Darkness at the Edge of Town (Iris Ballard #2)(16)

I kept my head down like a church mouse as I walked up the path. The two people—one a pretty twenty-something African American and the other a white forty-something man—on the porch smiled up at me.

“Um, hi. Me-Megan invited me t-to come over tonight?” I said with a slight stutter.

“Oh! Carol, right?” the man asked, stubbing out his cigarette. “Welcome. I’m John and this is Chantal. I was on the roof when you came by earlier. Megan’s been singing your praises since you left.”

“She’s gonna be so excited you actually came,” Chantal said. “I think she’s out back. They were roasting marshmallows around the fire pit.”

“Sounds great. Should I go in or…”

“Of course. Go on through,” John said.

I was surprised they trusted me enough to walk around alone. Of course I wasn’t really alone. Inside the house every room was filled with talking, smiling people of all ages and sizes, almost two dozen, yet almost all stopped to say hello or smile at me. I performed my shy routine—small smile, eyes down—as I strolled around the house. Most of it was ordinary, like the showroom at The Salvation Army, with shabby mismatched couches and chairs, save for all the new-age totems, crystals, and Buddha and Celtic paintings. I couldn’t find any pieces of mail or papers referencing the farm, just pamphlets for New Morningism and a ton of metaphysical and self-help books, including Dr. Jeremy Shepherd’s Live in the Now. My stomach seized when I saw that tome. It always did. I was about to venture upstairs when my luck finally ran out.



“Carol!” Megan said behind me. “There you are!”

I rolled my eyes but plastered on a smile before turning around. Megan came from the dining room toward me. “I-I was looking for the bathroom,” I said.

“It’s just over here. Let me show you.” She locked her arm with mine and led me down a small hallway past more Celtic symbols in frames to the left door. I sat on the toilet the appropriate amount of time before coming out again. Megan waited in the hallway outside. “I hope it wasn’t too gross in there. We have a cleaning schedule, but with over a dozen people living here and people from the farm and guests…ick, you know?” she chuckled.

“The farm? You guys have a farm? Where?”

“Out in the country.”

“Oh, my God! I love farms! Do you have horses and chickens? I love horses. I haven’t ridden in forever. I miss it so much.”

“Well, maybe one day you’ll be chosen to go there. Only the most enlightened of us are selected. I live there part-time. There’s no telephones, no Internet, no TV—no real distractions from living, from connecting, from talking to others and yourself. It’s…nirvana on Earth.”



“It sounds wonderful. I can’t wait to go.”

“I love your enthusiasm,” she chuckled. “And I am so glad you came tonight. Truly.” She took my arm again. “Do you want some fudge? I made sure to save you some. And we have marshmallows. No alcohol, though. I hope that’s okay.”

“No, it’s good. Very good.”

“You too, huh?” Megan asked, squeezing my arm.

“Me too?”

“Alcohol and coke. Started when I was fourteen,” Megan said. “Almost everyone here struggles with addiction of some kind. My guess, for you, it’s alcohol and pills, right?” Dead on. I nodded. “Are you clean now?”

“About six weeks.”

“Good for you,” she said, I’m sure meaning it. “And The Temple, the people here…you’ll never find a better support system. I am positive I’d be dead if I hadn’t found Mathias and the collective.” She was probably right about that. At least the majority of the time religion can actually save lives, not destroy them. The majority of the time.

The bulk of the party was taking place in the large backyard. I found over a dozen people sitting in lawn chairs and loungers, on blankets on the grass, or around the fire pit roasting marshmallows and laughing. Most were talking to others, but a small cluster of young girls sat by the twenty-something guy playing the guitar. I scanned the crowd. No Billy. Why can nothing ever be easy? I thought with an inner sigh.



“Come on. Let’s get you some lemonade and fudge,” Megan said, pulling me toward the buffet.

“Actually, I shouldn’t. My stomach’s been upset all night. I’ll just have a bottled water, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.” She handed me one.

“So, is everyone here a member?”

“No. Most are, but some are just like you. Their journey led them down the path here.”

“How?”

“They attend our seminars. Friends introduce them. Usual ways. But come on. Helen’s gonna be so happy you’re here. Everyone is.”

Once again my handler took my arm. She led me toward Helen, a middle-aged man, and a chubby girl with curly hair, all laughing. Helen’s face lit up when she saw me, but the man began scrutinizing me as if I were an itch he couldn’t scratch. Not good. “Look who is here! Told you she wouldn’t let us down,” Megan said.

“And I told you I didn’t think she would,” Helen said with a smile. “Hi, sweetie.”

“Hi,” I said, hanging my head mostly to avoid the man’s gaze.