Chapter the Twelfth
In which a Roof is built
The next day when Delia returned home from school, she quickly did her work and then sat on the stairs in the foyer and waited for her father to come home, which he did at just after five in the evening. She went to him and they hugged, "How was your day at work, pater?"
"Very good, filia, what are you up to?"
Delia took his coat and hung it up, "Waiting for you, to see if you had some things for me."
"That I do."
She followed him into the study and to his desk. Damien opened his briefcase, took out an envelope, reached inside, pulled out a shiny key and handed it to Delia, who clutched the key to her chest.
"For now, I don't want that key out of this house, so you will keep it in your room."
"Do I have to hide it from Xander?"
"No, he knows he's not supposed to go into that room. I don't want you worrying about your brother sneaking around and doing things he's not supposed to do. Why don't you get one of the small crystal bowls from the hutch and put the key in that and keep it on your dresser? That way, you'll always know where it is."
"Thank-you," Delia put the key in her pocket.
Damien pulled two books out of his briefcase and held up each, "This is the King James version of the bible," he handed the book to his daughter. "It is the go-to English translation, but it is dense and difficult to read, which is why I also got you this," Damien hand Delia the other book. "It's an easier to read version, the language is more modern, but I assumed that you would want to start off with the King James, so I went ahead and divided up the book in a kind of a reading schedule because," Damien lifted Delia's face so that she was looking at him, "you will not try to sit and read this whole thing at once, or significantly go past the pages that I've marked for you to read in one sitting. It's too much and you'll feel like you did when you woke up from your nightmare. I don't care if you want to read less, but you won't read more. Am I understood?"
"Yes," and Delia held on to the books.
"I will talk to Alexander tonight and he'll know that you have the key and I'll tell him that you will be going to church and reading the bible because you're curious about christianity. Again, if he asks you things that you don't feel comfortable answering because you don't want to lie to him, you just direct him to me and I'll talk to him."
"May I go and read now?"
"Is all your work done?"
"Yes, but...if I found a way to be clever about something, is it cheating?"
"It depends on what it is and whom you think you're cheating."
"You and Alexander."
"Explain," Damien sat in his chair and pulled some files from his briefcase and put them on his desk.
"Well, I know you said that Alexander and I will have turns with you, it was my turn last night and it's his tonight, but I'm always up earlier than he is and so I can have extra time with you in the morning."
He laughed, "I'd say that's being clever and not cheating considering that the only thing Alexander likes to discuss in the morning is being able to get more sleep. I like some me-time in the morning, Delia. I go up to the chapel and clear my head or think about things or read in my room before I come downstairs. Though, if there's something that's really bothering you, you can always come to talk to me, but as for making it a regular, every morning thing...I'll think about it, okay?"
Delia nodded and the took off to the formal dining room to grab a small bowl from the hutch and brought everything upstairs to her room and read, only taking a break for dinner.
...oOo...
It was nine forty-five when Damien came in and told Delia that it was bedtime; she had completely lost track of the time. She brought her pyjamas into the bathroom, changed, brushed her teeth and when she came out, he was by her desk, curious to see how she was progressing. "Did you open it up?"
"I wouldn't do that without your permission, Deedle."
"It's okay, you can look," she got into bed and under her covers.
Damien picked up the bible and thumbed through it, and noticed that several things were highlighted in Genesis, including the third chapter, which Delia had not only highlighted, but had also added exclamation marks and squiggles that Damien guessed were snakes. She had also had jotted things down in a notebook, including whether some of the names of the rivers mentioned in the first chapter were real.
"How are you finding the reading?"
"So far, so good, but it's harder than I thought it would be. How did you talk with Alexander go?"
"Very well, thank-you, he knows that you are reading the bible and will be going to church. He wants to ask you some things, but I told him that if you decide not to answer any of his questions, that he isn't supposed to push the issue," Damien looked up and there, on Delia's dresser, was a small crystal bowl. "I also told him that you have the key and that is sitting right on your dresser and if it goes missing, and he's the culprit, he'll be in trouble."
