“Will you have a problem with your dad?”
I look at the parish house. Every room seems dark but the front room where a lamp beside Father’s reading chair is lit. He’s likely sitting in it, waiting for me. “Yes, but maybe we can work something out. I love him and he loves me, in his own way.”
“Call me if you need anything.” She reaches over and squeezes my hand.
I step out of the car and wipe my palms against my skirt. When the entry light turns on and Father appears in the doorway, Pippa waves at me and backs out.
I run up the stairs of the front porch and turn the knob but the door doesn’t open. Father stares at me through the sidelight.
“The door is stuck,” I say and jiggle the knob. He doesn’t break his stare not even when he turns the lights off. I still see the shape of him behind the light.
“Father!” I’m bewildered. He’s standing there. I can see him. He must know the door is locked or jammed. “The door’s stuck. I can’t open it.”
I dig in my purse and pull out my keys but the key doesn’t fit anymore. I jam the key in but it skids across the shiny metal surface. The very shiny, very new metal surface. I’m frantic and disbelieving so I try key after key until I stick the last one in and it sticks but I can’t turn it. I raise my eyes to the shadowed figure. “Did you change the locks?” I cry. I don’t understand why he’s doing this. I knew he’d be mad, but lock me out of the house?
The figure is silent, condemning. Long minutes pass as we stare at each other in the dark, through the glass sidelight.
He finally speaks and despite the barrier I can hear him clearly. He’s always been good at projecting his voice. “You’re behavior suggests you no longer wish to be part of my household; therefore you are no longer allowed access.”
“But…where will I go tonight?”
“Why don’t you pray about that and perhaps we can discuss this in the morning.”
“I need my stuff.” Hurt is giving way to anger. I can’t believe he’d do this—lock me out of my only home.
“Nothing in this house belongs to you.”
“That’s not true. I have clothes in there. And other stuff.” I have a few pieces of jewelry that my mother wore, some pictures, books. I want that. I jiggle the doorknob and bang on the wooden door. He allows the curtain for the sidelight to fall and then his figure moves away, ignoring my pleas.
My eyes fall to the key stuck in the lock. Crap. That is Easy’s key. The key to his house. I tug on it, but it won’t budge. Tears of frustration, hurt, unhappiness start flowing. I brush the back of my hand against my eyes and pull out the phone. I’ll call someone—Easy, Michigan, Pippa. Someone.
But the phone doesn’t work. I don’t even get a dial tone. In the dark I see that the service is disconnected. Did he cancel my cell phone plan too?
Taking a deep breath, I dry my eyes and think about my options. I can’t call anyone—not Michigan and Easy, not Pippa. The granary that serves as the motorcycle clubhouse is five miles west of town. Fortune is a safe town but it’s not Mayberry. It’d be dangerous to walk the five miles in the pitch dark. On those country roads there aren’t any streetlights and a car could easily hit me. Maybe Michigan and Easy haven’t left yet. It takes me twenty minutes to walk to the other side of town where they live.
My feet are sore because the flats I’d worn to the house aren’t meant for walking. Their house is completely silent and dark. I tap on a few windows but no one shows up. They are gone. A peek inside the garage shows only the truck and no bikes.
There are a couple of lawn chairs on the back porch. I pull those together and lie down. At least it’s summer. I can survive out here for one night in the summer. If it were winter though I wouldn’t make it.
I barely sleep a minute.
Between the mosquitoes and the late summer night air, there was no rest for me so I’m up at dawn and at the bank’s ATM. I insert my card and punch in my key code. The machine beeps at me and then swallows my card!
I make my way to the gas station, buy a coffee and a donut and sit on a bench at the park for the next three hours waiting for the bank to open. At nine o’clock sharp I’m outside the bank waiting for the doors to open.
Sara Ellerby, a high school classmate of mine, waves to me as she unlocks the door.
“Morning, Annie.” She holds open the door and I march in.
“Morning, Sara. I need to make a withdrawal and check my balance.”
