Raising Cain Read Online Free PDF Page B

the
     valley and the forest that continued westward to the rocky ridge. Most Blocktown residents had one thing in common: they were
     descendants of the men and women who stood on William Block’s lawn that sweltering August day, cheering and weeping and throwing
     their straw hats in the air.
    “Thank you, Reverend, thank you,” Althea said. She was sitting in her parlor, robed in black, nervously stitching a quilt.
    “In times of sorrow, the Lord extends His comfort.” Reverend Taylor’s deep baritone filled the darkened room. “’This, too,
     will pass,’ the Savior said.”
    Althea put down her needle and touched her chin. Her lips twitched like she was going to cry again.
    Taylor quickly stood and crossed the room. Handsome and nattily turned out in a blue three-piece suit and spit-shined shoes,
     he was “on the job.” He was the newest cleric in town, but he was fast becoming the most popular. He’d opened his Temple of
     the Word in a converted farm-supply depot just three months ago, and now hundreds flocked to the cinder-block building under
     a blue neon dove to hear him raise the roof each Sunday.
    “Take my hand,” Taylor said. His teeth were polished ivory, his hair close-cropped.
    Althea looked up shakily from her chair. “What?”
    The reverend extended a set of manicured fingers. There was a diamond ring on one finger, a gold chain on his wrist. “Take
     my hand.”
    Althea reached out as the reverend pulled a small wooden side chair next to hers and sat down. “Hold tight,” he said.
    Althea grasped his hand. It was strong, empowering.
    “Pray with me,” Taylor said.
    Althea blinked a tear and weakly nodded her head.
    “Comfort this woman, Lord! Comfort and protect her! Put your mighty arms around her and
squeeze
her to your bosom!”
    There was movement in the hall as several relatives left the kitchen and went to the parlor. “What’s going on?” an aunt whispered.
    “Taylor’s praying with her,” a sister answered.
    “Embrace her with your love!
Squeeze
out the pain!”
    The relatives all gathered in the doorway and watched. Althea was rocking in time to the reverend’s words, her eyes closed.
    “Reach across the icy void and touch this woman’s heart! Give her the strength she needs to keep movin’ on, Lord.”
    Althea opened her eyes. “Joseph?” she asked.
    Taylor paused for a second, then it clicked. “While you’re embracing, Lord, embrace the soul of this woman’s departed husband!
     Guide him to you! Show him the way! Give him the key to Paradise!”
    Althea closed her eyes again, her fingernails digging into Taylor’s palm.
    “Keep Joseph by your side, Almighty Jesus! At your right hand, in the place of the righteous. Keep him, and protect him, from
     now until these two souls shall join again, and hold them together for all eternity.”
    Althea’s face relaxed, but she still clutched Taylor’s hand. He moved closer and cradled her head against his chest. They
     sat that way in silence for several minutes. Then Taylor began to sing a hymn. His voice was soft at first, then louder, resonant
     and mellow.
    The relatives looked at each other with surprise. No one had ever heard him sing before. An aunt began to hum.
    The relatives entered the room and formed a ring around Althea’s chair.
    Then their song faded and the room was silent. Only the rhythm of Althea’s steady breathing rippled the air. Her eyes were
     still shut, but she looked at peace. Reverend Taylor held her tightly against him. And then he whispered something in her
     ear.
    Officer Frank Davis walked down the steps of police headquarters toward his squad car. It was late afternoon, and the light
     was waning. Soon the sun would drop behind the ridge and the evening chill would begin.
    Davis was a lanky West Virginia boy who’d moved to the state ten years ago. His sandy hair, slow swagger, and slight drawl
     made him out to be a rube. But he wasn’t. He was sharp-witted and ambitious.