Margie Cranwell turned off the light in her office and shut the door. Two men who stood talking, leaning against the paneled wall, looked up at the church secretary, smiled and waved . Fastened to the wall above them, a white cross reflected the ruby light of the candle holder at its base. The feeble afternoon sun reached down, through stained glass windows, painting the wood floor. The men waited until the glass door closed behind the secretary before resuming their conversation.

            “Calm down. They don’t know who you are. If you hadn’t torn out of here like you did, they wouldn’t suspect anything.”

            “But I did. Went out of the parking lot so hot I threw rocks against the building. They had to know something was up.”

            “Like what? The nurse is buried so deep in this building, they’d never find her. No one has used that storage room for years...until you and our blond lady-friend had the cheek-to-cheek there the other night. Your secret is safe. It’s as far from those men as the East is from the West. As though, my friend, it was buried in the deepest sea.”

            “That’s another thing that bothers me. You make me nervous, quoting from the Bible all the time.”

            “And it bothers you because you are such an upright man of God? Is that it?”

            “It says in the Bible somewhere not to mock God.”

            “Be not deceived. God is not mocked, for whatsoever—whatsoever, my brother—a man sows, that shall he also reap, in due time, as the harvest fields become white and ready to pluck. We are fixing to do ourselves some harvesting and plucking. The key is in the whatsoever.”

            Deacon Wilson took a deep, shaky breath. “It just freaks me out. You know, it’s not like we don’t already have money…”

            “You have money. I had some, and invested it in this little lark of ours. If it doesn’t prove, shall we say moderately successful, I’m done. Just a poor, self-educated black preacher.”

            “But you’d be free. And alive. Leonard, maybe I’m just jumpy, but I’m not sure we won’t end up in a ditch out on the plains somewhere if this thing goes down wrong. There are some bad, big boys tied up in this. If that Jew doctor hadn’t spooked…”

            “But he did. And we’re taking care of it. Be not concerned for troubles you’ll have tomorrow, Brother Wilson. Today’s troubles are sufficient.”

            “Would you stop that? You’re lucky you don’t get hit with a bolt of lightening or something.”

            “My friend, there is power in the Word. That’s the point. Who would suspect us?”

            “Certainly not your circle of friends. After that fire in Thornton, they think you’re completely committed to the cause.”

            “The Thornton fire. Yes, but I do regret the child.”

            “No one could have predicted the janitor would work on a Sunday night...or that he’d put his 5-year -old to sleep in an examining room. The guys didn’t have the time to check. At any rate, they can’t connect us with that. Isn’t that what the police told you? You said they didn’t suspect us.”

            “We’re in the clear so far, and the operative word is ‘so far’. That’s why we have to make sure we get the notes and make sure no one talks.”

            Wilson made a tight shrug and gave Leonard a single wave. He pushed away from the wall.

            “ I need a smoke.” He said over his shoulder, and went out through the church’s glass door.

            Leonard watched until the gray sedan had turned onto the street and then pulled his keys from his pants pocket. He opened the office door, walked through and closed it behind him. Inside, in the darkness, he tightened his fists and hammered the wall.

                                                                ***

            The light coming through the stained glass ebbed as the sun traveled farther west, and the colored shapes on the floor lengthened and morphed. Paige McKenzie and Macie Stone sat, two floors below , in the feeble glow of a candle.

             “That was a stupid thing to do. Your head is cut.” Paige dabbed at her prisoner’s wound with a damp cloth.

            “I’m getting really scared. It’s making me sick. I’ve had cramps. My doctor said I had to avoid stress. I had to do something.”

            Paige held her watch to the light of the flame. “It’s almost three. They’ll be down soon to have you make the call.”

            Macie took the rag from Paige’s hand and held it to her scalp. “I don’t know what they want me to say.”

            “They’ll tell you. Just relax. With any luck, this will all be over soon, and we can go home. Tell me about your baby. How does it feel to be pregnant?”

            Macie felt a twinge of hope. “Exciting. I really don’t even mind the morning sickness. We’ve waited so long for this baby, I’m thirty-two and my husband is forty, I’d almost lost hope of having one. I imagine I can feel it move. I know I’m not far enough along for that, but it’s a kind of game. I’ve been calling it Weslie.”

            “So, you want a boy.”

            “Actually, Weslie is a girl’s name, the way we spell it. W-e-s-l-i-e. But Phil...that’smy husband...wants a boy.”

