General Fiction posted December 19, 2024

Chapters:

...6 7 -8- 9 ...

Exceptional

This work has reached the exceptional level

It's a hard, I don't know.

A chapter in the book Ben Paul Persons

Ben Paul Persons, Ch 8

by Wayne Fowler

In the last part Ben Paul preached at one of his engagements. Sylvia discovered an accounting error that saved the preacher from being fired.

Chapter 8

“Where to now, my beautiful bride?” Ben Paul asked, grinning as Sylvia adjusted the seat and mirrors. “We have two weeks until our next church.”

“Two weeks! We could get into a lot of trouble in two weeks.”

They both laughed.

“Aliens?” Ben Paul asked.

“Roswell, New Mexico,” Sylvia replied as Ben Paul made a mess of unfolding the map.

+++

In Clovis, they stopped for gas. While Ben Paul went into the station office to pay for the fuel, Sylvia unsuccessfully attempted to scrub bugs from the windshield. Expecting, hoping that the opening door meant Ben Paul, so he could take over the job, Sylvia noticed a young Latina girl come out by herself. Sylvia estimated she was only seven or eight.

A car that Sylvia had seen double parked a few spaces away fired up. Sylvia remembered thinking how rude it was for them to block the parked cars. The rear passenger door opened while the car was still rolling.

Sylvia dashed in front of the car, grabbing the young girl’s hand. The car in question, two men in the car, one in front and one in back sped off, spinning tires in front of Sylvia and the girl.

Without a word spoken between them, the girl released herself and flew back into the gas station just as Ben Paul came out. Sylvia didn’t relate the story until Ben Paul had cleaned the windshield and they were on their way.

“I’d say you… and the aliens, saved that little girl from the unimaginable.”

“Me, the aliens, and God. I felt him, Ben Paul.”

Ben Paul nodded. “I think that’s how my father lived his entire life, continually sensitive to the Holy Spirit.”

They drove the next several miles in silence.

+++

“Roswell,” Ben Paul unnecessarily announced as they passed the city’s welcome sign.

“Can we go to the crash site?” Sylvia asked.

“You’re driving.”

“So, you believe they actually crashed, that there are space alien creatures from outer space?”

“I have… had… a friend who I respected very much who gave a convincing argument. And there’s nothing in the scriptures that says it isn’t possible that God has worshippers on planets other than Earth.”

“So…” Sylvia shot him a glance.

“It’s a hard I don’t know. Aliens on Earth would answer a lot of questions, though.”

“Like?”

“Like what happened on the road up ahead in 1947?” Ben Paul avoided Syvia’s question. She respected him enough to let it be.

After a few moments in front of the UFO crash site, Ben Paul asked Sylvia if she was ready to go.

“Yeah, I guess so. I don’t really know what I expected to see here. Of course, there wouldn’t be any debris left. But… Do you think they really crashed here… and the government covered it up?”

Ben Paul shrugged his shoulders. Walking back to the car he said, “Maybe.”

“Well, where now? We still have two weeks.”

“Carlsbad Caverns?” Ben Paul suggested.

“You wanna drive?” Sylvia asked.

“You’re doing fine. As long as you want to, that is. Tank seems to respond to your touch better than mine.”

Sylvia grinned. “She knows I’ll let him crash into things now.”

They both laughed.

In Carlsbad they took a motel room, ready to spend the next day in the National Park.

+++

“Can you just imagine,” Sylvia said to Ben Paul as they descended into the massive cavern, “this place was discovered by a curious cowboy?”

“I’m having trouble imagining a God who created the mountainous splendor, as well as subterranean magnificence.”

“And not to mention the vast expanse and beauty of the universe. It’s a bit overwhelming.” Sylvia squeezed Ben Paul’s hand, bringing him back to the present.

“Oh, huh,” he muttered. “I feel… I don’t know…”

“Are you all right? Do you feel sick?” Sylvia for the first time truly considered Ben Paul’s age. At 82, he’d already outlived 99% of American males.

“It’s, I don’t know… like a burden.”

“You can’t, you know, lay it down?” Sylvia was trying to understand. The trip so far had been about learning to follow the leading of the Holy Spirit, learning how Ben Paul’s father, Ben, had lived his short life.

