BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 23

INGA LIKAS (AKA INGA COGNITO)

IF ANYONE IS IN CHRIST, THEY ARE A NEW CREATION. OLD THINGS HAVE PASSED AWAY. BEHOLD, ALL THINGS HAVE BECOME NEW. (2 Corinthians 5:17)

            It was too wonderful to take in! I moved about in a daze. If ever reality felt like a dream, it was now. How do I even describe meeting my son, a beautiful nine year old boy that I thought had died in infancy?

            How about reuniting with a man I despised, having believed for all these years that he was responsible for our son’s death? Then I find out that the dark, nihilistic boy that impregnated me, turned out to become a serious minded Bible believing Christian. But was it possible for me to like, or even trust a guy I had subconsciously trained my brain to loathe for almost a decade?

            Jackson and his Aunt Holly invited us to spend the night in their home. The afternoon turned into evening as I got to know my son and also became reacquainted with Jackson. But I use the word reacquainted loosely. For Jackson and I were not the same people that knew each other all those years ago. Plus, our relationship had been closer to two ships passing in the night rather than anything with real substance.

            However, over the next forty-eight hours Jackson and I got to know each other better than our year together a decade earlier. Our association as teenagers was filled with insecurities and secrecy. The glue that kept us together was lust. This proved to be a rather flimsy adhesive.

The bond that pulled us together all these years later was Christ and mutual love for our son.

            As we caught up with each other, I didn’t have a whole lot to share, or even want to, until I came to the part when I met Seven Sallie at a courthouse. My life up until then had been like that of a vagabond gypsy. I never stayed in one place long. Jackson’s existence was quite different.

            As I learned his story, my feelings for him changed like from night to day. I went from loathing the man I thought he was, to loving the man he actually is. Although our relationship was brief and long ago, it was a hard adjustment referring to him by his changed name. He said he changed his name more out of distancing himself from a dysfunctional family rather than concern about being found. But my mouth hung open in a grin when he told me what he changed it to.

            “C. S. Lewis,” he had said. Then he smirked when he saw my response and said, “What?”

            “You changed your name to that of the famed Christian author, Clive Staples Lewis?”

            “I beg to differ,” he said, raising a finger. “I changed it to that of my mother’s and Aunt Holly’s father, Charles Scott Lewis. But in all honesty, the English writer was also a motive. He is my favorite author, and Benny’s too. He loved the Narnia series.”

            At the mention of this small aspect of my son’s life, my heart ached at how much I had missed. His first steps, his first words. Might they have been ‘Mama’ had I been there?

            “Back home a dear friend of mine’s name is Lewis,” I said, and then pondered one of my words. Home.

            Until I met the Sallie’s, I never really had a home. For home is where love is, and I felt loved by everyone. And I loved everyone in return. The Sallie’s, the Storms, Seven’s daughter Sevenia, Louis Lewis. Sure, my sister, brother and I loved each other. But it was more of a looking out for each other, since our mother only loved herself, and we lived in something like dorms.

            “This Lewis you speak of, what’s her first name?”

            “Oh, it’s he, not she.”

            What was that look that came over Jackson’s face? Jealousy? I’m sorry, although our relationship had been brief, I always knew and thought of C. S. Lewis as Jackson. But out of respect for the main reason he changed his name, I made myself begin to think of him as C. S.

            “I see, okay, what’s his name then?”

            “Louis.”

            “I meant his first name.”

            “It’s Louis.”

            “Okay, I thought you meant his last name was Louis.”

            “It is.”

            A baffled look came over his face. He scratched his head, opened his mouth, and closed it. I started laughing, I was messing with him a little bit. As I giggled, I subconsciously reached out and took hold of his hand. We were sitting across from each other on his deck in a couple of deck chairs.

            His eyes went to our joined hands. Then they turned up to my eyes. What was that look, tenderness? I didn’t know what to make of it and gently pulled my hand away. “Both his first and last names are Louis (Lewis).”

            I spelled the two for him and he burst out laughing. “You’re kidding?”

            “I am not. He’s actually Zella’s cousin,” I said, pointing to her. She and Seven were talking with Holly at the kitchen table where they were having a Bible study with his aunt. Benny was playing with two neighboring kids in the large yard. “He’s a few months younger than Zella. His parents thought it was cute how her first name rhymed with her last, LaStella. So his parents called him Louis.”

            “Interesting,” he replied.

            “Another interesting thing. He was a police Lieutenant, so we all called him Triple Lou. But then he got fired, so we all dropped the triple.”

