He wasn’t aware of the mourners exiting the church until they were almost all gone. They were back out on the street where the opposing mobs were, and Solomon had to find the strength to join them. He stood in the empty church, leaning on the high-backed pew in front of him, looking up at the cross hanging from two cables over the altar, the simple wooden pulpit, the doors flanking the worship area, and tall candles that remained lit. He turned to exit, passing the landing of one of the paired wings of staircases leading to a rear balcony, where organ music played a somber hymn.

Solomon got to the door, looking behind him for Blackwood. He saw the odd Brit walking down the center aisle toward the altar. Solomon couldn’t believe it.

“Hey!” he called out to him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Solomon’s voice carried loudly off the church walls. He remembered the organist above and lowered his voice, moving quickly to stop Blackwood.

“I’m talking to you. Where are you going? Get out of here.”

He grasped Blackwood’s arm, turning him around.

“You’ve done enough,” said Solomon. “Don’t make this worse.”

“Let me go,” said Blackwood.

“I’ve never thought about hitting anyone in church,” said Solomon. “Don’t test me.”

Blackwood’s eyes communicated something unexpected. A warning. Not about Blackwood retaliating, but about what he might find.

“If you want to leave,” said Blackwood, shaking his arm free, “then leave. But don’t get in my way.”

Solomon watched him approach the sanctuary, which was small and unadorned. An empty table was set against the rear wall under the hanging cross. Other than the candles and the pulpit, there was nothing here.

Solomon turned, looking at the empty pews. He wanted to leave. He wanted out. If only to show Blackwood he wasn’t someone to be intimidated or coerced. He wouldn’t be a party to desecration or disrespecting a house of worship.

Blackwood never did enter the sanctuary, nor tread upon the church altar. Instead, he walked to a door to the right, leading to the sacristy.

“Don’t go in there,” said Solomon.

Blackwood opened the door and stepped inside.

Solomon looked at the empty church again. No one was watching them. Outside on the street, a small-town race war was brewing. Solomon was torn.

He walked to the door leading behind the altar, just to see where Blackwood had gone. Inside was an open closet of shelves for hymnals, communion plates. Solomon, hating Blackwood, moved inside.