Disclaimer: JOAN OF ARCADIA is the creation of Barbara Hall and I have no legal rights to the story or characters. My only motive in presenting this story is to have fun and maybe share it.

The Revelation of Joan

Chapter 1 Amazing Grace

Ever since my sister-in-law Joan became famous, people have been asking me what her youth was like. I have written up the official story elsewhere, but at Joan's request I left out the most crucial bit of information of all. Feeling a compulsion to set the story straight, I have decided to write down this account, and then bury it somewhere.

Concerning my first two years of friendship, everything is basically as I described it in the official biography. The crucial change happened in June 2005. It was the week after the high school year ended, about a month after the shocking attacks on my synagogue and the nearby Catholic Church.

In both cases repair of the damage was largely covered by insurance and by donations, but my Dad decided that it would be good psychology for the members of the synagogue to do some of the rebuilding on their own, re-enacting the rebuilding of the Temple in the Books of Ezra and Nehemiah. Once I was free from school I decided to join in. It was odd: a year ago I had cared nothing for the building; now it was the center of my interest. It wasn't so much conventional piety but an urge to combat an act of destruction by an act of re-creation. If the synagogue hadn't been damaged, I might even have volunteered to help the Catholics.

Knowing nothing about building, I decided to visit the bookstore where Joan worked. There was a old lady coming out; I had seen her talk to Joan before and supposed her to be a friend or relative of the family, but Joan had never introduced us.

Nobody else was in the bookstore, let alone the manager. The guy was apparently a parasite who collected his paycheck and dumped all his work on Joan. On occasion I had suggested that Joan try to report him to his managers, but Joan always refused. She liked being left in charge, and she also enjoyed having a sort of refuge from the pressures of home and school. It certainly beat the biology closet where Luke and I hid when we wanted privacy.

Joan wasn't acquainted with the do-it-yourself books that I was looking for, so we searched together. While kneeling down and staring at a shelf, she remarked casually, "How would you like to sleep over at our house tonight?"

"Did Luke put you up to this?" I asked in surprise. I had been dating her brother for nearly a year, but having me in his house overnight would still be a bold step, for Luke.

"Luke? No, it was my idea."

I didn't bother asking where the idea had come from. Joan was always coming up with odd ideas and acting on them immediately. A year earlier I had thought it was a side effect of her Lyme disease, over-stimulating her brain. But she still had the odd ideas even after the germs were out of her system.

"There's only one problem," she continued as she perused the shelf. "There's only one bed in my room, so we'll have to share it. If you don't want that, we still have that guest room my aunt stayed in."

"Why shouldn't I want it?"

Joan looked flustered. "Well, there's that old rumor that you had a thing for girls. So sharing a bed--"

"That was just an act to shock people. No problem." Impishly I added, "Of course, I could share LUKE's bed---"

"Eew, don't even think about it. Ever since Adam screwed up, Mom's been giving Luke the Sex Lecture."

Adam had been my best friend from childhood -- purely platonic -- and Joan's special friend for the last couple of years, quite non-platonic. Unfortunately their relationship had hit a crisis a couple of months ago, and I knew all about it because both had tried to confide in me. Apparently Adam persuaded Joan that it was time to go all the way. Joan had gotten in bed with him, then panicked at the last minute, deciding that she wanted to keep her virginity. Adam had acquiesced, but was so frustrated that he let himself be seduced by another girl about whom he cared a lot less.

The worst part of the situation was that Adam had alienated not only Joan, but also Joan's mother, who had been giving him instruction in art. And being a mom, she wanted to make sure her own son never made the same mistake.

"And Luke's never done anything to deserve it," Joan went on. "Unless you and he--"

"Nope."

"All right, then.

"I'll ask my Dad if it's OK, and pick up a few things at my house."

"Cool."

Dad was agreeable when I asked him. "It'd do you good to get out for a night, and not listen to all the talk of the desecration and what it means." Numerous members of the congregation had been in and out over the month to consult the rabbi. "Just be careful not to get carried away with that boy."

"Don't worry. His Mom's going to be careful to protect his virginity from the likes of me."

"Um, yes." Dad never objected to my weird flights of humor, but he didn't know how to deal with them either. "Good night. Shalom."

I went to my room to get a toothbrush and a change of clothes, and (since I owned no pajamas) added a bulky bathrobe in case I met Luke. I didn't expect him to turn into a monster of lust on seeing me in negligee, but on the other hand I hadn't expected it of Adam either. Then I went out and let Joan drive me to her house.

"Hi, Mom," she called out as she walked in. "I've brought Grace. She's staying the night."

Mrs. Girardi, who was setting the table, looked up in surprise. I could read her expression precisely: You shouldn't have sprung it on me at the last minute, but I'm not going to create a fuss in front of the guest.

