Deadly Decision (28 page)

 

As soon as my hand touched the knob on the back door, I heard a voice. “
Command it to leave
.”

I turned, but no one was there. The voice sounded odd, but I didn't know why.
You're turning into a spooky old man. Get a grip. First ghosts, now voices.

Unnerved, restless, on guard, I half expected the boogie man to jump out any moment.
Come on, shake it off. It's been a hard day, but don't fall to pieces now.

Noticing a smudge of dirt on the cabinet, I reached to brush it off.

“Command it to leave.”

My hand jerked away from the cabinet as though I had touched a hot stove.

Now I knew what was strange about the voice. I wasn't hearing it with my ears, but with my brain. The voice was in my head: unique, not my own, and not heard through my ears.

The voice also differed from the one I had heard coming from Barbara's mouth. That voice had menace. This one held power.

Disturbed, but not sure what to do, I wandered through the house. My footsteps echoed loudly in the quiet rooms. Without conscious purpose, I walked up the stairs and down the hall.

Stopping at the door of my room, I instantly knew what the words meant. Just last night it had been there, in my room.

I have to be crazy. Sane people don't hear voices.

Evil spirits go for the big guys, hang around satanic worship centers, spend time making plans with Satan on how to destroy world peace.

Still standing in the doorway, I examined the space in front of me. There were no black flying creatures, no monsters with red eyes and forked tongues. Sniffing, the room smelled like my aftershave, not fire and brimstone and sulfur.

This used to be a haven for me. I couldn't wait to come to it, to close the door and be alone in my space.

Over time, something had changed, and the room —or something in it—had turned against me. I knew what had changed. Me. The change was my commitment to a renewed relationship with God.

I trust you, God. But this needs more than faith. I can't cast out evil spirits, especially when I'm not sure they're really here.

I had thought the presence in the room to be the ghost boys. After last night and now finding Jimmy, I knew I was wrong.

“Command it to leave
.” The voice was calm, but had authority.

Am I insane?”

God doesn't “speak” to people, not like this. God speaks through the Bible. That's why we have the Bible: to study and learn God's will.

God does not speak to a nobody.

Yearning to go back down stairs, to leave the room behind, I still stayed. There was no supernatural power holding me, I could have walked away, but I didn't.

The house is empty; what do I have to lose except some personal self-respect? No one will know I'm making a fool of myself.

Shifting from foot to foot, I tried to decide, still not sure.

The room was silent, expectant, watching. My hands sweated like those of a boy caught in a lie.

How do I do this? Is there a right or wrong way to cast out demons? No one taught this to me in Sunday school, that's for sure.

I took a deep breath.
God help me through this
. I raised my arms in an imitation of Charlton Heston, except my arms were shaking.

“This house belongs to God,” I warbled, feeling awkward. “You are not welcome here.”

No black hands of death stretched across the room for me.

“I command you to leave this house, in the name of Jesus the Son of God.”

No respectable demon will fear that quavering command.

A tingling sensation filled me, as though a current of electricity passed through my body. Every hair on my outstretched arms stood straight up.

 

 

 

 

33

 

With bolts of current zinging through me, it took about one nanosecond to leap down the stairs and bolt through the front door. That's where Ted found me a couple of hours later when he brought Trina home from the hospital.

As Ted helped Trina from the car, a second car slowly pulled into the drive.

Trina pulled from Ted's arms. “Aunt Betsy!”

“Trina, honey!”

What was she doing here? “Betsy?”

She stared back. “Bill.”

By the time I reached the driveway, her arms were open, inviting me in. A sob escaped my lips as my heart swelled with joy.

“We need to get Trina inside.” Ted stated as he once again wrapped his arms around his wife and guided her up the front stairs.

“What's going on? Is Trina all right?”

“I'll fill you in. Let's get Trina settled first.” I stared at Betsy. “Why are you here?”

“Later.”

