The First Ladies Club Box Set

by J B Hawker

  “Goodness, Naidenne! What’s happened to you?” she exclaimed.

  Turning to the others, she asked, “Is someone getting a first aid kit?”

  Eskaletha crouched down and whispered, “Do you need to see a doctor, Deenie? Ooh, your poor knees.”

  Elizabeth Gilbert efficiently gathered up napkins and a glass of water and dropped to her knees on the other side of Naidenne to dab at the wounds.

  While not a large woman, Elizabeth’s upright posture, neatly tailored shirtwaist dress, and sensible shoes, with her salt-and-pepper hair twisted into a tidy knot, provided a strong, capable presence appreciated by the members of the United Methodist Church where she and her husband were co-pastors.

  “These cuts don’t look very deep, but she’s lost a couple of layers of skin,” Elizabeth explained to the others.

  “Well, you’re the nurse practitioner in the group, so I guess you should know, but they look pretty bad to me,” Judy responded. “Darn it! I forgot my bag when I left the manse. I always carry a jar of my homemade organic herbal salve. Do you think we should get her to the ER?”

  “No, Liz is right,” Naidenne said. “It’s just road rash. Sure does burn, though.”

  One of the women came back with the first aid kit from the Boatworks kitchen.

  Elizabeth soon had Naidenne’s wounds cleaned and bandaged.

  “We can’t do much for your pants, I’m afraid. Were they favorites?” Judy asked.

  “No. Just a pair I found in the last tag sale we ran at our church. I liked them because they are supposed to be cropped, so no one can tell if they are too short, but no great loss. Thanks.”

  “So, tell us what happened,” Eskaletha, now back in control, prompted.

  “I guess you could say I was the victim of a hit-and-run,” Naidenne said, shaking her head.

  “What? You’re kidding. Someone knocked you down and just drove off?” Judy asked.

  “I was crossing the highway when this little car jumped the light and sort of side-swiped me and just kept going.”

  “Did you get his license number?”

  “What kind of a car was it?”

  “We should call the State Troopers.”

  The women were all talking at once, until Naidenne held up her hand, so she could reply.

  “I didn’t get the license number and don’t have much of a description of the car, except it was really small, maybe a Mini Cooper or a Smart car, being driven by a not-too-smart driver. Anyway, it wasn’t going fast enough to do any real harm. It just knocked me off balance and I fell.”

  “Well, if you’re sure…I still think we should report it,” Olivette offered.

  Olivette Vernon was the oldest member of the little group. She and her husband, Kendall, had served the Bannoch Reformed Church for his entire career. Her small stature and mouse-like demeanor belied her tremendous faith, which was matched by her hard-work and dedication to her church.

  “If all the excitement is over, perhaps we can resume our seats and get on with our meeting,” Eskaletha stated, striding back to the podium.

  Olivette scurried closely behind.

  “I think it is just awful the way these tourists speed on the highway through town, polluting the air and scattering trash all over creation. Sometimes they don’t even stop for that light,” Judy commented.

  “I know visitors mean more income for the town, but it was nicer before we had so much traffic,” Elizabeth agreed.

  “Tourists, traffic and all the riffraff coming from California; the Coast isn’t the same, anymore,” Gwennie Barthlett, wife of the Trinity Nazarene Church minister, spoke up.

  “And what about all the underpaid and exploited workers commuting to that new big box store between here and Tillamook?” Judy added.

  “Ladies! If we can please return to our seats?” Eskaletha called out.

  “You may resume the reading of the minutes of our last meeting, Olivette.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t remember where I left off, Madam President.”

  “Just start over at the beginning. Some of us missed that part, anyway.”

  “Oh…good idea,” Olivette smiled in relief, squared her narrow shoulders and began reading the minutes of the last meeting in her high, reedy voice.

  After the earlier commotion, the ladies sat obediently through the formalities, followed by an orderly discussion of plans for their next community project.

  When they were finished, Eskaletha asked a blessing on the refreshments and adjourned this monthly session of the Bannoch First Ladies Club.

