Winter of Grace Read online

  At last, Pastor Matt, Jay and Elliot’s dad, stood up to speak. He had a wonderful voice, deep and ringing and utterly sincere. He was quite handsome for an old guy; you could see where Jay and Elliot got it from. And he made jokes, too.

  I don’t know what I’d been expecting him to talk about – sin and damnation and hellfire, maybe, not that I had a clear idea what any of those things were. But instead he talked about love. He talked about saving the world through love. He talked about how God is our loving father, and how He sent His son Jesus to be our friend, the best friend we could ever have, a friend who would never desert us. A friend who brought a message of love to save the world, a message that could come alive in us, every moment of every day. And finally He reminded us that we could help contribute to the work of Jesus, by cash or cheque or credit card, and we’d find envelopes under our seats.

  There was thunderous applause, then more singing and clapping. Other people were groping under their seats, and in a daze, I did the same. I slipped a five-dollar note into the envelope and held it out to Stella, but she frowned and shook her head. A man came along and collected the envelopes, and whispered, ‘May the blessing of the Lord be on your head,’ and he smiled so warmly I felt a bit of a fraud. I mean, it was only five dollars. But I guess even five dollars multiplied by every person in that church was a fair amount of money – and I saw one old lady put in a hundred.

  Afterwards we hung around outside in the winter sunshine, waiting for Jay. I kept half an eye out for Elliot too, just casually, but I didn’t see him. Stella had her arms folded. At last Jay wriggled through the crowd and rushed up to us, beaming. ‘So, what did you think?’

  He was asking me. I saw Stella’s face close up.

  ‘Your dad’s a great speaker,’ I said.

  ‘Amazing,’ said Stella, just on the line between sarcastic and sincere.

  ‘You should really come to youth group,’ said Jay, still looking at me. ‘It’s cool, you’d love it. Wednesday nights, seven till nine.’

  Stella said, ‘I can’t. Not Wednesdays.’

  ‘I don’t know …’ I said awkwardly, ‘This week we’re having a debate about the war,’ said Jay, as if he knew that would hook me in. He barely even glanced at Stella. It was the first time a boy had ever shown more interest in me than her. It felt all wrong, but at the same time, not unpleasant.

  Jay laid his hand on my arm and said in a low voice, ‘I’d really like you to come.’

  I swallowed. ‘I’ll … I’ll think about it.’

  Stella said firmly, ‘We have to go now. My nana’s coming for lunch, we’ll be late. Come on, Bridie.’

  ‘Call me!’ Jay yelled after us.

  As we waited on the station platform, Stella said abruptly, ‘You won’t go back, will you?’

  ‘I don’t know. It wasn’t what I expected. They all seemed really nice. It was … interesting.’

  ‘You think?’ Stella snorted. ‘Well, I’m not coming, that’s for sure. Sheesh. I just don’t get it.’

  ‘Get what?’

  ‘I just can’t believe in all that. To me, it’s the same as saying, let’s all believe in Greek myths, let’s believe in Gods and Goddesses living in the clouds and throwing down thunderbolts. We don’t believe in that stuff anymore, so how can you believe there’s an old man called God up there somewhere, looking down at us? And he had a son called Jesus who died, then came back to life? Where’s the evidence, people? It’s the tooth fairy, it’s the Easter bunny.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said slowly. ‘When you put it like that, it does sound … unlikely. But what about what Pastor Matt said today, the message of Jesus? Love one another. That’s pretty radical. If everyone lived by that, it would change the world. No more wars, no more poverty. Maybe you don’t need to get into the whole rose-from-the-dead, died-for-our-sins bit.’

  Stella leaned out to see if the train was coming. ‘That’s another thing I don’t get. Jesus died for our sins, what does that mean?’

  ‘He died so we could have eternal life, isn’t that what Pastor Matt said?’

  ‘But if God loves us so much, why not just give us eternal life? What’s the point of killing Jesus?’ Stella shook her head. ‘I tell you what, if I was Jesus, I’d be way mad with my dad.’

  I laughed, though I felt a bit guilty. I was pretty sure the gang at Northside wouldn’t think it was funny.

  ‘Oh, well,’ said Stella, as the train finally roared into the station. ‘When you go to youth group, you can ask them all about it.’

