Chapter 18 - Collin

Aphone rings upstairs just as I'm about to give Lowyn another kiss.

Lowyn pushes back, turning toward the sound. "Well, who could that be?"

"No one good, I'm sure."

She pats my chest. "I'll be right back." Then she darts up the stairs, her robe flaring out behind her.

I look back down at the costume I was given. It doesn't look much like a gangster costume. What it looks like is a church outfit. And that doesn't make much sense, because I'm gonna be at the gate today, not inside the fuckin' tent.

Lowyn comes back down holding her phone. "OK. Yep. I understand. I'll be ready. Thank you!" She ends the call. "Well, that was Rosie. She and the girls—Taylor, April, MaisieLee, MacyLynn, and Bryn—are all coming to pick me up at eight-thirty."

"Whyyyy?" I try my best to say this nicely, but it comes out dripping in cynicism.

"I'm not sure. She wouldn't say."

"Script change."

"Probably. But listen, Collin, don't fight it. It's opening day."

"No. Yesterday was opening day."

"I don't really know what yesterday was, but opening day it was not. You know this as well as I do. Today is opening day, that tent is gonna be packed tight, and it's gonna be fun." I must be wearing a look that says ‘I do not believe you' because she comes right up to me, slipping her hands around my waist—which, not gonna lie, feels pretty great—and pushes herself into me. "Opening day is always nice. Think back a little. You know this is true. And they gave us spectacular costumes. Just go with it."

Then she kisses me. I'm just about to throw her down on the couch and fuck the ever-loving shit out of her when she pulls back and pats my chest. "Let's get the wrinkles out of that suit."

At eight-thirty on the dot, a horn honks outside. We're both ready, but this is Lowyn's ride, not mine. I'm not showing up to that tent a half hour early. So I take one last look at her—she looks so damn pretty, it's a shame to waste this day on the fuckin' Revival—and then kiss her. Because I know she's excited about this day and it's about to start right now.

"I'll see you in a bit." She blows me a kiss, straightens her cloche hat—which is a pretty light green color and has little felt daisies on the satin band—and then she's gone. I walk over to the window and pull the sheer curtain aside so I can watch her get in a minivan filled with women.

But just before she gets in, she turns, looking at me, then waves and smiles, and I like the idea that she knew I'd be watching. So I wave and smile back.

Then she's inside and a moment later, she's gone.

I let out a sigh, missing her already. I wish we could just spend the day together and not have to deal with this fuckin' Revival bullshit. I would like to take her out. Such a waste to be wearing that dress and have to spend it working a souvenir booth and sitting inside a tent.

A crack of silent lightning races across the sky in the distance and this is when I look up and realize it's gonna storm today. It's not raining now, but there are more cracks of lightning shootin' off in the distance against a backdrop of purple-gray clouds.

Wonderful. We're all dressed up and it's gonna rain.

But… maybe there's a bright side?

Maybe the whole fuckin' day will be cancelled.

Just as I think that, thunder booms through the town. Then the lights flicker and go out.

"Fuck." I go find the basement door—same place as it was when I was a kid, right off the back mud room—and open it. God, it smells the same. Like old bricks and dirt.

Our house was built over an older foundation sometime back in the nineteen fifties. And this basement was part of that original house. It's all made of stone, but near the back side of the house, some parts of the basement floor are still dirt. It used to flood a little when I was a kid, but it's dry right now. So I go down, grabbing a flashlight hanging on a hook that has been there for thirty years.

Not really. It's a flashlight and it's in the same place, but it's not the one we had when I was a kid. So when I flick it on, there's light.

The breaker box is just at the bottom of the stairs. High enough that flood waters never bothered it. And close enough that you can open it up and flip the breakers without leaving the steps, just in case it was flooded.

A bad place to put a breaker box, if you ask me. But no one ever asked me.

When I get to the bottom, I open the little compartment, but the moment I do that, something falls out and makes a clinking noise on the concrete.

I shine light on the floor and spy a key. An old, rusted skeleton key. I pick it up and look at it, then shove it in my pocket and turn to the breakers.

The box is empty. I should've figured Lowyn would get new electrics when she redid the place. So I close it and go back upstairs, then hit up the garage and, sure enough, there's a nearly brand-new box just next to the door.

I flip the breakers that were tripped, go back inside, and the lights are on again.

