End Times by Anna Schumacher

the Peytons like oil from the dry ravine on their land, the simmering excitement of an unexpected discovery. Floyd’s insistence that they thank the Lord for their good fortune in person ,as he’d put it, was the only reason she’d agreed to join them at church that day. Since she’d arrived in Carbon County, she’d concocted a different excuse each Sunday—staying home to keep an eye on the stew bubbling in Aunt Karen’s Crock-pot, faking a cold—but the thought of Floyd’s disappointment if she bailed yet again was even harder to bear than the uncomfortable sense of judgment she felt whenever she set foot inside a place of worship.
    “Today, I want to address some unequivocal signs from above.” The church fell silent as Pastor Ted trained his gaze slowly around the room. For a moment, Daphne felt like his summer-blue eyes were staring directly into hers.
    There had been a period in her life, shortly after her father died, when her mother insisted on church every Sunday, zipping Daphne into a stiff dress and forcing her to sit, silent and fidgeting, on a hard wooden bench. Those days had ended when Myra met Jim, but the miserable feeling of sitting fatherless in a chapel full of families had remained, and Myra still trotted out the Lord’s name when she wanted to make Daphne feel especially guilty about something.
    “We’ve been seeing some pretty amazing things here in Carbon County lately,” the pastor continued, “some true signs from God. I’m talking angels. I’m talking miracles. I’m talking End Times. Do you believe?”
    “I believe!” the congregation thundered, startling Daphne half out of her seat. When she’d attended church as a kid, she was expected to sit quietly through the sermon. Here, talking back was obviously encouraged.
    “In Corinthians,” Pastor Ted continued, his cheeks pink with fervor, “it says that when the trumpet sounds, the dead in Christ will rise and the living will become immortal. That time is coming—that time is almost here! We all heard the trumpets—how could we miss ’em? And they have marked the beginning of the End Times, when Christ will come back to claim us, the Children of God. Are you ready, Carbon County? Do you believe?”
    “I believe!” The response around her was automatic, galvanic. Elderly Madge and Eunice trembled in front of her with conviction, their faces upturned to Pastor Ted like tulips drinking in the sun.
    “And the wonders didn’t stop there,” Pastor Ted continued. “First there were the trumpets, and then another holy miracle—the discovery of oil, right here in Carbon County. Because God, in His greatness, has chosen to dole out His blessings in small doses. He’s given us this oil as a reward for our piety and worship. But mark my words, this isn’t the last miracle Carbon County will see. There will be many more. Do you believe?”
    “I believe!” The chant was a blast of sound, almost loud enough to blow the peaked white roof off the former Pizza Hut.
    On either side of Daphne, the Peytons leaned forward, waving their hands in the air and crying out to the heavens. She felt out of place sitting silently among them, her hands folded on her lap like her mom had taught her. But she couldn’t bring herself to start screaming along. It would have felt fake, like she was lying not just in front of her family and their friends, but to the huge wooden Jesus hanging above Pastor Ted’s head.
    “Finally, I want to welcome a newcomer to our fold,” Pastor Ted said. His kindly blue eyes met Daphne’s as the congregation quieted, turning to stare at her. Suddenly, it was like all the air in the church had been sucked out through a vacuum. She fidgeted miserably, looking down at her lap and praying that Pastor Ted would move on.
    “Folks, we are so blessed to have Daphne Peyton in our midst,” the pastor went on. “Daphne arrived on the same day as the trumpets, like an angel coming down to us from heaven, and she also