The Devil's Game

by Daniel Patterson

  “Not bad,” James said. “He didn’t punch me or throw anything directly at me. I just asked him to respect her wishes and her beliefs. He said that he would.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “I’d like to.”

  “But you’d also like him out of the picture altogether. Maybe far away from here in another mechanic shop in another town?”

  James looked at his friend and mentor with widened eyes, wondering how he could know that Rick worked in an auto shop.

  “You smell like motor oil, son. And your hands are stained.” Branson grinned at him. “Detective work was my second calling. Never followed it.”

  “Maybe you should have,” James said.

  “It’s nice to know I have something to fall back on should this whole preacher-thing not work out,” Branson said with a smile. “Now, listen to me, son. It sounds like this young woman already has her hands full sorting out her feelings for one young man. You do not need to add anything else to the mix.”

  “You are right,” James sighed. “I should know better.”

  Branson stood, collected the empty lemonade glasses and took them to the sink. He opened the refrigerator and took out a plastic container. “She is just having a tough time, and she’s lucky that she has you as a supportive advisor and friend.”

  “A supportive advisor and friend,” James said, wishing he relished that role more than he did. “I’ll pray to do my best at just that.”

  Branson sat down across from him. “You’re a good, kind man, James. The good Lord will bless you with the right woman when He sees fit, just like He blessed me with Cecilia.”

  Branson slid the container in front of James. “Here’s your spaghetti.”

  “Thank you for the advice and the meal.”

  “Anytime, son. Anytime.”

  Chapter Six

  ON WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, JAMES led the New Hope Church Community Outreach Partners in a prayer before going over their weekly plan. Several members of their congregation were homebound or needed extra help in one form or another. The COPs, as they called themselves, made sure those people had everything they needed, from trips to the doctor, groceries and hot meals to a friend to talk to.

  Amy took Wednesdays off and was always an enthusiastic participant. Dressed in blue jeans and a flowered t-shirt she took the lead after James’ prayer, walking to the front of the church with her clipboard in hand.

  “Thank you, Reverend Buchman. Hello, fellow COPs. First of all, I want us to welcome our newest member, Simon Paradis. He’s new in town and I think it’s great that he wants to start helping our community.”

  All heads turned toward Simon, who stood up from his second pew seat and nodded graciously at everyone’s greeting.

  “We have a few changes from last week. Let’s remember that Mrs. Thomas is lactose intolerant, so no more cheese on her sandwiches, please. We have a new person in need for a few weeks. Debra Carter broke her ankle and she’ll need a little help getting her kids off to school in the mornings and back home again. A couple of our regulars, Emily Watson and George Alvarez, have come down with some flu symptoms. We need to keep a special eye on them because that can be very dangerous for the elderly. I’d like to go over our usual assignments now . . .”

  James watched from the front pew and admired how Amy was able to take charge and organize the group. She seemed much happier today than she had on Sunday and he was genuinely glad for her.

  When the briefing was over, there was time for refreshments before everyone went on their rounds. A couple of folding tables were set up with coffee, cookies, and brownies.

  “These brownies are absolutely sinful!” exclaimed Simon, munching away.

  Georgette Newman, the baker, stood next to him beaming.

  “Reverend, are you sure these should be allowed in a church?” Simon asked in a joking tone.

  James smiled, “Well, they were made by a good woman with nothing but pure ingredients and pure intent,” he said. “I see nothing sinful about that.” He picked up a brownie and took a bite. It was truly delicious. “In moderation, of course. These could lead to serious gluttony very easily,” he cautioned with exaggerated seriousness.

  “That’s why I make only small batches,” Georgette sighed.

  They all shared a laugh.

  Simon picked up another brownie and slipped it into the pocket of his overcoat. “I’ll just take one more of these for the ride.”

  “Mr. Paradis, would you like to ride with me on my delivery route?” Georgette asked.

  “Nothing would please me more, my good woman.”

  Georgette gave him instructions as to how to pack up and he dutifully followed her lead.

  James looked over the heads of the thinning crowd. People were carrying boxes to their cars and tidying up. He picked up a care box himself and stepped outside, searching for Amy. He spotted her loading a care box into the trunk of Rick’s car. Rick spotted him first and gave him a wave and a smile. James waved back. It looked as if his talk with Rick did some good. They seemed to be getting along quite nicely. Amy turned around and flashed a big smile as she got into the front passenger seat and waved good-bye.

  Alone on the steps of his church, James gave silent thanks to God for the wonderful turnout of helpful people in his parish and walked to his car.

  Chapter Seven

  JAMES’ DELIVERY WAS FOR Samuel Stirling. He drove down Barrington Drive to Samuel’s house just fifteen minutes away from the church.

  Samuel was a World War II veteran and still worked a couple days a week as a janitor at a local warehouse. He had never married and had no children to look after him. He had been partially blind in one eye since 1945, but still had his driver’s license. Now, his other eye was starting to fail him. After a long independent life, he was facing the reality that he might end up in a nursing home. But what Samuel missed most was just having someone to talk to.

