Tamar shook a finger. “Nah, girl, that’s not going to work. I’m your best friend. You know all me and Stephen’s mess. You pretty much owe me the story.”
I shook my head and dropped down into my seat. “You have a point.”
Tamar rolled her neck. “I know I do.”
“Okay. I woke up to the reality of what I was doing,” I began. “Clyde is a great guy, but we weren’t compatible in ways that matter the most.”
Tamar sighed. “Your faith, the celibacy, elaborate?”
“All of the above and they’re the same issue. I mean, he’s smart, funny, generous, fine, and rich. He’s perfect. Everything I ever wanted, but he wanted me to go back where I said I’d never go. Not to keep a man.” Tears filled my eyes and I swiped the first one that fell. “And I almost did. I almost went farther than I meant to go.”
“I know that was hard. Stephen and I went through it too.”
“But you and Stephen were on the same page. Clyde doesn’t believe he has to live the scripture.” I swallowed back disappointment. “He leans too heavily on grace for me.”
“So, maybe the real issue is he’s untaught.”
“He spent his entire childhood in church. Although he kind of denies ever being a ‘real’ Christian,” I raised air quotes, “he’s been baptized.”
“Just because he’s gone to church doesn’t mean he’s learned anything about the word.”
I shook my head. “He knows the Bible. He says things that make me believe he’s fighting to hold on to ground he knows he needs to surrender to God.”
“Stephen says the same thing about him.” Tamar was thoughtful. “Clyde has no family. His best friend is sold out to Jesus. He picks a woman who’s sold out to Jesus. I think that means something, otherwise why not choose another circle of people? I wonder what he’s really struggling with.”
I huffed. “I don’t know. I never expected things to get so complicated. I signed up for a few fancy dates and gifts. I never expected him to...”
“To what?” Tamar reached for my hand.
“To be so much more.” I inhaled and let out a deep breath. “He’s so much more.”
Tamar released my hand. “Pray for him.”
“I do, or at least I did. Every day. But it’s not my job to push him toward God. He’s going to have to walk into a church on his own.” I shivered. The interior of the van was as cold as a refrigerator, but I wasn’t sure that was the reason for the sudden chill. I shook it off, got back on my knees, and continued to sort through the clothes. I pulled a pair of ugly taupe mittens from Tamar’s luggage and held them out in front of her. “Where did you get these?”
Tamar reached for them. “My mother-in-law.”
I was sure the wildlife could hear my deep belly laugh. “That woman would never wear those.”
Tamar shrugged. “I know. She hates me, but I figured I should wear them at least once this week so she can’t say I didn’t like her gift.”
“Negative. You are too nice. I would tell her right to her face, ‘these aren’t my taste, but I’m sure someone at the women’s shelter will love them.’”
Tamar laughed. “That’s gangsta – even for you.”
“Girl, you gotta train people. Anyway, I’m sure they’ll come in handy.” I took them from her and pushed them into the duffel.
“Kim.” The tension in Tamar’s voice got my attention. I dropped down and looked through the driver side window at the snowy image that was coming toward us. The window was covered in flakes, so I couldn’t see much. I sprang forward and reached for the keys Clyde had left in the ignition and pushed the key fob to lock the doors.
The door handled moved before he spoke. “It’s me, Clyde.”
My heart stopped racing. I pushed the button to open the door. He jumped in and turned to us. “Good news. I found a church.”
Tamar and I looked at each other. God was up to something.
Chapter Eleven
Clyde
The walk was harder than it looked. Uphill in slippery new snow, helping two women wasn’t easy. Although she insisted, she was okay, I couldn’t let go of Tamar. She was front heavy. I wasn’t going to let her fall. The good thing about her being from this area was she wore real snow boots – waterproof and fleece lined. Her friend on the other hand, was out here styling in fashionable suede boots which would likely fall apart by the time we reached the church. The women had stuffed my duffel to the brim, and they’d shoved the few snacks we had into their handbags. I’d left a note inside the driver side window stating we would be in the church up the road and to send help. What I feared was the snow would cover the van, and no one would be able to see it from the road to even discover the note.
We were out of breath when we reached the sign for North Bethlehem Christian Church.
“Bethlehem, this is a pretty large city isn’t it?” I asked. “Why is it so deserted?”
Tamar looked down at the sign. “I’ve heard of this church. Their youth group used to come to Pine when I was a teenager. We’re south of Nazareth, on the outskirts of Bethlehem.”
“All these Biblical cities. Maybe there’s a blessing for us here,” Kim said, inspecting the church.
“We survived the accident. No one was hurt,” I said. “I’d say you’re right about that.”
Tamar and Kim exchanged a look that I decided not to be overly curious about.
Tamar asked. “What are the chances it’s open?”
“Zero,” Kim offered.
“Best case scenario, it has an alarm, so when we break in, the police will come.”
Tamar cocked her head toward me. “Oh ye, city boy of much faith. This is rural Pennsylvania. If that church has an alarm system, we’ll be rescued by unicorns pulling a sleigh.”
“Could you be a little more pessimistic?” I asked.
“And descriptive in your pessimism,” Kim added.