As soon as I close the door to the garage, a horn honks outside.

I let out a long breath, already tired of this day. But when I peek out, I have to laugh. Because Amon is leaning against a very fancy car right out front. Fancy-fancy, as Lowyn would say. And when I take a closer look, I realize it's Old Man Hunt's 1933 Rolls Royce Phantom II. "What the hell?"

Amon spies me in the window and starts yellin' for me to hurry up. He's wearing a costume that's very similar to mine. And then I see Ryan and Nash are in the little backseat, dressed up with new clothes too.

Something is up, that's for sure. I dunno what Jim Bob has planned for me today, but it's definitely something. What can I do but play along? I go outside to my smiling partners and get in the fuckin' car.

"Like my new threads?" Ryan says.

I look over my shoulder at him and Nash. "The two of you are gonna regret this, ya know. You have no idea how much you're gonna wish that you never put those clothes on by Christmas Eve."

"Oh, stop, Collin." That's Amon chastising me from the driver's side, which is on the right in this car. "You act like Disciple is some kind of evil cult or something. It's a fuckin' tent revival."

"It's a scam is what it is."

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Nash says, "but isn't ‘scam' the dictionary definition of ‘tent revival?'"

I turn in my seat to point at him. "Correct. Scam from day one."

"Why the hell did you want us to come back here if you hate this place so much?" Nash asks.

"Two words," Amon says. "Lowyn"—he looks at me, winkin'—"McBride."

"That's not even true. Y'all know that we needed to meet some very specific requirements as far as the compound goes. Our place was the only place for sale that met all the conditions."

"It's kinda weird, don't ya think?"

I look back at Ryan. "Weird how?"

"That it came up for sale right when we were looking. And it's literally next door to yours and Amon's home town. And practically came complete with a high-school girlfriend and a fuckin' side show paying out a million dollars every New Year's Day."

"How'd you know about that?" But there's only one way. So I direct my gaze back to Amon again. "You told them?"

"We're partners," Nash says. "It's his job to tell us."

"I hope you boys don't expect no money on the first of the year. Because I don't care what Amon told you, Jim Bob Baptist is not gonna pay no fuckin' outsider part of his profit share."

"We'll see," Ryan says.

"What's there to see?"

Ryan looks at me. "If we're valuable team members of the Revival, then who's to say that Jim Bob Baptist won't change his closed-up mind?"

I turn around and face forward, then huff out an incredulous sigh. "Keep dreaming, Ryan. You'll see at the end of the year. And I'll be tellin' ya, ‘I told ya so.'"

Just as I say this, we turn, heading up the hill towards the Revival grounds. And for a moment I kinda get lost, unable to process what I'm seeing. "What the hell is that?"

"What the hell does it look like, Collin? It's a fuckin' tent."

A tent? I mean… it's kinda pitched like one. And it's all made out of canvas or something that looks similar enough. But this is… an engineering miracle.

Those words in my head come out in Jim Bob's voice, making me recall that first meeting when he was talking about how my daddy spent the entire year after I left working on plans to take the Revival to the next level. "Four-season festivities," Jim Bob's voice says again.

So that's what I'm looking at—a four-season, five-acre-square tent city covering the entire Revival grounds—when we pull up to the east gate where security headquarters are. Only now, instead of just a gate leading into the park, there's a… tunnel. That's the only way to describe it. Made out of tent canvas and all ready to protect people from the rain once it starts.

I can only presume the security tent is still here, but now it's inside the mother tent.

"How the hell did they get this done overnight?" I'm not really talking to anyone in particular, and my words are barely more than a whispered mumble, but Nash answers me.

"There's some kind of mechanical framework attached to the boardwalk buildings on either side of the Revival tent. I was talking to some old fart yesterday named Joseph. We were just shootin' the shit about the weather and he started telling me about how they could put a roof over the whole park with a push of a button."

The town clerk. A quarryman. A jewelry maker. A diesel mechanic. The chief of police. And a real estate agent. Joseph is the quarryman. Probably the only guy in town who owns a crane, so I guess it makes sense to give him a nice profit share when you're lookin' to build a five-acre roof made out of canvas.

There's even a little makeshift garage for Old Man Hunt's Rolls Royce. And that's right where Amon parks it.

