“Ok, well nice to meet you anyway. We’ll see you around.” They walked out the door into the sunlight.
Who the heck was that? Dillon wondered. Why had he never seen them before? And why did they seek him out to talk bad about Christopher? That was one of the strangest conversations he had ever had. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and called Christopher.
“Hey Dillon.”
“Hey guy.” Dillon was glad to hear his old friend again. They hadn’t spoken in several weeks. Dillon had gotten lazy about attending church on Sundays. Some weekends he had to work the Morgan lottery, but the others, it just seemed easier to sleep in. His new wife, Gabby, grew up Catholic and didn’t really like the church, so it was easier to simply not go.
He cleared his throat. “Say, have you been talking bad about science in church again?”
“Uh oh. Who told you that?”
“Some couple about your age just came in here and said you were hurting the church.”
“Was it Wes and Mary Boyd?”
“Let’s see, I’m trying to remember. Yeah, I believe that was them.”
Christopher’s voice went up higher and louder. “I can’t believe this.”
“Well, don’t worry. I told them to kiss off. I told them there were plenty of churches in town if they didn’t like you.”
“Thanks for sticking up for me, buddy.”
“Any time.”
“Hey, let’s get together before long,” Christopher said. “I want to hear how it’s going with your new wife.”
“Yeah, sorry again that she didn’t want us to get married in your church.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Christopher said.
“Hey, I gotta go.”
“Talk soon.”
Dillon ended the call. It was time to go and his replacement had just walked up to take over the job. He shook his hand and talked about the weather for a moment. “Pretty quiet today,” he said. “I didn’t have to tackle any big women with bacon in their britches or anything.”
Dillon drove home into the evening sun. He was thankful his air conditioning was working good in his truck. It bothered him that some random couple had come in and talked bad about Christopher. Who did they think they were? They obviously didn’t know that he and Chris were very close, that they had faced death together, going to Denver to take on Charles Morgan. They obviously didn’t know that the two of them had nearly brought down the whole company.
Of course, it turned out he and Christopher hadn’t done as much good as they thought. The president himself had pardoned Charles before he had ever even gone to trial. There was no trial. No nothing. He was out of jail before Dillon got out. The Morgan board announced they were making sure no more dead peasants were murdered for their insurance, but everyone knew it had only gotten worse.
Yes, the company allowed its workers to erase the hairline tattoo, but they demanded everyone get the microchip implant instead. Then they announced they would pay better wages than other big box stores, but they would offer no retirement pension – and no insurance after the workers retired. But people jumped on the opportunity. Who cares about their old age? Who cares about tomorrow, everyone just wanted to make as much as they could today. Besides, they all believed they would win the lottery one day and make it all right.
What scared Dillon most was that if a worker got cancer or something else that was expensive to treat, he had a tendency to die. It was always explainable, but the workers knew the truth. Somehow, no one could ever prove it. Dillon saw it with his own eyes, but there was never any definitive proof. No smoking gun. Nothing that would hold up in court. Morgan had gotten increasingly smart and Dillon wondered if anyone would ever be able to stop him.
Dillon was not forced to sign the contract when it was announced, it had always been voluntary, but his boss was putting more and more pressure on him to sign. Now, he was even threatening his job if he didn’t. He didn’t know if he could get away with it much longer.
Should he sign? Should he just get it over-with and make more money? No, they would probably kill him and collect his insurance if he did. Again, he wondered how long Charles Morgan held a grudge.
When he got home, he ate supper with Gabby and the children, and retired to his easy chair to watch television. He was irritated when his cell phone rang and he saw that it was his boss. What does he want? He thought. “Hello.”
“Dillon? This is William.”
“Yes sir.”
“Look, Dillon, I’m sorry to keep bugging you about this, but I just got off the phone with corporate.” He paused. “They said if you don’t sign the contract, I have to replace you. I just wanted to let you know that so you can make a decision.”
“Did they give any kind of timeline?”
“They said Charles Morgan himself told them we have given you enough time to make up your mind. He’s on a tear. He wants everyone to sign that contract. He personally made them call me about this.”
“Yes sir. I’ll have a decision for you after the holiday.”
“Ok, well, I just needed to tell you.”
“I understand. I’ll see you at work.”
Dillon rubbed his temples. Charles Morgan himself? He didn’t like the sound of this at all. He wondered what other job he could find. One that didn’t come with a certain death sentence. There just weren’t that many for which he was qualified. He couldn’t sleep that night. This was not turning out like he had hoped at all.
Chapter Four
Christopher said the prayer after his sermon the next Sunday. He had stayed far away from Evolution, Creation and science in his sermon, preaching instead on the hope we have in Jesus being an anchor for the soul. Hebrews 6. He felt pretty good about it. He thought he had nailed his points fairly clearly, and had given the congregation a hopeful, uplifting message. It’s a difficult passage, but he believed he had navigated it successfully.
