Eunice lifted her head.
“No, ma’am. I just . . . ” Just what? He couldn’t think up a good enough excuse when Eunice was looking at him.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your visit, Stephen. I only have a few minutes.”
His heart was hammering. “I think Abby was finished lecturing me about my poor behavior anyway.” He watched as Eunice took his place on the edge of the bed.
“I brought you a tape of the service and a tape player.” She took them out of her shoulder bag and put them on the bedside table. “And the children made cards.” She gave Abby a stack of envelopes tied with a yellow ribbon. They talked for a few more minutes, their conversation as easy and open as a mother and daughter, and then Eunice leaned over and kissed Abby’s cheek. “You should rest, Abby.”
“That’s all I’ve been doing.”
Eunice took her hand again and squeezed. “I’ll come back and see you this evening with Tim.” As she stood, she looked up at Stephen. “And I’ll see you in church, Stephen.”
“Yeah.” He watched her go out the door.
“Euny and Timmy sat with me in the waiting room for six hours the morning Abby came into the hospital.” Samuel took Abby’s hand again.
Abby chuckled. “She even got his shoes.”
“His shoes?” Stephen looked between them.
“Abby always makes me take off my yard shoes in the garage.”
“I don’t want him tracking dirt and grass onto our nice clean rug.”
“When I found Abby, I forgot all about putting on another pair.”
“So he came to the hospital in his stocking feet.”
Samuel lifted her hand and kissed her palm. “The loss of my mental capacities is proof of my devotion.” He spread her fingers against his cheek and held her hand there. Stephen was struck by the tenderness of the gesture and the pallor of Samuel’s face. He was exhausted and worried. Abby Mason wasn’t out of the woods yet.
They all talked for a few more minutes, and Stephen knew it was time to leave. Abby looked exhausted; Samuel, concerned. “I’d better be on my way.”
“Samuel is still holding the Bible study tomorrow evening, Stephen.”
He looked at Samuel. “You sure?”
He wasn’t, but he’d do it anyway. “Abby insists.”
As Stephen left the room, he saw Eunice at the nurses’ station. He’d stayed an extra ten minutes to avoid speaking with her, or worse, asking her if she’d like a cup of coffee, even the lousy stuff in the hospital cafeteria. “Stephen, I’d like to introduce you to someone. This is Karen Kessler. Karen, this is Stephen Decker.”
An attractive brunette stood from her workstation and extended her hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Stephen.”
“Likewise.” He had seen that look in women’s eyes before.
“Karen is one of our new members. She’s starting up a singles group.”
Uh-oh. “Yeah, well, good luck.” He stepped back and lifted his hand in a see-you-sometime gesture.
“Why don’t I call you and fill you in on what we’re doing at the next meeting?” Karen said.
“Sorry. No time.” And not interested. He headed for the exit, fuming.
“Stephen!”
Eunice came through the automatic glass doors. She looked troubled. “Did I do something wrong back there?”
He dug in his pocket and pulled out his truck keys. “No.” Why was he so steamed?
“You look like something’s wrong.”
Yeah. Something was. His feelings for her were way out of line. All she had done was try to hook him up with Florence Nightingale. Maybe it was good Eunice didn’t have the slightest idea how he felt about her. What a mess! He steadied his nerves and tipped a smile. “Nothing’s wrong, Eunice. At least, nothing you could fix.” Paul was his friend, but that didn’t mean Stephen didn’t envy him his wife. Which was wrong, all wrong. It didn’t help matters that he knew there was tension between the Hudsons. He recognized a marriage in trouble when he saw it. He was tempted to assuage the hurt he saw in her eyes. Neglect. Loneliness. Stress. He had a feeling if he asked Eunice to go for coffee right now, she might say yes. And that meant trouble with a capital T. “See you.”
“Stephen?”
His heart thumped. He couldn’t have moved from the spot if his life depended on it. Help me, Jesus!
“Can I ask you something in confidence?”
“Shoot.” Me, right between the eyes.
“Paul said you’ve done some conceptual drawings for a new facility.”