“No, this is more like the kind of burden I’m to carry.”

Several moments later, as they were taking in the science of the cavern in their tour group of a few dozen people, Ben Paul noticed a lady fumbling around in her very large purse. After extracting a small camera, she set her purse on the pathway at her feet. Ben Paul began to edge toward her. As the tour group moved to follow the guide, the lady did as well, forgetting about her purse.

As Ben Paul neared the purse, he saw a hand reach to grab it. Ben Paul lurched and grabbed the young man’s wrist. “You’ll want to let it go,” Ben Paul said, turning his head to look him in the eye, only releasing the wrist after feeling and hearing the purse drop. The man bolted, running back toward the entrance.

“Ma’am,” Ben Paul said handing the woman’s purse to her after catching up with the group.

“Oh! How could I have. My whole life is in there. Thank you!”

“You might want to put the strap over your head?”

“Good eye,” Sylvia said, having witnessed most of what occurred.

“The burden’s gone,” Ben Paul said.

“Guess you did save that lady’s life.”

Ben Paul shrugged. “Let’s catch up. This place is fabulous!”

The remainder of the tour was exhilarating, but uneventful.

+++

“El Paso?” Sylvia asked.

“As good a place as any. Maybe we can find Rosie’s Cantina.”

After a brief moment, Sylvia caught up. “And Marty Robbins’ Mexican girl?”

Ben Paul smiled.

After a meal featuring local green chili peppers, Sylvia suggested they run up to White Sands National Park. “White sand. I’ve heard of it, but never seen it.”

“Sounds like a plan. And then we can work our way back to Route 66, if it’s okay with you.”

“Of course it is,” Sylvia said, wondering why Ben Paul would even ask. “Wherever you’d like to go is always fine with me.”

At White Sands they took a short hike, glad that they thought to wear their jackets.

“Here they are, 10,000-year-old footprints.”

Both Ben Paul and Sylvia studied them, both contemplating their significance.

“You think this person’s roasting in hell, Ben Paul? Screaming her eyes out these past 10,000 years?”

Ben Paul furrowed his brow, pinching his lips. “I can’t believe that of the Savior I love. Now, you might think I’ve gone Catholic but they might not have it totally wrong, their Purgatory, I mean. Peter said that Jesus went to preach to those who were dead. That’s after he was crucified. And John, in his Revelation, said Jesus has the keys to hell and death.

“I choose to believe that the feet that made those tiny prints are dancing in glory right now.”

Sylvia hugged herself, a spike of joy racing her spine. “Oh, Ben Paul. I would so love to hear that whole sermon.”

Ben Paul closed his eyes in solemn agreement. “Let’s go back. I’m kind of anxious to get to Santa Rosa… New Mexico, that is.

“You know, I had a young man in my church in Santa Rosa who worked at the Post Office. He said that I would be amazed at how many letters get misdirected to Santa Rosa, California, that were clearly marked New Mexico.”

It was beginning to darken, but they were in a motel room in Santa Rosa by bedtime.

+++

“There’s a car. Maybe the preacher is in,” Sylvia said unnecessarily as Ben Paul pulled into the church parking lot. The door being unlocked, the two entered and were met a moment later by a tall, lanky man dressed in a suit.

“Hello, folks, I’m Pastor McCuen. What can I do for you? I was just headed to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, care for any?”

Sylvia was fascinated by his bobbing Adam’s apple. “I’ll bet you sing bass in the quartet,” she blurted.

“I do! How’d you guess, Miss…?”

Blushing for having usurped Ben Paul’s role, Sylvia was momentarily mute.

“I’m Ben Paul Persons. And this is my beautiful bride, Sylvia.”

Sylvia blushed like a school girl.

“We’d love some coffee. The diner where we had breakfast wanted a dollar for a refill!” Ben Paul grinned. “It’s not that I’m against being robbed, mind you. But at least they could have the decency to use a gun.”

Pastor McCuen laughed, his Adam’s apple dancing.

That next Sunday Ben Paul preached his sojourner message. Pastor McCuen and his quartet sang This World Is Not My Home.