Children of the Earth Read Online Free
Author: Anna Schumacher
it wasn’t exactly polite, but what did it matter? It wasn’t like Hilary was the queen of England. As the liquid warmed her insides, she looked up and saw concern flash in her old friend’s eyes.
“We miss you at church.” Hilary sounded like she was trying to coax a scared dog out from under the bed.
“Yeah, well,” Janie shrugged. She already wanted another swig—it seemed like she needed more and more to take the edge off lately. “I’ve been real busy up here.”
Hilary’s eyebrows knit, and for a moment Janie saw herself through her friend’s eyes: hair matted around her face, bundled in her old Carbon County High sweatshirt and a cheap pair of sweatpants that, honestly, she hadn’t changed in a few days. She must look pathetic, like a washed-up housewife who couldn’t even get it together to do laundry. Not that the laundry hookup was even close to ready in the Varley mansion, and Deirdre, being too proud to let them go to the laundromat in town, insisted they hand-wash their clothes in the sink. Screw that: Janie had better things to do. Like sleep. And watch TV. And drink.
“Well, we’d all love it if you could find time to come see what we’ve been up to at the church!” Hilary sounded too upbeat, too positive—the very opposite of her sarcastic former self. Had Janie been that annoying when she was on her big Jesus kick? She couldn’t remember. Everything about the past, the time before she married Doug and lost her baby and moved into the house at Elk Mountain, seemed so far away, like it had happened in another lifetime to another person. A happier person.
“So many people have moved into town since Pastor Ted got that show on the Christian channel,” Hilary continued. “There are all these great new folks now, we’ve started a youth group and everything, and the Sunday sermons are packed. Seriously, Janie, you would not believe it: standing room only! It’s a good thing your folks are donating the money for a new church, and that’s close to done, too, so we’ll have room for everyone who’s ready to be saved.”
Hilary leaned forward on the couch, eyes glowing. “Just come to church this Sunday, Janie. It would mean so much to your folks, and to Pastor Ted, and . . . well, to
me
.”
Janie couldn’t hold out anymore. She grabbed the bottle and took a good, long gulp. The vodka burned, but it was so much easier to swallow than Hilary’s words. She’d believed in the church—in God, in Jesus, all of it—with all her heart before. But where was God when she’d cried out to him to let her baby be delivered safe and sound? Not listening, obviously. So why should she put her faith in him now?
She set the bottle down and wiped the back of her mouth with her hand. “I’ll go,” she said.
“You will?” Hilary scootched forward on the couch and wrapped her arms around Janie, a hint of her old fierceness in her grip. “That’s so great! Pastor Ted will be so excited—and Daphne, too! She’s there every Sunday now, and you wouldn’t believe the fuss people make about her. I guess not every congregation gets to have its own real, live, honest-to-goodness prophet.”
“That’s . . . awesome.” Janie tried to force a smile, but it just wouldn’t come. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Daphne, not exactly. Just that she didn’t buy into all that prophet baloney. A real prophet would have been able to save her baby. A real prophet wouldn’t have let an infant die in her arms.
Hilary sat back on the couch and kept talking, her chatter rapid and meaningless. Janie tuned out, sneaking occasional nips from the bottle and nodding along numbly as Hilary gossiped about their old friends and raved about Pastor Ted and waxed on about clean living and the Rapture and that weird new club in town, the Vein, which Pastor Ted said was a hotbed of sin they all must avoid if they wanted to be swept up to heaven in God’s golden light. It was a relief when her friend finally
“We miss you at church.” Hilary sounded like she was trying to coax a scared dog out from under the bed.
“Yeah, well,” Janie shrugged. She already wanted another swig—it seemed like she needed more and more to take the edge off lately. “I’ve been real busy up here.”
Hilary’s eyebrows knit, and for a moment Janie saw herself through her friend’s eyes: hair matted around her face, bundled in her old Carbon County High sweatshirt and a cheap pair of sweatpants that, honestly, she hadn’t changed in a few days. She must look pathetic, like a washed-up housewife who couldn’t even get it together to do laundry. Not that the laundry hookup was even close to ready in the Varley mansion, and Deirdre, being too proud to let them go to the laundromat in town, insisted they hand-wash their clothes in the sink. Screw that: Janie had better things to do. Like sleep. And watch TV. And drink.
“Well, we’d all love it if you could find time to come see what we’ve been up to at the church!” Hilary sounded too upbeat, too positive—the very opposite of her sarcastic former self. Had Janie been that annoying when she was on her big Jesus kick? She couldn’t remember. Everything about the past, the time before she married Doug and lost her baby and moved into the house at Elk Mountain, seemed so far away, like it had happened in another lifetime to another person. A happier person.
“So many people have moved into town since Pastor Ted got that show on the Christian channel,” Hilary continued. “There are all these great new folks now, we’ve started a youth group and everything, and the Sunday sermons are packed. Seriously, Janie, you would not believe it: standing room only! It’s a good thing your folks are donating the money for a new church, and that’s close to done, too, so we’ll have room for everyone who’s ready to be saved.”
Hilary leaned forward on the couch, eyes glowing. “Just come to church this Sunday, Janie. It would mean so much to your folks, and to Pastor Ted, and . . . well, to
me
.”
Janie couldn’t hold out anymore. She grabbed the bottle and took a good, long gulp. The vodka burned, but it was so much easier to swallow than Hilary’s words. She’d believed in the church—in God, in Jesus, all of it—with all her heart before. But where was God when she’d cried out to him to let her baby be delivered safe and sound? Not listening, obviously. So why should she put her faith in him now?
She set the bottle down and wiped the back of her mouth with her hand. “I’ll go,” she said.
“You will?” Hilary scootched forward on the couch and wrapped her arms around Janie, a hint of her old fierceness in her grip. “That’s so great! Pastor Ted will be so excited—and Daphne, too! She’s there every Sunday now, and you wouldn’t believe the fuss people make about her. I guess not every congregation gets to have its own real, live, honest-to-goodness prophet.”
“That’s . . . awesome.” Janie tried to force a smile, but it just wouldn’t come. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Daphne, not exactly. Just that she didn’t buy into all that prophet baloney. A real prophet would have been able to save her baby. A real prophet wouldn’t have let an infant die in her arms.
Hilary sat back on the couch and kept talking, her chatter rapid and meaningless. Janie tuned out, sneaking occasional nips from the bottle and nodding along numbly as Hilary gossiped about their old friends and raved about Pastor Ted and waxed on about clean living and the Rapture and that weird new club in town, the Vein, which Pastor Ted said was a hotbed of sin they all must avoid if they wanted to be swept up to heaven in God’s golden light. It was a relief when her friend finally
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