"Can I come talk to you in the morning?"
"Right to the point...it's been a hard few days, why don't we give it a rest tomorrow and we'll take it day by day for now. But, I have some bible encyclopedias that might help with some of the questions you might have, like with the names of the rivers. Would that be of use to you?"
"You can't be more helpful than that?" Delia eyed her father, hoping that she could be let in on some inside information.
"I told you, I don't know everything and some things are meant for only Alexander and me to know and I want you to figure things out for yourself."
Delia groaned in frustration.
"Okay, time for sleep and I'll see you in the morning," Damien came over to her bed and hugged her, "I love you."
"I love you too," Delia hugged her father back and he left, leaving her to go to bed.
...oOo...
Sunday morning came and Delia showered and headed downstairs dressed in her best clothes.
Damien was also dressed and was at the table eating breakfast, reading the paper, "Morning, dare I ask where your brother is?"
"Where else?" Delia put bacon and toast and fruit on her plate and began eating.
Delia was half way done her breakfast when the doorbell rang and Damien went to answer it and came back with Anna.
"Hi, Anna Banana."
"Hi, Delia Fobelia," Anna sat at the table and grabbed an apple from the bowl and took a bite.
"Did you eat breakfast?"
"Yes, thank-you, Damien."
"Delia, Anna wants to talk to you about some things. I suggested that she could talk to you alone, but she feels more comfortable if I'm here."
"Do you know who I am?"
A week ago, Delia would have answered that Anna was a lawyer who worked for her father, but today, she knew better, "You're one of my father's disciples."
"That's right, and not only am I here for him, I'm here for you and Alexander, too. I thought that there might be some things that I can do for you that your father might not be able to help you with."
"Like what?" More than a hint of defensiveness had quickly worked its way into Delia's tone.
"Anna is not insinuating that I am bad father, so there's no need to get protective. You're getting older and while I love you and will always help you, there are some things that I can't truly understand."
"Like what?" But this time Delia's tone was more frustrated than defensive.
"We've had the talk about puberty and changes in your body," but Damien had hardly finished the sentence when Delia turned to Anna.
"Do you mean talking to you about getting breasts and having my period? Why didn't you say so?" Delia shook her head and went back to her breakfast.
"Because she's not your mother and while she wants to help, it's also uncomfortable for her, which is why she wanted me here."
"I just want you to know that if you want to talk to me about anything like that, you can and so long as what you want to talk about, or if you need anything, so long as it isn't dangerous, whatever it is won't get back to your father."
"So you can take me to get a bra?"
"Now?"
"No, I don't have boobs yet," and Delia stuck out her flat chest and went back to eating.
"Okay, this is the part where I leave and go get your brother," Damien excused himself and went to rouse Alexander out of bed.
Anna laughed, "Surest way to clear a man out of a room is to talk about girl stuff. Yes, Delia, I can take you, whenever you want, to get a bra and anything else you need, you call me, day or night, and we can talk or I can help, okay?"
"Sure, I'm sorry I got mad earlier."
"You don't have to apologize, you were defending your father and I'm happy that you know who you are now," Anna winked at Delia, who finished her breakfast just as Damien appeared with a bleary-eyed Alexander still in his pyjamas.
"Morning, Anna," Alexander sat at the table and stared vacantly into space.
"Okay, we're off," Damien waited while Delia took her plate to the kitchen, washed her hands and then came back to him.
"I'll make sure he eats and we'll amuse ourselves appropriately."
"Have fun at church," Alexander smirked, not hiding the fact that, in his mind anyway, he would be the one having all the fun.
...oOo...
As a starting point, Damien had chosen the Protestant church that Richard and Ann used to attend and he pulled into the parking lot and found a spot close to the front. He smiled to himself as the parking lot was nowhere near as full as it was when he had come here once with Richard and Mark, after he had known who he was...Ann had made sure of that.
Delia undid her seat belt and Damien turned to her, "It'll be rough going when you first step in there. We'll sit in the back so that if we have to make a quick getaway, we can."
Delia nodded and both Thorns headed for the church.
