Chapter 5: Church and Other Myths

CHURCH

'Where do we go?' she asked.

'Stick with me.'

Sunday School at the Congregational Church for us "almost teens" was upstairs behind the balcony. The church was very old, built of rough faced grey quarried marble. Although it looked small, it was roomy, with beautiful stained glass windows and plush pews.

There was a marvelous pipe organ built by the Felgemaker Pipe Organ Company. Four manuals, two layer foot pedals, several side manuals and row upon row of stops. The compressor room was one of my favorite hideouts.

The balcony had been the choir loft before the Great War, but the choir decided they wanted to be seen and not just heard so the console was moved to the left of the altar to make room.

Wendy and I made our way to the preteen room and had our lesson then we all moved down to the back rows and listened to the sermon. The "Knocker Stick" got a lot of use because all the boys wanted to see Wendy. She really was a picture.

Service ended and everyone adjourned to the basement for coffee hour. Mother was on the committee this month so we had to go.

In my town, if you didn't go to church somewhere, you didn't do business. Wendy stayed with me ... very gratifying, she held my hand and looked shy. Somehow, mother had 'improved' her from niece, twice removed, to my cousin. Mothers!

Wendy nudged me.

'Get your backpack and the box and put it in the car.'

'Why?'

'Dummy! We need to get to the park and open it.'

'How do you plan on getting there?'

'Magic.'

I choked milk out my nose.

If anyone could get my dad to drop us at the park, she could.

'Oh, no. Your mother wants to go. I'll fix that.'

Suddenly my sister Grace, the seven year old, puked on the floor. Grace was still recovering from the fire. (A story all by itself.)

'Good move.' I thought at her.

'I didn't do that. Now your dad will want to stay home.'

'Well, work it.'

'You get the pack and box. I'll handle the rest.'

We are driving to Lansing ... Mom stayed home; my brother Charley got called in to work. So it's just the three of us. Wendy, Daddy, and me.

'How did you do it?'

'I don't know.'

'You did something. What?'

'I pushed your dad into going. I stopped Grace from puking, so your mother stayed to make sure ... Grace is going to be really sick tomorrow. The store called Chuck in.'

'Oh.'

'Look at your dad. He acts like he's not here.'

'I see. Did you do that?'

'No. Something is going on.'

The box in the pack hummed softly to itself.

We drove down Capital to the shop.

It was gone. There was a smoldering pile in the cellar hole but that was all that was left.

"Holy Shit," I said.

"My watch!" exclaimed Dad.

"My Grandfather!" cried Wendy.

"Move along," said the cop. "Nothing to see here. Move along."

The box hummed a worried little tune.

Daddy tried to pull over but the police kept him moving.