Date: Sat, 3 Jun 2023 01:18:01 +0000 (UTC)
From: Samuel Stefanik <churchphilips@yahoo.com>
Subject: Stolen Love.  Chapter 29

Before I get to this chapter, I'd like to say a big shout out and thank you
to Kevin K for the phrase 'Solum and Gomorrah' as used by Joe in the last
chapter.  He offered that up in a lovely email he sent to me back in April
and I've been looking forward to using it.  THANKS KEVIN!

As for this chapter, here we get to see a bit more of Cass.  What do you
think of him?  Do you like him?  I hope so.  I'm rather fond of the old
guy.  Let's see how he and Church get along after they leave Joe in Paul's
capable hands.

If you're younger than 18 or find these kinds of stories offensive, please
close up now and have a great day!  If you are of legal age and are
interested, by all means keep going.  I'll be glad to have you along for
the journey.  Please donate to Nifty.  This is a great resource for great
stories and a useful outlet to authors like me and readers like you.


Crown Vic to a Parallel World: Stolen Love
The third and final installment of the ongoing adventures of Church Philips

29

Reflections with Cass

I just about danced along the corridor of the servant's wing.  I'd left the
difficulty that was my brother in Paul's capable hands.  I was hopeful for
the first time in a long time that someone would be able to do something
about Joe.

I didn't want Paul just to solve Joe like he was a living puzzle.  I hoped
that Paul could really reach him, could make him see his life on Solum as
an opportunity instead of a burden.  I trusted Paul to do his best and
believed that, if Joe would listen to anyone, it would be his former
priest.

Cass loafed along at my side.  He moved down the corridor so quietly, I
almost forgot that he was there until his high, quavering voice interrupted
my thoughts. "My boy," he said to start his question, "what sort of
attorney was your brother?"

Cass's question brought me up short.  I had to search my mind for the
answer.  Joe had passed the bar and gotten his first job during the years I
was drinking, so the details of those events were lost to me.  I knew that
he had moved up with his firm and took on greater and greater
responsibility with a commensurate increase in pay.  I knew he was
well-respected with the firm.  Those basic facts seemed the sum total of
what I knew of Joe's career.

When I returned to the Earth, I didn't learn anything new because Joe was
sick by then.  He'd been out of work and on disability for at least a year.
That meant he'd been away from his working life for long enough that it
hadn't come up in conversation.

I racked my brain until I could answer Cass's question in a vague way. "He
was a corporate lawyer.  I think he specialized in contracts."

My answer seemed to dissatisfy Cass.  His face tightened with some strong
emotion as he chewed over what I'd told him.  He pried his jaw open and
asked what sounded like a guarded question. "He...your brother...he shared
your ethic for work?"

I didn't know what Cass was getting at and said as much.  I stopped us near
the end of the corridor, right at a junction of doors that could lead
either into the chapel or to the staircase that would take us to the
entryway on the main floor.  I thought about going into the chapel to sit
down, but that didn't seem entirely appropriate for a secular conversation.
Instead, I handed Cass through the doorway that led to the staircase and
stopped us both.

I looked down at Cass and unintentionally matched his posture by putting my
hands in my pockets. "What are you asking me, Papa?"

Cass squinted his startling blue eyes up at me and asked me about Joe. "I
don't like asking if someone was good at their job." Cass took his hands
from his pockets to use his fingers to make air quotes as he clarified his
statement. "'Good' is a meaningless term.  It's like saying it's a `nice'
day." Cass explained with more air quotes around `nice.'

"Since you are not a member of the profession, a member of the legal
profession that is, my boy, I can only ask you if your brother was a good
lawyer.  You lack the knowledge unique to our profession for me to ask a
more searching question."

Cass paused his speech, and it took me a second to realize that he'd left a
question standing, waiting for an answer.  Cass had asked if Joe was a good
lawyer.  I was forced to admit that I didn't know his professional record.
I knew that he was an excellent negotiator, I'd seen that when we went up
against Zeke, and I knew his firm valued him enough to periodically advance
him in position and pay.  I told Cass as much as I knew, then asked why he
wanted to know.

Cass returned his hands to his pockets and squinted up at me some more
before he answered.  When he did, his voice was steadier than usual. "I am
an attorney.  I may no longer go to an office and carry a case load, but I
am no less an attorney now than I ever was.  I have been a member of the
profession for two-hundred-twenty-odd years.  I spent the entirety of my
time in Levare, the community where my Bem grew up, working with contracts.
From what you say, my practice was much like your brother's, but I don't
see how it could have been."

Cass bit the last words off like they tasted sour.  He clamped his mouth
shut after the final one.  I still didn't understand where Cass was headed
with his words.  He seemed to be crab-walking toward a point, but I didn't
know what it was.  I moved to sit on the stairs so I could look straight at
Cass instead of down on him.  I rocked forward and stuck my forearms on my
knees to support my upper body. "What are you trying to say Papa Cass?"

