The Children of Red Peak Read online

  He grinned again and put it behind him. Jeremiah Peale had envisioned the Family as a joyful community ruled by the carrot not the stick. He believed if a believer was happy, that meant the Living Spirit was near. Deacon could be anything he wanted, as long as he did it with joy and a loving heart.

  “Hey, Deek!”

  He turned to find Beth running toward him in one of her flower-print dresses. Because she was still a kid, she didn’t have to wear a headscarf, and her long hair flew around her head as she ran.

  Deacon groaned. With her little chin and huge eyes, she was so cute it sometimes hurt just to look at her, but she was as annoying as gum on his shoe.

  Panting from her run, she caught up. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to give the new kids a tour of the farm,” he said.

  “Can I come too?”

  He didn’t need to feel even more self-conscious, which was certain with her tagging along, but he couldn’t say no. “Sure, I guess. But I’m in charge, okay?”

  “Is that why you’re wearing your jacket?”

  “I wanted to look nice.”

  “You kind of look like the Reverend.” She smiled as he deflated a little further. “I think it’s cute.”

  Cute wasn’t what he was going for, but he thanked her anyway. He thought about taking the jacket off and carrying it, but that would only make him feel sillier. He’d have to go all the way with his plan.

  “We should show up holding hands,” she added. “Like we’re married.”

  His face turned hot. “No!”

  Beth bent over cackling. “I was just kidding. Jeez Louise.”

  “Quit fooling around.” God, this was what he was talking about. Annoying.

  “Okay, okay.”

  After he knocked on the new family’s door, Angela answered and stared down at him. “What do you want, small fry?”

  “I—” He stopped, caught off guard by the cell phone in her hand. The device that had killed his father. He hadn’t seen one in almost a year. “How’s everything going so far? How are you settling in?”

  “I’m so happy I could die,” she deadpanned. “Is that it?”

  “Is your mom home?”

  Behind Angela, the cabin’s main room was a mess, filled with furniture and half-unpacked cardboard boxes. No sign of Mrs. Young.

  “She’s out,” Angela told him. “Whatever you want to ask, ask me.”

  “Well, okay. I was wondering if you and Davey wanted a tour of the farm.”

  “Really?” The girl smirked. “I thought you were Jehovah’s Witnesses.”

  Deacon opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The new girl was sure of herself in a way he wished he was. He found her intimidating.

  Beth was cracking up. “We are. And we’re married.”

  He wheeled on her. “Shut up, Beth!”

  She stuck out her little chin and gave him the stink-eye.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean it.”

  “You two make an adorable couple,” Angela said. “Sure, I’ll take the nickel tour.” She turned and yelled, “Davey!”

  “What?” the boy yelled back from his room.

  “Come on out here.”

  “I don’t want to get baptized!”

  “Now, Davey.”

  “You’re not my boss!”

  Angela sighed. “Two kids are here! They want to say hi.”

  A few moments later, David appeared, looking past them. “Is Emily here?”

  “Get your shoes on and prepare to be amazed,” Deacon said, trying to regain some control. “Beth and I are going to show you around.”

  Along the tour, he pointed out the Temple, mess hall, smokehouse, and root cellar, all of it built by the Family with their own hands and sweat. The more he talked, the more he enjoyed seeing it as if for the first time, as they did.

  Deacon remembered cartoons, video games, movies, Hershey bars, and Halloween. His imagination had warped it all into a child’s Babylon of temptations and awful comeuppances, but he didn’t miss much of it anymore. Out in the dying world, kids shot each other at school and got hooked on drugs and had babies and got stalked by creeps on the internet and killed dads while texting and driving. Not here, where people looked out for each other and God watched over them all.

  Despite its hardships and petty squabbles and whispers about bad behavior in this house or that, the farm was a good home, where one could live with the Spirit and without fear. Each night, Deacon crossed over convinced that his father was watching over him as well, and was glad to be at the farm, because if he were anywhere else, Dad might not be able to see him.