  THE KINCAIDS’ HOUSE was mayhem as usual. Scarlet was playing the flute to Nana, Tark was watching cartoons, Paul lumbered up and down the hallway booming into the phone, while Mish whirled about the kitchen in the corner of the big room, preparing lunch.

  ‘Stella, could you be an angel and make a salad? Bridie, is there milk in the fridge?’

  I had a peek. ‘Nup.’

  ‘Damn – Paul! When you’re finished – bread and milk.’

  Paul nodded; he raised his hand, grinned at me and said into the phone, ‘I understand that, mate, but the point is …’

  ‘Should I go?’ I offered, but Mish shook her head.

  ‘Sit there and talk to me. Use the other tomatoes, Stella, don’t waste them.’

  ‘But they’re yucky,’ said Stella.

  ‘They’re all right. Cut the bad bits out.’

  ‘I’m going!’ yelled Paul, and the door banged behind him.

  ‘Mish tells me you’ve been at church,’ said Nana Kincaid, who’d escaped from Scarlet and pulled out a chair at the dining table.

  ‘It was boring.’ Stella chopped tomatoes. ‘I hate church.’

  ‘Stella!’

  ‘Well, I do.’

  Nana shook her head. ‘Show some respect. Priests and nuns give up so much to do God’s work.’

  ‘They chose it, no one asked them to.’

  ‘God asked them to,’ said Nana. ‘And don’t you roll your eyes at me.’

  I started to lay the table, listening to them argue. Mish caught my eye and we exchanged a smile.

  ‘Nana, the church is so sexist! Why is God called Him? Why shouldn’t God be female? Why can’t women be priests?’

  ‘Because Jesus was a man.’

  ‘Why does a priest need a penis, he’s not even allowed to use it!’

  ‘Stella!’ But Nana Kincaid couldn’t help smiling.

  Stella scraped the tomatoes into a salad bowl. ‘There aren’t enough priests to go round. They’re all old and doddery, and the church still won’t let women do it. It’s cutting out fifty per cent of the human race; it’s saying women aren’t capable. That’s a terrible message to send to girls.’

  ‘Mother Teresa was a woman. The Blessed Virgin Mary was a woman.’

  ‘So we’re allowed to be saints? We’re allowed to be virgins? But that’s all?’

  ‘Of course not, you can be a wife and a mother and—’

  ‘Nana! I want more out of my life than that.’

  Mish made an indistinct sound, half laugh, half snort, and quickly smothered it.

  ‘Women are different,’ said Nana comfortably. ‘You’ll understand when you’re older.’

  Stella gave up on the salad and faced her grandmother with her hands on her hips, knife still clenched in her fist. ‘What about all the terrible things the church has done? The crusades, the Inquisition, burning people at the stake. What about child abuse? What about forbidding men to wear condoms, even to stop spreading AIDS?’

  ‘Christianity has been around for two thousand years, of course it isn’t perfect. But look at all the wonderful work the churches have done through the ages, all over the world: taking care of the sick, the homeless, the poor; educating children; feeding the starving. And churches give hope. They help millions of people. They give care and love.’

  ‘That’s what Bridie said,’ snorted Stella, and Nana Kincaid turned to me with her pale blue eyes as bright and sharp as Stella’s own in her soft velvety face.
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  ‘Ah, Bridie. You’ve always had more sense than Stella.’

  I muttered something, uncomfortably caught between Stella and Nana, and then Mish rescued me.

  ‘Sit down everyone – oh, Paul, there you are. Thanks, darling – Tark, cut some bread; you’re so good at it.’

  We all scraped back chairs, sat down and began to help ourselves to food. Tark was talking about football, and Nana had just asked me about school when Stella started up again.

  ‘If church is so fantastic, how come Dad stopped going?’

  Scarlet groaned. ‘Give it a rest, Stella!’

  Paul reached for the bread. ‘I still believe the Church does good work in the community, and I still want to help with that.’

  ‘But you don’t go to Mass any more.’

  ‘No. I have theological difficulties.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ I asked.

  Nana Kincaid didn’t say anything, but she had a pained expression on her face.

  Paul waved his fork. ‘The virgin birth, the miracles, heaven and hell, transubstantiation—’ ‘Trans-what?’