Trina seemed physically none the worse for her abduction. There were raw, denuded areas on both arms and legs, and already her face was starting to scab.

As they entered the house, Ted stopped halfway across the foyer.

Trina looked up at him. “Ted?”

He stood for a dozen heartbeats, then smiled down at his wife and led her toward the stairs. Once tucked in bed, she fell asleep almost immediately.

Once Trina was settled, I turned my attention to Betsy. “Why are you here? I mean, I'm glad you're here, but I didn't know you were coming.”

“What happened to Trina?” Betsy looked ashen even though she had no idea of the trauma we had just been through.

I forced Betsy into the recliner. “What's going on here?” she asked, struggling to get out of the chair.

“She's all right. Ted just brought her back from the hospital—”

“Why was she in the hospital? Why didn't someone call me?”

“Betsy, if you'll give me a chance, I'll tell you.”

Slumping back into the recliner, Betsy stared at me with fear-filled eyes.

“She's all right, Bets. I would have called you, honest. I would not have kept Trina's welfare from you. Someone broke into the house during the night. Trina happened to be in the kitchen at the time, and the thief took her. But we found her, and she's just shaken up.”

Betsy's expression changed from fear to surprise. “What time was she kidnapped?”

“It must have been about two in the morning, why?”

Betsy sank back into the chair, shock etching her face. “You won't believe this, but I woke up about two with this urge to pray for Trina. I pray for Trina every day, but this was different. It was like I was being directed to pray. I've never experienced anything like it before. The concern kept getting stronger, so I got in the car and drove. The whole way, something pushed me. Literally. I can't remember half the trip.”

Betsy's story sounded so much like mine, only hers had a focus and mine did not. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I tried to call. I called each of you. No one answered.”

My heart ached for what my sister had gone through. “We were probably out looking for Trina,” I said. “Betsy, I'm so sorry…”

We met in the middle of the room, one stubborn brother and one independent sister, reconciled through love.

I shared my story with Betsy from the trip to the attic with Barbara, the almost-demon possession in the park, my mood swings, visions and sensations, finding the cave, and the exorcism of my room. I told her how the second ghost child had helped me find Trina and Jimmy. She listened, and never once said I told you so. Bless her.

“Is there somewhere I can take a nap?” Betsy asked as I finished the story.

“I know just the place.” I took her to the corner room, the one that had been Ted's workshop and now was the most beautiful room in the house. I closed the blinds and pulled the door shut behind me.

Ted and Trina's voices drifted from their room. The door was open, so I stepped in. Trina was lying in bed, with Ted propped up beside her.

“How are you doing, honey?”

“Dad!” She sat up and reached out to me, and for a moment, she became my little girl again. Swallowing a sob, I wrapped my arms around her. She nestled her head against me for a second, then returned to her pillow.

“How is Jimmy?” she asked.

“They admitted him to intensive care, and they're doing all they can for him.”

Tears puddle in her eyes. “Shouldn't someone be there with Sandra?”

“Lisa was there for a while. I tried to go, but Sandra won't let me.” I turned my head and mumbled, “She's afraid I'll get myself into trouble.”

“What?”

“It's a long story. I've been banned from the hospital for a while.”

“Did you know Aunt Betsy was coming?” she asked.

Smiling, I shook my head. “That's a story Betsy will have to tell you. She's resting in the corner guest room. You can talk later.”

Ted pulled his wife against his chest. With closed eyes, she smiled, and made a noise that sounded very much like a purr.

Warmth filled me. I reached to stroke my daughter's hand, but stopped. She was already being comforted, and I had to learn to let go.

The ache returned. I not only had to give her away in marriage, but also I had to give her to cancer. At least she would not die in that metal tomb, alone and scared. She was surrounded by love. Why had I ever doubted Ted's commitment to her?

She pushed up heavy eyelids. “How did you find us, Dad?”

“Remember that ghost boy I saw in the attic?”