  Samuel lived in a small double-wide home that had seen better days. The blue paint was peeling in places and the roofing tiles needed to be replaced. But the lawn was tidy, and James knew from having been inside that the interior was a bright and cheerful place with pictures of friends and family, most now departed, hanging proudly on display. Samuel wasn’t at all bitter about where his life had led him. God had been good to him, Samuel had told James many times, and when it was his time to go he looked forward to the opportunity to thank God in person.

  When James walked up to the front door with his care package, the door opened before he reached it. A large, muscular young man with crew-cut blond hair stepped out and approached him.

  “Sir,” he said. “Let me take that for you . . .”

  James let him have the box. It didn’t seem negotiable.

  “Hello!” called Samuel. “Welcome, Reverend!”

  “Hello,” James said, following the young man into Samuel’s home.

  James’ eyes took in the colorful decor of the interior and had to smile at the festive atmosphere. The furniture was pristine 1960s Danish Modern, upholstered in the olive and orange colors popular in that time. Red and gold floral drapes were pulled back revealing lace curtains that let in the bright sunlight and made the place really sparkle. Samuel stood up from his favorite lounger and beckoned James in. “Please, let me introduce you to my nephew, Daniel Lapinski.”

  The young man who had taken the package now set it on the dining table and then turned around with a smile and an extended hand, looking much less intimidating than before. “Pleased to meet you, Reverend.”

  James took the man’s hand and tried not to wince at the powerful grip. “Nice to meet you too, Daniel. Your uncle told me you were coming back from Afghanistan soon. Welcome home. I appreciate what you are doing for us over there.”

  “Thank you, sir. It’s good to be back.”

  “You don’t have to call me sir,” James told him.

  “Sorry, sir. It’s a habit. Would you like some coffee? I made a fresh pot. Uncle Samuel sai
d you’d be coming.”

  “Sure,” said James. One of the duties of the COPs delivery program was to socialize, so he had planned on spending some time. “I’ve got some of Georgette Newman’s brownies in the care box. They’ll go wonderfully with some coffee.” He stepped toward the box to get the brownies, but Daniel got there first.

  “Please sit down, sir,” Daniel told him. “You are our guest.” He took the bag of brownies out and began to arrange them on one of Samuel’s china plates along with a coffee pot and matching cups with saucers. James grinned watching the man’s big hands carefully handling the delicate set.

  Samuel said as James took a seat on the couch, “It turns out that Daniel is a wonderful house guest. He won’t let me do a thing. Even cooks and cleans for me.”

  “It’s the least I can do,” Daniel said. He brought the tray into the living room and placed it on the coffee table. “Uncle Samuel is going to let me stay with him for a couple of months while I figure out what I’m going to do now that I’m back home for good.”

  “He’s going to patch up my roof, put on a coat of paint . . .”

  “And I think a little front porch would be a nice addition, don’t you, sir?” Daniel asked. He gave his uncle a cup of coffee, already prepared with cream and sugar.

  “I think that would be splendid,” beamed Samuel, biting into a brownie.

  “Me too,” said James. He helped himself to a cup. “You do carpentry work, Daniel?”

  “Yes sir and yard work, landscaping. Do you know of anyone who needs work after I get finished around here? I could really use the money.”

  James smiled. “As a matter of fact, I do. I’ll start spreading the word.”

  Chapter Eight

  THE REST OF THAT Wednesday afternoon passed as quickly and smoothly as a warm summer breeze. James sat at his desk in the back room of the church and poured over financial statements. As he tried to make the books balance, there was a knock on the door.

  “Come in,” he called out, setting down his pen on top of a growing pile of paperwork.

  The door opened on creaky hinges and the smiling face of Simon Paradis appeared.

  “Excuse me, Reverend,” he said, stepping into the room. “I wanted to thank you for letting me help out with COPs today.”

  “Thank you, Simon. We appreciate the help.”

  He noticed that Simon still wore his long dark coat with the frayed cuffs, even though it was a very warm day.

  Some people liked to hold on to things they loved, even when it was past time for them to let them go.

  Maybe he should craft a sermon about that for next week—

  “Right, Reverend?”

  James blinked, almost forgetting Simon was standing right in front of him. “I’m sorry, I must have zoned out.” He had the strangest feeling of déjà vu. “You were saying?”

  “I was saying that the people here have been so inviting. I am so glad to have moved to this town and joined your church.”

  “Well, you’ve managed to integrate very well,” James said. “Helping out with community events is a wonderful way to make friends.”

  “It’s always been my policy to seek out new friends wherever I go,” said Simon with a pious smile that seemed a little too pious.

  James looked at him curiously. Right from the start everyone in town seemed to be falling over themselves to make Simon feel welcome. He had never seen anyone make themselves a part of the community so quickly—even when he came and took over the New Hope Church.

  “I’ll be having dinner again with that nice couple, Sally and Ben, tomorrow night.”

  “I’m glad to see they’re making you feel welcome,” James nodded, trying to dismiss his slight feelings of envy.

  “Reverend Buchman?” a young woman’s voice called out.

  “Amy, please come on in.”

