Sunday morning, he found himself at Living Water, standing next to his grandma, a few rows in front of the stage. As the chairs filled and the musicians warmed up, Tyler glanced at the crowd. He wondered what percentage of church-goers actually obeyed all the rules in the Bible – or even tried to. It would be really interesting to peek into their personal lives, and find out what they did in their free time, on the other six days of the week....

Near the stage, a door opened, and Rachel stepped out of a back room. She was followed by a woman with the same blonde hair – only hers was cut short, and barely reached her shoulders. Tyler leaned down and whispered, "Is that Mrs. Matthews? Paul's wife?" and his grandma nodded and said, "Mm-hmm. Amy."

Amy Matthews towered over her daughter – must be where Christian got his height – and they seemed to be arguing about something. Well, not arguing, because it took two to fight and this was definitely one-sided. Rachel seemed worried and maybe a little hurt, like a lost little lamb, or something. Her mom was most definitely berating her, but in an "I'm pretending to be polite 'cause we're in public" kind of way.

The service began, and Paul Matthews took to the stage. He grabbed a mic and began his sermon, and Tyler looked down at the day's program. He read a few words, and then heard a loud thump. He looked over to see an old man on the floor, in the middle of the aisle. No one went to help him, and the preacher kept on preaching. "Is he okay?" Tyler whispered, and his grandma said, "Oh, he's fine. He just got overwhelmed by the Spirit."

"But what if he had a stroke or something?"

"I think he's okay." Finally, someone in another row left his chair, and helped the old man back to his seat.

Tyler looked at the stage, and tried to focus on the sermon. It was something about Jesus – Jesus said to "seek first the Kingdom of God," and then you'd just get everything else you wanted. Well, maybe... Tyler thought. But when the sermon ended and Rachel stepped up to the stage, he listened to her sing, and felt that he already had everything he'd ever desired.

When church was over, his grandma went out to the car, and Tyler lingered behind. As the auditorium emptied, he waited near one wall. Christian stepped around the corner, and Rachel came out of a restroom, saw Tyler and smiled.

"Hey," Tyler said, and Christian asked, "So what did you think about the sermon?"

"Oh," he said, "I thought it was... thought-provoking."

Rachel almost laughed, but he hadn't really meant it as a joke. Guess he was just naturally that funny.... So then he asked, "Did you see that guy faint?"

Christian nodded impatiently. "He was overcome by the Spirit. It happens sometimes."

"But what if it was something else?" and Rachel said, "I think he's all right. He walked out of here okay."

The musicians had packed up their instruments and left, and her little brothers, Micah and... Tyler couldn't remember the other boy's name – burst out of the back room. They chased each other around the stage and down the center aisle, until Christian rather harshly said, "Guys, you can't run in here. You're going to knock something over."

They froze in their tracks, and then instead of running, walked quickly around the perimeter of the chairs.

Tyler had a thought. "Do you play anything?" he asked. "Or do you just sing?"

"Oh, I play the guitar," she said, and Tyler said, "Oh, that's cool," while Christian added, "We both do."

"Well," said Rachel, "you used to. You haven't in a long time."

"Well I still know how to play it."

"Can you play an electric guitar?" Tyler asked.

"I never have," Rachel said, and Christian told him, "But it's basically the same thing."

Their youngest brother – Josiah, that was his name – had grabbed Rachel's hand, and was circling her body while some silly song came out of his mouth. Their mom stepped into the auditorium, and shouted across the room: "Rachel, stop that. Make sure all the lights are off and close all the doors."

"Okay," Rachel said, and seemed to flinch a little bit. She let go of Josiah's hand, and her mom left again. Then something weird happened – it was like all the personhood went out of her eyes, and she clasped her hands in front of her body. "Did she say...." She looked at her older brother, and it was like she was imploring him to save her life. "What did she say to do?"

"Turn off the lights and close the doors," he said, in a tone that seemed to remind her how much smarter he was.

"Oh, okay," she said quietly. She stepped into the main activity room, but its lights were already off. She closed its door behind her, and then went through another doorway – perhaps to a lesser activity room? A light went out, and she closed that door.

"Um," Tyler said, "I guess I should probably be going. My grandmother's waiting."

"Okay," said Rachel, and Christian added, "See you later."

He left the building, and crossed the parking lot to the car. When he opened the door, his grandma put down her phone, and he got in beside her. "Have you ever actually met Rachel's parents?"

She nodded. "I've talked to Amy."

"They seem kind of... I don't know. I'm just starting to think her whole family's weird."

"Weird in what way?" she asked, starting the motor.

"I don't know." He closed his door and grabbed his phone. "Addams Family shit." He thought for a minute. "Wasn't there some other show that was a lot like The Addams Family?"

"The Munsters."

"And there was just one character who was normal?"

"Yeah, Marilyn. Marilyn Munster."

"Well Rachel's like the Marilyn of her family."

As they drove home, his grandma blinked in the sun and adjusted the visor. "You know," she said, "if your grandaddy was alive, he'd be eighty years old today."

"Uh-huh."

"Maybe we could go home and get Marigold, and then head over to the cemetery and pay our respects."

"If you want to."

They pulled into the driveway, and Tyler followed his grandma to the living room. She tossed her purse on the couch, went in the bathroom and locked the door. Tyler stepped into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and closed it again. He went and got Marigold's leash out of the closet, and then tried to find the cat. He discovered her upstairs, on his bed, sitting at the window. A family of blue jays sat on the other side of the glass, oblivious to the deadly predator who was inches away.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he lay down beside her. He hit Rachel's name and typed: I can't get the picture of you with a guitar out of my head. He sent the message, and then glanced over at the cat. He tapped his screen and snapped a photo of the fierce orange huntress. Hitting Rachel's name again, he asked, By the way I was just wondering does Christian have a girlfriend?

A minute later, his ringtone sounded, and he tapped the screen.

I don't think so but we don't really talk about it.

She'd probably come to church every week if he did, Tyler reasoned.

He pushed himself onto one elbow and picked up Marigold's leash. "Do you want to go somewhere?" He unbuckled the harness and tried to wrap it over her head. Flipping onto her back, she grabbed his arm with both paws, and her claws ejected. "Come on," he said. "This is just to keep you safe." That brought out her teeth, and they dug into his hand. His grandma was calling from the bottom of the stairs. "Just a minute," he said, and finally got the harness around the cat's shoulders and buckled into place.

He picked her up and stepped down to the living room. His grandma waited at the door, and they walked out onto the porch. Birds sang in the trees, and Marigold's ears pricked up. Tyler carried her to the car, got in and sat her down. When they arrived at the cemetery, they drove down a winding path. Tyler looked out the window at beautiful grass and acres and acres of graves.

His grandma parked the car, Tyler opened his door and Marigold hopped down to the ground. Tyler held her leash and followed her across the grass. He wondered if a cat would know where they were, and what was buried beneath them. He glanced at the graves, and felt kind of creeped out. Halting at a particular stone rectangle, he looked down and read his grandfather's name:

George L. Robertson

1943-2019.

"Well," his grandma said, arriving at his side, "I can't say I miss the old bastard, but there he is."