Holding Their Own VII: Phoenix Star (22 page)

Terri pried her eyes from the stage, sweeping the audience to gauge their reaction. She saw some heads nodding in agreement and a few moist eyes, but most of the attendees were simply mesmerized.

“My, how things have changed, my friends,” Pearson continued. “And that is why today’s ceremony has such a deeper, important meaning. Today, it’s not my words of encouragement and motivation from the pulpit. Today is more than a full stomach and a warm, dry place to lay our heads. Today, the message is from
you
, and that message is that
you
believe in the future... that
you
have optimism… that
you
feel God’s hand guiding our path.”

Terri had to admit, the man was good. Very good.
His inflections, tempo, and mannerisms were polished as well as any national politician or global leader. She could see why the church had grown so rapidly. She now understood how such a remote town as Crawford had embraced the organization.

He continued,
“We, God’s humble children, have been blessed with this magnificent place. The Lord guided us here as surely as he guided Moses out of Egypt. Our future is bright as long as we continue to adhere to his wishes. So enjoy this day, submerge yourself in this celebration, and embrace the fellowship it represents. For God is in control of our future, and he loves each and every one of us.”

“That was a little unusual,” Terri whispered to Hunter. “In the good old days, that wasn’t the way we kicked off a wedding. Times certainly have changed.
”

The groom finally appeared, stroll
ing confidently onto the stage wearing an ill-fitting suit adorned with a boutonniere of local wildflowers. Again, the ladies quartet starting singing, and all heads turned to the back where the bridesmaid and best man were now standing.

Being a stranger, Terri had taken a seat on the back row despite there being plenty of spots closer in. Her vantage enabled a clear view of the bride, and a man she assumed was her father. Something was off.

While most everyone watched the maid of honor and groomsman march down the aisle, Terri’s focus remained on the bride and her father. There was a discussion going on between the two, and it was punctuated with terse words and harsh sounds. As the couple shuffled forward, next in the procession, the father held the young girl by the shoulders as if to give her one last chance to back out.
Should have invested in a wedding coordinator,
Terri thought, remembering her own pre-wedding jitters.

Terri’s read on the body language made her think that the bride was actually considering her father’s recommendation. Despite her full
length, white gown and veil, the bride’s movements suggested hesitation. Movement from over the father’s shoulder made the situation even more bizarre.

Dean and one of his armed comrades were moving toward the girl and her father. The scowl on the security man’s face indicated he wasn’t happy about the proceedings.

The bride made up her mind, hooking her father’s arm and mouthing the words, “It’s okay. I love you. It will be all right.”

Terri could tell Dad didn’t like it, but he accepted his daughter’s wishes and began their slow walk toward the stage. Glancing back over her shoulder, Terri sa
w Dean and his man back away.

The next big surprise came at the end of the ceremony. When the bride’s veil was lifted, Terri inhaled at
how young the woman… no, girl… no, teenager appeared to be.

“She’s not a day over 15
,” Terri whispered to Hunter. “No wonder Dad’s not a happy camper.”

The observation caused Terri to study the groom. He
was older, perhaps in his mid to late 20s.
Wow! That girl is barely old enough to date
, she gasped.

After the couple exited to t
he applause of the crowd, the congregation began drifting toward the main assembly hall located in the center of the camp. After checking that Hunter was still clean and dry, Terri decided she would follow suit. Besides, it had been ages since she’d had a piece of cake or a sip of punch.

Along the way, she heard the usual post-wedding comments. “She looked b
eautiful,” and “What a wonderful day for a wedding,” floated through the milling crowd.

Agai
n, she hung back, waiting for the logjam at the door to clear. Hunter started fussing, either hungry or upset that his kaleidoscope of color and sound had vanished. Terri didn’t want to disturb the proceedings with a crying baby, opting to entertain the child away from the main festivities.

Intent o
n wandering back toward the camper, she turned and began strolling toward the parking lot, glad the rhythm of her steps had sent the crying infant to a better place. She was reveling in her parenting skills when one of Hunter’s blankets caught on a bush. She paused, slowly kneeling down to retrieve the wayward cloth.

Harsh, angry voices
in the distance drew her attention. Peeking through the foliage, she spied the bride’s father surrounded by Dean and three of his men.

Whatever was going on, it wasn’t male bonding over the marriage of a man’s daughter. She couldn’t hear the words, but the gestures and expressions were clear. Dean was pissed, and so was dad.

Back and forth it went, more than once Terri was certain it was about to come to blows. After a few minutes, the dad walked away shaking his head. While the confrontation was over, Terri thought it was odd that the father of the bride wasn’t attending the reception. She decided to follow, just to see what was going on. His path didn’t seem that much out of her way.

Hunter stretched and sighed contentedly
, now almost asleep, relaxed by the motion of walking. Terri increased her pace in hope of closing with the angry parent. She didn’t travel far, finding the man sitting on a cabin porch stoop, staring blankly down at the ground with his head in his hands.

“Excuse me,” she opened, noticing his sad expression when he looked up. “I’m new here
, and I’m kind of lost. Would you kindly point me in the direction of…. Oh, wait…. Aren’t you the father of the bride?”