Yes, the Boyd’s were sitting two thirds of the way back on the left side. He kept an eye on them as he preached, knowing they were scrutinizing his every word. But he felt he had made his case and shouldn’t hear any complaints from them or anyone else.
He was disappointed when they sought him out as the auditorium had emptied out, just as they had done the week before.
“Preacher.” Wesley said it firmly, to make sure he had Christopher’s full attention.
“Yes, Wesley. I hope you enjoyed our service today.”
“Oh, I did. Except you can’t stand up there and tell these people that since Jesus forgave their sins, they can act however they want.”
Christopher felt himself becoming defensive. “Well, no, uh, of course not. But I didn’t say that.”
Mary spoke. “Pretty much. We can’t just get away with whatever we want after we’ve been baptized. We still have to answer.”
Now Christopher was confused. It was as though they had prepared this argument in advance. He didn’t even bring any of this up today. He wondered if they had been watching his sermons online and looking for points to use to attack him. This was really strange. He felt anger building and fought against it. “I really don’t want to stand here and defend my sermons. I really just wish you would find a church that suits your needs better. You know you’re welcome here, but we’re not going to do this every Sunday.”
Wesley leaned forward, just as he had done last Sunday. He put his face close to Christopher’s. “First, you run off the young people, then you tell the adults they can act anyway they want? We’re just trying to help.”
Christopher backed up a step. “I appreciate your advice.” He took another step away from them. He didn’t want any more of this. They turned and walked away, and left the building.
Christopher took off Monday. Fridays were his normal day off, but he didn’t feel like going in Monday and called his secretary to tell her. He had used his vacation days earlier in the summer, but no one cared if he called in. After all, he could get called in on his days off or in the
middle of the night. He didn’t have the kind of job where he clocked in and out. It was good in some ways, but he also never really felt like he was off the clock. He was always on call, continually on the job.
He sat in his easy chair all morning. The television was on but he wasn’t paying much attention. He scanned a couple of his sermons that he had posted online. He wondered if he was doing any good. He questioned if he was really qualified for this job. He pondered if this was the right career choice for him. He had always felt called to preach, but was that really from God?
He looked over his shoulder toward the kitchen. “Rachel?”
She came over with a dish towel in her hands. “What is it?”
“Do you think it’s time I move on from the church?”
“What is this about? That stupid couple again? Are you going to quit because someone questioned your sermons?”
He distorted his face. “I have to admit, they got me thinking. But it’s not just them. I just don’t know if I’m doing any good. Nobody ever tells me if I’m saying what they need to hear.” He raised his voice a little. “And we haven’t baptized anyone in nearly a year.”
She shook her head. “That’s not even true. You baptized Chad Ramsey back in the spring.”
“Ok, one.”
“Besides, people tell me all the time how much they enjoy your sermons, and what they learn from them. They just don’t always tell you.”
He lowered his voice. “I’ve always said a preacher shouldn’t stay at a church for more than ten years. Seven or eight is better. I just wonder if I’ve stayed too long.”
“God will let you know when it’s time for you to go, don’t you think?”
“Exactly.” He looked over at her. “I’m wondering if he’s trying to tell me something.”
“Well, I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“Where’re you going?”
“It’s Monday.”
“You have to get groceries today? When I’m off?”
“Sorry, I always go on Monday. What’cha want for lunch?”
“I don’t know, a sandwich is fine.”
She had been gone more than an hour and a half when Christopher started to get mad. What takes so long? When he goes shopping, he is in and out in a half hour. And he was getting hungry. She asked what he wanted for lunch and now she’s gone during the lunch hour. He began to wonder where she was. What if something bad had happened?
He texted her. U about finished?
Sorry, she texted back. About to leave. Ran into some old friends.
Who? He wondered. He didn’t like feeling jealous of her and wondering about her. But he sat and thought about it and realized he had no way of knowing what she was doing when he was a work. She could set her watch by when he left and when he came home. But there were hours in there when he didn’t know where she was or what she was doing.
It upset him that he was letting himself think this way. But he couldn’t help it, he was getting angrier by the minute. Finally, she came home with a carload of groceries.
He raised his voice. “Where have you been?”
“Don’t raise your voice at me. Help me with these groceries.”
He followed her out to the car. The back seat was full of white, plastic sacks. He grabbed a couple in each hand. “What took so long?”
“Look at all this.”
“Let me see that receipt.” He dug through the sacks until he found it. “This says you checked out at 12:16. That was nearly thirty minutes ago.”
“I told you I ran into some old school friends after I checked out. We stood and talked.”
He raised his voice again. “For half an hour?”
“I’m sorry.” She began to assemble a sandwich for him.
He wouldn’t let it go. “Who? Who did you run into?”
“Her name used to be Wanda Cook. I forgot what it is now. She wanted to know all about us. I couldn’t get away.”
Christopher frowned. She could have said any name. He didn’t know her high school friends.
“Besides, I invited her to church.”
Now he felt bad. “That’s good.”