  Jostling around the snack table to get first dibs on one of Olivette’s famous homemade Danish pastries, the women filled their plates before settling in for a serious gabfest, the real purpose of the gathering.

  “How are your knees, now, Naidenne?” Judy asked around a mouthful of pastry.

  “Much better, thanks.”

  “I blame all the yahoos coming north from California these days. They all drive like they own the road,” Gwennie said.

  “Could you tell if the car’s plates were out of state, Deenie?” Olivette asked.

  “I’m afraid I didn’t even look. I was trying not to fall on my face.”

  “My cousin says she went to LA once and all California drivers are insane. I wish they would just keep their wild rides down there and leave us alone,” Gwennie said. “And it’s not just their bad drivers, either. What about all the crime we are seeing these days along the southern Oregon coast. I just know we have the stupid California Prison Realignment to thank for most of it.”

  “I read where some of the hardest hit communities refer to it as a catch-and-release program, like with fishing, when they let the small fish go…even though they are cruelly damaged by the nasty hooks and probably traumatized for life. Blood sports should be outlawed…” Judy jumped in.

  “As I was saying,” Gwennie went on, “in California now, some criminals are arrested, released and re-arrested for new crimes all in the same night. No jail time let alone counseling and rehabilitation. What can they expect?”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Elizabeth Gilbert agreed. “My husband was preaching a series on Responsible Love just last month. It is no kindness to enable a person to continue in their sins.”

  “That’s right. We are not to be a stumbling block,” Olivette nodded emphatically.

  “Well, their prisons are so over-crowded. What can they do?” Naidenne asked.

  “Not send their problems up here, that’s what,” Gwennie asserted.

  Her comment serving as a benediction on this particular topic, the ladies moved on to the more gratifying practice of sharing the frustrations and joys of small-town life in the parsonage and manse.

  The First Ladies Club was formed shortly after Naidenne and the Reverend Scott Davidson married.

  Eskaletha had come to the Bannoch Community Fellowship’s parsonage to welcome Naidenne into the ranks of local pastors’ wives and the two became instant friends.

  Over the following weeks they frequently met for lunch, when Naidenne would seek Eskaletha’s advice on her new role. Occasionally, one or another of the other pastors’ wives would join them.

  Eventually, they decided to schedule regular gatherings and invite the wives of all the pastors in town.

  When it came time to name their group, Eskaletha and Peggy Burt, wife of the Missionary Baptist pastor, suggested The First Ladies Club, after the title conferred upon the wife of the senior minister in their churches. Everyone loved the suggestion, so they had been The First Ladies Club, ever since.

  The women represented a wide range of Christian religious traditions and styles, so they agreed to concentrate only on their commonalities.

  Theological discussions were not encouraged; especially any debate of the prophetic books of Daniel and Revelation. By common consent, conversations about pre-tribulation, post-tribulation, and mid-tribulation, were strictly avoided.

  All these women shared a love of God
and a desire to serve Him in their community.

  Sometimes more than a dozen women were at the monthly meetings, although busy schedules and responsibilities meant at other times only five or six could attend.

  The club held regular fund-raisers for various community improvement projects, always being mindful not to compete with fund-raisers or other activities of the local churches.

  In deference to her chewed-up knees, Naidenne accepted Eskaletha’s offer of a ride home when the meeting broke up.

  Relaxing into the soft leather seats of her friend’s Lexus, she took a deep breath and allowed herself to think about her accident.

  It was a very close call and could easily have resulted in serious injuries, or worse. Remembering the experience made her just a little light-headed.

  Eskaletha was looking at her oddly, and her expression brought Naidenne back from her woolgathering.

  “Uh, did you say something, ‘Letha?”

  “I asked are you going to the Women of Faith conference in Tillamook, next weekend,” Eskaletha repeated.

  “Maybe. I haven’t asked Scott what we have planned for that night. Saturdays can be tricky, as you know. I think my sister-in-law, Rosamund, may want to go, though, if she isn’t busy.”

