CHAPTER 3
As Kristen moaned, she froze to see a look of rage form on Tess’s face. She’s mad! Kristen thought. I’ll bet she’s going to tell him off! Gloria looked from Tess to the policeman, a bewildered expression on her face. Kristen approached the edge of the stage, followed by Travis, and stared at the man, then at Tess.
Rage indeed was surging in Tess’s heart. Even though she had known, from ages past, that things would be this way during this perilous time of history, it still outraged her that the authorities would shut down all public expressions of Christian faith, including church pageants. Silently, she prayed for patience and discretion, then crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at the officer.
“And may I ask who gave these orders? And why?”
The man looked at her condescendingly. “The pope gave the orders, madam, and for good reason. Christianity is--and has always been--an intolerant religion, and the pope will not brook that. No religion that claims there’s only one way to God can be allowed in this day and age. This is a new day, a day of world community. Of oneness.” He wagged his finger. “You people and others like you are endangering that oneness; that will not be tolerated.”
He turned back to the pastor. “If you must put on a pageant, put on one approved by the religion authorities. I can send you some skits to use. But this pageant will not be held; anyone attempting to perform it will be arrested and jailed!”
Without another word, he left, followed by the police officers. As the door slammed shut behind them, the participants murmured, dismay in their voices and on their faces. Gloria tilted her head, a bewildered expression still on her face. Kristen leaned against the podium, moaning softly. Next to her, Travis clenched his fists, glaring at the door.
Tess raised her hands for silence. “Listen, everybody!” The crowd fell silent. Putting her hands on her hips, Tess glared at the front door, then turned back to the participants. “Don’t worry about what that man said. I will do everything I can to make sure the pageant is held, no matter what the pope’s orders are.” She wagged her finger for emphasis. “All of you, get back on the stage! We have much work to do.”
She turned to Kristen. “Baby, that includes you. You and Travis take your places in the stable. Gloria, keep an eye on the other young people--you’ll be leading them through their rehearsal again soon.” Gloria nodded.
As they all resumed their rehearsals, Monica drove to the Oates house. Silently, she prayed that God would soften Randy’s heart and open it to His love. The red sun had dropped below the houses. When she pulled up into the driveway, she saw some tinsel sticking out of the trash cans.
Monica hopped out of the red convertible and stopped when she reached them. Both were full of Christmas decorations. She sighed, as pain welled up. “So, Randy has thrown them away.”
She raised her face toward the sky in silent prayer; receiving her orders, she approached the front door. Footfalls grew louder; a few seconds after she knocked, the door swung open. Randy stood in the doorway, shoulders slumped, a remote control in his left hand.
“Hi, Monica.” He sighed. “Come on in.”
Monica followed him into the living room. Randy gestured toward the couch. As Monica perched on it, she saw some brochures and pamphlets spread out on the coffee table. All, she noticed, had been sent by the new world religion. CNN was airing a special report about the new world religion’s intended programs.
Randy plopped on the couch next to her; the mattress sagged underneath as he leaned back. He pressed the power button on the remote; the TV screen went black. The control landed on the coffee table with a thud; Randy gestured toward the brochures. “The new religion’s been sending them out to everyone. I’ve been receiving them week after week. I was just going through them."
Biting his lip, he shook his head. “They really want everyone to join. I’ve even been getting calls from them, asking to come to my house and sign me up. I tell them no, I’m not interested.”
Monica nodded. The news didn’t surprise her. “They’ve been calling everybody.” She clasped her hands as she spoke.
Randy leaned against the soft back of the couch. “I’ll be honest, Monica; I don’t feel right about this new religion. I’ve never liked the church, but…but…” His voice trailed off. Sighing heavily, he hung his head.
Pain welled up in Monica’s heart as she watched him stare down at his hands, shoulders slumped. To think of anyone suffering as Randy was doing was awful. She yearned to ease his grief, and to give him and his daughter something to live and hope for.
“My wife was a fine woman,” Randy said. “A little too religious for me, but a good wife and a good mother. She used to give me surprises when I was away on trips. Leave them in my suitcase. I’m a salesman, you see, and my job often takes me on the road.” He sighed. “I sure took her for granted.”
He looked up at the pine door across the room. “I loved Christmas when she was here. But with her gone--well, I just can’t bring myself to celebrate it. Not anymore. It‘s been a year and a half since Laura disappeared, yet it feels like it was yesterday!” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have let Kristen go to that pageant rehearsal, Monica. It can’t come to any good. Not for either of us.”
Monica laid a hand on his shoulder. “Your daughter really needs something to bring some joy into her life. Something to rejoice over.” She paused. “She needs the hope of Christmas now, more than she ever has. And so do you. When you feel least like celebrating Christmas, that’s when you need it the most. Please think about it.”
Randy did not respond. He looked down at his hands again, moving the face of his watch up and down with his thumb and forefinger. Monica squeezed his shoulders. “Why don’t you let her have a part in the pageant? It would lift her spirits.”
Randy stiffened and glared at her. “And depress mine!” he barked. “I want nothing to do with Christmas or church, now or ever!” Banging his fist on the table with a thud, he leaped to his feet. Monica slowly rose to hers, keeping her eyes fixed on his now-reddened face. “You’re ganging up on me, both of you, and I won’t have it! I want you to leave immediately!” He pointed toward the door.
In that instant, a pounding on the door startled them. Randy strode toward it and swung it open. “Oh! Hello, officer. Come in. Is something wrong?”
Andrew, wearing a gray winter coat over a policeman’s uniform, stepped in, shaking snow off his gloved hands. Frigid air rushed into the living room, until Andrew shut the door. “Hello, Monica.” Monica smiled in greeting.
The angel of death turned toward Randy. “Mr. Oates?” Randy nodded. “Mr. Oates, your daughter’s in trouble.” He spoke slowly.
“What?” Randy grabbed his coat collar. “Tell me! Where’s my daughter; what’s happened to her?”
Nodding toward Monica, Andrew unbuttoned his coat, then removed his police cap. His badge sparkled in the lamplight. Glancing at Monica, he squared his shoulders, his eyes somber. “I was just passing the church on the next block in my squad car; there were several police cars parked there and a police wagon. They were arresting the people inside the church. I stopped there to see what was happening.”
Andrew paused, taking a deep breath. “One of them was your daughter. She was wearing a blue Mary costume. I was sent here to tell you.” He paused again, sadness etched on his face. “They’re going to be charged with unlawful assembly.” He folded his hands across his chest.
END OF CHAPTER 3