Cass humphed the way Bem does when he doesn't get his way.  As that thought
entered my head, I remembered who I was talking to.  I realized that, in
point of fact, Bem humphes like Cass and not the other way around.  I
almost smirked with amusement at that silly thought, but the tight scowl on
Cass's face stopped me with its seriousness.  Cass humphed again, then his
face smoothed.  He eyed me for a second and put his hands back in his
pockets.

"You poor man." Cass said to me with a voice full of sympathy. "The weight
of the world on your shoulders and you're saddled with a brother with no
forbearance in his heart and a silly old man with a mouth full of opinions.
Apologies, my boy.  I was going to harangue you about your brother's lack
of logic and how I couldn't understand how a member of my profession could
act the way he does, but...never mind.  Never-you-mind about me and my
opinions, my boy.  Never-you-mind."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I didn't say anything.  Cass
continued to eye me for a while until he cocked his head like he'd come to
a decision about something.  Cass took his hands from his pockets.  From
the left one, he drew the familiar red ball.  He tossed it between his
hands and made it do some tricks.  I assumed Cass was performing for my
amusement, but I wasn't in the mood for his usual antics.  I was just about
to suggest we move along when Cass was seized with sudden inspiration.

He clapped the red ball between his hands and lunged away from me.  He left
the bottom of the staircase, went through the door into the corridor, and
hurried through the next door into the chapel.  I was so surprised by his
rapid movement that I didn't move to follow him until I heard his quavering
voice cry out in the small space. "JE-SUS!  JE-SUS CH-RIST!" It called like
Cass was shouting for the Lord to come in for dinner. "WHERE ARE YOU,
JE-SUS?"

I hurried into the chapel and found Cass searching around the place like
he'd lost his wallet.  He scurried around on his light feet and looked
under pews, behind the alter, under the cross, and behind the simple
lectern.  He shouted as he searched.

Cass's shouting made me angry.  I wasn't a believer, but I didn't need to
believe in God to have respect for the sanctity of the chapel space.
Cass's shouting was too much like blasphemy for my liking and I told him
about it.  I didn't care if he had a screw loose, I wasn't going to stand
for him shouting for Christ inside the chapel that I'd had built. "CASS,
STOP IT THIS INSTANT!" I scolded him.

Cass stopped his search and his shouting.  He moved to stand in front of me
while he muttered to himself. "Can never find that Jesus fellow when you
need him." Cass complained as he raised his frustrated gaze to meet my
angry one. "I wanted him for you, my boy.  Thought he could help, is all.
No need to shout at an old man like that.  I was just trying to help you.
No need to shout at me."  "WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" I thundered at the
old man.

My shouting upset Cass visibly.  He seemed to shrink in on himself and
stand even smaller than he usually did.  His stress-lined face tightened
into a deep, sad frown.  His quavering voice shook harder than usual as he
objected to my shouting. "I said there was no reason to talk to me that
way, no reason to shout, my boy.  It's not my fault Jesus isn't here to
help us.  I just wanted to help.  I owe you...owe you so very much.  I just
wanted to help."

Cass's words and the miserable way he said them broke my heart.  I felt bad
for yelling at him. `It's not his fault that he's got a screw loose.' I
scolded myself.  I moved to the front pew and asked Cass to join me.  I
patted the seat next to mine, but Cass remained standing.  I apologized and
asked why Cass wanted to find Jesus.

"I remembered," Cass explained through eyes that twinkled with happy
inspiration, "I remembered a story my Bem told me.  When my Bem first came
to get me from my loneliness, when he came to bring me here to this place
to live with him and you and all the amazing people here, he told me a
story.  Bem told me of the two times he went with you to meet God."

I was tempted to interrupt Cass, to ask him when I'd met God, but I decided
not to.  Cass seemed well launched into his story and it seemed unwise to
stop his words.

"My Bem told me that you and he and your husband all went together with
your brother and his son.  He said that you didn't want to go, that you
were afraid to meet God.  He said that he and Shawn had to promise to
protect you from God's anger, which can be fierce, before you would agree
to go in, into the brick building where God lives.  Bem said that once you
were inside, you found that all of God's anger had been spent.  There was
nothing left except love, love for you and love for everyone, love for all
the people of the world.

"My Bem said that God's love is perfect and unending.  He said that God
himself is love.  He said that first time he went with you, he learned
about God's love.  The second time he went to meet God, Bem said that you
were excited to go.  He said that he went there with Mary, though they
weren't married yet.  Bem said that Mary was teaching him about God and
that all of you went to meet him.

"Your friend Paul was there that second time.  I think he was there the
first time, but I'm not sure.  I know he was there the second." Cass
stopped himself as something struck his mind. "Odd that Paul wouldn't
remember Bem meeting God.  I'd forgotten about that, forgotten he was
there.  Odd that."