            “Why’d he get fired?”

            “He was in charge of Sunday law enforcement when Sunday laws first came into effect. But then, mostly through Seven’s influence, he began studying the Sabbath in the Bible and became convicted of the issues at stake. Namely, the Sabbath God instituted at Creation on the seventh day vs. the sabbath of man’s creation, the Venerable Day of the Sun, Sunday.”

            “So he lost his job over it?”

            “Not at first. He had himself removed from his position. But then as Sunday laws became stricter and stricter, he actually got arrested over mandatory worship.”

            He nodded and a smile eased onto his face. Then his hand came toward mine and he took hold of it, squeezing gently. “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you again, Inga.”

            Looking at him was surreal. Obviously he seemed older, yet he was so familiar. I had suspected he died his hair black all those years ago, but I genuinely thought the blue eyes looking at me now were dark brown back then, not colored contacts. I relished his hand in mine. I even longed to kiss him. But those feelings also opened the door for him to seduce me all those years ago. I eased my hand out of his.

            He smiled sadly. “I want you to know something. You’re the only female I have ever been with, you know, intimately been with.”

            Seven Sallie and I were two of a kind. Before I could stop my mouth, I asked, “Are you gay?”

            “No,” he replied with a smirk. “What with raising Benny, I didn’t date much. How about you?”

            I snorted. “I never stayed in one place long enough to establish a bond.”

            “But there were guys?”

            “Not really. I have never been on birth control, so you’re also the only one I ever, you know,” I explained. But not wanting to delve any deeper than that, I quickly changed the subject. “So how did you become a Christian?”

            “Well, having Benny was a start. Having this little creature to protect, that was half from me, shifted me away from a nihilistic life view. Then another shift came living with Aunt Holly, who is not only Christian in name, but devout.”

            “Can I ask what you’ve done for a living?”

            “I had a trust fund that I was able to access after I turned eighteen. As you know, I was eighteen when Benny was born. I withdrew my trust fund the very morning of our… I’m sorry, my escape with Benny.”

            “How much?”

            He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “A million dollars.”

            I gasped. “So you never had to work? You were a millionaire and I was homeless?”

            “You knew my dad was mega wealthy. One million isn’t even one percent of his financial worth. You must not believe me when I say it was completely my intention for us to flee together.”

            “I’m sorry. I do believe you.”

            “So, I bought this acreage here, and a tourist boat.”

            “A tourist boat?”

            “I love Lake Superior,” he shrugged. “I grew up by the Pacific ocean, so I love the water.”

            Another irony between now and then. Then Jackson always had pale skin, despite living near the ocean in southern California. Now he was tan while living in northern Minnesota. Go figure.

            He shrugged. “I didn’t say I was a surfer. But up here I am a boater. Captain of my own little ship if you please. And it paved a way to have an income and enjoy the water at the same time.”

            “You must not be happy with the last two plagues, what with the waters turning to blood.”

            “Yeah, it’s not good for business. But it’s not like the Bible didn’t warn us and prepare us.”

            “Very true.”

            “So I piloted the boat and a guy named Mick Wadena, who’s my neighbor across the woods, guided the tour up and down the shore. He was natural at talking to people. He used to be the lead singer of a Christian rock band. As a matter of fact, those are his kids playing with Benny. Another bonus having him as a partner is he’s more than twenty years older than me, so it added maturity to our little crew. I was barely twenty when I bought the boat.”

            “You say he was in a Christian band. Did he avoid the first plague?”

            “He did. But when we met, we both observed Sunday. Mick was also instrumental in my Christian growth, besides my Aunt Holly. So about five or six years ago, an old friend of his from his band days came up and stayed with him for a few weeks. He started teaching us about prophecy and the Sabbath.

            “Mick’s friend and I also bonded over shared experiences with the occult. He helped me through some ramifications I still had dealt with. You see, before he was a Christian, he was in a Satanic band. For him it was more like a gimmick. For me I grew up around it. But we still suffered something like PSTD when we separated from the demonic. I guess you could say it was something like guilt by association.”

            “Was his name Arlo Aldo?”

            C. S. Raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Yeah, are you a fan of his music or something?”

            I suppose I was, but that wasn’t the point. “I know him.”

            “You know Arlo Aldo?” He frowned.

            “I should say I do. His son is married to a good friend of mine. She’s also the daughter and stepdaughter of Seven and Zella,” I told him as I point at the couple sitting with his aunt again.