There were murmurs of agreement, but Laurel remembered Ray Townsend's eyes. He wasn't going to stand by while they settled the valley. He would try to stop them.
Chapter Sixteen
THE CHURCH BUILDING WAS SIMPLE AND PRACTICAL. LAUREL FOLLOWED HER family inside. Sunlight spilled into the sanctuary through narrow windows along the outside walls, and hardwood floors glistened in the warm glow. A wide aisle in the middle of the room divided pews, and a raised platform reached from wall-to-wall across the front. A lectern stood in the middle of the stage, and a large wooden cross was suspended on the wall behind it.
A woman with a gray bun peeping out from beneath a small hat sat at a piano in front. She softly played “At the Cross.” Adults sat straight-backed and still. Some were praying silently. Celeste Townsend sat beside her father. His shoulders almost filled a quarter of the pew. Laurel could only see his profile, but he looked cross. She wondered why he attended church. So far she hadn't heard anything positive about him, except from Celeste.
Celeste spotted her and waved. Her father turned and scowled at Laurel, then his hateful eyes roamed over her family.
Laurel stifled a shudder. She nodded and smiled, ignoring Mr. Townsend's disrespect. Celeste offered an apologetic smile.
Laurel realized that Robert was sitting beside her new friend. She wondered if Celeste had invited him or if Robert had made the choice. He caught her eye and winked. He's certainly good looking, Laurel thought. Celeste could do worse.
Adam Dunnavant walked into the sanctuary and sat across the aisle from her. Glancing her way, he nodded and removed his hat. Laurel smiled, thinking he looked stiff and awkward, his usual confident air absent.
As the notes of “Onward Christian Soldiers” resonated throughout the room, a choir filed onto the stage. A plump woman stood in front of the group, facing the congregation. “Please stand and turn to page 221 in your hymnals.”
Adam knew the song. He'd heard it often enough. Every morning the boys at the orphanage had met in the main hall for prayer, worship, and a sermon. “Onward Christian Soldiers” had been one of the director's favorites.
At one time he'd embraced Christianity and even liked morning devotions, but Eli Hirsch had stripped away the pleasures in Adam's life. He could still feel the boyhood terror and sorrow.
Eli Hirsch oversaw the boys, their chores, studies, free time, and morning services. He wasn't a big man, but he was brutal. He had a mustache that looked like a rubber band stretched across his upper lip. When he smiled, which was infrequently, his lips would draw tightly over his straight, crowded teeth. The overseer's eyes were blue and cold, always detached. Under his gaze Adam had felt as important as an insect.
His stomach turned queasy at the memory. Eli had a love for the strap and used it often. He often misquoted the Scriptures, using Christianity to justify his brutality. Not only did he employ beatings, but he would starve or lock up boys for the smallest infraction. Adam had decided that either God didn't exist or didn't care about little boys without parents. Either way, it made no difference because Adam had washed his hands of the Christian faith.
The director, Mr. Owens, had turned a deaf ear to the outcries of abuse. He seemed to fear Eli Hirsch as much, or more, than the boys.
Adam's eyes roamed over the choir. Some voiced the words with vacant eyes and deadpan expressions; but others sang with reverence, eyes closed and faces uplifted. He had a vague memory of what reverence felt like. When he first heard the Bible stories about Christ, he thought he knew what it meant to be loved and to love—for a moment anyway.
Glancing at Laurel and her family, Adam's cynical outlook wavered. They were real. Their faith seemed genuine. The Haspers were good people, and although they held no special fondness for him, he knew that if he needed anything they'd be there to help. They cared about others. More than once he'd seen Will, Jean, or even Laurel come alongside someone to encourage and help.
They made no apologies for their faith and lived what they believed. Adam considered Will's religious convictions. Clearly he was intelligent, and yet he embraced a belief in an unseen God. The concept made little sense to Adam, but he still respected the man.
And Laurel, well, he'd never met anyone like her. She was beautiful and spirited like many women he'd known, but she was different in other ways. She didn't pretend to be anyone other than who she was—strong but vulnerable, complex and uncomplicated, angry yet repentant, stern but forgiving. She was real. And, like her father, she also professed a trust in God. Although Adam had always shied away from religious types, he found himself thinking about Laurel and wanting to be with her. However, he knew better. She'd only distract him from his work and his dreams.
Laurel glanced his way and smiled. Against his will, he felt himself soften and returned a smile. He looked down at his hymnal. A moment later he glanced back. The Haspers possessed something he'd never had. He was drawn to them. He wanted what they had. He wanted them to like him and hated himself for caring.
A tall, good-looking man with sandy brown hair stepped onto the platform. He crossed to the lectern, set a Bible on the stand and opened it. Resting his forearms on the podium, he scanned the congregation. “Good morning. It's good to see so many of you here.”
The preacher straightened. “I especially want to welcome the colonists. We're happy you've joined our community. It is my hope and prayer that your transition to this valley will not be too difficult.”
Adam had to admit the man looked and sounded like a decent person, but then, didn't all ministers?
He stepped around to the front of the podium. “It won't be easy. Change rarely is. We,” he extended his arms, “this family, want to help. If you have any questions or needs, please tell us.”
Ray Townsend coughed and leaned forward. Several eyes turned to him. He settled his back against the pew, then shifted forward again. Adam couldn't contain a wry grin. He understood Ray Townsend. He'd known others like him, men who needed to control, who resented newcomers because they threatened their domination. Someone like him could be trouble, real trouble.
“We pray you will come to love this valley as much as we do,” the minister continued. He returned to his place behind the podium and rested his hand on the Bible. “Please turn to Philippians 3.”
Adam folded his arms over his chest. He knew what was coming. The minister would read Jesus' sacred words, then demand that the flock obey them. He'd heard it before. His thoughts wandered to the colonists and the story about them that he still had to finish.
“Don't wait another minute,” the preacher nearly yelled, pulling Adam from his reverie. Let Christ change your life.” The minister nodded to three men standing in the back, and they came forward. Two of them carried baskets of bread. “This morning, as we take communion, let us remember Christ's love, a love that is so powerful he allowed himself to be nailed to a cross and willingly gave up his life for us.”
The woman returned to the piano, and prayer books were opened. That's it, Adam thought. No more. While everyone's heads were bowed he slipped out of his seat and left.
When he was out of sight of the building, he stopped and leaned against a birch. Taking a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, he lit one and inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled. He took another drag, then tapped the cigarette, spilling ashes at his feet. One day, when he was working as a journalist in Paris or Rome, he'd have himself to thank for his success, no one else. Life is what you make of it. It's got nothing to do with an invisible God who supposedly loves you.
When Laurel stepped out of church and onto the porch, she looked for Adam, but he was gone. She wished he'd stayed.
Robert, with Celeste on his arm, joined her. “Hello.”
“Hi, Laurel,” Celeste said with a friendly smile. “How are you adjusting?”
“I'm getting used to it.”
“Maybe we can go to a movie some time.”
