Righteous04 - The Blessed and the Damned by Michael Wallace Page A

wings, put in a new stone path, or build a new shed or greenhouse? At least repaint the damn door.
    Or maybe that was the point.
    All of this is mine,
Abraham was telling him.
Your home, your ranch, even your wives and offspring, all for me to dispose of as I see fit.
    Kimball fought down those rebellious feelings. Abraham Christianson would require complete surrender, that he uprootevery bit of pride until his soul was a freshly plowed field, ready to receive whatever its master decided to plant in its soil.
    “Plow my heart, Lord,” he prayed.
    And then he walked toward the door. He’d been so focused on the house and his own turbulent thoughts, that he’d barely noticed the row of women and teenage girls sitting beneath the veranda, sewing, peeling apples, or writing in journals. His own wives and daughters had once sat in the same place. In fact, he’d built the enormous porch at Charity’s urging.
    The women stopped what they were doing and stared as he approached. One of Abraham Christianson’s wives—was that Fernie’s mother?—had been sitting in a rocking chair, shelling peas. Even in her midfifties she was still a handsome woman with a pleasant demeanor, and when her first husband abandoned her for a gentile woman, Kimball had angled to have the woman added to his own wives. She and her children ended up with Abraham instead. It hadn’t been a complete loss, as he eventually gained Fernie for himself, the woman’s oldest daughter from her first marriage.
    Somewhere along the way, Fernie’s mother had picked up the Christianson arrogance, and she displayed it now as she rose at Kimball’s approach and went into the house without a word or a glance in his direction.
    He stood for a long moment at the base of the steps, staring up at the others. “Is, uhm, is Brother Abraham here?”
    But before they could answer, the door opened and there he was. He seemed taller, stronger, sterner than Kimball remembered. His face looked carved from the cliffs. Kimball bowed his head as the other man stepped out onto the porch.
    “I heard you were out of prison,” Abraham said. “I wondered when you’d come slithering back. What do you want?”
    “Forgiveness and mercy.”
    “Of course you do.”
    “I know what I’ve done, I won’t deny it. I’ve sold my birthright and eaten with swine. But like the prodigal son, I return humble and ashamed.”
    “You’re not my son.”
    “But I’m your cousin. That counts for something. And I’m a fellow brother in Christ. A sinner who is begging forgiveness.”
    “Taylor Kimball, your sins are beyond my ability to pardon.”
    “It wasn’t me, or at least not
just
me, I mean,” he added. “There was an evil spirit. It deceived me. I had to cast it away before my eyes could be opened to the truth.”
    “A what?”
    “One of Lucifer’s angels. It lied to me. It said God wanted me to do things—terrible things. I’m ashamed, Brother Abraham. I listened to the Spirit, and that’s how I got caught up in the secret combinations of your enemies. No more, it’s gone, it doesn’t bother me anymore.”
    “So you were under the influence of an evil spirit, but now you’re not. Is that right?”
    “You don’t believe me,” Kimball said as he studied Abraham’s face. “You don’t think there was an angel. You think I’m lying.”
    “Oh, I believe you. If you say one of Lucifer’s angels was your companion, I absolutely accept that. It explains so many things. The part I don’t believe is that you are no longer communicating with the evil spirit.”
    “Please, I’m begging you.” He climbed the steps and fell to his knees, then grabbed Abraham’s hands. “I’m submitting to your will. I honor and sustain you as my prophet, seer, and revelator. Look at me, I’m nobody. Take me back. I’ll do everything you want.”
    Kimball didn’t look at Abraham’s wives, but he could feel disapproval radiating from the porch. After today, they’d never again look