“Well, it sounds as though you’re making some progress.”
“Yeah, we have good sessions and bad. But this Dr. Moore that the Reverend Ray recommended has years of counseling experience. She gives us exercises to do as a family, and those are very helpful.”
Their conversation ceased as Katrina appeared carrying a tray of coffee cups.
“Here you go, Grandma. And Dad, we put cream in yours.”
“Thanks, honey,” Jack said, smiling at his lovely daughter.
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
They could hear the boys shouting over the video game as they sipped their coffee.
Ruth replaced the cup in the saucer before she spoke. “The Reverend Ray asked me to let him know how you’re doing. I hope you won’t mind if I write him back. This is a very positive sign.”
Jack didn’t reply, and Ruth realized his gaze was focused over her shoulder and into the kitchen.
Then, she heard Emma’s angry voice rising steadily. She turned in her chair; Emma was wielding a cake knife in her clenched fist, her face flushed. “You mean to tell me that both of you are in on this, and you asked that shyster evangelist for a referral? Mother, how dare you do this behind my back—?”
“Emma, that’s enough!” Jack retorted. “Dr. Moore’s insights are good for all of us.”
“Enough? Excuse me, Jack, but you’re discussing our marital and family problems in front of God and everybody, and you expect me not to make a scene?”
“We were only talking among family, Em. You’re making way too much out of this.”
Ruth spoke up. “Jack’s right, dear. You’re making a scene.” She thought to herself that Emma’s temper was getting the best of her again.
It was a mistake to side with her son-in-law because now Emma was shouting at everyone, waving the knife wildly and sending bits of cake and icing flying across the dining room. “That’s right. It’s always Emma’s fault. No one else is to blame. No one.” She gulped a breath of air, her fury rising. “I cannot believe you asked that goddamned preacher for advice. Advice and a referral! You lied to me, Jack. You said you found Dr. Moore!”
Emma was cut off by an artificially cheerful Andrea, who breezed past her with plates of cake and ice cream.
“Here we go—cake and ice cream for the birthday girl. And you, little brother.” She set plates before Ruth and Jack. “Who besides me needs a fork?”
Katrina was on her heels with napkins and silverware, and Elizabeth came carrying more plates of cake and ice cream.
Rigid in the open archway of the kitchen, Emma stood fuming. The rest of her family was returning to the dining room and ignoring her, which made her even more furious. “This family is unbelievable.” Tugging at the ties of her apron, Emma pulled it off and let it fall to the floor. “The hell with all of you!” she yelled, her shoes clacking across the wood of the kitchen floor. A door slammed, then the roar of a car engine and a garage door rising.
“Good thing we parked on the street,” Bob said from the living room, watching Emma peel out of the driveway, the screeching tires leaving streaks of black rubber. “She’s pissed.”
“That she is,” Jack responded.
“She needs to calm down. Just because Emma doesn’t approve of who the referral came from is no reason to act like a child.” Ruth shook her head in dismay, silver curls of hair bouncing.
“You know I can slip her some drugs—Xanax, Valium, Prozac—I’ve got them all,” Andrea said, smiling at her brother.
Jack laughed weakly. “Thanks for the offer, but isn’t that a felony?”
“Only if I sell them to you.”
“Mom didn’t have to ruin Grandma’s birthday party,” Elizabeth said.
Ruth looked at the distraught faces of her family. At least I talked Emma out of a big celebration. She told them a white lie in hopes of calming everyone. “She didn’t ruin my party, dear. I’m still having a lovely time.”
“And that’s what we want,” Jack said. “As soon as we finish eating, Grandma has presents to open.”
31
MONDAY, MARCH 17, 2003 ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI THE ROAD TO CALVARY BUILDING
Increased phone calls, revenue, viewers, and a larger audience told Buck that word of Ray’s “healing powers” had spread swiftly. People with chronic illnesses, severe pain, and other health issues began attending the show on a regular basis.
Buck also noted that, once again, Susannah saw these healings as an occasion for making money. Susannah was already using these “miraculous events” to cast Ray as a redeemer.
“Don’t you see?” she cooed. “These people have put their faith in you, Ray, that they have found a place for healing. We’ll want to start promoting your gift.” The four of them surrounded the small conference table.
Ray’s voice arched up a notch, showing his unhappiness at Susannah’s word choice. “This whole healing thing makes me a bit uneasy. It’s one thing to help our members face things they have the power to change, like drug addiction or a divided family, but it’s another thing to give them false hope around an illness they have no control over.”
She stroked his arm softly. “Forgive me if it sounded flip. Think of yourself as the instrument through which God works. I think of the Prayer of St. Francis when he says, ‘Make me an instrument of your peace.’ I believe God is telling you to be an instrument of healing.”
After a long day in IT, Buck’s tired body ached, and his voice oozed with sarcasm. “What, we’re Catholic now?”
Susannah’s anger flashed in her eyes. “Why are you always so rude about nearly every suggestion I make?” she asked, voice cutting. “Plenty of my ideas have worked out quite nicely. But I would appreciate it if you weren’t so condescending.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the group; Susannah and Buck were at odds again.
Looking at the men’s weary faces, Susannah reddened. “I’m human, too. But it’s maddening to get shot down all the time.”
Buck shifted uneasily in his chair. They played nice on an artificial level, but neither one cared for the other. He tried another approach. “I apologize for being rude; it’s been a tough day. But I’m trying to be realistic. Ray’s right, Susannah. We’re taking risks the way it is, but promising miraculous healing is something we absolutely cannot provide.”
“Yeah, what you’re suggestin’ is a whole new ballgame,” Jeff said, shifting in his seat. “Buck and I told y’all we’re both gone if this made us uncomfortable, and right now, I’m feelin’ pretty damn uncomfortable.”
As quickly as her anger had appeared, it was replaced with a bright smile. “But we didn’t ask people looking for healing to search us out. They’re here, seeking help and comfort. What’s wrong with that?”
“It’s giving them false hope. What happens when someone who thinks they were ‘cured’ by Ray dies? What then, Susannah?” Buck’s voice grew louder as he felt the anger simmering inside him. “Don’t you think their families will call us out for the frauds we are?”