  He wanted very much for them to look at it the way he did.

  “Soon, we’ll have a leather workshop and a forge,” Deacon said. “We’ll be able to make everything we need. We won’t need the outside world for anything.”

  “Cool,” Angela said, this time without sarcasm.

  Her brother remained a lost cause, his gaze darting around as if searching for an escape.

  “Hey, Davey,” he said. “What do you think?”

  The boy mumbled something he couldn’t hear.

  “Don’t you like it?”

  David shrugged.

  “He’s nervous about being baptized,” Angela said. “Right, Davey? Ask this kid about it. He’ll tell you what I told you.”

  David said, “Does it hurt?”

  “What?” Deacon couldn’t believe his ears. “Of course it doesn’t hurt! It’s supposed to be fun, for Pete’s sake.”

  “You get forced under the water.”

  “Just for a second. And you’re being helped, not forced.”

  Another shrug. The kid didn’t sound convinced.

  “Do you want to see the animals, Davey?” Beth asked him.

  This time, he responded with an enthusiastic nod.

  The animal pens consisted of several small buildings surrounding a yard partitioned by fences. In these pens, pigs, chickens, and sheep roamed and grazed. Angela wrinkled her nose and made a disgusted sound at the smell, but David grinned at the sheep.

  “Hey, Deacon,” Mr. Preston called out. “Giving the new kids the grand tour?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, come look,” the man told David. “They won’t bite.”

  “Can I pet them?” David asked.

  “Of course you can.”

  They approached a section of fence where one of the sheep stood. David reached and stroked its coat. “I think this one likes me.”

  “We get a lot of wool from her,” Mr. Preston said. “How about you, miss? Do you want to pet her?”

  “No, thank you,” Angela said. “I’ll just watch.”

  “What does she eat?” the new kid asked.

  The man jerked this thumb at a metal box on the other side of the pen. “We don’t have enough land for a good-sized paddock, so we set up a lick feeder. The sheep have to lick the feed, so their tongues tire out after a while. When they go off to get a drink of water and rest, the other sheep can take their turn.”

  A gray-haired man approached. “Don’t you kids have work to do?”

  Deacon froze. Mr. Wright was one of the Family’s shepherds, a title given to the men on the Family’s spiritual council who tended its human flock.

  “Deacon is showing the new kids around,” Mr. Preston said. “There’s no harm in it.” He reached into the pocket of his overalls and gave David a handful of carrot and dried apple slices. “You can give her a snack if you want.”

  David laughed as the sheep licked the treat from his palm. “Her tongue’s really rough. Does she have a name?”

  “I wouldn’t name her,” Deacon said. “We eat the animals, you know.”

  The kid stiffened. “Oh.”

  “See that building near the trees? That’s the slaughterhouse. A lot of the animals end up there.” He added in a stage whisper, “Along with the kids who don’t say their prayers.”

  David flinched this time. �
�Oh.”

  “No, no.” Deacon laughed. “I’m just kidding.”

  The kid blushed a deep crimson. He gave his head a slight shake.

  “Hey. Deacon.” Angela fixed him with a menacing glare, shaking her head slowly. “Not a good move.”

  “Yeah,” Beth said, playing it up. “Jeez Louise, Deek. Are you okay, Davey?”

  “Come on! I was obviously joking.” He gave up with a sigh. “Sorry, Davey.”

  “Maybe the shepherd’s right, and you kids should get to your chores,” Mr. Preston said. “The baptism is in a few hours.”

  The rest of the day promised a spiritual event, good food, and an afternoon off from school to play and explore, but Deacon wasn’t sure he was up to any of it anymore. The tour had gone better than he’d imagined, but then he’d blown it. And in front of Beth, whose mom was a gossip, which meant everyone would know.

  The Reverend had called it the hardest job. He wasn’t kidding.

  Mom looped the tie around Deacon’s neck and gave him a sloppy kiss on his forehead before starting to knot it. Usually, he’d groan as loud as possible at this kind of attention, but now he stood rock still, feeling glum.

