Tribe (6 page)

Janice kissed him on the neck and said, “Debbie left today.”

Todd knew what that meant. Debbie was Janice's roommate. Which in turn meant that Janice had the room to herself for the night.

“Would you like to come up?” she asked with a sly look in her eye.  “We can sneak up the back stairs.”

He pulled back and looked into her eyes, took a deep, nervous breath, and replied, “Sure.''

And as they turned, his arm around her shoulders, hers
around his waist, Todd wondered exactly what she had in mind. They'd kissed a lot, they'd hugged and caressed and come close to doing it, but had somehow always fallen away from the actual act of intercourse. So would this final night together be it, the climax, per se, of their time together?

As
she sat down Todd asked, “How's the little tyke?”

“Don't call her that.”

“Call her what?”

“Dyke.”

“I didn't. I said ‘tyke.' With a
T.
”

“Oh.”

“So how is she?”

“Fine.” She sat down, took a sip of wine. “I'm not so good at this motherhood stuff, after all. I just worry all the time. You know, is Ribka eating enough, is her diaper wet, is she warm…”

“Don't worry, Jeff's not going to let anything happen to her.”

“Yeah, well, that old queen better be watching her instead of playing around with my cosmetics. At least he's too fat to fit into any of my dresses, so he won't be messing with any of that stuff.”

“Janice,” began Todd, surprised to hear her talking so disparagingly, “what the hell's with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You've just been so uptight ever since this baby's arrived. Listen, you've taken five days off to be home with someone else's kid. Don't you think it's time you do a reality check and get back to work? You must have tons to do.”

“Tons and tons and tons.”

“So what are you waiting for?”

“Todd, it's just not that simple.”

He watched as she turned away, blotted her eyes, and asked, “Janice, what's this all about?”

She shrugged. “I've done some stupid things in my life.”

“Funny, I was just saying something like that this morning.”

“No, I mean really stupid.”

“Trust me, I know what you mean.”

“God, I need to talk.” She smiled sadly at him. “I just can't handle this. It's too much. Too big.”

He reached across the table, took her hand in his. “Hey, doll, you're one of the most together people I've ever met.”

“Thanks, but…but…” Janice started to say something, stopped, then asked, “I wish I had kids, don't you?”

“You know, I really hate that question. It's just so loaded with technicalities.”

“I mean, we should have had kids, the two of us together.”

“My, there's a complicated thought for you.” He glanced out the window. “Don't take it personally, Janice, but those two or three months we dated in college were some of the most awkward times of my life.”

“Gee, thanks, butch.”

“If I remember, you were the one who dumped me, went to Europe for a semester, and came back the following fall a so-called avowed lesbian.”

“Oh, please, don't remind me.” Her words hesitant, she added, “Oh, by the way—and no offense meant—there were a couple of other guys in there. After you, I mean. I guess I never told you that.”

“No, actually you didn't.”

He glanced again out the window, losing himself in thought, for whatever Janice had or hadn't done with whom or when, she'd certainly come to terms with her sexuality years earlier than he. Decades, actually. Todd, on the other hand, had done everything possible to avoid the truth and in turn complicate his life. As a matter of fact he was wishing he'd never gone into such a high-profile career as television. Appearance. Image. What any and everyone thought. He now saw how television had simply perpetuated his deep-seated fears. Each time he stood before the camera some little part of him was wondering what people would really think of him if they knew the truth.

When he turned back he saw that Janice was clutching her white dinner napkin to her eyes and crying.

“Janice,” Todd said softly as he squeezed her hand, “what's the matter?”

“Sorry, I'm having a meltdown.”

“I kind of guessed that.”

“Can we go?”

“No,” he chided gently, “not until you tell me what this is all about.”

“I will.” She sniffled, eyed the noisy restaurant. “But I don't want to talk about it here.”

“Okay, I'll get the waiter to wrap our order to go.”

She nodded, blew her nose.

Todd stared at her and said, “But you promise me you're going to tell me everything?”

“Promise.” She wiped her eyes. “Oh, Todd, there's something I've never told you, something that's been haunting me for years and years, and now I have a very real problem.”

In his hotel room
not far from the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport, Rick dropped himself onto the edge of his bed and stared at the phone. This was exhausting, all this gallivanting around the country, but for the first time he felt hope. Absolutely. The Lord was leading him to little Ribka, and soon he'd have his family back together and they could return to The Congregation, that safe and isolated island in this sea of madness. Oh, thought Rick, shaking his head, but this was a Godless nation, one full of worldly lies and rejected knowledge, idolaters and fornicators, and the sooner Zeb, Ribka, and he were back within the confines of the one true church, the better. There was safety there. True wisdom. And love.

Rick knew too well what it was like out here in this wicked world. Lost. That was what he'd been as a young man until some of his college friends and others from the Midwest invited him to join The Congregation. He'd been lost and on the verge of being swallowed up, just as was now happening to poor Zeb. So many years ago Rick had had a slovenly, Laodicean attitude, had wanted to give his life entirely to sin. But then, he thought remembering those terrible times, he'd turned his life around. He might have been born in sin, but long ago he had recaptured the true values and become a soldier in God's army, a believer who would always stand firmly on the promises. And if he could make right what was so wrong way back then, Zeb could well do the same now.

At least, thought Rick as he picked up the phone and dialed, he had some good news to report. Ribka, he was confident, would be all right. They were sure to find her. The blanket she'd been wrapped in, made from cotton grown right at The Congregation's compound and woven by the women there, would shield her from evil. After all, the blanket had been anointed by all of The Elders.

The phone rang, and a voice on the other end answered, saying, “Praise Jehovah.”

