Free Distant Memory by Alton L. Gansky Page A

offerings hung on the walls. A modest chandelier danced in the new breeze that flowed through the open doors. Opposite her was another pair of double doors, but unlike the entrance doors, they had no lock.
    Lisa pushed past the doors and into the worship hall. It seemed familiar, yet she was certain that she had never laid eyes on it before. Maybe any church might have seemed familiar.
    Closing her eyes, she tried to summon distant wisps of memory. But the only emotions that answered her call were diaphanous. Nevertheless, she felt a free-floating peace associated with the church.
    The more she tried to connect the abstract sensations, the more nebulous they became. The greater the effort she expended, the keener her failure. A new sadness filled her, a concoction of despair, frustration, and anger. She felt weak, and her battered body reminded her of her injuries. Seizing the side of one of the old oak pews, Lisa steadied herself and took several deep breaths. Dust and detritus of years of gradual decay filled the air.
    Lisa sat down, ignoring the thick coat of dust. Once there had been a purpose in her life, a reason for doing whatever it was that she used to do. She knew that instinctively. What she didn’t know were the particulars.
    Imagination began to take over. As she tried to calm her raging spirit, she heard the sounds of people. With her eyes closed, she could imagine them sitting around her: children fidgeting in their seats; women fanning themselves with paper fans; men, uncomfortable in coats andties, facing forward, listening to the gray-haired minister standing in the pulpit. She could almost hear the organ begin to play a sweet, melodious hymn. What a wonderful illusion, what a magnificent vision—peaceful, honest, open, welcoming. Her anxiety began to recede like an ebbing tide, and the darkness that had covered her began to flee, giving way to an inexplicable light. She wanted to stay in the pew; she wanted to forever embrace the newfound warmth.
    “What are you doing here?”
    The voice startled Lisa, and she jumped to her feet with a gasp. Nick’s concern was etched deeply in his face. “You frightened me,” she said.
    “I could say the same thing. When I came back from the rest room, you had disappeared. I was afraid that something had happened to you. Luckily one of the workers had seen you walk out and cross the street.”
    “I’m fine, really.” Lisa felt off balance. “I just … just wanted to get some fresh air.”
    “In here?” Nick said, his voice softening. He smiled. “It seems a little musty, but then most sermons I’ve heard are old and dusty, so I guess it makes sense.”
    Lisa didn’t find the joke funny. “I don’t know why I came in here, I just—”
    Nick cut her off with the wave of his hand. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me, Lisa. You’re a big girl, and I have no claim on you. I was just afraid for you. I’m sorry if I frightened you.”
    “That’s all right. I shouldn’t have run off. It wasn’t fair to you.”
    “Well, let’s get out of here,” Nick said. “This place is condemned. The floor may be rotted away for all we know. Not only that, we’re trespassing, and I don’t want to spend another night in jail.”
    “What?” Lisa said with surprise.
    Nick’s face parted into a wide smile. “I’m joking, Lisa. I’ve never spent a minute in jail. My life is pretty dull.”
    “That’s good news,” she said as she started for the door. “I don’tthink I could drive the truck myself.” It was a vain attempt at humor, but it was the best she could do.
    “I wouldn’t be surprised if you could,” he said lightly. “Now let’s get out of here before my allergies kick in.”

    “Used to be a nice car,” Bill Hobbs said flatly as he studied the crippled remains of the gold Lexus. As an investigator for the Kern County Sheriff’s Department and a twenty-year veteran of police work, he had seen many mutilated cars.
    “Not