Chapter 4

It took the remainder of that week to recover some equilibrium. I believed in 'the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms' at least in theory, but never thought I'd encounter them so intimately. I had to acknowledge how out of my depth I'd been, how grateful for God's promises, met in my weakness. Teri was a great comfort as I had in her someone in whom I could confide. Her total trust in me was humbling, but also reassuring. After David and Annie left, we ate our suppers and went to bed. There, unusually, we didn't make love, but just cuddled until we both slept. We both dreamed. Similar, but not identical dreams, of standing in bright plate armour, back to back, shields on our left arms, long, straight swords in our right hands, somehow deflecting the attacks of a dark host of enemies.

When Sunday came around, our meeting followed a familiar form; songs, the sharing of God's peace, followed by the sharing of bread and wine, readings (the Gadarene demoniac and the Armour of God), a short homily from me and a discussion, prayer, and mutual blessing. Before we ate, though, Annie asked if she could speak.

"I'm new among you, but David and I experienced something last week which convinced us, despite our Catholic background, that God is at work here. I'd rather," she coloured up brightly, "not go into details of my personal ... problems, other than that I am convinced of the reality of the spiritual powers Jim has been speaking of. I will say we went to speak to Teri and Jim about my physical health. I believe I have been healed of a cancer which had not responded at all to previous interventions, medical or spiritual. I expect to have that confirmed at my regular check-up this week. I'd like you all to pray for me about that, please."

Our whole group gathered round her and reached out to touch her, including her husband. Each of us spoke a few words of blessing, peace or reassurance, mostly followed by a few seconds of the unknown language we'd been given, then we moved on to the food and much lighter conversations.

Teri's and my Registry Office wedding came round the second Friday after that Sunday. Visiting our parents was something of an ordeal, but, we felt, a necessary one. My parents were reasonably accepting of Teri and, I think, happy that I had found someone to take my ex-wife's place. They were initially suspicious of Teri but were soon won round by her simple, open, loving personality. Teri's parents were less happy. Probably the best descriptor of them would be 'dour'. Tight-lipped, stiff, they were members of a small, independent, very strict, puritan church. Without telling any lies, Teri implied that she was still a virgin. "You taught me, no sex before marriage." She just didn't say our marriage was somewhat informal. They weren't particularly happy that it would be at the Registry Office, but their church wasn't licensed for weddings anyway.

On the day, all our friends took time off to be with us (it was a Friday morning) which was lovely. Teri wore white, though not an elaborate, expensive dress. Isabel loaned her a veil and tiara, and Phil produced a 1919 silver sixpenny piece; he'd never mentioned one of his interests was numismatics. He pointed out with a smile that in 1920, the coinage had been devalued and had a much lower silver content. We ate in a nearby hotel's restaurant, and had the use of a room to change. Teri was wearing a powder blue bra-and-panty set.

"Superstitious?"

She grinned at me. "You know I'm not. But I dreamed of doing this before I had tits. I've realised a dream today; we couldn't have had a better wedding. Or a better husband." She closed the space between us and kissed me softly. "Jim, I love you." She glanced at the bed. "I'd really like to make use of that bed. But we do need to catch the train, don't we?"

I looked at my watch. Twenty past three. "Yes. Twenty-seven minutes to get to the station and find the right platform." I sighed.

"You're not tired of me yet, then?"

I kissed her back. "Forever, Baby."

We held hands for almost all the journey, which involved a change at York. We were quiet together, but I realised as we were pulling out of York station that Teri was praying quietly in that unknown language. Her eyes were closed and her face bore an expression of bliss. I had to admire her and, again, give thanks for the gift of her love. I closed my eyes too and words I did not understand rolled through my mind. As I relaxed, I found myself standing, still holding Teri's hand, on a hillside amongst grasses and wild flowers. Not far away, a young man was sitting and singing, watching a flock of sheep, and playing an odd instrument a little like a lap harp. The words were familiar. Though not in English, I could understand them;

"The Lord is my Shepherd – I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for He is with me. His rod and His staff comfort me. Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever."

He looked up and saw us, beckoned to us. Teri moved first and I followed. We sat next to him. He smiled. Again, I am sure he wasn't speaking in English, but we both understood what he was saying.

"Hello – my name is Dauid bar Yishay. You would be Sayrah?" He looked at Teri, then, looking at me, "Yakov."

"We would say, 'Theresa' and 'James'," I said, "I suppose Sarah and Jacob is near enough."

He nodded. "Sayrah. It means 'Princess'. But you bring the summer, and fruitfulness... Teresa."