“Sure thing. You have your debit card?” She hustles around to the back of the counter and holds out her hand for my card.
“No, the bank ATM ate it this morning.”
“God, I’m sorry. I’ll just need your driver’s license and bank account then. I can order you a new card too.”
“Thanks,” I sigh. So I had a few bad hours. I’ll withdraw some money, enough that I can stay in a motel tonight if I have to and a prepaid phone. As I make plans, Sara taps away at her keyboard. It seems like it’s taking her a long time. A little divot appears on her pretty face as she stares at the screen.
“Something wrong?”
“Um, no. I don’t think so.” She taps out a few more keys. “Do you have another account, Annie?”
“No. Just this one.”
She turns back to me, hands clasped and her lips pressed tight together. “Honey, that account is closed. It was closed this morning by your father. He was a cosignatory on the account.”
“He can do that?” I ask in shock. “Close it without me?”
She nods and misery is all over her face. “He transferred all the money over to a different account and I can’t tell you which one.”
“But, but—” My mouth is flapping like underwear on a clothing line. “The bank just opened,” I sputtered.
“I know.” She grimaces. “It was done right as the bank was opening. I’m so sorry. Do you need a loan? I’ve got a little money set aside.”
“No,” I say dazed but furious. I can’t believe Father would do that to me.
“I heard you were seeing a couple of the Death Lords. They take care of their own. If you needed something, I’m sure they would help you out.”
“Is that already being talked about?” I said with dismay.
“Unfortunately. It’s Fortune. What else have we got to do?”
“Thanks,” I say faintly. “For everything.”
I march over to the church. I’m hungry and I haven’t slept well which means I’m really irritated. The church is open all hours. There are no locks on the sanctuary door. Give me your tired and needy and poor is the unofficial motto.
Well, I’m all three.
The doors bang open and echo inside the empty worship hall. For once I don’t feel that sense of reverence. I’m too angry. I stomp down the center aisle and through the side door to the back where the parish office is.
I don’t even knock. My, I’m rebellious today.
“What is it?” Father asks impatiently.
“You took my money,” I accuse.
He steeples his fingers. “No, that money came from the church. You were just merely the custodian of the funds which could be taken from you at any time should you not be in alignment with the
principles of the church.”
I gasp. “I earned that money. I worked here for years for that money.”
“Is money all that you can think about?” he says with disapproval.
“No, but I don’t understand why you’ve taken it from me. I earned it.” Tears start falling but they’re tears of anger and frustration. I’m upset about so many things. His betrayal being number one. “You locked me out last. I had to sleep outside on lawn chairs. This morning I went to draw some money out of my account and it was gone. All of it. What is this all about?”
“Anne Bloom, do not play dumb with me. You know what this is about.”
“Is it because I want to see Easy?”
He erupts. He jumps from his chair and strides around his desk. “Easy?” he spits out. “You call him by that ridiculous gang name. You’ve spread your legs not only for him but for his friend. You’re nothing but a whore.”
I gasp at the insult. He looms over me. It shocks me that I’ve forgotten how big he is. I got my height from him but he stands at least six inches taller than me. And he’s big. Big boned. I never gave his size much thought. Other than that one time, the one time we don’t speak about, he’s never given me cause to worry about it.
“Yes, that’s right,” he continues. “I had an edifying conversation with Chief Schmidt last night. He shared with me the perversions that go on in that club. It is a den of iniquity and now that you are part of it, you do not belong here in this sanctuary, contaminating the good people of the community.”
“There’s nothing in the Bible that says I can’t love more than one man,” I say defiantly.
He grabs my wrists in his one big paw and leans over and spits in my face! I draw back in utter shock. My mouth drops open but I can’t even wipe the spittle away because his big hand is holding me captive. “You are an abomination.”
He raises my wrists higher with one hand and reaches behind him with another. He shoves two brown pieces of leather in my face, mashing my face against the metal clasps so hard I feel my lips bite into my teeth.
“And these? What are these?” he thunders, shaking my wrists.