  “Mom? Do people go straight to Heaven when they die?”

  She smiled. They’d had this conversation before. “That’s right. They’re beautiful, and they’re all looking down at us.”

  “So if I do something bad, it isn’t just God watching. Dad is too.”

  Mom tugged the knot closed. “What’s wrong?”

  “I yelled at Beth today. Then I said something really stupid to Davey Young.”

  He’d replayed the whole thing in his head many times, only to experience again the sting of screwing up. He’d failed his first test, and not only did Beth and the new kids know it, his dad knew it, and so did God. He wasn’t good enough to be a preacher. The Reverend had told him to be himself, but he wasn’t who he thought he was. He’d bet Jeremiah Peale, being perfect, never messed up the way he had. The Reverend didn’t crack jokes to make himself important. He was a servant. He always worked hard to help others experience the same joy he did.

  Mom inspected his jacket and pursed her lips at the dust on it. She whacked it a few times. “Do you know who’s the spiritual warrior’s toughest enemy?”

  “The Devil?”

  “Nope.” She held up the jacket. “Himself. The impulse to sin he was born with. That we’re all born with.”

  Deacon’s eyes went wide as he allowed her to put it on him. “Oh.” Mind blown.

  “Did you say sorry?”

  “To who?”

  Mom smiled. “Beth and Davey.”

  “Sure, I did.”

  “That’s half the battle,” she said. “The other half is learning from your mistake. If you feel yourself about to do something bad, open your heart to the Spirit, and it will guide you. I’ll pray for you, Deacon, as I always do.”

  Deacon was hazy on the rules of prayer, as most of the things people prayed for didn’t happen, but he liked that Mom would be talking to God about his welfare.

  She straightened his collar. “And there we go. You ready?”

  Outside, the singing had already started. Deacon ran out the door ahead of his mother. Hands linked in a human chain, the Family walked single file down the dirt road toward the baptismal stream. Children flanked the march, smiling with their hands raised the way they’d seen the adults do when taken by the Spirit, which was very much with them all on this beautiful blue-sky day.

  Then came Jeremiah Peale, leading a beaming Mrs. Young by the hand and trailed by her reluctant children and Deacon’s friends. His hair part had fallen into a sweaty tangle over his forehead. The Cheshire cat grin was going full force.

  Behind them, the grim-faced church elders, the flock’s shepherds, followed in their white shirts and black suits.

  Deacon ran to join his friends.

  The Reverend let up a fierce shout: “What should a poor sinner do?”

  The congregation sang, “Jesus said to go, down to the river.”

  “Where should a poor sinner go?”

  Deacon joined in this time. “Jesus said to go, down to the river.”

  “What can a poor sinner gain?”

  “Wash away your sin, down at the river.”

  “Can a poor sinner be saved?”

  “Wash away your sin, down at the river.”

  He marched along with pride, his funk now forgotten as he recalled the Spirit. As the procession passed the green fields, he checked out his new neighbors. David walked with his head down and hands in his pockets, while Angela scowled in a dress she obviously didn’t like wearing.

  Deacon nudged the boy. “You ready to be saved?”

  The kid stared down at his feet. “I guess so.”

  “It’s like swimming with your clothes on,” Emily said. “We’ll be there with you. Clapping like this.” She broke out in manic applause. “You’re going to be the star of the show!”

  David looked up and smiled. “Really?”

  “Really and truly.”

  They all followed the path through the dark oaks down to the stream where sinners were saved from eternal death. Deacon liked this part of the woods, where the big trees shaded the ground and the air was cool. While the congregation lined the shore to watch, Jeremiah baptized Mrs. Young and next Angela, and then it was David’s turn. Resigned to his fate, the new kid plunged into the percolating stream. They splashed to the middle, where the water ran deep enough for a dunk. The Reverend kept a tight hold on the boy because of the current.