“Jimmy?”

“No, the other one, the second ghost boy.”

“The bad one who's picture is hanging on Aunt Betsy's wall?”

“Yes, but he's not bad. He led me to you.”

“If you wouldn't have shown up when you did…” Silent tears slid down her cheeks. When the salty drips reached the raw skin, she winced.

Ted reached over and dabbed her eyes with his handkerchief. “We can put more ointment on your face if it hurts.”

His tenderness was a reminder that I was an interloper. “I'll let you sleep, honey. We can talk tomorrow.”

She reached up and caught my hand. “Dad… I love you.”

The knife dug deep into my heart. I had rescued my daughter, but now I would watch her die.

 



 

After supper, I pulled Ted out to the front porch. Betsy was upstairs with Trina. The last thing I wanted was for Trina to overhear my conversation with Ted. She needed to avoid stress. I needed her to avoid stress. Stress makes cancer grow. I wanted her to live as long as possible.

I told Ted about the voice, about commanding the spirit to leave, and about the electrical jolt. He listened quietly, never interrupting my bizarre monolog, but his smile broadened with each word.

“I knew something was different as soon as I walked into the house,” he said, a broad smile on his face. “I knew it.”

It was my turn to stare.

“The air felt different. I had a feeling of heaviness whenever I was in the house, and I didn't know why. But as soon as I walked in with Trina this afternoon, I could feel the difference.”

“I'm sorry Ted. I didn't mean to bring all this trouble.”

“I kept wondering why God showed you the vision of Jimmy, and why He led Trina and me to this house. When Pastor Steve was arrested, I knew God's hand was in all of it.” His gaze deepened. “I have a feeling God isn't done yet.”

Could I handle any more of God's plan?

 

 

 

 

34

 

 

“Jimmy's out of his coma!” Trina shouted.

My ban from the hospital was lifted once Jack had been moved to the county jail, and Mitch admitted to the Palmetto Rehab Center. I spent several hours a day with Sandra at Jimmy's bedside watching for changes in an unresponsive little boy. Otherwise, I joined Ted and Betsy in guarding Trina against herself. We were all gathered in the parlor when Sandra's call came.

Betsy had made Trina a nest on the couch, and Ted had instructed her to stay there unless she was in her own bed. He placed a small table close beside her, and provided a glass of water, a cellphone, books, and a basket of snacks. Of course, all of that was unnecessary, as she never lacked attention.

Pastor Steve had once again been released from jail. No apology, no sorry, no nothing. The police were doing their duty. They had no idea they had been pawns in Satan's plan to discredit the church.

I had no right to criticize. Only a week ago, I doubted the existence of God, denied the work of demons, and denounced my faith. But my doubt was gone. I had been given all my answers except two. First, who was the second ghost boy? I resigned myself to the fact that I may never know. The second question, my likeness to the old portrait—sometimes life is strange, just like my dreams.

Jimmy had remained in a coma. On reaching the hospital, the doctors had worked frantically to stabilize him. Sandra had been told that if he'd been left one more day, he would not have survived. The entire church constantly offered up prayer for the boy's recovery. If Satan had wanted to destroy the fellowship of God, he had failed.

And now Jimmy was awake.

Trina and I both stood. Betsy looked up from the book she had been reading.

“Where are you going?” Ted asked Trina.

She plastered the stubborn expression I knew well, having faced it down dozens of times. I stood aside, wondering how Ted would handle this one.

“The doctor told you to stay quiet for a few days. It's only been two. We agreed on four. You have two more to go.”

“Ted, that's silly. I feel fine. I'm bored to death, and there are so many people who need me right now. Someone should be with Sandra…”

“I'm usually with Sandra,” I reminded her. “I'll go back now.”

“And someone should visit Mitch,” she continued.

“You can't visit Mitch for thirty days,” Betsy stated. “I checked with his case manager, and the rehab program won't let him have visitors until then.”