conversation with Kyle Sherman. Not about this.

"This isn't Jesus, Travis! You know that!"

I kept silent.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"I'm here. I'm thinking."

"What's to think about? We have to do something! We have to pray this thing into the open and come against it- "

"I said I have to think about it!"

Kyle heard the edge in my voice and backed off a little. "Okay. You think about it. I'm going to pray about it."

"Talk to you later." I hung up.

But the truth was, I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to admit that somehow the man on the hill, on the mower, on the phone, had invaded my life and plundered my memories. My memories!

The same memories that had all come back so vividly, so hauntingly, in recent days, welcome or not. . . .

8.

DID I HAVE FAITH when I prayed for Andy? I thought I did. Andy got his insulin and pulled through okay. But he felt discouraged- not because he hadn't been healed, but because going home and injecting himself seemed like a cop-out, a surrender to doubt, a lack of trust in G.o.d. Somehow, he thought, it had to be his fault that the healing had not happened.

I was upset as well, and for a short, awkward time, we tried to do some spiritual troubleshooting.

If I had faith, maybe Andy didn't have enough faith when I prayed. He was pretty sure he did, although he was feeling a little uncomfortable at the time, and that might have jammed the signals somehow.

How about sin in our lives? That could mess things up for sure. I kept confessing everything I could think of and then started wondering if Andy was still hiding something. Nothing dramatic happened, even with more fasting.

Did we still have ongoing faith for his healing, or were we doubting? I was sure I had faith and did all I could to stay sure. "We need to pray this through and believe," I said. "G.o.d is testing us, seeing if we really trust him. We have to hold onto the promise!"

That didn't make it any easier for Andy. He was the one needing the insulin, risking death if he didn't get it, and feeling guilty every time he did. Besides that, his parents did not have the spiritual insight that we had, and told him he'd better stay on his insulin or they would kill him before his diabetes had a chance to.

Amber suggested we should just give G.o.d more time to complete the healing, and that concept, being open-ended, turned out to be the most comfortable. We fell into it easily, naturally, and went on praising, praying, and believing G.o.d. We were still counting on miracles, still hearing and believing prophecies, still expecting great things.

But I never again laid hands on anyone for healing at a Kenyona Bannister meeting. No one ever said I shouldn't, and I never heard anyone say they didn't believe in my gift. We just didn't talk about it. Without a word or a spoken agreement, we let the whole matter slip beneath the surface where it remained, right alongside the Question.

Karla still wears gla.s.ses to this day. Andy died from complications related to his diabetes in 1985.

I DID NOT ENJOY such memories, but hey, I'd already been laboring over them for months, bearing the pain in an honest effort to sort them out. I didn't ask for, nor did I need, old what's-his-name stirring up the pile.

He had certainly managed to stir up the town. Although he had made no further appearances since the big Matt-and-Norman incident, folks kept right on believing and hanging onto their excitement. For Antioch, just the fact that people were excited was exciting. The media remained interested, but started dropping a few hints here and there: Compet.i.tion for a slot on the evening news was fierce. Whoever this guy was, he would have to show up soon and do something worthy of television's attention or the story would die.

Norman Dillard didn't want that to happen. Neither did Matt Kiley, or Gary Fisk, who ran the Sundowner Motel on the other end of town. Jack McKinstry was hoping the flow of business through his grocery store would keep flowing, and Don Anderson had just stocked more cameras and camcorders in his appliance store.

As for the ministers in town, I think they were mainly concerned with helping the Ship of Church maintain an even keel.

Bob Fisher, the Baptist, was busy with the Fudd Revival, and that occupied his mind until it was over. Afterward, Bob kept his Bible open, admonished his congregation to do the same, and warned everyone not to stray from that which was written.

Burton Eddy, the Presbyterian, made a veiled reference to the situation in a sermon ent.i.tled "What Hath G.o.d Wrought," in which he extolled G.o.d's lofty and unsearchable ways, whatever we might conceive them to be.

The crowds at Our Lady's spoke loudly enough for Father Vendetti. He had nothing to add, at least for the time being.

Sid Maher, the Lutheran, said absolutely nothing about it.

Morgan Elliott, the Methodist, stayed out of the discussion as well.

Paul Daley, Howard Munson, and Andy Barker could have been out of town for all the feedback we got from them.

Mostly, what Antioch got from its ministers was business as usual and apart from that, silence. I figured they were waiting to see what might develop before taking a position.

All except for Kyle, of course. He was still working on his position, but he kept nothing inside during the process: The sightings, the miracles, and the mysterious visitor were most likely the work of Satan, he said, and the folks in his church-the whole town, for that matter-needed to wake up.

As for me, I was hiding.

"TRAV, I like how the house looks, just in case you wondered."

Rene and I were in my kitchen. I was sitting in a chair with a sheet draped around my neck and shoulders, and she was behind me with her comb and scissors, attempting to make her brother look more presentable.

"Well, thank you," I replied, and let it go at that. But I was glad she had noticed. I'd been putting things away a little at a time for the last several days and I was finally getting ahead of the mess.

"How long are you going to keep screening your calls?"

Sharp gal, as always. "How did you know I was screening my calls?"

"Because I got through but Kyle didn't."

I started to turn my head but thought better of it. She had the scissors. "Don't tell me he called you!"

"Simmer down. I didn't mind."

"So what did he have to say?"

She kept on combing and snipping as she talked. "Just wanted to tell me what was happening at the church. Hold still! Some of the people are really getting obsessed with the stuff going on in town. Dee Baylor's got a regular cloud-watching detail organized, and they're using the telephone prayer chain to keep everyone informed in case *Jesus' shows up again. It's kind of like a revival except it isn't."

"Rene, I'm not the pastor anymore. Is Kyle aware of that?"

She kept pushing it, and I kept still and listened. "Some of the people are cautious and wondering if it's for real, and the rest of them-Kyle says about half-are siding with him. They think it's demonic. So there's a nice split developing."

This time I did fidget. "I don't want to hear any more about it."

She sighed with frustration. "I know how you feel about all this, but just for the record, Kyle's scared. He didn't say he was, but I could tell."

My throat tightened up-the first sign that my old stress was returning. "So what do you expect me to do?"

"Actually, I expect you to keep on hiding."

I was about to defend myself when she added, "That's what I'd do."

My throat relaxed. It was comforting to hear her say that, and a little unexpected. "You would?"

"It's church stuff, isn't it?"

I sat still and let her continue cutting my hair. I had to think for a moment before remembering that, within days of her turning eighteen, she had moved out of the house and stayed away from church for years.

"Yeah," I said at last. "It's church stuff. You were never into that kind of thing very much, were you?"