The Brandywine Prophet

1.4 Two Years Earlier: William Carmel Hears the Voice

Will spent the morning dodging his wife’s questions about the ambush at the bar, but finally opened up on the way to church.

“Didja at least have fun?” she asked.

“He’s young enough to be my kid.”

“His wife teaches dance.”

“Miss Alice is better.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Give ya the odds...”

“They might be at church today, so be nice.”

“You invited them?”

“Of course I did, darling.”

Will’s grunt put the conversation on hold for the remainder of the ride.

The Carmel family had been members of the non-denominational Church of the Dunes for twenty-three years of its twenty-five-year history. Once a month, Sarah donned a burgundy gown and sang with the choir. Whenever Pastor VanDuyn could guilt him into it, William played the organ.

He dropped Sarah at the front door for choir practice and Janie at the back door for Sunday-school, then he pulled his truck to his usual spot, cranked back his seat, and tried to relax.

Sarah wanted him to be social? 

He could be social. 

She wanted him to be nice? 

He could do that too.

Will’s idea of “nice” was smoking a cigar with “the guys.” He wasn’t one for cracking a beer and talking shop, but he did have a box of Diamond Crowns saved for special occasions. There were only a few places in the States to find the Dominican smokes, so when he stumbled on a whole box in a Traverse City tobacco shop, he didn’t hesitate at the thirteen-dollars-per-stick price tag. Cigars were technically a substance, but they were the only vice that survived his transformation. Sarah didn’t mind as long as he kept them in the stables and tossed any defiled clothes directly in the wash.

He counted this morning: ten smokes. Nobody would be left out.

*  *  *

Easter afternoon was torn from a coloring book with scribbled trees, baby-blue skies and a big orange sun with wavy yellow lines bursting from its core. Girls with pale skin, pastel dresses and dandelions woven in their hair skipped along the front of Will’s hill. Boys played at the end of Brandywine where the blacktop faded to gravel and weeds. A chalk maze wound through the unfinished cul-de-sac complete with jump rope booby-traps and hula-hoop land-mines (though middle-schoolers on bikes posed a more realistic threat). Parents, like helicopters, watched from the curb.

On top of the hill, three white buckets were filled with Mrs. Danthers’ special bubble mix: seven parts water; two parts dish soap; one part glycerin. Pipe cleaners were fashioned into all shapes and sizes and tiny hands popped what little lips blew. The older kids mastered monster bubbles with circles of rope tied to sticks.

The hunt was a success. The woods and hill served as fair hunting ground while the fenced-in corral was sectioned off for toddlers. Every time a golden egg was discovered, Janie and Will shared a knowing glance. At the end of the day, the special eggs could be exchanged for a giant Easter basket with chocolate bunnies, jars of strawberry preserves, and Applebees gift cards.

When most of the eggs had been discovered (Will was bound to run over a few stragglers with the lawnmower later that summer) the Easter Bunny came hopping out of the woods with a bag of fun-sized candy bars. Although the rabbit was an established attraction and a hit with the kids, he was nearly banned last year after Morgan Demfield’s daughter screamed and kicked her way out of his arms. The helicopters converged and deemed the costumed stranger an inappropriate addition to the Carmel Easter Picnic. Will defended Sean Umbers--the man behind the mask--explaining that he was a retired middle-school teacher of twenty years and a sponsor of six children through WorldVision. But the concerned mothers still demanded a meet-and-greet with the rabbit--sans furry costume--before this year’s event. Two empty boxes of wine later, the women were fully satisfied with the divorced Mr. Umbers signing autographs for their five-year-olds. By the end of the hunt, Sean would discover four candy wrappers with scrawled numbers pushed seductively in the crack between the bunny’s suit and head.