Glory Be

Chapter Four

As the evening approached the next day, Isaiah felt himself become jittery. He had reread the newspaper the night before, that morning, and just again for the 3rd time. Memorizing what was helpful and productive about the newspaper. What made it aligned with the Church's missions—and his Father's. Regardless of the preparation, Isaiah was still worried. What if his father didn't like the idea? Should he have a backup plan? Oh no- he should absolutely have a backup plan.

That evening the family wasn't having a community dinner, but a family one. These dinners were rare, and only occurred on intermittent weekdays. The family didn't gather in the big dining area, but around a small table in their kitchen. It was modest—just like the Priest liked it. Isaiah's grandmother, Annabeth, joined them that night as well. Usually she was on bed rest, but she felt stronger tonight and had insisted on being present with the family.

On the table was a small collection of meals: roasted chicken, potatoes, carrots, and some biscuits. Isaiah was enjoying a helping of everything, his mouth full of potatoes when his Father started to interrogate his brother. Isaiah cared little to listen, but his interest was momentarily held at his brother's worried stutter.

"So, you've been planning the wedding with Adelaide?" His Father asked, "Do you require any additional help from us?"

David visibly gulped, "No, no I don't require any help. It'll be a simple ceremony, I'm sure." He cleared his throat, "At the Church of course."

"Of course," His Father repeated and took a sip of his wine, "How are you too getting along so far?"

David looked around the group, slightly worried or embarrassed. Isaiah couldn't tell, he just looked constipated, "We're... Acquainting."

Grandma Annabeth looked up from her food, a glimmer of suspicion on her face, "Acquainting." She restated, just to hear it out loud again. David looked at her, back to his father, then at her once again.

"Uh, yes." He said, sounding unconfident, "We're just very different people, so we've been trying to find common ground, which has found itself to be a little difficult." He rambled—which was uncharacteristic for him. Everyone at the table took a few moments of silence to digest the information. Isaiah held back a funny expression.

"It's alright hun," Anna-Marie spook up, her voice calm and soothing, "Sometimes it takes a little time."

"Your mother's right," The Priest spoke, "Remember, God should be central to your relationship, have him be the focus and everything will work itself out. Perhaps discuss the holy spirit." David's eyes went wide, and he nodded.

"Yes of course," David said, "I suppose I got distracted with everything else, but that was foolish." He nodded to himself and straightened his posture, "Thank you Father, and Mother." Priest Merrick gave an acknowledging nod and his mother smiled. Isaiah refocused on his food now, believing the conversation would just return to mindless chatter.

"Isaiah," Fuck, "Do you have an update about your apprenticeship search?" Isaiah stiffened and immediately removed his face from his food. His siblings immediately commented their surprise, apparently no one told them.

"Apprenticeship?" His brother said, almost sounding betrayed.

"An apprenticeship, really?" His twin sisters chimed in, their voices positively intrigued.

Isaiah looked between the two and quickly went to choke up an explanation, but his Father beat him to it, "Yes, Isaiah's doing an apprenticeship. After all he isn't the heir to the Church so he must grow his talents elsewhere." It was a much more toned-down explanation compared to the one Isaiah received.

The three siblings all looked between themselves, then to their Father, and then to Isaiah.

"Yeah..." Isaiah chirped out, "Well Father, I was thinking through a few ideas, but I landed on one I believe would be the best choice." His family looked at him impatiently, "Kowal's printshop. They're the ones who produce the town's newspaper," Isaiah said and immediately went to guess his Father's opinion of what he just said. When he saw a glimpse of intrigue flash across his Father's barren face, he got excited.

"The printshop." echoed the Priest. "Indeed, that sounds promising. The newspaper is a very respectable piece of our town. The people always speak very positively about it," He thought out loud, running through his conditions, "I say though, I haven't interacted with that family much," Isaiah's chest tightened, "We shall go and visit them then, to interview and see if it is a proper place."

Isaiah's body lifted in delight, "Of course, sir."

The Priest nodded, "Good choice Isaiah, I could see your strengths shine there." Isaiah let himself smile then, a beaming excitement filling himself. He saw his brother squinting out of the corner of his eye. When Isaiah turned to further investigate, his brother immediately reverted to his normal expression.

"What would you seek to gain there?" His brother clicked his tongue, interrogating the idea past it's welcome.

"Well... How to run a storefront, learning how to use a printing press, and maybe how to pen an article?" Isaiah said hesitantly, "Although, I don't know if they do that in-house."

"All things to ask when we go," His father spoke up, "All very respectable skills to learn." He shut down the quarrelling brothers.

. . . 

The ecstatic feeling didn't leave Isaiah for the rest of the day. His chores were done with a pleased hip in his step, and a permanent small smile. Isaiah's evening chores were consistent in terms of scheduled work. He mainly oversaw the cleaning of the inside of the windows, the pews and floors, removing candle residues and cleaning the candelabras, and maintaining the confessionals. He was also in charge of making a list of any missing or limited inventory the Church needed: Wine, candles, or incense. It was hard work that took many hours, but that was life for everyone out on the plains. Even for the son of the Priest—regardless of what others have said before.

While sweeping in the kitchen, Isaiah's eyes caught sight of the backdoor. The small window revealed the beautiful dancing reds, oranges, and blues of the sunset. Setting aside his task, Isaiah abandoned his broom and left to the backyard of the church. Little grew back there but a few dandelions and patches of native grasses. Isaiah sat on the back steps, which were cracked and in dire need of repair. The sun was still hanging over the horizon, but the air had already become slightly cooler than it had been anytime that summer. The breeze was a welcome sensation on his skin, now exposed due to his rolled-up sleeves.

A tired "Meow" brought Isaiah's attention to the ground. An old black cat approached him from around the corner.

Isaiah's eyes lit up, "Mosby," He said lovingly, carefully assessing the cat before petting him. Mosby head butted Isaiah's legs and rubbed his back across his trousers—dazingly them with fur. "It's been a while since I've seen you boy," He baby-talked, "I was worried." Isaiah didn't know how old Mosby was, but the cat had been around since he was a little boy. So Isaiah had always guessed around 15-20 years old.

Mosby croaked out another few meows before rolling up into a ball next to Isaiah. He smiled and continued petting the old cat. Mosby had long white whiskers and a pink nose. His black fur was sparse in some areas, Isaiah assumed that had to either be from old age or cat fights. Mosby began to purr, but soon enough he fell asleep under Isaiah's hand.

With sudden clarity, Isaiah realized he left his chores unfinished, He had just seen a glimpse of the backyard and left. Isaiah ran a fidgety hand through his hair, feeling his auburn brown curls between his fingers. What was wrong with him? Isaiah wanted to get up then, go finish his tasks and return to Mosby, but the action of standing up seemed too difficult. Isaiah stared at the doorknob, then quickly looked back to Mosby. Just a little bit longer, then he'd get up.

He'd get up when the sun touched the horizon.

He'd get up when the sun was halfway through the horizon.

He'd get up when only colors remained in the sky.

And suddenly Isaiah was bathed in darkness; Mosby still sleeping by his side.