Cass shook his head at his own distraction and went back to his disjointed
tale. "That second time, when God spoke, he said that he always knows where
his children are.  That's why I came in here to look for Jesus.  I thought
if I could find him, maybe he could tell us where Shawn is."

Cass pressed his point. "You see, my Bem told me all of us are God's
children, and that God loves us all.  My Bem told me that we all share the
love that is God.  Even me," Cass pressed both his hands flat to his chest,
"old sinner that I am...I am one of God's children and he loves me.  Isn't
that lovely, my boy?  Doesn't it make you feel happy to know that God loves
you?"

Cass waited for me to answer.  I didn't want to disappoint him, but I
wasn't going to lie either.  I was beyond lying to anyone about my faith or
lack thereof.  Instead of telling a truth that would lead to more
conversation, or a lie that would do me more harm than good, I nodded.  I
nodded because I didn't know what else to do.  Cass seemed to take my nod
as all the answer he needed.

"It makes me happy too, but that's not the point." Cass shook his head at
himself. "Shawn is the point.  Shawn is one of God's children, so God knows
where he is.  I thought, if Jesus was here, we could ask him."

Cass finished his story and fell silent.  He looked at me with his
intelligent blue eyes and waited for me to say something.  I had no idea
what to say.  I wasn't sure if I should laugh at the strange parable the
old man had told, or if I should be moved by it, or if I should be saddened
by the fact that it wasn't as easy as the old man made it out to be.

I rubbed the back of my neck in my uncertainty and wished I wasn't alone
with Cass.  I felt that I needed help to deal with him.  I felt that almost
anyone would be better equipped than I was to deal with his ravings.

I recognized the events he'd described.  The two times when `Bem met God'
were the two Sunday masses I'd taken Bem to while we were on Earth.  The
love that Cass talked about was from the first sermon Father Miller
preached the day Joe had insisted I go to mass with him.  The idea that God
always knows where his children are, that was from a sermon Father Miller
had preached when he was trying to help me persuade Joe to come to Solum
with me.

I found it slightly disturbing to hear those events related back to me like
they were the foundation of some kind of `cult of Bem' that Cass had
started.  Beyond that, I wished I had something to say to Cass that would
quiet him.  He seemed spun up.  I guessed all the excitement around Shawn's
kidnapping and my fight with Joe had shattered Cass's routine.  I guessed
that left him at loose ends.

I tried to address Cass's idea with patience.  I tried to talk him
down. "Papa, I don't think Jesus can help us with this."

"Have you asked him?" Cass demanded.

Cass seemed upset with me for something.  I didn't know what.  I tried to
talk him down again. "No Papa, I didn't ask him.  Jesus and me...we're not
on speaking terms." I rubbed my neck again as I tried to explain my atheism
to Cass. "I can't, Papa.  I don't believe like Bem does."

Cass didn't see it.  He didn't understand what I was trying to say.  He
pushed me. "What's not to believe?  You can't `not believe.'" Cass insisted
with his fingers raised in air quotes around the concept he didn't agree
with.

"That would be like saying you don't believe in my Bem.  I know my Bem.
He's an honest, trustworthy boy.  I taught him to be that way.  Brought him
up the best that I could.  Raised my boy to be forthright and honest and
brave and strong.  If my Bem tells me that God exists and that I am God's
child and that God's love is for everyone, even me, then that's the way it
is."

"Papa, please," I objected as gently as I could, "please, you don't
understand.  I just can't."

"Nonsense." Cass pressed me again.

Cass seemed ready to launch himself into another harangue, and I found that
I couldn't bear to listen to it.  It was too much for my frazzled emotions.
Having to listen to Bem's father preach to me after all I'd just endured
with Joe...it was too much.  I blasted the old man. "DAMNIT CASS, I CAN'T,
AND I WON'T, AND FUCK YOU FOR TRYING TO MAKE ME!"

Cass's expression barely changed when I shouted at him.  He took my anger
with barely a blink.  He looked at me with his intelligent blue eyes and he
humphed like Bem does when he's frustrated about something. "My boy," Cass
said, "my Bem told me the greatest gift he ever received was given to him
by you."

I felt like I'd gone insane...again.  I heard the words, but I had no idea
where they'd come from.  I'd listened to Cass to indulge him, and when I
couldn't bring myself to indulge him anymore, I'd shouted in his face.
After I shouted at him, Cass spoke calmly about presents.  I dropped my
face in my hands to hide from the lunacy, or maybe the senility, that was
Cass. "Papa, what the fuck...ahem, what are you talking about?" I asked him
through my palms.

"Hope, my boy.  You gave my Bem hope.  First you gave him trust, then
friendship, then love, and when those weren't enough, you gave my Bem hope.
You gave it to him in the form of a place to belong, a place next to you in
this family of yours.  You made him your brother and you let him marry your
sister.  You gave him the gift of family, and with that, came the gift of
salvation.

