Ghost River by Jon Coon (romantic books to read .TXT) 📗

“What about your books?”

“I packed them in trash bags. They should be all right.” She pointed to several large bags stuffed in the rafters.

“You were expecting me.”

“A couple of hours ago, but that’s okay. You’re here now.”

They heard a loud screech as a tin roof panel tore away and rain poured in. Gabe closed his raincoat and pulled down the heavy book bags wondering how she had ever lifted them. In three trips they were in the cruiser, and she was in the front seat. Cher eagerly jumped into the back and shook rain and mud generously over the interior.

“Looks like I’m finally going to get a new roof,” she laughed and mopped the water from her face and neck. “It’s a shame I don’t know any reliable contractors.”

“Me either,” Gabe said,

“What’s on your mind?” she asked realizing her joke had been ignored.

“I’m worried about the bridge. Without those piers supporting it, a storm like this could be all it takes.”

“What then?” she asked.

“Trouble. Big trouble.”

Gabe’s cell chimed as they pulled back into the river camp. The rescue team was officially on alert, which meant report to the locker. He helped Alethea into the house, introduced her as Dr. Guidry, and headed back out into the rain.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Alethea said as she shook out of her rain gear. “I’m afraid my place is going downriver.”

“Come in and get dry and warm,” Carol said after a warm hug. Carol offered a beach towel and a cup of hot chocolate. “Sit, and I’ll find you dry clothes. You can change in my bedroom.”

Alethea took the cup and sat at the large, hand-hewn cypress table. Carol returned with dry sweats. In a short time Alethea returned to the table, comfortable and smiling.

“Gabe said you teach at Tulane.”

“I’m mostly writing now,” Alethea answered, “My classroom days are over.”

“What did you teach?” Emily asked.

“Anthropology and psychology. I combined the two so instead of just asking what cultures do, I could explore the whys. And I wanted to do some counseling.”

“That’s interesting.” Then Carol asked, “What are you writing about?”

“There are questions in history that have always fascinated me.” Alethea held the warm cup in both hands and took a sip. “Here’s a good example,” she began. “There are many references in the Bible to animal and human sacrifice. We know many early cultures practiced it. We all know the stories of Aztec priests offering the hearts of virgins to please the ancient gods. My questions are why? When did it start, and who benefited?

“Another example comes from my heritage. Voodoo or hoodoo was a black religion from Africa before slavery began. We know a lot about what it was and very little about why.

“Nearly every culture has recognized the existence of a creator,” she continued. “Native Americans called him the great mystery, a creator, and supreme being. And nearly every culture has need for priests or shaman to help deal with what is impossible to explain.

“So now, in what’s described as our highly enlightened, ‘late-modern’ age, why are so many fascinated with what was a very primitive African religion? Recently voodoo has since seen a real resurgence in my own New Orleans.”

“But haven’t we outgrown those superstitious religious ideas?” Paul asked as he joined them at the table.

“Great question,” she said and smiled at him. “The answer has two parts, two approaches. From the anthropological, historical perspective we know of at least three countries that did outgrow those religious ideas. In World War II Hitler killed more than 50 million. In China Chairman Mao’s Great Leap Forward killed 45 million of his own people in four years. During the great purge in Russia 20 to 50 million deaths were attributed to Stalin.

“So the question is, how could anyone who believed in a supreme being or that they were going to face a final judgment, have perpetrated such horrors? Giving up our belief in the supernatural, in a final accountability for our actions here on earth, opens the door for horrible moral atrocities.”

“What’s the second part?” Paul asked.

“From the psychological perspective atheism is often a defense mechanism: denial. We fear God’s wrath and judgment, so we deny and reject His reality. If I don’t believe it, it can’t hurt me. It’s a powerful lie. Very seductive. Very dangerous. Like standing at the edge of a cliff and repeating, ‘Gravity isn’t real, gravity isn’t real,’ then jumping.”

Paul shifted uncomfortably on his chair. She smiled at him, and he nodded. But he was all out of questions.

CHAPTER 15

2100

The storm before the storm

Gabe brought in firewood from the front porch. The wind was howling, rain hammering, and temperature dropping. The kids were gathered with the dogs on chairs and couches by the fire, iPads and computers had them entertained. Carol found hot chocolate mix and was making a pot when his cell chimed. An all-hands alert had been issued. There was flooding with calls coming in from the lower lying section of the county. Water was already a foot deep over some roads. He knew what was going to happen on the river.

He explained to the kids why he was leaving, assured them they would be okay. He rubbed the dog’s heads and instructed them to take care of the kids, picked up his thermos of hot chocolate from Carol, and headed toward the door. Carol stopped him with a hug. “I know you’ll be careful, that you know what you’re doing. Please just come back in one piece. I’ll be praying for you.”

“Mama bear, you have nothing to worry about. Get a good book and enjoy a rainy night by the fire. I’ll see you when the sun comes up.” He held her close, kissed her hair, then pulled open the door and stepped out. As he crossed the porch, he thought, That’s different. I’ve never had someone worry about me. It’s always the other way around. Nice.

The rain was