CHAPTER 88

Caleb and I looked at each other in wonder as Roger led us back onto the brick walkway, through the manicured grounds, and past the Daniel Fisher House. We exited back on the street, made a quick turn, and then, before we knew it, he was leading us up the front steps and into the huge, historic whaling church.

The door was locked, but Roger had the key. He unlocked it, and held it open for us.

“We didn’t move it far,” he said, with a smile and a wink.

They entered, and he closed and locked the door behind them.

I was taken aback as we entered the church. It was breathtaking. So light and airy, so beautiful in its simplicity, it was unlike any church I had ever been in. There were no crosses, no religious figures, no ornamentation, not even any columns or beams—it was just a huge open room, lined in every direction with old windows. There were rows and rows of simple, wooden pews, enough to hold hundreds of people. It was a very peaceful place.

“This is the largest open-ceilinged