"It's pretty cool," Ryan says. "It reminds me of a circus, but an old-timey one. Something you'd see in the movies. I can't believe we live here now. I fuckin' love this place. It's all hilly, and green, and that river sounds like it wants to kill you every moment of the day. Just roaring by, non-stop, twenty-four seven. I love it."

"At least we're not gonna get our new fancy clothes wet," Nash calls, already out of the car and walking towards the tunnel gate. Ryan follows.

And I do have to admit, he's not wrong. The tent is kinda blowing my mind in this moment.

Amon turns the engine off and looks at me. "It is openin' fuckin' day, Collin. Are you ready for this shit?"

"Shut up."

He pretends to punch me in the arm. "Enjoy it, Sarge. You're only ever gonna get this day once."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm supposed to let you know that yesterday was your practice run. Jim Bob wanted to see how you'd react. It was predictable."

"What?"

"Yeah. They just wanted to light you up. You did not disappoint."

"Why would they do that?"

"Because they want you to play along, Collin. And they needed you to get it out of your system yesterday so you would not fuck up today."

"I'm not acting in this stupid show. I was hired to run security and that's all I'm doing. They can fuck right off about this whole prodigal son thing."

"Well, see… they knew this about you, Col. So today, and for weeks to come, actually, the whole story is just you and Lowyn falling in love. Today is the day you meet her for the first time."

"No, it isn't."

"You're gonna bump into her, and have a little moment with locked eyes or something. And you're gonna have some coffee, and sit next to each other during the Revival, and then have a little lunch, and dance. Hold hands and shit."

"You're one of them, aren't ya?"

He laughs.

"They got to you. They took my friend, Amon, sucked out his brain and all his common sense, and put some alien thing back inside his head. I'm gonna go to my gate and stand there until this day is over. Then I'm gonna go home and enjoy a spiral ham with a couple of sides because Lowyn has promised to rustle that up for me. That's what I'm gonna do."

He pats me on the shoulder. "We'll see, friend. We'll see. Because everyone in this town has been instructed to go out of their way to make it special for the two of you. So. I would not have high expectations for the highlight of your Easter Sunday being a spiral ham and a couple of sides."

Then he gets out of the car and walks into the tent.

I sit there for another moment, but in that same moment there's a flash of lightning and, a moment later, the crack of thunder.

The rumble and the glory.

That's what my daddy used to call thunderstorms when I was a kid. They used to scare me and he would come into my room at night and recite that passage from his book of sermons. ‘When you look upon the hills, the sun shining on the peaks, and you hear the rumble in the distance, don't you ever forget that behind it comes the glory.'

We used to say it together. Every time it stormed.

I don't know when I grew out of that. Maybe seven or eight. But even so, every time there was a crack of thunder, we'd stop what we were doing and say that little passage.

Shit, I've caught myself reciting that passage all over the world when I hear the thunder.

I let out a long sigh. Because I kinda miss that man. I miss the father he used to be. I miss how he used to look at me before I killed that fuckin' kidnapper. Like he was proud of me. Like he loved me.

And all of that disappeared in two seconds.

I get out of the car and go inside the tent. Immediately, Mercy gets up from her little dog cushion and starts barking at me.

"She's mad at you," Amon says. Then he points to her. "Settle, Mercy." And Mercy settles, going quiet and sittin' nicely.

"She's got no reason to be mad at me."

"You leave her behind when you go home. She's the only one who gets left behind."

"What are you talking about? She's a… co-worker. She doesn't live with me, Amon."

"She's your partner, Collin. And from now on, you need to take her home. She's been sleeping in the security tent all weekend."

"What? Now I feel bad. How come you didn't tell me this?"

"Why would I need to tell you that? She's your partner."

I look over at Mercy—who actually appears to be followin' this conversation—and sigh. "Fine. You can come home with me. But you better be good or Lowyn will kick you out."

She barks once.

"Come on, let's go." She comes over and heels like she's stuck to my left knee. "I'll be at the gate," I tell Amon. Then we walk out.

But I catch him chuckling. Like there's gonna be a surprise at my gate.

And sure enough, when I get over there, it's already being manned by three men who don't act jittery or look like they need a background check.

"Hey, Sarge," one of the guys says.

"What did you just call me?"

"Uh…" He looks a little panicked. "Sarge? That's what Amon told me to call you. But I can call you something else. What should I call you?"