  ‘That’s when the bread and wine at Communion turn into the body and blood of Christ.’

  ‘Eew!’ squealed Stella.

  Tark said flatly, ‘Yuck.’

  ‘Not literally,’ I said.

  ‘Well, yes. According to Catholic scholars, the essential substance of the bread and wine literally becomes Christ’s flesh and blood. Like magic. You can see why I have trouble believing it – sorry, Mum.’ Paul pulled an apologetic face at Nana. ‘Not to mention confession and the resurrection and the blessed martyrs and the rosary.’

  Nana carved up her asparagus tart. ‘You say what you like. You’ll come back in the end. They always do.’

  ‘Huh!’ said Stella. ‘Not this little black duck.’

  I said to Paul, ‘If you don’t believe it, why are you sending Stella to St Margaret’s?’

  ‘Good question,’ said Stella.

  ‘I’d like to believe it,’ said Paul, and laughed. ‘I do believe in the moral side of it. The Ten Commandments, do unto others, turn the other cheek. I believe in that. And St Margaret’s has an excellent music program.’

  Stella rolled her eyes.

  I turned to Mish. ‘Do you believe in God?’

  Mish laughed. ‘Me? I’m a wishy-washy New Age mystic. I believe in nothing and everything. I’m not a huge fan of organised religion. But I do believe in ghosts, and karma, and the power of prayer – even if I’m not sure there’s anyone there to hear it.’ She pointed her knife emphatically. ‘But I must say, I’m very happy to see you girls exploring your spirituality.’

  Stella made gagging noises, and Nana snorted, and they looked at each other and laughed. They loved to argue, but deep down, they were exactly the same.

  When I got home, Mum was in her study marking papers. I brought her a cup of tea.

  ‘Thanks, darling, that’s sweet of you.’

  ‘I do have an ulterior motive.’ I leaned against the doorway. ‘Could you give me a lift on Wednesday night? About half-past six?’

  ‘I suppose so. Where to?’

  I named the suburb where the church was.

  ‘What on earth’s all the way out there?’

  ‘It’s this youth group thing,’ I mumbled.

  Mum frowned. ‘What kind of youth group?’

  I drew on the floor with my shoe. ‘It’s called Northside.’

  ‘But what is it, some political thing?’

  I took a deep breath. ‘It’s a church group.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘It’s that boy, Jay, you know, the one who went to the party? Well, he and his brother are part of this church and Stella and I went along and it was kind of – anyway, they have a youth group and this week they’re talking about the war and I just thought it’d be interesting, you know, to get a different perspective? You were saying yourself, I should meet new people, make some new friends. And Jay’s a really sweet guy …’ I ran out of breath. ‘So, will you take me?’

  ‘No.’ Mum pushed away her mug of tea untouched. ‘I won’t.’

  ‘But, Mum, it’s church! It’s not like it’s a bikie gang, they’re not drug-dealers!’

  ‘No,’ said Mum steadily, but two red spots glowed in her cheeks. ‘They’re worse than drug-dealers. They’ll try to fill your head with lies, and guilt, and damnation. You keep away from them, Bridie. They’re dangerous.’

  ‘They’re about as dangerous as … as fairy floss.’

  ‘Fairy floss rots your teeth, and religion rots your brain!’ flashed Mum.

  Suddenly I was shouting, my face was hot, and tears had sprung into my eyes. ‘This is ridiculous! They’re good people. They were talking about love, what’s wrong with that? I’m sixteen years old; you can’t decide who my friends are. You can’t control what I think! It’s not fair!’

  Then Mum was shouting too. ‘I don’t want you getting mixed up with those people! They might seem sweet and harmless, but it’s poison, Bridie, believe me. Bridie, don’t you turn your back on me. Bridie, don’t you dare walk away when I’m speaking. Bridie, I mean it––’

  But it was too late. I’d already marched down the hallway, and slammed the front door behind me.

  Mish answered my knock. ‘Back again? Did you leave something behind?’ Then she saw my face, and stepped back to let me in. ‘Stella’s gone with Paul and Tark to take Nora home; you can wait if you like …’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, wiping my eyes. ‘I just had this stupid fight with Mum, and I …’

  ‘Oh, well, we’ve all done that,’ said Mish. ‘Want to talk about it?’