“Yes, praise Him.” Addressing God's Apostle and the leader of The Congregation, Rick said, “Good afternoon, Henry, it's me.”

“Where are you? Minneapolis?”

“Yes, we arrived this afternoon.”

They'd flown out of Albuquerque, having paid over a thousand dollars for their full-fare, one-way tickets. But money was the least of Rick's worries, for he'd been given more than enough from the coffers of The Congregation. All that matters, Henry had said, is Ribka. She has to be found, he had proclaimed, before Satan wraps his clever hands around her as well. Bring her back, that's all that matters.

“Paul and I are here,” continued Rick, speaking into the receiver, “and I'm fairly confident the baby is too.”

“Praise Jehovah!” The deep voice on the other end of the long-distance call turned away from the receiver and bellowed, “Honey! Honey, praise Jehovah, they've found your little baby girl!”

“No, wait, not so fast,” Rick said loudly. “Henry? Henry, listen to me. Henry, can you hear me?”

“Heavens, yes. How is she? How is my little—”

“I said I'm pretty sure the baby's here. I'm almost positive I know where she is. But we don't have her actually with us yet.”

“Wh-what?”

“Trust me, with God's vision we'll have her soon, possibly within a few hours. In fact, Paul's already scoping things out. Just be patient.”

“But…”

“Henry, as you say, Satan is wily.”

“Indeed he is.”

“So I must be cautious,” continued Rick. “Don't worry, you and I have an understanding.”

“Of course.”

Fortunately, Rick went on to explain, they'd received yet another blessing, for they'd made it here just ahead of the storm that was now going full force. The snow was falling out of the heavens to no end. All manly movement had been severely hampered. And if they'd hesitated, even caught the next flight, Rick was sure they wouldn't have made it in, for if the airport wasn't already shut down, it would be at any minute.

Seated on the bed of his hotel room, Rick said, “Anyway, we drove by the house this afternoon and there was a diaper truck out front.”

“What?” questioned the voice from Colorado. “A truck?”

“They were delivering diapers.”

“You…you think my little granddaughter's there because you saw a diaper truck?”

“That's right, Henry, but I—”

“Dear Lord help me, I don't follow you.”

“I know she's in there. There's more to it than that, but let me assure you that you have nothing to worry about.”

“Well…well, I hope so. My Suzanne here is a total wreck. An absolute wreck. She's hardly slept ever since her baby vanished.”

“I know, I understand, I feel the same way. After all, Henry, Ribka's my granddaughter as well.”

“True, but that worldly boy who started all this is your son, not mine,” stated Henry, his voice thick with anger. “So where is that little bastard? He there too?”

“I doubt it,” replied Rick, rising and starting to pace back and forth. “He could be nearby, but I'm fairly sure he's not at the house.”

“I want him back here too.”

“I know, Henry.”

“We all do. The Elders are going to do something, perhaps even disfellowship him according to the laws of The Congregation.”

“I am one of The Elders, you realize, and I couldn't agree more, something has to be done. He has to be marked. Our tribe must always be united and must always stand firm on its principles.”

“Of course, but this is all our people are talking about down at the bakery,” Henry said, referring to the cooperative business The Congregation ran to sustain itself. “There's ghastly gossip going on, gossip that's affecting everyone's work. Some are even saying that Zeb has never been more than a fringer, an unconverted sinner who has never believed in our ways.”

“Tell them not to worry,” insisted Rick. “Zeb's my son. He has shamed God the Father and God the Son, and of course you, Henry, God's Apostle. Zeb has given over for a time to Satan, and I'll take pride in punishing the boy strictly according to The Elders' decision.”

“So be it.”

Rick just hoped they'd be able to get Zeb back as well. Once they had little Ribka, though, they'd probably be able to lure him. His son was soft, Rick knew. He wouldn't be able to withstand not seeing his daughter. He'd certainly be consumed with worry, meaning, of course, he wouldn't come back merely to rejoin The Congregation and probably not to rejoin his young wife, Suzanne, either. No, Rick knew his son would return to the fold for one reason and one alone: his baby girl.

“I'm assuming Zeb hasn't called?” inquired Rick.

“You'd think he'd call Suzanne, his own wife. You'd think he'd let her know that her baby was okay, but, no, he hasn't.”

“He will.”

“Well, we've been waiting. And we have all the contraptions set up, everything you gave us.”

“Excellent. What number am I calling you from?”

“Ah…” And then Henry read the caller identification number: “612-377-1267.”

“Very good. And if he does call don't forget to tape record everything he says.”

“I'm not an idiot,” replied Henry curtly.

“Of course not, sir.”

Rick went over to the window and held back the stiff curtain. It was already dark, the snow falling thicker than ever. Off to the right he saw the clogged freeway and a band of cars creeping along.

“With God's mercy this will all be over in a few hours,” continued Rick. “I'll call you as soon as I have any news.”

“And it better be good news, that's all I have to say.”

In his one-story house a few miles south of Colorado Springs, Henry slammed down the phone and said, “He's as big an ass as his kid.”

Shaking his head, he sauntered over to the large picture window that looked out over his precious domain. Oh, sure, they'd had any number of crises over the years at The Congregation, but this ranked up there with the worst of them and none had ever touched Henry so personally. His very own little granddaughter kidnapped by her own father, that punk of a son-in-law! Henry wanted to explode with rage. He'd worked so hard at founding The Congregation and building this compound. When he'd come out here from Illinois over twenty years ago, this had been a pathetic ranch with a tumbledown house and a couple of outbuildings. Now down the slight hill stood the four family dormitories, the Gathering House where all the meals were taken in common, the Prayer Hall, and of course the long, low bakery where everyone worked producing the whole-grain, yeast-free sourdough bread that had become so popular in town and supported the entire Congregation.