“That’s right.”
“Did he ask you to do them?” She searched his eyes.
“No. He told me last December that we’re outgrowing CCC. That got me thinking. I’ve never designed a church. Started playing around with the idea. No—” he shook his head—“your husband did not ask me to do any drawings.” He saw the relief flood her eyes before she glanced away. She didn’t trust her husband. He wondered why, then kicked himself mentally. It’s none of your business, Decker. Get that through your head. And get in your truck and get out of here now.
She looked up at him with those clear, innocent, blue eyes. “He said they’re good.”
Heat spread across his chest and down his legs. Oh, Lord, give me strength. If she had been any other woman, he would think she was coming on to him. But Eunice Hudson? No way! He could just imagine the look on her face if he invited her over to his place to see his work. “I incorporated a lot of ideas from various facilities. When I dream, I dream big.”
“So does Paul.”
It was good that she brought her husband’s name into the conversation. It had a cold-shower effect. He looked into her eyes and held her gaze. “Yeah, well, so do a lot of people. Dream, I mean. It doesn’t mean anything will come of it. Or that anything should.” He let his feelings show just enough for her to understand.
He expected her to look away, but she didn’t. She held his gaze, her cheeks turning pink, her eyes growing moist. “Stephen . . . ”
Oh, Lord, help. He hadn’t expected to see what was in her eyes. “I’d better get going.”
“Yes.”
Neither moved.
“I’m sorry, Stephen.”
He wasn’t sure why she said it, but he didn’t want her worrying about him on top of everything else she had on her plate. He was a big boy. He could take care of himself. “Thanks for introducing me to Florence Nightingale. Maybe I’ll give her a call.”
She seemed to breathe again. “Her name is Karen.”
“Karen,” he said dutifully. He couldn’t care less.
“She’s very nice.”
“I’m sure she is.” Not that it would make any difference.
Samuel sat in a quiet room on one side of a long table. On the other side sat Dr. Shaeffer, a social worker, a counselor, and someone from the patient referral department of the hospital. He felt sick at heart.
The doctor was young and well educated. Samuel had seen the framed diplomas on his office wall. He also didn’t have time to waste and got to the point quickly. Abby’s condition was irreversible, her prognosis not good. He finished what he had to say in less than two minutes. Staccato facts. He asked Samuel if he had any questions, but his tone implied he’d already spelled it all out and didn’t have time to waste on amplification. Samuel said no. And down the line it went from the social worker to the counselor to patient referral. They all felt he and Abby would be better off if she were moved to a convalescent hospital.
The doctor excused himself. It was down to three against one. “I’m taking my wife home tomorrow morning.” He could see they had met with resistance before and were prepared to fight him.
“That’s noble, Mr. Mason, but unwise.”
“You can’t take care of your wife by yourself, Mr. Mason.”
“She’s had nursing care around the clock. No one can do that by himself.”
“I appreciate your concern, but my mind is made up.”
T
he social worker sighed heavily and clasped her hands on the table. “We know it’s difficult, Mr. Mason. But we need to make you aware of the facts. You are older than your wife. You had a minor heart attack four years ago. If you take care of your wife full-time, your own health is going to suffer.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“And what happens if you end up in the hospital, Mr. Mason? Your wife will still need constant care.”
They knew how to apply the screws.
“She would receive top-quality care in the Vine Hill Convalescent Hospital. If you don’t want to go that route, then we encourage you to arrange for help.”
“You need to conserve your energy for the long haul, Mr. Mason.”
“The doctor has already made it clear your wife is not going to get better.”
Samuel felt outnumbered.
“She’s going to need more care as time passes. And that care is going to increase your burden.”
It was that last word that strengthened his resolve. “Abby has never been a burden.”
“Mr. Mason . . .”
Samuel stood. “If given a choice, I’m sure each of you would choose to die in your own bed.” His mouth jerked as he restrained his tears.
He didn’t dare go back to Abby’s room in his present state, so he headed for the hospital cafeteria and downed a cup of their foul-tasting coffee. He waited another half an hour after that, but still Abby took one look at him and knew.