She left for an hour again that afternoon and he didn’t know where she went.
*****
“I hate lying to my husband,” Rachel said. She was sitting at a coffee shop across from Kurt Gregory, her old boyfriend that afternoon.
“This is just two old friends catching up a bit,” he said.
“He took off today. He wasn’t in a good mood.” She looked over her shoulder. “He would be very upset if he knew I was here with you instead of home–”
“Is he mean to you?”
“No.”
“That’s good, cause–”
She cut him off and steered the conversation back toward him. “He’s very good to me. So tell me what happened in Arkansas. Why did your wife leave you?”
“You know, office affair. I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“How long were you married?”
“Twenty-six years.”
She propped her chin on her hand. “Wow.”
“We had problems though. It wasn’t always good. In fact, it mostly wasn’t.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Rachel sipped her latte. It was still almost too hot to drink. The whipped cream stayed on her upper lip and she wiped it with her napkin. “But you had a good relationship with your children, didn’t you?”
“Oh yes. My daughters think I hung the moon, and I still talk to my son nearly every day.”
“So you have two daughters and a son? Who’s the oldest?”
“Janie is our oldest daughter. She turns twenty-three this year. My middle girl, Megan, is twenty-one – she thinks she’s forty-one – and our son, Jay, is nineteen and in college at Little Rock. He wants to be a lawyer. I hope he can pass his pre-law exams and get some scholarship help. He was a football and baseball player in high school and very popular with the young ladies. We had to beat them off him with a stick.”
She smiled. “Pretty much like his old man, then.”
He grinned back at her. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” He took a sip of his coffee. “But, anyway, it feels good to be back in Missouri. This will always be home.” He glanced at her. “How about you? Tell me about your sons.”
“Well, Jason is in college up at Southwest in Bolivar. He may follow his dad into the ministry, but I’m not sure. I’d be pleased if he did, but if he sells stocks, that’s okay too.” She took a sip. “Stephen is still at home. He’s about to be a senior.” She paused. “I can’t believe my babies are growing up so fast.” She looked at her watch. “You know what, I better get home. It was good catching up with you. Come visit our church sometime.”
He reached across the table and put his hand on hers as she grasped her coffee cup. She thought that was too forward and inappropriate, but she couldn’t help but be a little satisfied since he was the one to break up with her all those years ago. She let his hand stay on hers for a couple of seconds, then lifted her cup to her mouth and took another sip.
“I need to go,” she said.
He looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I’m just so glad to see you. I really hope we can be friends.”
“Friends is okay,” she said without hesitation. “But nothing more. I just want to make that clear.”
“Of course. Of course.” He stood up and escorted her to the door, then pushed it open for her and gave her a friendly, side hug. “I’ll see you around.”
“Bye Kurt.” She got into her car and steered it toward her house. She glanced behind her in the rearview mirror as she accelerated down the street. It looked like Kurt was talking to someone in a silver car just outside the coffee shop. She thought that was a little strange, but forgot about it by the time she got home.
Christopher was asleep on the couch when she got home. Stephen was sitting in the easy chair near him watching the news. “Hey Steve. What’cha been up to?”
“N
othin’.”
She kissed Christopher on the forehead, waking him. “I’m about to make some coffee. Want some?”
He wiped his eyes. “Maybe some decaf.”
“You got it.”
She didn’t want any more coffee, but this was part of their routine. They would sit and talk about the day. Then she would join him at the table an hour or so later for supper and talk some more. She loved their life and had no intention of messing anything up. She would rather hurt herself than her husband. And she knew he adored her.
Still, she was feeling pretty good about herself.
Chapter Five
Dillon drove his truck into the parking lot of a large apartment complex on the west side of Springfield. It was already warm and humid, and a bead of sweat ran down his cheek as he walked up to the office door. He had made up his mind that he had to find another job. Anything was better than signing that contract at Morgan. He had searched the internet and found a couple of companies hiring security guards. He tried to fill out their online applications, but his computer wouldn’t cooperate. So, frustrated, he took the day off to see if he could hire on somewhere in person.
“May I help you?” The lady at the office desk seemed nice enough.
“I saw that you were looking to hire a security guard. I came to apply for it.”
She looked him over. “What’s your name?”
“Dillon McGee.”
She looked down at the papers in front of her on the desk, then back up at him. “No, we don’t have anything open right now. You can try back in a couple of months.”
That’s strange. They had just listed this week that they needed someone. He contemplated arguing with her, but what good would it do? He figured he might as well go to the next place on his list. “Well, okay then. Thank you.” He walked back to his truck and headed to his next stop.
“Good morning ma'am.” Dillon held his cap in his hand. “I’m here to apply for the security guard that you advertised.”
The lady at this warehouse office had silver hair and reading glasses on her nose. A small chain drooped down from each post of the glasses. “What’s your name?”
The Dead Peasants' Contract: A Sequel to The Dead Peasants File (The Dead Peasants' Series Book 2) Page 3
