#TeaserTuesday: Church People

 The following post contains spoilers for Lord Have Mercy Part Four: Big Son, which you can grab here:

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You can also snag the complete novel, all four installments compiled, for Kindle and paperback:

Lord Have Mercy: The Complete Novel

It was quiet in the way of all churches, steps careful, voices hushed. But inevitably loud because of the sheer scope of the place: the high, vaulted ceilings and all its secret nooks and angles trebled each tiny sound into a constant wall of not-unpleasant white noise. A pair of old, stooped women were lighting candles. Two pews ahead and to the left, a young man sat with his head bent and his hands clasped, lips moving soundlessly in what looked to be fervent prayer.

Aidan had thought about praying, when he first sat down, but only because he’d been bowled over by the beauty of the place. Its blue-and-white check marble floors; its gold-set frescoes; its gleaming organ pipes as tall and awe-inspiring as the tubular towers of Oz. There was something…reverent…about the air in here. It smelled of candlewax, and linseed oil, but something rarified, too, that spooked him a little. Like when he was a kid, and Maggie had taken him into a fancy store, and told him, sweetly but firmly, not to touch anything. His boots had left muddy scuffs on the tile, and he was half-tempted to get down on his knees and mop the streaks up with his sleeve.

But he didn’t know how to pray. Other than a few desperate mental declarations of oh God at moments of crisis, he’d never called upon the man upstairs. Had never been to bible study, nor learned any of the hymns. His people were not church people – “church” meant club meetings, in his world. Mercy was Catholic, and doubtless could have offered guidance, but Mercy was still at the hospital, battling an infection.

Maybe it didn’t matter. Sitting here, resting in this place, was clarifying in a secular way, too. He hadn’t known when he first entered that his heart was pounding, but knew it had been now, as he felt it slow and steady in his chest, his breaths even, and deep, and unencumbered. 

In outlaw MC culture, official club meetings are called "church," and they take place in a special meeting room dubbed the "chapel." Throughout the Dartmoor Series, the fate of the club has been decided in a series of quiet, out of the way meetings between only a handful of members, but voted into practice at church. It's fitting, then, that Aidan hears three versions of the unvarnished, apolitical truth of the club, and his father's role in it, inside an actual church. 

In this scene, which is one of my favorites of the novel, Aidan entertains three visitors. Ghost, obviously, and necessarily, because this scene is about them, and the fragile, newborn attempt at something like an honest relationship between men - of equals - rather than father and son. But I didn't want to start with Ghost. 

I like the caution and intricacy of Ghost being three steps removed. Ian notifies Ava, who in turn notifies Ghost: Ghost knows he's made a mess of everything, perhaps irrevocably, and he's come to slink in quietly. Ava's perspective here was necessary, because she's the only other person who knows what it's like to be Ghost's child. She's always been more resilient than Aidan in that regard, but she's also colder by nature, and grew up with both parents; she doesn't have the maternal abandonment issues that have always plagued Aidan. 

Ian's presence is necessary, too. He loves Ghost, but his perception of him is wholly different than that of any Lean Dog. His line to Aidan is one I've been wanting to use for a long time. 

“Our perceptions of people are all relative, I suppose.” His gaze, though soft, drilled straight into Aidan with a force that left him wanting to sway backward. “It’s all about perspective. Ghost is perhaps not a good man, but he’s the best man I’ve ever known personally.”