I made up my mind not to say anything snarky during the meal. "Fine. Set an extra place for Grace please, Kevin. Um, Grace, I'm afraid the meal may not be completely kosher--"

"That's all right." I said

Luke came down the stairs. I tried to conceal my delight at seeing him, because I hated acting like a girl. But Luke exclaimed, "Grace!" and dashed down the rest of the way. He was about an inch away when he suddenly realized his mother was watching and gave me a curt peck on the cheek. Joan snorted and broke out in giggles.

As we settled down the table, Mrs. G said, "Will's not coming. He's visiting some other cities trying to get leads on the church and synagogue attacks."

"So they're no leads here?" I asked.

"There were," said Luke. "But every time he tried to focus on them, the lead went dry. It's like the Uncertainty Principle."

"I've never understood the Uncertainty Principle," said Mrs. G.

"Well, the basic idea is that you can't find all possible information about a system, because the very attempt to observe the system also changes it. It's not human limitation, but part of how the universe is built. Even God couldn't get the information."

"Don't underestimate God," Joan said, speaking up for the first time.

There was an uncomfortable silence after that.

"We don't have to bring in the Uncertainty Principle," said Kevin. "More likely there's a mole in the police department, tipping off the criminal whenever the police get close."

"I hate that possibility," said Mrs. G.

"But you have to admit it's possible. We know police corruption here is pervasive. Dad did his best, but that Lucy-whatever lady undid his work."

I wasn't sure who Lucy-whatever was, but Mrs. G definitely didn't want to hear about her, because she immediately changed the subject. "I told Sister Lily that I'd do a new painting, free, to replace some of the artwork damaged at the church. I'm willing to make the same offer to the synagogue, Grace. Unless they'd object to a painting by a goy -- what's so funny?"

I got control of my giggling. "Goy's an insult. You shouldn't apply it to yourself. It would like calling yourself a wo--, um you get the idea." So much for not being snarky. "I'll tell my Dad about your offer."

The awkward dinner eventually ended, and then Joan and Luke took me to the garage to see what they called "The Boat". It was a project that Joan had started and dropped a year and a half ago, but in this case her father and older brother had picked it up. Luke said it would have gotten much further, except that he had suggested theoretical improvements that forced them to backtrack a bit. I got the impression that they enjoyed the BUILDING of the boat a lot more than they would enjoy using it when it was finished. I wished that my family could cooperate on a simple project like that.

Eventually Joan found an excuse to go out, giving Luke and me a chance to make out. After about a minute, Luke said, "My room's the one facing the back, opposite Joan's."

"You're hinting that you want me to show up there tonight?" I asked, startled, and not sure if I was ready for that.

"Oh, no. I just told you that so you could avoid it, if you happen to be wondering about."

"Why would I be wondering about?"

"You might need to pee during the night -- ulp, that was rude of me."

"Dude, that was INTIMATE. And lovers are supposed to exchange intimacies."

"Not that type. Not traditionally, anyway."

"So why consider ourselves bound by tradition?" The witty exchanges helped to detract from the original embarrassment. Luke returned to the subject just once. "I hear Joan up in the night sometimes. I assume it's because of having to go to the bathroom."

"An after-effect of the Lyme disease?"

"She's never said. Of course a girl wouldn't want to talk about that sort of problem to a guy, even her brother."

Eventually Joan came back and invited me up to her room, to listen to some CDs. And so the evening went on.

On the surface it was pleasant, but I was still puzzled underneath. Why had Joan asked me to sleep over? Did she have a big secret she wanted to divulge? Had she met another guy that would get her mind off Adam? Or was the invitation just one more whim, a friendly gesture that I should simply appreciate?

At one point I introduced the subject of summer activities, hoping that it would draw her out. "I'm going to be doing repair work at the synagogue, of course. And you?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Something will come up."

Yeah, one of her odd hobbies. It was weird: she even planned her own lack of planning.

"Have your parents suggested anything?" I felt a little envious asking that; my parents had stopped monitoring my activities some time ago.

"Mom wanted to send me somewhere South. Some relatives of hers have a farm, with horses. They were going to teach me how to ride -- and probably how to clean up the crap afterwards. Not my idea of a thrill."

"You got out of it?"

"Luke pointed out that there are lots of ticks around stables, and since I've been bitten once already--"

"Clever."

"Yeah. I told my parents that if nothing else came up, I'd read some of the books in my bookstore. But I think something will."

About 10:00 Joan disappeared into the bathroom and came out wearing a rather dumpy pair of pajamas. "You can change now if you like."

"I don't wear pajamas, just go to bed in underclothes. Why enrich textile companies by buying extra clothes for nighttime, when nobody is going to look at me?"

"I'm looking at you."

"Um, yeah, but you're the only one who's ever invited me for years."

She got in the other side of the bed and we talked awhile, but the subject was awkward. She wanted to talk about keeping in touch with Friedman over the summer, for some reason. I was mad at Friedman for tempting Luke to try drugs, but Joan might not know about his experimenting, and I certainly wasn't going to tell her about it while a guest here. News might get to Chief Girardi, who would be furious. Unlike Adam's shabby behavior toward Joan, drugs would represent an explicit crime that the chief could do something about.