“Oh, Samuel, don’t take it so hard.”
“They talked to you, didn’t they?”
“Of course they did. I have a heart condition. I haven’t lost my mind.”
He swore for the first time in years.
Abby snorted. “If that isn’t a sign of sheer exhaustion and frustration, I don’t know what is.”
“I’m not putting you in a convalescent hospital, and that’s final!”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that, but you are going to get help. If I have to wear diapers, I don’t want you being the one putting them on me.”
He laughed, then wept. She wept, too, her hand on his bowed head. “For heaven’s sake, Samuel, we knew one of us was going to go first. Let’s not make it a race to see who gets to go through the pearly gates first.”
He grasped her hand and held it against his cheek tightly. He couldn’t utter a word past the lump growing in his throat.
“You need a shave, Samuel.” He could tell she was starting to doze off again. “Promise me you won’t turn into a bristly old coot.”
He stood and leaned down, kissing her firmly on the mouth. “I promise.”
She smiled. “A shower, too.”
Samuel watched Abby fall asleep before he left.
Paul’s mouth tightened when the intercom buzzed. Couldn’t people leave him alone for one measly hour? Even Jesus could get away for a while. He jammed the button. “I told you to hold my calls, Reka.” He needed to read through the real-estate papers.
“Samuel Mason is on line one.”
“Oh.” His anger evaporated. Abigail Mason had been in the hospital over a week, and he hadn’t made it over yet. He should’ve called. “Did you send the flowers?”
“Yes.”
Thank goodness, Eunice had gone to the hospital every day. She had been telling him something about Abby’s condition last night, but he couldn’t remember what. “Did he mention how Abby’s doing?”
“He sounded as though he’d been crying, Paul. I was afraid to ask.”
Paul rubbed his forehead, ashamed he hadn’t gone to the hospital and talked with the two of them. But it seemed something had come up every day. “Okay,” he told Reka. He pushed line one. “Samuel, how’s Abby?”
“About as well as can be expected. I’m bringing her home tomorrow.”
Thank God. At least Abby was still alive. “I’ll have Reka call the deaconesses. They’ll prepare meals for you and Abby . . .”
“That’s not why I’m calling, Paul. I’m resigning as an elder.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said I’m resigning as an elder.”
Stunned, Paul sat back in his chair. He had been trying to figure out a way to remove Samuel gracefully for the past two years, and now Abby’s heart attack had accomplished what he couldn’t. The Lord’s timing couldn’t be more perfect.
“I’m sorry, Samuel.” And he was sorry. He wished Samuel had rowed with him instead of going against the current. “I know we haven’t always agreed, but I know you’ve always had Centerville Christian’s best interests at heart. I want you to know I’ve appreciated all you’ve done for the church. Your service won’t be forgotten.”
“Thanks.”
“Would you like me to put you on the list to receive tapes of the services?”
“Please.”
“We’ll miss you.”
“Nice of you to say that, Paul.”
Paul shifted in his chair. “When Abby’s settled, Eunice and I will come by for a visit.”
“You’re welcome anytime, Paul. If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks, Samuel.”
Paul hung up and raised his hands in the air, giving thanks to God. He now had a green light to move ahead with his plans for the church.
CHAPTER 10
1996
ALL RIGHT! Let’s go!” Paul took his place in the backseat of the rented white convertible.
He slapped the newest associate pastor on the back. “Come on, Ralph. Let the town know we’re here!”
Ralph Henson blasted the horn as he started the procession of cars toward the center of town. He laughed. “Good thing the chief of police is a member of the congregation.”
Every driver in the caravan following was applying the horn until the noise was deafening. People on the sidewalk gawked. Others came running from stores to see what was happening. Paul stood and used a bullhorn to let them know Centerville’s old Christian Church was on the move, leading the way to a new life. Laurel Henson waved like the Rose Parade queen. “Wave, Tim! Come on! Get with the spirit!” Tim stuck his fingers in his mouth and gave an earsplitting whistle.