  “Well, since Scott won’t be going, I can’t see what difference his plans make. It can’t interfere with his sermon prep just ‘cause you aren’t there.”

  “No, but he may have accepted an invitation for us to call on a member of the flock. He sometimes does on a Saturday. If it’s a single woman, you know he can’t go alone. I’ll just have to check with him.”

  “It’s a crying shame a pastor can’t call on a widow woman in her home these days without a chaperone, just so he won’t be accused of some impropriety,” Eskaletha said.

  “I agree, but that’s the way it is, shame or not. It frightens me to think of what one false accusation can do to a man’s career… but, on the other hand, unfortunately, there actually are predators in the pastorate. I’ve encountered a wolf in sheep’s clothing myself.”

  “I suppose it just takes one bad apple…still, it’s too bad,” Eskaletha commented.

  “Thanks for the ride,” Naidenne said, as they pulled up in front of the drafty church-owned two-story Victorian house she shared with her husband and his sister.

  “Call me tomorrow and let me know how you’re doing. I’m thinking, by then, you are going to hurt in places you never knew you had,” Eskaletha predicted with a grin, before driving off.

  Naidenne entered her home and was immediately enveloped in the rich aroma of roast chicken with rosemary.

  “That smells wonderful, Rosamund! What can I do to help?”

  Her sister-in-law turned from the stove as Naidenne entered the kitchen.

  “You can make a nice salad and help me decide what to fix for dessert, if you want…what in the world happened to your pants?”

  “Oh, I fell down crossing the highway. A car jumped the light and sort of bumped into me.”

  “Oh, Naidenne! You’re hurt! Are your knees cut up terribly under those bandages?”

  “It’s not too bad. Could have been much worse, if I’d been any later for the meeting. The car clipped me from behind. I think I was just late enough not to get flattened.”

  “Don’t you worry about helping with dinner. Go have a nice soak in the tub and then rest. Let me know if you need help with fresh bandages.”

  “Thanks. I’d like to get out of these clothes. A bath sounds nice. But I’ll come back to help when I’ve changed.”

  Chapter Two

  “Dear, are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor about your knees? Is anything else starting to hurt?” Scott asked his wife when she joined him in the old-fashioned formal dining room.

  Before replying, she placed a carrot and raisin salad in a pretty cut-glass bowl on the modest pine table.

  “Only my pride, as they say. Seriously, I scraped my knees and had a bit of a scare, but I feel blessed it wasn’t any worse. Don’t worry about me, please. You have enough on your plate these days.”

  Rosamund came in with the roast potatoes and slipped into her seat, placing a napkin neatly onto her lap.

  “What do you have to worry about these days, Scott? Has something happened I don’t know about?” she said.

  Scott held a chair for Naidenne and took his place at the table.

  “Now, how in the world could anything happen around here without you knowing about it, Rosie? Remember how I called you Nosey Rosie when we were kids? Some things just never change.”

  “Stop being silly and ask the blessing before the food gets cold,” his sister scolded.

  Following Scott’s brief prayer, while the dishes of food were being passed, Rosamund again asked what was causing him concern.

  “If you weren’t too busy with your new fella to attend the last business meeting, you might have noticed the state of the church budget, Rose. Giving is way down this quarter.”

  “So what? That always fluctuates. It’s never caused you much stress before.”

  “Well, it’s different, now.”

  Casting a quick glance at Naidenne, Rosamund thought she understood.

  “You always trusted in the Lord to provide for us, Scott. Don’t you think he will take care of Naidenne, too, since you are married?”

  “Of course, I do. But it’s different, now,” Scott replied with an uncomfortable shrug.

  “It isn’t just our income Scott’s thinking about, Rosamund. All the programs of the church will suffer if the giving doesn’t come back up,” Naidenne offered.

  “There is something else I haven’t told you, Sis.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I received a Transfer of Membership letter earlier this week from an old adversary who is returning to Bannoch.”

  The look on Scott’s face and his tone of voice gave Rosamund a sinking feeling. The hairs on the back of her neck tingled.

