Penny shakes her head and bursts into tears.
“That’s right, Penny. The world breaks us down, tears at our souls. It isn’t godly. They say being conservative, being Christian, is a sin. Well I say they will burn in hell, and we will go to the Lord’s promised land.”
Shouts of approval shake the stage. Noah gives me a look that carries various shades of “oh, shit.” I turn to Delilah. Her gaze is on me, her gray eyes wide as my father continues slinging fiery rhetoric to an increasingly agitated crowd.
But my father is a showman. And he can work a crowd like a ventriloquist with one hand up the dummy’s ass.
His voice softens, his tone growing calm. “God has spoken to me.”
The crowd relents as if the tempest has abated, the surface of the water growing still, rapt.
“As the Gospel of St. James reminds us, ‘The wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere.’” My father looks skyward, one hand raised to the God he imagines above the clouds. “But God has told me of the wicked beyond our gates who have no love for peace. He has told me that destruction is coming, and that we must prepare. Just as he told Noah, He’s warned me of the flood of sin, evil, and worldly terrors. But He also told me there is one way we can fight this. Only one way.”
A reverent hush has fallen over the crowd, all eyes turned toward the stage or one of the many huge screens projecting the Prophet.
“We must stand together, my friends. We must be as one. Only by joining with each other and holding the line can we beat back this darkness. Pooling our love and our resources—”
“And there it is,” I whisper. “The money grab hidden in prophecy.”
“…in this together. We must stick together to fight the evils of this world. That’s why, as some of you know, we are constructing our own community. Monroeville will be built in phases, and the first one is estimated to be completed in only two months’ time. This will be a place where your children can play in the street, stay out catching fireflies in the twilight hours, and you will never have to worry about one of the godless stealing them away from you, hurting them, or worse. You will be safe. They will be safe. And the best part? The housing is free.”
A cheer swells through the masses. I hold onto Delilah’s shock as she glances at the Prophet and then back to me as if to say ‘did you know about this?’
My father’s tone brightens further, light through a dense dark cloud. “Anyone who wants to live in Monroeville, can. We will build until all the faithful are safe inside. Our schools will grow, our people will thrive, and we will be a shining beacon to the rest of the world. Christ is alive, and He is here, in us, in you.”
As the crowd roars with approval, Noah says, “I thought we weren’t rolling this out for a while.”
I shrug. “I guess he wants them paying their dues sooner rather than later. And, at this point, they won’t even balk at turning over half of their earnings to Heavenly.”
“Ah, the fine print.” Noah wrinkles his nose. “Maybe they’ll lose faith when they see that little addendum.”
“It won’t matter to them. Hell, a lot of them already double tithe anyway. They’ll sign on the dotted line, and then Heavenly will own them.” Just like it owns Noah and me. I return to Delilah, always drawn back to her light. Even though I know that Heavenly owns her, that my father owns her, I still entertain the fantasy that she’s mine. That I can keep her safe from everyone but me. It’s a fiction, but one I indulge in even now as she searches my face for some sort of reassurance. She believes that I can give it, and I want her to believe it, even though it’s a lie as big as the ones my father is telling.
“They’ll be broke, living on property they don’t own, but they’ll be ever so safe,” Noah sneers.
Sometimes, he reminds me of me, and in those moments, I worry about him. But at least maybe he’s waking up to the rising bullshit.
“All I hear is more shit for me to do.” I’d started working on the contracts for the housing with our lawyer, but as my father is already setting the process into motion, I’ll need to front-burner that. I’ll also have to move some money around to make way for the new “donations.” Heavenly is a perfect conduit to launder money since it’s a non-taxable church, but large influxes of cash can still raise eyebrows. I’ll need to prepare new accounts to accept the tithes, keep the trail clean, and funnel most of it into my father’s off-shore accounts. I pinch the bridge of my nose as a tension headache threatens.