Paul leaned down to where Eunice slunk in her seat. “What’s the matter with you?” She looked as though she wanted to hide in the bottom of the car. “Do something!Don’t just sit there!” She waved, but there was no hooting and hollering from her.
As soon as they were through town, Paul put on his seat belt. Ralph roared down Highway 99, streamers flying. Laurel shrieked and raised her hands. Glancing back, Paul saw the rest of the cars following and grinned. Relaxing, he enjoyed the wind in his face.
It was amazing how fast things had come together once the stumbling blocks were removed. Samuel Mason’s departure from the board of elders three years before had cleared the way. It had taken Paul less than two years to put his dream team together. Once the new elders gained the congregation’s approval to build, a green light came on. What little opposition had come up in the beginning had been quickly put to rest. His team orchestrated a public-relations campaign within the church body. All it took was a handful of people in leadership positions to bring the whole church into line. Marvin Lockford posted Stephen Decker’s conceptual drawings in the fellowship hall. Stephen hired a professional to build a model of the projected complex. The leaders began talking up the “twenty-year project.” Paul figured the plans would be completed long before that, especially with the increasing numbers CCC was drawing since he’d changed his preaching format to seeker-friendly services.
“If we build, they will come” was the rally cry for the church. Twelve hundred people were attending the ground-breaking ceremonies today! Thank You, Jesus!
The old folks who had been such a headache were silent. Otis Harrison had died a few months after his wife, Mabel. Hollis Sawyer’s memorial service was last week, and the pathetic turnout showed how little he was missed. Only Samuel Mason was still around, but he had his hands full taking care of his ailing wife. He neve
r came to church anymore, though he did request tapes of the sermons.
Ralph shouted, “There it is!” Laurel shrieked and raised her hands again as Paul spotted the billboard identifying the future site of the Valley New Life Center. Thank God Stephen Decker had gotten it up in time. The congregation had voted in the new name only a month ago. It was in keeping with the expansion. Valley was easily decided; the church would no longer be in Centerville. The fight had been over the word Christian. Many newer members said they never would have set foot inside the church if not for close friends who had brought them. Christian was associated with fundamentalism and intolerance. So the new name was chosen in keeping with the new direction of the church.
Eunice had been against the name change, but out of respect for Paul’s position she had not made her opinion public. However, nothing had stopped her from voicing her opinion at home. “We’re supposed to be a beacon to the world, Paul. How are we going to be any different from the world if . . . ?”
He had gotten sick of listening to her. “The only way to get the message across is to get the people in the door first. Once they’re in, we can start training them.”
“It’s deceptive, Paul. How is this any different than what cults do?”
Ralph drove to the middle of the forty-acre parcel and parked. Laurel leaped from the car and danced around like a Texas cheerleader. Why couldn’t Eunice be as enthusiastic? Couldn’t she see how God was working and bringing people into the fold? Was it a coincidence that the sale of the Svenson property in Rockville was just what the church had needed as a down payment on the first twenty-acre parcel? Three months later, the landowner had donated a second twenty-acre parcel as a tax deduction. Surely that indicated God’s approval. Maybe the fund-raising campaign did get off to a slow start, but as soon as Gerald Boham started posting donations in the fellowship hall, the money had poured in. People liked to see their names on the chart. They needed to feel important.
When giving had slowed down again, Paul got the idea of calling on older members of the congregation, especially those in the Vine Hill Convalescent Hospital, where several of the wealthier members were living out their final years. Mitzi Pike and Fergus Oslander had welcomed him with open arms and hearts. Neither had any family left. Every Thursday, he brought Mitzi doughnuts and played checkers with Fergus. He always went on the same day so that they would come to expect him. He never stayed more than an hour, and he never mentioned the building project. Instead, he talked with them about death being the gateway to heaven and an eternity with Jesus. He asked them how they would like to be remembered. Only when they began to talk about leaving something to the church did he bring in the miniature model of the proposed facility. They had been as excited as he.
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