  “Who? Not…”

  “Maureen Oldham. Yes, I’m afraid so. I’m sorry, Rosie,” Scott said.

  “I know what a thorn in your side she was before she and Vince moved to Portland. When I saw whose letter it was, I was tempted to mark the envelope, ‘Unknown – Return to Sender,’ but there really wasn’t anything I could do.”

  “I’d heard about Vince passing away, but it never entered my mind that woman might move back here. I feel sick,” Rosamund said, pushing her plate away from her.

  “What in the world is this Maureen person like? Why is she so unwelcome?” Naidenne asked.

  “Oh, dear…I know this is no way to feel about a fellow believer…I can’t seem to help myself. It must be a test.”

  Rosamund seemed to be talking to herself, and then looked up, “Please pray for me. I can’t welcome Maureen Oldham back into my life without God’s help.”

  “Of course,” Scott replied.

  He took the women’s hands in his. Praying for an extra helping of wisdom, courage and strength for them all, he also asked for blessings on the recently widowed Maureen Oldham.

  “I could tell you about our history with Maureen, Deenie, but I don’t want to prejudice you against her, at least, not any more than we already have done. When she was here before, she was a perfect example of what’s sometimes referred to by us pastors as a well-intentioned dragon, but widowhood may have mellowed her, you never know. We might be dreading her return unnecessarily,” Scott said.

  “Please, God, let you be right,” Rosamund said.

  This conversation left Naidenne itching with curiosity and eager to meet the mysterious woman.

  “When will Mrs. Oldham be back in town?” she asked.

  “That’s the rest of the story. She’s already here. She’ll be in church this Sunday,” Scott said, with a rueful glance at his sister.

  Rosamund moaned and got up to clear the table.

  After putting the leftover food into the refrigerator, Rosamund excused herself and went up to her room, leav
ing Scott and Naidenne to finish clearing away the dinner things.

  The couple made quick work of the cleanup, moving smoothly around each other, easily reaching the tall cupboards in this high-ceilinged room.

  It was fortunate Naidenne shared the Davidson siblings’ above-average height. She wondered how a diminutive pastor’s wife would survive in such a kitchen.

  “Eskaletha asked me about the women’s program in Tillamook this weekend. Do you mind if I go with her on Saturday night?”

  “Not at all,” Scott replied. “That works well. I am on the rotation Saturday night for a ride-along as Sheriff’s chaplain.”

  “Well, then, I’m going to ask Rosamund to come to the program, too. Maybe it will cheer her up.”

  “Good luck with that. Len Spurgeon books up all of her Saturday nights, lately. Or hadn’t you noticed?”

  “They have been spending a lot of time together. He seems like a good man. Do you think it is getting serious between them?”

  “It is on his part, I’m sure. It’s harder to read Rosie.”

  “What’s your opinion of Len? Do you think he’s the man for her?”

  “I like him. He’s solid on his Bible and appears to be sincerely trying to live his faith. He’s a bit pompous, now and then, but, as a banker, that probably goes with the territory.”

  “If they marry, will you miss your sister? You two have shared this home for a long while, now.”

  “There was a time when I would have been horribly lonely if she’d moved out. Not so much, now, though,” Scott grinned and grabbed Naidenne around the waist.

  She nuzzled his neck before hanging up the dish towel to dry.

  Switching off the kitchen light, she paused in the doorway, gazing suggestively over her shoulder before exaggeratedly swaying her hips as she climbed the stairs with her husband bounding after her, laughing.

  *

  In her bedroom, Rosamund heard the others come upstairs and enter their room at the far end of the hall. Soft voices and throaty laughter were immediately silenced when the door closed behind them.

  The many rooms in this over-sized house had become an unexpected blessing when Scott and Naidenne married. There would have been uncomfortable privacy issues for the newlyweds if they were all sharing a modern bungalow. As it was, the distance between the bedrooms prevented Rosamund from becoming an unwitting eavesdropper on intimate moments.