            Paige stood up. “Macie, I need to go up now. In a few minutes, I’ll be back and I’ll have someone with me. For both our sakes, please cooperate.” She tore a new gag from the roll of duct tape on the table and placed it over Macie’s mouth. Then she took the candle, leaving Macie in her dark prison once more.

            God, please. I’m begging you. I have to let somebody know where I am. Help me to get through to Doctor Sorkin. Please make him understand.

            A peace settled over her as she lay gagged, with her hands tied behind her, in the darkness. She breathed deeply and felt her heartbeat slow. Then the words formed in her mind:

            But do not worry about how or what you should speak. For it will be given you in that hour what you should speak.           

          Macie felt...comforted. She focused her thoughts on the tiny child growing inside her . She thought maybe she could share the comfort with her baby the way they shared food, and blood and life. The two of them waited in the darkness, listening for footsteps in the hall outside.

***

            Paige locked the door behind her and inched her way in the darkness up a short flight of steps and through the hall leading to the part of the basement used for Sunday School. The cobwebs and cracked plaster changed to freshly-painted white walls and the candle light flickered on bright murals. Paige flicked the light switch and blew out the candle. She sat at the miniature

round table and stared at the children’s artwork taped to the walls.

            If only…Her child could have been in this class. She stood, and walked to a tall bookcase where a tape player sat on a top shelf. She pressed “play” and a children’s choir responded with a medley of choruses.

            If only… No. Paige’s little girl would be almost a teenager now. Into Rebecca St. James and Newsboys and…Paige shook her head, trying to dislodge the torturing thoughts.

            Her little girl, in soft pink dresses and white Mary Janes. Girls looked sweet in Mary Janes. And blue jeans. No doubt she’d insist on blue jeans. And Nikes. What would she look like? Paige couldn’t picture the father’s face. Had she been drunk? No, she didn’t even have that excuse. She’d just been curious, and bored and…rebellious. That’s it. Rebellious against her

mother and her loud-mouthed step-dad. They left her in the motel room for hours while they went to conference workshops, then slipped out again after supper to play the slots. What did they expect her to do?

            And there was Ronny.

            God forgive me for the way I said goodbye. I promise, when all this is over, I’ll make it up to him, too. I’ll be a good wife. I will. I never meant to hurt him.

            She closed her eyes and envisioned Ron’s face as she’d seen it that day on the dusty country road in the late-June heat. She could see, in her mind, his dark, troubled eyes. His hair, making wet curls under his straw cowboy hat. His mouth, held in a grimace to fight back tears of disappointment. Then her mind traveled to their living room, to yesterday. Ron stood, wearing the same sad face. Oh, God, I love him so much.

            Paige picked up a box of crayons and a piece of paper and returned to her seat at the toddler’s table. She pulled out a black crayon and began drawing shapes: a triangle tree, a block

house and stick figures. Paige let her mind wander as she filled the paper with her make-believe family. When she looked down, she gasped, and held her hands to her mouth. A huge thunderhead loomed over her fabricated household. Under the frantically scribbled circles that composed the cloud, a primitively-drawn child raised its stick arms upward. And in block letters,

Paige had inscribed a name under the figure: Weslie.

            Her throat tightened and she began to rock back and forth. The Cause. The Cause. The Cause.

            “I can’t change what’s happened. I can only make up for it. I can be true to The Cause. No matter what. Nothing is as important.”  Paige wadded the paper and threw it into the trash, then bent, and retrieved it. “Got to be careful. Can’t leave anything lying around.”

            She turned off the light and left the room behind her as she ascended the stairs to the foyer.

            At the top landing, Pastor Soudo and Brother Wilson stood talking. Paige caught the scent of cigarette smoke and wrinkled her nose.

            “Ah, the lovely Sister McKenzie. And how is everything in the whale’s belly?” Pastor Soudo laughed at his own joke and put his arm around her shoulders. “I suppose our female Jonah is ready to be regurgitated upon the shoreline? All that is needed is that she deliver a message to Nineveh.”

            Paige ducked out from the Pastor’s embrace and crossed her arms over her chest. The hair at the nape of her neck bristled, sending a chill through her spine.

            “She’s scared. I would be, too. Is it almost time?”

            “Soon, my dear. All in good time. You run along down stairs again and we’ll join you in a while.”