"My Bem took that gift, and he gave it to me.  He took the hope and the
love and the family and the faith and the salvation that you gave to him,
and he gave it to me.  Now I have it.  I have love and hope and family all
around me, when before you, I had nothing.

"You saved my Bem.  I owe you a debt that I can never hope to repay for
making it possible for my boy to forgive himself for the things he's done
to defend the country he loves.  If not for you...if not for you I would
still be alone, with no son near me and no daughter-in-law to love and no
grandchild to spoil and no house full of loving people who call me `Dad.'

"I love this place, my boy.  I love everyone in it, with the possible
exception of your misguided brother.  The fact that his son, your nephew,
is right here, is so often right here within these walls, and your brother
still denies that boy his affection is shameful for him and enraging to me.
When I think of the time I lost with my own boy, my Bem, and I see the way
your brother acts, it makes me..."

Cass trailed off and shook his head at me.  I could see him do it because
at some point during his speech, I'd lowered my hands from my
face. "Apologies, my boy.  I already said that I wouldn't harangue you
about that and I won't.  The point I've been making is that you have given
me so very much, and I would like to give something to you.  I would like
to return some of the hope that you gave to me and my Bem.  Would you let
me?  Please."

I still didn't understand what in the holy hell the old man was talking
about.  I was so confused by his monologue.  He'd thanked me for giving Bem
hope and salvation.  He said I'd saved his boy, like I was the embodiment
of Christ.  Bem had accused me of something similar once, one early morning
in the backyard of my brother's house.  On that early morning, Bem had told
me I'd saved his life.  Cass had just accused me of something even deeper.
He'd accused me, not only of saving his life, but of saving his soul as
well.

I'd already told Paul that I didn't like the responsibility of statements
like that.  Most people would be flattered by praise of that magnitude.
All it did for me was make me uncomfortable.  Still, my goal in that
particular moment wasn't to accept or evade responsibility, it was to
deescalate things with Cass.  In order to do that, I acquiesced to what he
wanted. "Sure, Papa.  Anything you say."

Cass looked at me for another long beat, like he was trying to figure out
what he wanted me to do.  At length, he made up his mind. "I won't ask you
to pray with me.  I won't ask you to say the words, my boy.  I only ask
that you bow your head with me while I say them.  Will you do that for me?"

I didn't like the idea.  It felt hypocritical.  When I reasoned it out, I
realized that Cass had provided me with an `out' of sorts.  He hadn't asked
me to pray.  He'd been very careful about that.  All he asked me to do was
bow my head.  I'd done the same thing at countless meals when Bem wanted to
say grace.  I went along with Cass just like I always went along with
Bem. "Sure Papa." I agreed with him and lowered my head.

I heard Cass go through the motions of crossing himself for prayer.  Then
he uttered his plea to God. "Dear Lord, please keep Shawn safe through this
ordeal, and guide our efforts to locate him, and bear him safely into his
husband's arms, where he is sorely missed.  With my deepest thanks, from
your humble servant, Amen."

Cass crossed himself again and raised his head.  I raised mine to look at
him.  The experience of Cass praying for me, for Shawn really, had been
truly bizarre, but not as uncomfortable as I thought it would be.  Even
though I didn't believe, I thanked Cass for trying.  He'd done the best he
knew how, and that counted for something. "Thanks, Papa."

"No, no, my boy." Cass objected. "No thanks.  I've already said that it's
me who owes his thanks to you, not the other way around."

I thought about that for about two seconds before I insisted.  I wasn't
thanking him so much for the prayers, or for the rest of the insanity in
the chapel, but I remembered that I owed him my thanks for what he'd done
before.  I owed Cass my thanks for taking my side with Bem and then for
being there for me when Joe was being Joe. "Please, Papa.  You helped
me...you've helped me before and I never said.  Please let me thank you."

Cass grinned his appreciation at me. "You're very welcome, my boy...my
friend, my dear friend.  Thank you for indulging me.  Sweet of you, but
that's the kind of man you are."

I grinned appreciatively back at Cass for what felt like the right amount
of time.  When the moment seemed over, I stood from my seat. "Well, Papa, I
guess we should find out what's been happening while we've been
distracted."

Cass agreed with me. "Lead on, my boy, lead on."

I led the way from the small chapel and back toward the stairs.  As I did,
I took a second to think about everything that had just happened between me
and Cass.  I decided I was very confused.  The whole episode seemed
surreal.  Cass had started by calling out for Jesus like he expected to
find him playing hide-and-seek under the pews, then he thanked me for all
the happiness everywhere, then he prayed over me.  I didn't get it, but I
didn't have the capacity to analyze it.  I decided to let it rest and
ponder over it later.