Damien held the door open for Delia and no sooner did she step into the vestibule then she felt like she had when she had woken up from her nightmare, but this was far worse. Damien had warned her, but her father's admonition hadn't adequately described what she would feel.
She was being crushed, compressed on all sides, being scrunched into a small mass that would be tiny enough to fit in her father's pocket. She was also having difficulty breathing and she was sweating, a pool of salty liquid was building up in the small of her back and she was whining and whimpering like an animal caught in a trap and was holding her father's hand, squeezing it so tightly that he winced.
"Delia, look at me."
But her eyes were clamped on the exit, blind panic written on her face and she had turned her body towards the door, wanting away from what was making her feel like she was going to die.
"Delia," the tone Damien was using was usually accompanied by very bad things happening to the person to whom he was speaking, but he needed his daughter's attention.
Delia turned her head to her father while the rest of her was still pointed at the exit.
"I said you have reason and self-knowledge, Delia Thorn, use it to make yourself stop feeling like this. If you don't, we'll leave, but they win."
Delia pulled her hand away from her father's, clenched her hands into fists, scrunched her face and fought back. She had felt like walls had been closing in on her, but now she was pushing back those walls. She understood that what she was feeling were their attempts to control her and nothing more. They couldn't hurt her, not in the way that she had imagined, so she pushed and she began to feel better and the while that crushing feeling wasn't completely gone, it was nowhere as bad as it had been.
Delia opened her eyes to find a handkerchief being held up and she grabbed it and wiped the sweat of her face. She crammed the handkerchief into her coat pocket and looked up at Damien, who was smiling proudly at her.
"Let's go get a seat," he offered his hand to his daughter, who took it and the two of them sat in the back.
At ten, the minister started the service and Delia was in rapt attention for the next hour and fifteen minutes listening to him speak and when the service was done, Damien took Delia to Fresco's for handmade ice-cream. Delia had chosen to have hers in a cone and she made a face as Damien put a spoonful of pistachio in his mouth.
"How are you?"
"Exhausted, I'm going to have to take a nap when we get home."
"It's tiring fighting back against that feeling, but it gets easier. What did you think about the service?
Delia leaned forward, her voice a whisper, "I don't understand...why didn't he talk about Satan?"
"Did you want him too?"
Delia shrugged, "I don't know, shouldn't he have? Isn't that his job, to warn people?"
"Did you see how empty the church was? It wasn't like that when I was younger. These days, people don't want to hear about themselves doing bad things, or hear things that make them feel bad about themselves, so most people don't go, which means less money for the church. So, now, mainstream churches are making the message of god more friendly...god wants to be your friend and loves everyone just the way they are."
"But that's a lie."
Damien smiled knowingly at Delia and the two of them ate their ice-cream and Damien bought a pint of frozen vanilla custard for Alexander and they left.
...oOo...
For the next three months, Damien brought Delia to various Catholic or Protestant churches around the state, but she heard very little of anything that she wanted to hear. She had nearly suggested going to a synagogue until she remembered that the Jewish religion did not believe in Satan the same way that christianity did. Sometimes, a priest or minister would say something about the Devil, but whatever he was saying didn't seem to please her and she would ask her father to take her to another church.
One Sunday morning, Damien had come downstairs to the rec room and found Delia eating her breakfast watching a television preacher.
"He wants me to send him money...should I do it?" She looked up at her father, straight-faced.
"Not even as a joke...and?"
"He says he believes in Satan and I believe him...so that when he gets caught having sex with prostitutes, like that preacher last month, he'll have someone to blame it on. Do people really give him money?"
"Millions of dollars, all of which is tax free."
"He says crazy things...the homosexual agenda, whatever that is, and the Jewish conspiracy...for christians, they sure hate a lot of people," Delia finished her BLT sandwich and the two of them went to church.
Another day found her shanghaied into Sunday school, which Delia survived for a total of ten minutes before she ran back to Damien, disgusted by the puerile attempts of the Sunday school teachers to inform her about their god.
