The Presence by T. Davis Bunn Read Free Book Online Page A

points straight down. ‘Door’s right along there. Just follow the smoke.’
    â€œThat makes Preacher Jones freeze up solid. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’
    â€œâ€˜Dead serious,’ Father Coughlin says, which I think you’ll agree was in right bad taste.
    â€œPreacher Jones thinks it over a while and decides becomin’ a Catholic was maybe a tad better’n burnin’ in hell for all eternity. So he sighs real long and says, ‘Okay, tell me what I gotta do.’
    â€œBut just then, lo and behold, up steps old Saint Peter.”
    â€œUh oh,” Macon said.
    â€œUh oh is right. He isn’t the least bit pleased. He storms up, turns a fiery gaze on Father Coughlin, and the poor man shrivels up like a popped balloon.
    â€œâ€˜You think this is a game?’ Saint Peter roars.
    â€œThe father does a major cringe. Desperate don’t even begin to describe the look in that poor man’s eyes.
    â€œâ€˜How’d you like to regret this for all eternity?’ Peter bellows.
    â€œPreacher Jones, now, he’s stepped back a ways, just in case little bits of Father Coughlin start flyin’. Has his eyes open all big and innocent, watchin’ it all come down on the father. He has one big toe diggin’ a hole in the cloud, and looks like a little kid who just found out he’s gonna get a lollipop instead of a spankin’.
    â€œâ€˜I’d be happy to show him the other door,’ Preacher Jones says to Saint Peter.
    â€œPeter’s not havin’ any of that, though. He swings around and says, ‘You just remember what side of the pearly gates you’re standin’ on and keep a civil tongue in your head!’ Then he turns back to the father and says, ‘Now, what am I gonna do with you?’
    â€œNow old Peter’s a kindhearted saint. He’s gotta be with a job like his. But he’s shrewd too. He knows he’s gonna let the father in, see, but he doesn’t want him knowin’ that just yet. Not till he’d really seen the error of his ways.’
    â€œWell, by this time the father’s sweatin’ harder’n a farmer who’s just finished a day of croppin’ August tobacco. He kind of gibbers a minute, then says, ‘How ‘bout I apologize to Preacher Jones real nice like?’
    â€œâ€˜No,’ Peter says, ‘I don’t think that’s gonna do it.’
    â€œFather Coughlin realizes the time for worryin’ about pride is long gone, on account of he can feel the flames around his ankles. He flings himself facedown at Peter’s feet, twists the folds of the old man’s robes in his fingers, and sobs fit to beat the band.
    â€œâ€˜Please, sir!’ he cries. ‘Pleeeeze don’t send me down below. I been good all my life. Please don’t make me burn.’
    â€œThat’s all Peter wants, see, just to be sure the father is really and truly sorry. But just as Saint Peter is ready to lift the man up and dust him off and send him through to Paradise, Peter catches sight of Preacher Jones.
    â€œThe reverend’s kind of sidled off to one side, thinkin’ he is safe over there from Peter’s eyes. He’s got his hands behind his back and is rockin’ back and forth on his heels, wearin’ the biggest grin you’d ever hope to see. Yep, this was a dream come true for Preacher Jones. He points his nose up in the air, sniffs long and hard like he’d just caught a whiff of barbecue on the wind.
    â€œYou gotta remember now, gloatin’ ain’t real high on the list of things to do in Paradise. So you might say Saint Peter was as put out with Preacher Jones as he was with the father.
    â€œThen the light dawns in old Peter’s eyes. He lifts the father back up to his feet, dusts the cloud off the front of his robe, and tells him to get ahold of himself ‘cause he’s not goin’ to