afraid.
We were standing on the porch of the little blue house that used to be the Spiritualist Church of Glen Meadows when we heard these awful words.
And all three of us, I'm sure, felt for a moment like just passing on with her.
We'd found the place without any trouble. Drove the main highway in, stopped at a filling station and checked a phone book, and by 10:00 A.M. we were on the Reverend Young's front porch. Or what used to be hers.
There was no sign outside the home advertising it as a church, but Ob said, getting out of the ear, that it wasn't the kind of religion people necessarily advertised. He said it wasn't what you'd call Welcome Wagon material. And Cletus made some joke about the church not needing a sign anyway because everybody who was supposed to come most likely heard of it telepathically anyway. But I wasn't so optimistic. I was always set for failures since May died, and I was set for this one.
"Passed on where?" Cletus asked the man like a fool.
Smiling kindly to the imbecile in our company, the chipmunk of a man (that's the animal he favored) said, "She died, son. Last June. She's passed on to the Spirit World."
We three just stood there dumbfounded. We were trying to outwit Death on this trip, rise above it, penetrate the blockades it put up between us and May. We were coming to Putnam County to put Death in its place, and instead it had put us squarely back in ours.
"So who are you?" I asked brazenly, forgetting my manners. I had nothing left to lose anyway. I was mad at this chipmunk and ready to fight. Ready to squeeze that Bat Lady right out of him.
But his face never altered as he looked into my eyes. He smiled again, again kindly, and he said,
"I am Miriam's nephew, dear. I'm living here until I get her affairs in order."
"Oh."
I couldn't think of anything else to say.
Then Cletus said, "Where are the bats?"
The chipmunk chuckled. He said, "Flying free, son. Like the Reverend Young herself."
All this time Ob had said nothing. He hadn't even been facing us. As soon as he'd learned Reverend Young was dead, he had turned away and looked off the side of the porch, rubbing his forehead as he always did when he was lost and searching for a way to go.
But after the feeble attempts of Cletus and me to deal with this house empty of its Small Medium at Large, he turned back. Turned back and in a quiet voice said to the man. "I was hoping she could help me contact my wife. I needed to talk to my wife."
And the nephew of the preacher Ob had needed so desperately to find looked an Ob's heart broken face and saw his pain and he reached out and put a hand on Ob's shoulder.
"I am so sorry, sir, but I haven't my aunt's spiritual powers. There is no one else here. But I do know someone, a man in Sissonville, who might be able to.. ."
But Ob put up his hand and shook his head.
"No," he said. "No. We were led here, and here my looking ends. I can't go traipsing through the state like some old fool, searching out psychics. I'm not meant to do it and I won't."
Cletus looked at me and I looked at him, both of us hoping for the other one to do something.
Then Cletus said, "Well, sir, do you have any materials you might give us?
Anything she might have used in church?" Leave it to Cletus to think of that.
Wanting something to take, something to hold between his fingers, to hide away in his vinyl suitcase. Cletus always needing something to collect.
"Well," said the nephew, "there is the church brochure the Reverend always handed out to new-comers. I could give you one of those."
Cletus nodded his head.
The nephew looked over at Ob.
"Would you care to come inside while I look? Could I offer you a cup of coffee?"
But Ob shook his head and remained silent. His face was pale and full of strain, and I wanted to take his suffering from him. But all I could do was wait for the chipmunk and Cletus to take care of their business so we might just go on home.
The nephew reappeared at the door with a