Damien also took Delia to a less mainstream service to hear one of the fire and brimstone preachers in person, but he shouted a lot and said stupid things like the minister on television. The preacher had brought up another man to give a sermon, but as he spoke, Delia began to realize that while he was railing against Lucifer and His so-called evil ways, Delia could feel some warm and fuzzy feelings on the subject at hand.
Delia's gasp was loud enough to force the man sitting in front of her to turn around and give her a dirty look. She looked up at her father and then hurried out of the church and barely made it outside when she exploded in a fit of hysterical laughter.
On one rainy April Sunday found the Thorns in a small Protestant church that they had frequented earlier, but had a new pastor. After his sermon, which Delia had found mildly interesting, but seemed to bore everyone else, she waited to talk to the minister, who was busy shaking hands with the members of the congregation, most of whom were trying to hurry out of the church to make it home before the weather got worse.
"Nice to see you here, Mr Thorn. We don't often get someone of your social standing to our tiny and ever dwindling congregation."
"Please, call me Damien," and the two men shook hands. "The truth of God's message isn't dependent on the size of the church."
"Very true, I hope I said something that sparked some interest, though it didn't seem to with anyone else."
"Well, it may have with my daughter, she wanted to come and speak with you."
He looked down at Delia and extended his hand and she took it, "Nice to meet you, Miss Thorn. What was it that you wanted to ask?"
"Pastor Douglas, do you believe in the Devil?"
The pastor, who had not been expecting a question like that from a nine-year-old girl, looked at Damien.
"It's okay, you can answer Delia's question."
"Well, Delia, I believe in evil."
"That's not what I'm asking. I want to know if you believe in Satan, like in the same way that you believe in god."
"Do you mean do I think that Satan exists?"
"Yes," and Delia nodded her head.
"Satan is a metaphor for people who can't handle the evil that they do and need to find a scapegoat that they can blame their actions on."
"But the bible says that the Devil exists. What about when jesus was in the desert and was tested by Satan?"
"Well, I'm one of those people who thinks that not everything that happened in The Bible happened just the way it was written. The Bible uses many metaphors in order to help humans understand God. Now, maybe Jesus was visited by Satan, but he may very well be the only one. However, I think that Satan in that story represents the demons we must face when we turn our backs on worldly pursuits and go towards God. It's just like Jonah and the whale...not all of us will be swallowed by a big fish, but we can all learn the lessons that Jonah did: that God is in control and we can't run from what He wants us to do."
"So you don't think that Satan is real? That He could be here? That He could have been in your church today?"
Pastor Douglas laughed, "What would Satan be doing here?"
Delia was silent and then again extended her hand to the reverend, who shook it, " Thank-you."
"I hope I answered your question, or at least helped?"
"You did, can we go now?" As Delia looked up at her father, a woman came over to the pastor and whispered in his ear and she walked away at a brisk pace.
"If you'll excuse me, I have a leaky roof to contend with," he shook Damien's hand and then took off in the same direction as the woman.
The Thorns made a mad dash to the car in the downpour and Damien sat there in the car, watching his daughter as she looked out the window at the church.
"Delia, there are people who believe that Satan exists; I killed seven of them before they could kill me, but those people are becoming harder to find, in the Western world, anyway. Most people who believe in the Devil do so for the reasons that the minster said: they can't deal with evil, either in themselves or in people in general so they externalize it...it makes it easier for them to deal with other people. But that is good for us."
Everyone had left and theirs was the only car in the parking lot. "I don't have to go to church anymore. I'd rather just read their bible on my own."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure." Delia turned to her father with a grin on her face, "Do you have your check book here?"
"No, why?"
"Because I want you to help him fix his roof."
Damien did something he rarely did: he burst out laughing.
"I'm serious."
"I know you are, that's what makes it so funny. Okay, I'll come back here and write him a check for however much it costs to get it fixed or replaced so that every time he looks up at his roof, he'll owe it to someone he doesn't think exists...Satan will have literally put a roof over his head."
Delia knew her father would understand why she had asked him to do it and she watched the church recede in the rear view mirror as they headed home.