  Simon turned his wide smile on Amy, as she entered the office. “Miss Sheridan, wonderful to see you again.”

  “Oh, Mr. Paradis! I want to thank you for helping out this afternoon. Am I interrupting?”

  “No, not at all,” James said quickly.

  “He’s right,” said Simon. “I was just thanking the Reverend for the opportunity to help out my new community.”

  “Well, accept my thanks too,” Amy said.

  Simon gave a slight bow. “Entirely my pleasure, I assure you. And now, I’ll be going. I’ll see you again. I’m sure of it.”

  “Amy,” James said, turning his attention to her and gesturing to the chair on the other side of his desk. “Please sit with me.”

  Amy seemed happy and confident. She was practically glowing.

  “I wanted to thank you for talking to Rick the other day. He has been much more respectful.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” James said.

  “You saw today that he even wanted to help out with the COPs. I made a volunteer out of him!”

  “Yes, I noticed that. Good job. He still isn’t ready to attend service, though?”

  Amy grinned. “No, but I’m working on it. He says he’s willing to be just friends with me.”

  James nodded supportively.

  “He came over last night and made dinner for me . . . but he didn’t spend the night,” she added hurriedly. “But I know he wanted to . . .” She looked at James pleadingly with her big blue eyes.

  “Temptation is something we all have to deal with,” James said.

  “Am I sending him the wrong message? I’m afraid I might fall into some old habits, and I needed to talk to you.”

  “Amy,” James said, placing a hand gently over her right wrist, “some people like to hold on to things, even when it’s way past time to let go. Maybe that’s what you’re doing with your beliefs. It’s time to let them go.”

  He heard the words as they came out of his mouth.

  Whoa!

  Just, hold on a minute here.

  Where had that come from?

  How could he possibly be suggesting to Amy that she give up her ideas of right and wrong just to make a man feel better? He would never suggest such a thing.

  But, he had.

  Amy watched him, her eyes wide, as he tried to nail down the root of that thought.

  Then he had it—the thought had come into his mind when Simon had been talking to him. It came so strongly that he had lost track of what was going on around him. Have the uneasy feelings he had every time while talking to Simon been more on point than he realized?

  “Reverend?” Amy said with a confused look on her face.

  “Um, sorry, Amy, I lost my train of thought there. What I meant to say was to stick with your beliefs. Temptation will always be around, but if you set your heart on God and His ways first, the right decision will come to you.”

  “I’ve prayed about it, Reverend. And I’m standing firm on this. I told Rick I cared about our friendship, but when I take that next step, it will be with the man I will spend the rest of my life with—my husband. I want that moment to be special in the lives of my partner and me, and in the eyes of God. Rick says he understands. He still talks about us getting married someday, but I really don’t see that kind of a future with him.”

  “Just follow your heart.”

  She stood up. “Rick and I will stay just friends. He isn’t the right man for me. I know that. God will show me the right man when He’s ready.”

  Was there more to Amy’s words than was on the surface?

  Chapter Nine

  LATE WEDNESDAY EVENING, JAMES sat alone at his desk. He thought about his mental stumble with Amy as he ate his dinner, consisting of a tomato sandwich and barbecue flavored potato chips. It wasn’t like him to be so easily swayed by an invasive thought like that.

  It made no sense. That thought had taken root in his mind while talking to Simon and grown into a living thing that came out of his lips at just the wrong time. He was still mortified that he had actually said those words to Amy.

  Amy.

  Now that was a topic he did
n’t need to cloud his mind. He shook his head and reminded himself of Branson’s warning to keep a respectful distance.

  He washed down the last of his sandwich with a bottle of grape soda. His mind was wandering too much, and he didn’t really know what he was trying to convince himself of.

  Brushing his hands together to clean off the crumbs, James stood and walked out into the main room of the church, closing and locking the office door behind him. The church was a small building and the nave with its rows of wooden pews set up facing the altar seemed crammed together even when they stood empty.

  James stopped short.

  He wasn’t alone.

  Chapter Ten

  “HELLO, REVEREND,” SIMON PARADIS said with a nod. He sat there, lounging in the front row, one arm hanging over the back of the bench, his long legs crossed at the ankles and sticking straight out. That same smile from earlier was still in place.

  “Hello again, Simon,” James said, feeling defensive right away. “Did you need something?”

  “Well yes, actually Reverend, I do or, more accurately, I did was. I needed you to pass that message along to your friend Amy. I’m glad to know that you did.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You countered it pretty quickly and that was a disappointment, but I think she got the drift.”

  The air was suddenly chilly, almost cold.

  “I’ve got a lot of work to do, Simon . . .”

  “You and I both, Reverend.” Simon unfolded himself slowly and stood up from the bench, his body seeming to float up onto his feet. He took a moment to brush the dust off his coat and said, “I like people. I like helping them out. You and I aren’t at all different in that respect.”

  James gazed at the man’s smile. It was a perfect smile. It was a happy smile. It was a smile of a man who wanted other people to be happy. It was the smile of a man who wanted James to be happy.

  He should do whatever he could to be happy. Just be happy—