"My name means, 'he who supplants'," I said.

He bowed his head in acknowledgement. "You will supplant other leaders. This will bring conflict. This is inevitable as long as you seek to serve God."

"I have no wish to ... lord it ... over anyone."

"But you are a leader, a shepherd of your people. Some will recognise that and stand alongside you. Others will oppose you." He turned to Teri, "And your wish will be fulfilled quite soon."

"I wonder what he meant," Teri spoke, and I found myself sitting in the railway carriage, holding her hand.

"About what, in particular?"

"I could understand all that about names, and about conflict. But he said something about my wish..."

"Don't you know what is your greatest wish?"

"I want your babies, but I know this isn't the time. Besides, I'm on the pill."

"Oh, Teri ... silly girl. Beloved. If we're going to start a family, there'll never be a better time than now. There'll always be some pressing need. Throw your pills away. I never thought I'd get to be a father, but I think it'd be wonderful."

"Really?" It came out more as a squeak than a word.

"Really. We'll start today, Deo volente." (Deo volente – God willing. Roughly the Latin equivalent of 'Inshallah'.)

Teri fumbled with the arm-rest which separated us and got it folded out of the way, then wormed her way onto my lap and proceeded to kiss me comprehensively.

A throat was cleared next to me, and I looked round to see a ticket-collector, or steward, or whatever they're called these days. I fumbled in my pocket for my wallet while Teri buried her face against my neck, and handed our tickets to him. Having examined them, he handed them back. "Just ... keep it discreet," he said quietly, with a wink.

The train was due into Edinburgh Waverley a little after seven, and by the time we could get to the hotel, about two miles from the station we'd both be very hungry, despite our wedding meal in Sheffield, so we risked a sandwich in the buffet car. It proved to be surprisingly good. Also to my surprise, Teri asked if we could have wine. I had no problem with that. She explained that her parents didn't approve of wine (why am I not surprised by that?) but that she enjoyed a glass from time to time.

I preferred beer, but was able to get her a large glass of Pinot Noir, which she approved of. Cheesecake and coffee completed a satisfying meal before we arrived. A taxi delivered us to the A-Haven Townhouse, where we were made most welcome.

I don't want to go into great detail about our honeymoon; we did touristy, honeymoony things. I found that Teri was much more adventurous than I – one evening she found a discreet sheltered area in a public park and we made love there, out of doors.

One difference, I suppose, between us and other honeymooners was that we made time for our God. Sometimes in the open air, sometimes in one of the churches, or the cathedrals. It was after one of our visits to St. Mary's Episcopal cathedral Thursday evening that we, or rather, Teri, found Sian.

I saw someone huddled in a doorway and, like the priest and the Levite in Jesus' story, I would have passed on by, but Teri stopped me. "Stay there," she ordered, went over and squatted down beside the figure. I could hear their voices, but not what was being said. After an age – actually about twenty minutes – Teri came back to me. She pressed against me, her arms wrapped round me and I had to return her embrace. She was crying.

"Darling, she's been homeless since her sixteenth birthday, two days ago. Can't we help her?"

"I don't know – can we?" Anyone involved in church ministry encounters people who ask for help; homeless, alcoholic, drugs or mental health problems, gambling addiction, you name it. Sadly, many – possibly most – really just want a handout. Myself, I've bought sandwiches, tea and coffee, soft drinks many times and sat and talked. Sometimes, I've helped a person get into a rehab program and occasionally they've made it through to a stable, self-sufficient lifestyle. Usually that has involved a major turn around for the individual concerned; as in Alcoholics Anonymous, success is usually linked to some sort of spiritual movement, not necessarily Christianity. I believe everyone is made with a spiritual component which helps them be a well-rounded person. Lacking that element doesn't mean they'll drop out, or become alcoholic or whatever; but it can be associated with unreasonable drives to success in business or whatever career path they choose. Sorry – I've drifted off into sermon mode. Didn't mean to do that. Anyway, I answered Teri, "Why don't we get her some food and talk to her some more?"

Her face lit up. "Thank you! I'll tell her!"

We made our way to somewhere we could find food. The girl held Teri's hand, and walked on the other side of her from me, which was understandable. They talked quietly and I only made out the odd word here or there. A fish-and-chip shop yielded fish, chips and mushy peas all round and we sat on a public bench to eat it. Had Teri and I been alone, we'd have sat inside where-ever we bought the food, but in all honesty I couldn't imagine any restaurant welcoming the ripe odour our new friend carried with her.