  I followed her into the big room. Scarlet was at the computer; she swivelled round, saw it was me, said, ‘Oh, hi,’ and went back to what she was doing.

  ‘I only asked her for a lift,’ I told Mish. ‘The way she carried on, you’d think I was joining the Nazi Party or something.’

  ‘This is about the Christians?’

  ‘I’m not going to be one. I’m not joining or anything.’

  ‘Just looking, eh?’ Mish put the kettle on. ‘Is it because you like this boy Jay?’

  ‘Did Stella say …?’

  Mish shook her head.

  ‘I do like him,’ I said. ‘But not like that.’

  ‘So what’s the attraction?’

  I wasn’t really sure. Part of it was feeling annoyed with Mum and Stella for slagging off Christians. They shrugged aside all the good stuff about them as if it didn’t count, as if it didn’t mean anything. And there was something about the atmosphere at Northside that had appealed to me – not just Pastor Matt’s speech, not just the songs – something about the way everyone had smiled at me, the welcoming, the warmth. It felt safe there, but exciting too – alive, and vibrant, and purposeful. And I wanted to find out more.

  I mumbled, ‘I just liked it.’

  Mish poured boiling water into the teapot. ‘Well, like I said, I think it’s great that you’re exploring your spiritual side. If you need help, I’ll help you. I’ll drive you to the youth group. This week, anyway. But I’m very unreliable, you shouldn’t count on me.’

  ‘Wow, really, Mish? Thanks.’

  ‘But I want you to do something for me. Ask your mum why she’s so against religion.’

  ‘Because she’s a fascist.’

  ‘Bridie, I’m serious. Ask her, okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ I said. But that was one conversation I intended to put off as long as possible. Preferably forever.

  I DIDN’T TELL JAY I was coming. Maybe there was a part of me that suspected I might change my mind at the last minute, and I didn’t want to promise, then let him down.

  On the other hand, I had no problem lying to my mother. It wasn’t exactly lying; I told her I ‘might’ have dinner with the Kincaids on Wednesday. Which I might, if I did pull out at the last minute.

  Mum said, ‘Oh, good,’ in great relief, obviously thinking the crisis was over: my crisis
of faith. Only, my crisis was that I might be catching faith instead of losing it. Could you catch faith? Was it infectious?

  Even if I did catch it, it didn’t have to be fatal. Look at Paul – he’d recovered, and the only side effect he’d suffered was a serious case of being good.

  Paul helped heaps of people; he was lovely. Mish said once that he could have worked longer hours and got a job that paid more but he didn’t, so he had time to do all the voluntary stuff, and hang out with his family. If he’d had a high-powered job, they could have renovated their house, or bought a bigger one, and sent Stella, Scarlet and Tark to expensive schools. But he didn’t. He just wanted to live a good life. Maybe it was God that set him on his good path in the first place; I’d never thought of that before.

  If I had a dad, I’d want him to be like Paul. Stella didn’t know how lucky she was.

  It was Stella who let me in when I turned up for my lift on Wednesday. ‘Oh, hi.’ There was a slight coolness in her voice. She yelled out, ‘Mum! Bridie’s here!’

  We stood close together in the narrow hallway while noise flowed over us: Scarlet was singing, Tark yelled, the TV was blaring. Mish called, ‘Has anyone seen my bloody keys?’

  I looked at Stella. ‘Sure you don’t want to come?’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  ‘Are we on for Tim tomorrow morning?’

  Was it my imagination, or did she hesitate slightly before she answered? ‘Yeah, tomorrow.’

  I said in a rush, ‘Stell, you know, I’m not going because of Jay. I’m not after him or anything.’

  ‘Whatever. I’m not after him either.’

  ‘That’s okay, then.’

  ‘Yep,’ said Stella crisply. She stood aside to let Mish past.

  Mish looked harassed as she juggled her car keys. ‘Keep an eye on those spuds, Stella, I should be back in half an hour or so. Ready, Bridie? How long do you think this thing’ll run?’

  ‘Jay said till nine.’ I felt awful. My spiritual explorations seemed to be inconvenient for everyone. ‘But someone’ll give me a lift home.’

  ‘No, no, I’ll pick you up. Just because a person belongs to a church, they could still be a child molester.’