“What do you guys want from me? I’m a writer.” She shuffled through the snow to the steps. I followed and helped her to the top.
There was a note posted on the door.
Dear Friend,
Activities are cancelled this week. We have no heat. Call me if you need something, otherwise, I’ll see you for Christmas morning service.
Pastor Jack
My heart plummeted. No heat.
“Well, it’s got to be warmer than it is out here,” Kim said.
She was wrong about that, but at least it wouldn’t be snowing on us. I pushed on the door. It didn’t give. “I’m going around back.”
The women nodded and I went down the steps and made my way to another door. After I gave up on pushing it open, I broke the glass pane with a rock, turned the lock and entered. As predicted, an alarm didn’t sound. I’d entered through a kitchen and dining room area. There were two small classrooms and a few stairs. I took them up to the main sanctuary. I’d been right about how cold the building was, but this was better than the van. Within minutes, I was letting them inside.
I grabbed my duffel bag. Tamar removed her coat and went straight for the restroom off the vestibule.
“I’m going to search for a phone,” I said.
Kim nodded. “Good idea. Is there a kitchen? Maybe they have coffee or tea or something.”
I pointed. “It’s down the stairs through that door.” Kim went to the left. I went right, entering a room marked: Pastor’s Study. I flipped the light switch and practically dived for the telephone. There was no dial tone. I looked around. Made sure it was plugged in. It was.
I groaned. “How could a business not have a landline?”
I inspected the room some more. There was nothing here. No computer. No tablet. No source of telecommunications. I noted a thermostat on the wall and walked over to turn it up. I was hopeful the “no heat” note meant they were conserving heat, but after pushing the knob up to ninety-five, the thing didn’t kick on. I cursed under my breath. No phone. No heat. And a note that indicated no one would be here for a week.
I walked to the desk and took a seat. Aside from the dead phone, the only things on it were a Bible, a pen, a legal pad, and a bill from East PA Oil marked past due. There was a prior balance from last winter of $700, and the cost to fill the tank for this winter was $1845. I murmured, “They couldn’t afford that?” I looked around at the sparse space. How small was this congregation?
I stood just as Kim entered the room. “No coffee or tea, but there are some gift baskets in the food pantry with canned goods in them.”
“Can opener? Stove?”
“A can opener and a microwave. Thank God.”
“I was hoping for a stove. It would be a source of heat.”
“Apparently, they’re not having fish frys in these parts.”
“Unfortunately.”
“There is some good news.” Enthusiasm tinted her tone. “There’s a fireplace in one of the classrooms. And there’s lots of wood.” I nodded and our eyes lingered on each other. “You were a Boy Scout. Make a fire. I’m going to check on Tamar.” She turned to leave.
“Kim,” I called to her and she did a half turn. “I bet when you woke up this morning, you didn’t imagine this in your wildest dreams?”
“What being stranded in an abandoned church?”
“Being stranded with me.”
“No, I couldn’t have dreamed this up.”
“Maybe it means something,” I offered.
Her smile was thin. “I think it means we should have left for Pine first thing this morning.” She turned and walked out the room.
The rejection was swift. Maybe she was right, but I couldn’t help thinking it meant more. She and I were divided on our faith, or rather my lack of religion, and here we were stuck in a church. Maybe we were both a little wrong.
“There’s no partial obedience to God, Clyde. I can’t have sex with you on Saturday and stand in the pews worshipping God on Sunday.”
“What about Friday night?” I chuckled.
She didn’t laugh. Her lip trembled when she spoke. “You don’t get it, and you never will. This relationship was a mistake.”
I closed my eyes to the memory. Watching her walk out that door was hard. My body had been screaming for her, but now a month later, it was my heart that wanted her. I didn’t know how to resolve this issue between us. She had to compromise. She needed to meet me halfway. What halfway looked like, I did not know, but it couldn’t mean celibacy. I wasn’t built for that. I also wasn’t going to be a hypocrite and sit up in church every week. Albeit forced, I’d done that enough growing up.
I opened the drawers in the desk to see if there was anything I could use. There were files, pens, paper, post it notes, a pocketknife, and some matches. I thought about the fireplace and took them.
I looked up. I wasn’t a praying man, but I was in a church with two praying women, so I prayed too. “God, I can’t tell if you show up here or not. Things look grim for the members, but just in case you do, we could use some heat.”
I looked at the thermostat. No Christmas magic or miracle kicked on the furnace.
I was about the leave the room when I noticed a door. It opened to a closet. Inside was a few of the pastor’s robes and a small portable heater.
Chapter Twelve
Kim
Tamar dropped down into the only padded armchair in the room. “Thank God for this cushion. My back is killing me.”
Clyde entered the room carrying wood.
I did a little dance. “We’re not going to freeze.”
Stress lines filled Clyde’s face. “There’s not much that’s good for a fire. We only have about ten pieces.”
“What about all that wood stacked up in the corner out there?” My confusion came through in my tone.
Tamar filled in the blank for me. “It’s pine. It burns in minutes. They probably use it to start the fire – to get the other wood burning.”
I shifted my gaze back to the pile. “So, all that wood stacked up over there is useless?”