“Yes,” he responded in a weak, ho
arse voice. “I had to give my Jennie away today.”

“You
had
to give her away?”

“Yes, what choice do we have? It’s either
follow the rules or leave. The elders want the young people married as soon as possible, and she turned 15 last month. At least she found a fellow she liked… some of the girls have their husbands chosen for them like in the old days.”

Terri was shocked, but tried to keep her face neutral. “You mean they do contract marriages?”

The question was a mistake. Despite his depression, the man looked at her with an expression that said, “Of course they do – where have you been?”

Before he could say a word, Dean’
s voice rang out from behind Terri. “What are you doing here?” he snapped.

She turned, projecting as much innocence as she could muster. “Hello. I got turned around coming back from the wedding. I was asking this man
for directions.”

“You
’re going the wrong way,” he replied, pointing with a straight arm and finger to the east. “Go that direction, and you’ll see the lot in less than two minutes.”

“Thank you,” Terri replied
, quickly moving away from the hostile man.

She passed through the remainder of the camp without incident, following the gravel path
past the HQ building. Before entering the camper, she paused. Staring up at the mountain, she whispered, “Come home Bishop, I need you.”

“I think I’m actually gaining weight,” Pearson reported, smiling as Dean sat in one of the guest chairs. The preacher fumbled to remove his collar, the grimace on his face indicating it was too tight.

“That statement doesn’t fit with living in a post-apocalyptic world, Pastor,” Dean replied with a grunt.

“The Lord enlightened me, showed me the way. My only contribution was that I listened to his voice, heeded his warning.”

Dean nodded, the pastor’s words familiar and often repeated. He changed the subject, “What are you going to do with our guests? The road will be cleared in a few more hours.”

Finally free of the restrictive clothing, Pearson sat behind his desk and clasped his hands
as if preparing to pray. “Let me ask you a question. When you coached the football team, did you ever have a situation where you wanted a player that wasn’t interested in joining the team?”

Dean’s initial reaction was to wave off the minister’s inquiry, his mind confident of where the man was going. But he didn’t. Time and experience had taught him not to underestimate Pearson. He considered his answer, a sincere desire to be honest with his leader. “Yes, there were a handful of times when I knew a kid had a great future, but was messed up in the head. I thought I could help him… help straighten out his life if he’d join the team.”

“And did he?”

Again, Dean couldn’t answer immediately, his brow knotting from the effort to recall old memories. “Yes, most of them did, and I can think of at least three who didn’t. Are you comparing our guests to my football players? Because if you are, our team is just fine as it is. Sometimes adding new players can be disruptive.”

Pearson nodded, his eyes twinkling with humor. “Yes, I’m drawing an analogy, but not for our team. Back to my question, those who joined your program… how did their success make you feel?”

“Oh, there’s no doubt I felt a higher sense of reward if those kids did well. I suppose the bond I felt with them was a little stronger than some of the other players.”

“And long-term – was there a heightened sense of loyalty? Did your gratification last longer?”

“Yes, yes it did. But, if they didn’t do well, the sense of failure I experienced was
excruciating. I felt as though I had made a bad investment of time and effort… an investment I could have made in one of the other kids.”

It was the preacher’s turn to consider before speaking again. “There’s always that risk
, I suppose.”

Pearson stood, moving to his favorite spot by the window. His gaze glassed over, a sign of deep thought. When he finally turned back to his guest, there was certainty in his expression. “Our guests are different. They are survivors, capable and confident, not desperate people who were looking for guidance and inspiration most of their lives. In my role as coach… as leader of our team, the players I’ve recruited so far were easy. They were eager to join our cause, looking for a guiding light of like-minded thinking.”

Dean nodded his agreement, but remained silent, waiting for Pearson to continue.

“You joined because you were disgruntled with the direction of our youth. When our paths crossed three years ago, you were a man swimming in a river of alcohol, being pulled under by hatred, discrimination
, and bigotry. I found in you a frustrated soul, a good person with moral values who recognized the decay in our society, but felt helpless to do anything about it. With the Lord’s help, I convinced you there was a way… a path to reshape humanity.”

Dean sighed, a painful expression at the memories crossing his face. “I can’t argue any of that, Pastor. I was angry and frustrated. Your plan gave me hope, something to believe in. Your actions allowed me to trust for the first time in many, many years. I’ll never forget that.”

Pearson perched on the corner of his desk, his fingers interlocking around his knee. “Right now, my roster consists of star players like you, but also consists of those who were thrilled to be a member of
any
team. But that’s not enough… we don’t have the talent to achieve the next phase of the vision God has shared with me. If we are to succeed, I need to improve my recruiting. I need to develop the skills that will make people like our guests want to join our cause. Like your wayward players, I believe a bond of loyalty will develop from the process. We are going to need that. Our future will require that we can draw such men and women to our cause. Now is the time to sharpen those skills and prove to ourselves it can be done.”

“And if they don’t?”

“If they choose to ignore the gospel, then we will consider it a lesson learned and follow our rules. It pains me to do so, but death is going to be our constant companion during this crusade. We are at a key point in time, and simply can’t accept the risk of exposure.”