"How 'bout my name?" I snap. "Which is Collin."

"Cool." He nods. "Yeah. Great. Nice to meet you. I'm Chuck, this is Darrel"—he points to the guy right behind him—"and that's Matty." He points to the third guy.

"All right. What are you doing here?"

"We're… manning the north gate."

"I man the north gate."

"Right. But… I'm supposed to tell you that Lowyn… she's waiting for you."

"Who told you to say that? Amon?"

"No, sir. Jim Bob told me. She's waiting for you at the east coffee tent."

"Right now she is?"

"Right now, sir."

And I guess Amon was right. Because if Lowyn is waiting for me somewhere, I'm gonna show up there. "OK," I sigh. "You call me if you boys need anything."

He salutes me.

I almost yell at him to stop doing that, but I already know that Amon told him to. He's trying to piss me off from afar. It would be stupid to take it out on this guy because he doesn't know any better, so I let it go and walk away.

But it's hard to stay irritated right now. Because the Revival grounds have been transformed into something altogether different than I've ever seen before. So my attention is on the details in front of me and not on all the ways that Amon is taking Jim Bob's side.

It kinda feels like a fairy forest underneath the massive tent roof. Since these whole five acres are truly outdoors, and this pitched-tent roof is just a temporary thing, there is grass along some of the side walkways that aren't planked with wood like a boardwalk. There are trees in here, and birds in here, and flowers. The spring tulips aren't as bright as they might be out in the sunshine, but there are little patches of orange, and yellow, and purple spoutin' out of everywhere. And I am certain they are as new as the canvas roof above my head.

I look up and find long strings of garden lights. There're people up there too, hanging off the extensive steel scaffolding, still stringing them along.

But that's really the only sign that this is all fresh and wasn't like this yesterday.

I don't know how they did it, but it's nice. And kinda romantic.

At the next little intersection I turn onto the main boardwalk, my new fancy shoes quieter than my boots usually are. The grounds aren't open yet, so it's just Disciple people doing last-minute things before everything gets going. And every single one of them shoots me a smile and a wave.

I shoot a smile and a wave back because it's kinda rude not to.

And just this simple act of being smiled at and smiling back is enough to lift my mood. But even if it wasn't, catching sight of Lowyn in the gazebo near the coffeeshop—sittin' all alone like she's waiting for me and wearing that gorgeous dress—well, that would be enough to lift anyone's spirits.

I come up the steps to the gazebo and she turns to look at me, smiling. "Can you believe this? I mean, I've seen it like this a hundred times at least, but not in the spring. Not on opening day. The flowers, Collin. The trees have leaves! I don't know." She looks around like she's trying to take it all in the same way I was. "It's just kinda magical."

I come up to her, lean down, and kiss her hello on the cheek even though I just saw her half an hour ago. She looks up at me, still smiling, her eyes bright and happy. "I've missed you too, Collin."

I chuckle a little and take my seat across from her, telling Mercy to lie down at my feet, which she does without complaint.

"What is all this?" I pan my hand to mean the gazebo and the fact that we're sitting in it when we should be working. But honestly, I mean all of it. Our costumes. The girls picking her up. Amon driving Old Man Hunt's Rolls Royce.

"Script change." Lowyn shakes her head a little, like she can't believe it either. "Bryn is taking over the booth today."

"Really. Well that's interesting. Because the north gate has people manning it who are not me as well."

"I've been told that we are the stars of the show today."

"I've heard the same rumor. But I'm not followin' a script. I don't care how much trouble they've gone to to put this place together, I'm not gonna play along."

"So here's the interesting thing, Collin. There is no script. Not for us, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"We just get to… be on a date all day. As long as we don't stray out of the Revival grounds, and we hang around until six, we've done our part."

"How's that figure into the prodigal son? I mean, yesterday we were front-page news. They were calling me a murderer."

"Yesterday doesn't count. Did they tell you? It was some dress rehearsal and all the guests were from Bishop and Revenant. So you can just relax, Collin. We're playing the part of a couple on a first date. You can manage that, right?"

"What about next weekend?"

"I don't know. But there is no reason to worry about next weekend when we're still in this one."

As soon as she's done saying that a waitress appears, a teenager who I don't know, but Lowyn obviously does because she says, "Good morning, Lucy. How are you today?"