I saw Clyde’s Adam’s apple bob up and down before he answered. “Unfortunately.”
Stating the obvious, I said, “This heater isn’t doing much.”
“Once we close the door, the heat it provides will warm the room up a little,” he said. “It’ll take some time, but it and a slow fire will take the chill off.”
“Why does it keep shutting off? It’s like as soon as it gets hot it stops working.”
“It’s old, but it’s better than nothing,” Clyde said. “I’m going to get the rest of the wood so we can close the door.”
I stood. “I’ll help.”
Clyde held up a hand. “I’m good.”
He stepped out the room.
“What happened?” Tamar asked.
I shrugged. “We’re exes.”
“I know, but he seems more down.”
I shook my head. “Maybe he’s worried. This is a hot mess – or a cold mess.”
Tamar grunted and tossed her coat on the chair next to her.
“Girl, you need to keep that on.”
“Take off yours too. It’s true about your body getting used to it if you sit inside with it on. You may need it later.”
I hated to shed my coat, but I figured she knew better than I did.
Clyde reentered with the wood. He tossed a few pieces in the fireplace and took a few pieces of the pine. After using the flashlight on his phone to look up the chimney, he said, “I’ve opened the damper, so we won’t kill ourselves.” He removed matches from his pocket and held them up for us to see. “Thanks to the pastor.”
Tamar and I both waited with anticipation as he lit a few of the matches and held it under the wood. It caught and began to burn. He stood and we applauded.
Clyde sunk into a chair. He’d been moving since we got here.
“Do you want some water?” I asked.
“Water would be good.” He peeled off his coat.
I left, grabbed one of the six bottled waters from the refrigerator and gave it to him. Our hands touched and his were icy. Clyde always had cold hands. He’d teased me many times by placing them on my arm or neck or lower back.
“Your hands are freezing!”
“I’m trying to warm them up on you.”
Giggling, I pushed him away. “I don’t want you warming them up at my expense.”
“You should be glad to have me. What’s that saying? ‘Cold hands, warm heart.’”
“Cold hands,” I whispered.
Clyde responded to my nostalgia with his eyes, but not his words. “The fire will take care of that.”
Tamar broke up the moment. “How long will the wood last?”
“We should probably have enough for a good stretch if we burn it slow.”
“And then all we’ll have is this heater?” Dread filled my tone.
“Kim, I know you’re from Louisiana, but you’ve got to stop focusing on the cold.” Tamar raised her feet to the chair in front of her.
I looked out the window at the end of the room. The snow was coming down even heavier than it was before. I knew Tamar was right, but I was scared. The last thing I wanted to do was die from freezing. That was so not the way any Black southerner wanted to go. “I’ll try.”
No one spoke for a few minutes and then Clyde said, “So, I guess your father’s church is a mega facility compared to this one.”
Tamar shifted in her chair. “This is a tiny town. It might have four hundred people and half of those are children. If there’s another church in the area that would only be about fifty adult members. Maybe less on any given Sunday.”
“No wonder they can’t pay their bills.”
Tamar and I both looked at him with interest.
“There’s a past due bill on the pastor’s desk. That’s why there’s no heat.”
We nodded.
I looked at my watch. It was 5:30 pm. We were expected by 4:00. “I’m sure by now Stephen and your father have alerted the police that we’re missing. How much area are they going to ha
ve to cover?”
“Missing for an hour and a half in the snow is not going to get the police involved,” Clyde said.
“Clyde’s right, but the fact that no one can reach our phones will help. My father is close to the sheriff in our county, so he has someone he can call to get a search started,” Tamar said, “And to answer your question, Kim, there are a lot of roads and not much manpower.”
Clyde stood. “I think I need to try to do something here. We have no idea how long it might take this weather to lift.”
I stood with him. “Do something like what?”
“Try to find help.”
“On foot?”
He chuckled. “Well, I don’t have a sleigh.”
He’d freeze out there. “You can’t be serious. It’s pouring snow. There was nothing on the road we were on.”
“There are people here. This church is proof of that.”
“But you can’t go out in the blizzard looking for them.”
He removed the matches from his pocket and put them on the mantel. “We don’t have much wood. That heater is on its last leg. I can’t trust that we won’t all freeze to death if no one finds us.”
The thought of him leaving and wandering around in the snow scared me so badly my heart was pounding. I turned to Tamar. “Tell him this is crazy.”
Tamar nodded. “I agree. I think you should at least wait until the snow stops. Right now, we have what we need.”
Clyde scratched the side of his face, the way he always did when he was thinking. “I disagree. Someone has to live within a mile or so of this building. I can make it that far.”
I opened my mouth to express my opinion again. Clyde raised a hand to cut me off. “Waiting isn’t a good idea. We won’t even have firewood overnight.”
Tamar stood. She rubbed her belly a few times and shook her head. “You can’t go.”
Clyde pleaded with her with his eyes. “I promise not to go too far.”
“No, I mean, you actually can’t. I need you,” she said. “My water broke.”
Clyde and I looked down at the puddle around her feet and then back up at each other.
The Winter Baby Page 4