Eventually Joan drifted off to sleep. She hogged the bed a bit, but then she was a bigger girl than I was, so I let it slide. I finally fell asleep as well.

Something woke me up a few hours later -- 2:00, according to Joan's alarm clock. Afterward that struck me as a curiously round number, but at the moment I decided to lie still and try to get back to sleep. Then I realized that Joan was not hogging the bed anymore -- in fact, she wasn't in it at all.

Recalling Luke's remarks, I didn't worry at first. Maybe she was using the bathroom, and would be embarrassed if I confronted her about it. But then I heard some voices outside.

Ever since the attack on the synagogue, I had been sensitized to secret nocturnal activities. I got out of the bed, walked to the window and listened as well as I could.

"But I don't understand what you want me to do." Joan's voice.

"Nothing, Joan," said another voice in a kindly tone.

"You've never asked me to do nothing before. Do you mean nothing like 'whatever', or am I supposed to stop something I'm doing? Is this some sort of calling drum?"

"You mean "conundrum", and no, it isn't. Just relax, Joan. Didn't you hear that I rested on the seventh day? You're entitled to rest too."

"I invited Grace like you asked, and it's been fun, but nothing big's come of it. Am I supposed to wait for ripples?"

No answer.

"What about Mr. Hunter? Am I supposed to be doing something about him?"

"In good time, Joan. For everything there is a season."

I couldn't stand it any longer. I was tempted to call out, but what if the stranger got angry, and had a gun? I didn't feel very brave in my underwear. I needed an ally, and clearly it wasn't clear where Joan stood. "Room facing the back, opposite Joan's" -- that ought to be easy to find, even in the dark.

I found the bedroom and bed, with Luke asleep in it. It took some time to shake him awake and, even after I succeeded, he looked at me bleary-eyed. Of course, he was near-sighted, and without his glasses I was probably a blur. Then I realized that, in my underclothes, I was probably revealing a lot more of me than I wanted Luke to see at the moment, and was glad I was a blur. "Um -- Grace? You decided to come after all? But I don't have protection--"

"Shut up, dude, or you'll need protection from me. Your sister's flipped. Again."

"Has she ever unflipped?"

"I don't know. But right now she's out on your porch, presumably in her PJs, talking with some strange guy. And he said some crap about resting on the seventh day, like he was God. Maybe your sister's being drawn into a cult."

That revelation jolted Luke awake. He grabbed at his bedside table, probably trying to find his glasses.

At that point Joan's cell phone went off in her room.

I said "went off" because, though the tune may not have been any louder than usual, it sounded to my state of nerves like an alarm going off.

I dashed into her room and received the call, feeling vaguely that it might be a solution to the odd goings-on. Only after I pressed ON did I realize that the cult guy wouldn't be calling Joan if he was still outside.

"Grace?" said a female voice on the phone. "You must go home. Now."

"Who is this?" I asked. It definitely wasn't my mother's voice.

"Go home." CLICK.

Luke was standing at the door. Joan, apparently finished downstairs, showed up as well, but I was too puzzled by the call to challenge her.

"Who was it?" asked Luke.

"Dunno. Somebody called, telling me to go home. Probably a crank call."

"Why would somebody make YOU a crank call on MY phone?" asked Joan. "And what are you doing with my phone?"

And that implied an even weirder problem. Why had the caller addressed me as "Grace" before I had identified myself?

"Why don't you call your house?" asked Luke. And since responding to that would be easier than to Joan's awkward question, I did so.

"Yes?" said a voice I couldn't identify at the moment. "Is that you, Grace? You had better come home. CLICK."

Mrs. G showed up in a nightgown, apparently awakened by the talk. Probably Kevin was awake as well, wondering whether the commotion was worth struggling into his wheelchair. I was beginning to realize that sleeping over in my underclothes had been a bad idea. "What is it?"

"Something's happened at my house," I said. "At least two people have urged me to come back. I better go." I reached for my day clothes.

"I'll drive," said Joan, looking honestly concerned even if she was still annoyed about the phone.

"No, honey, I'll do it," said Mrs. G. "I don't want you out in the middle of the night. Let me get dressed."

I get my jeans and blouse on, and sheepishly handed the phone back to Joan. She punched in an instruction, apparently last-numbers-called, and her eyes went wide. I hadn't thought of that, and it did not seem a good time to ask what she saw. Instead I turned to Luke and whispered, "Dude, it looks like your sister's YOUR problem."

"Yeah, I already knew that," he said ruefully.

Fifteen minutes later, Mrs. G was driving me home, not asking awkward questions. I guessed that having Joan for a daughter got her used to that.

We were about a block away when I saw the flashing red light of the ambulance. It illuminated a group of people on the curb, and spotted my father by some of the flashes. Mother wasn't visible -- and I knew.

"Mrs. G," I said, "let me out, now. I have to do the rest of this alone."