Lucy blushes and she sets down a fancy tea service set in the middle of the table. Then she curtseys and addresses Lowyn in a small voice. "I'm fine, thank you. This is your coffee, it's not tea, Miss McBride. I'll be back with your pastries in a moment." Then she curtsies again, leaving as quick as she came.

Lowyn's face is the picture of delight when she looks at me and points to the tea set at the same time. "Fancy-fancy."

Which makes me laugh. And with that laugh, I settle and lean back in my chair. "It's like a vacation day."

"Exactly. Think of it just like that."

"What are we gonna do all day? I mean, I'm not really interested in shopping. That's pretty much all there is to do here."

"We're gonna walk around. And hold hands. And talk. And go to the Revival." I'm about to protest, but she puts up a hand to stop me. "There's not gonna be no trouble, Collin. I got that straight from Rosie."

"How does Rosie know?"

"Ester told her. So we're just gonna go to the Revival like everyone else and watch the show."

"Well, if we're the stars, and we don't have lines, how will there even be a show?"

"I think it's about the boys today."

"What boys?"

"Your boys."

"You mean Amon?"

"And the others from the compound."

"How many of them are here?"

"Twenty or so, I think."

"What are they gonna do? Get in a fight or something?"

"I don't think so. I was told that this was just gonna be a nice day. So the two of us will find out together when the Revival starts. But here's something interesting." This is when I notice there is a program for today's Revival sitting on the table in front of her. And when she picks it up, I realize it's really two. She holds the top one out for me and I take it.

I look down at it, read the main article on the front page, then look back up at Lowyn. "What's this?"

"Apparently, this is the real program for this weekend." She holds up the second program. "The one with us on the front page was only for yesterday."

"What? So… we're not the stars of this show?"

"I think we are. But we're on page five in that one." She points to the program I'm holding.

I turn to page five and sure enough, there's a picture of us from Friday. And the headline is different. It says, ‘Local Man Returns to Run Father's Business.' I look back up at Lowyn and shake my head. "So what is this? I get a choice? Be the man who murdered your husband or be the preacher of the fuckin' Revival?"

"They're gonna pigeonhole you into something or other, Collin. You might as well just accept it."

I set the program back down on the table. "I'm going with option C. None of the above."

"Well, I do think it's kinda crazy how obsessed Jim Bob is with you."

"What do you mean?"

"He's certainly not obsessed with me that way. When I said I wanted out—mostly out, not all the way out—but when I said, ‘I've got a business to run, Jim Bob, and that's my number one priority,' he didn't even blink. He just said, ‘OK, Lowyn. That's fine with me. Good luck.' Or something of that nature. He didn't care. He didn't care when Clover left. Hell, her whole family left. So why is he so stuck on you?"

"You tell me."

"The only thing that sets you apart is what you did twelve years ago and how you reacted to it afterward. But how does any of that relate back to being the preacher? Because I can't see the connection."

"That makes two of us." But it's a lie on my part. And I suddenly have an urge to tell Lowyn about the secrets Jim Bob is hiding. To tell her all about the fourth point on the cross and how there's more to the story about my sister almost being kidnapped.

But then Lucy is back with a platter of pastries, so the quiet between Lowyn and I continues while she pours our coffee, does another curtsey, and disappears.

And by this time, the subject of the conversation has shifted to food. Lowyn picks up a small, round pastry covered in large sugar sprinkles and layered with cream cheese and berries. "Want a bite?"

She holds it out to me and I take one. "Fuck, that's good."

"April is one hell of a baker." Then she takes a bite too, moaning a little when all those flavors hit her taste buds.

I add some cream to my coffee and sit back, sipping it. Just watching her polish that little pastry off. She nods and sighs once it's gone.

"There are more. Have another." I point to the tray, which is holding way too many pastries for just two people, and they are all as exquisite-looking as the little berry pie.

She picks up something in the shape of a pinwheel and eats that too. Then she dabs her mouth with a real cloth napkin, and sets it back in her lap.

"Now what, Lowyn?"

"We're just gonna sit here and have a nice time, Collin. Tell me about what you've been doing. Tell another story about where you've been."

Most of what I've been doing is not appropriate conversation for a fake first date. But I do have one or two stories that fit the bill.

So I start talking.