  The congregation let up a choral hum that drowned out the forest’s insects and birdsong. Mrs. Young cried with joy. Wrapped in a towel, Angela shivered and dripped. Out in the stream, Jeremiah had taken off his jacket and stood thigh deep in the water like a modern John the Baptist. One hand rested on the top of David’s head while the other gripped a worn black Bible.

  “The Book of John tells us we must be born of water,” he cried. “And of the Holy Spirit! Peter told us to baptize in the name of Jesus. The water won’t just clean dirt from his body but any sin from his soul!”

  “Amen!” someone called out, and others echoed the sentiment.

  Deacon did too. For him, this was more exciting than the cartoons he used to watch.

  The Reverend raised his Bible. “David Young, do you accept the Lord Jesus Christ as your savior?”

  David’s eyes flickered across the congregation as if searching for a different kind of savior. They found Deacon, who gave him a thumbs-up. When they settled on Emily, he smiled. “Yeah.”

  “Do you love him with your whole heart?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you serve him all your days?”

  “Okay.”

  “Let us pray for David.” Eyes clenched shut, the Reverend bowed his head. “Lord, we thank you for this powerful encounter with the Living Spirit. This boy is ready to give his life to your service.” He pressed his Bible against David’s forehead. “David, on your profession of faith and obedience to the Word of God, I baptize you in the name of the Lord Jesus.”

  He cradled the base of David’s skull with his big hand. “I baptize you!” He withdrew the Bible and pressed its worn cover against the boy’s head a second time. “In the name of Jesus!” Again. “For the remission of your sins!”

  This time, David disappeared into the water.

  And came up sputtering and wiping at his eyes.

  The Reverend rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “David Young, in front of all these witnesses, you are now saved from death by the resurrection of Jesus Christ. You have emerged from the baptizing waters clothed in Christ, ready to serve the Lord!”

  “Thank you, Jesus,” David’s mother sobbed.

  Others applauded and added to the cries.

  Deacon yelled, “Yes, Jesus!”

  Emily whistled and clapped. Beth danced. Even Angela stopped scowling, impressed by the emotional display.

  David blink
ed the last of the water away and responded to all this praise with a shy smile and wave.

  The community celebrated the Young family’s salvation with a lavish lunch eaten at picnic tables in the shade of a few ancient oak trees near the mess hall. Baked chicken, ham, potato salad, deviled eggs, fresh greens, apple cider, and more decked the tables, all harvested from the bountiful farm.

  For special feasts like this, the women ate separate from the men, though the children all ate together. Of the one hundred and five people then living at the farm, nineteen were aged fourteen or younger. Deacon sat at a table with Beth, Emily, Josh, Wyatt, David, and Angela.

  Josh and Wyatt were older kids like Angela was. Being fourteen, they neared manhood in the community with all its rights and privileges, and they never let the younger kids forget it.

  When David reached to serve himself some fried chicken, Josh said, “Whoa, Trigger. We have to say grace first.”

  David looked around the faces for help, but Josh was right. The new kid had to learn how meals were done here.

  He closed his eyes tight. “Jesus, thanks for this lunch. Amen.”

  Josh glanced at Wyatt, who burst out laughing. “Jesus wept.”

  “Hey,” Angela said. “Big shot.”

  Josh’s smirk faded. “Hey, what?”

  The girl shook her head with slow menace, a look that said: Don’t test me.

  The big kid cocked his ear as if he was hard of hearing. “What’s that?”

  Beth raised her hands. “Lord Jesus—”

  The kids all hurried to clasp hands in a circular chain around the table.

  “—we are gathered here to share a meal in your honor. Thank you for bringing us together. Thank you for the food we’re about to eat. Guide our hearts, words, and deeds so that we praise you in everything we do. And thank you for the new members of our congregation, they’re really cool. In Jesus’s name, amen.”

  “Amen,” the kids said.

  They all reached into the center of the table to pile plates with food.

  “Hey, new girl,” Josh said.

  Now it was Angela’s turn to cock her ear as if hard of hearing. “Say again?”

  He gestured to the bench across from him and Wyatt. “Come sit with us.”