The Matchmakers of Butternut Creek

by Jane Myers Perrine

  When he’d finished savoring that victory, Adam scrutinized the outline on his computer. As usual, when he had no ideas and the sermon had no oomph, he stared into space, searching for inspiration. None came. He stood and looked out the window. Still nothing.

  The silence was broken by a bloodcurdling shriek from the reception office. He turned, ran to the door, and threw it open to see Maggie, his secretary, leaping from chair to chair, moving faster and jumping higher than he’d ever thought she could. Finally, she clambered onto the corner file cabinet, pulled her legs up beneath her, and continued to scream.

  Standing by her desk were two redheaded boys: Leo and Nick Thomas. When the paperwork was done, they’d be Leo and Nick Peterson. Their mother Willow had married Sam Peterson in February.

  As Adam moved farther into the office, Maggie kept screaming. The kids looked at him, eyes wide, their faces covered with shame, surprise, and a thin overlay of machismo.

  After a few more steps, Adam saw the open box on the floor with a stiff, dead animal inside.

  “In there, Preacher.” Maggie pointed at the container. “The dirty, filthy creature’s in there.”

  “What is it, boys?” Adam asked.

  “It’s a squirrel, sir,” Leo said.

  “It’s dead, sir,” Nick added. “I don’t know why it would scare her. It can’t attack.”

  “Women are like that,” Adam said. “They don’t like dead things.” He turned and pointed toward his office. “You two need to explain this to me.”

  “No,” Maggie shouted. “Preacher, you are not leaving me alone with that…that thing.” She pointed toward the box with a shaking finger.

  “Guys, you know this could be dangerous,” Adam said.

  “But it’s dead,” Leo said before he added, “sir.”

  “Rabies, other diseases.” Adam pulled a ragged jacket from the lost-and-found, wrapped the box up, and stuffed it into a plastic bag. “I’m going to take this outside, put it in the trash, and call animal control. You boys, go to the restroom and wash up carefully. Maggie, go on home and try to forget this happened.”

  She slid off the cabinet onto a chair, leaped from that, grabbed her purse, and ran.

  By the time Adam had washed his hands in the tiny private bathroom off his study and explained the situation to animal control, the boys stood in the front office. “I’m going to call your parents,” he told them.

  “Oh, no, sir. Please don’t.” Leo cleared his throat. “We’ll do anything if you won’t tell them.”

  “Mom gets sad and really disappointed in us.” Nick’s lips trembled. “And Sam, he expects better of us.”

  “You know Sam’s my friend. I can’t keep this from him. Is he home?”

  They nodded.

  Adam suddenly realized it was a weekday. “Why aren’t you in school?”

  “Teacher in-service day,” Leo said. “Sam was supposed to watch us, but he’s studying. You know he’s taking a lot of math classes from Tech so he can get certified as a teacher.”

  “He was real busy studying and didn’t notice when we left,” Nick said. “He thinks we’re in the backyard, but Leo remembered he saw a dead animal over in that lot next to the church Sunday. He made me come with him.”

  “Did not,” Leo said. “You wanted to come.”

  “Did not,” Nick contradicted. “Your idea.”

  “Listen, shorty, you—”

  “Okay, guys.” Sam held his hand up. “So you both sneaked out of your backyard…”

  “It wasn’t really sneaking,” Leo said.

  “We’ve never completely fixed the fence at Sam’s house.” Nick smiled. “At our house. He says we’ll get around to that someday.”

  “Okay, I’m going to call Sam.” He picked up the phone and punched the number in.

  “Please don’t.”

  “When he gets here, you’re going to explain how that creature ended up on the floor of Maggie’s office and scared her to death.” He frowned at them. “You know Sam expects you to respect women.”

  Both nodded. Their eyes spoke of coming doom, but that didn’t deter Adam. Great kids, but they were also very active and imaginative.

  Only a few minutes later, Adam stood at the window in the reception office and watched Sam’s yellow Mustang pull into the lot. The captain got out. An amputee from Afghanistan, Sam still limped a little, but today he strode with confidence.

  Once they were all seated in Adam’s office, Sam said, “Okay, guys, explain.”

  “I saw a dead animal in the back after church last Sunday so we came back to look at it,” Leo said.

  “You told me you were going to stay in the backyard. I trusted you and you lied to me,” Sam said in a tone that reminded Adam that the captain had commanded marines.

  “We didn’t,” Nick began.

  “Man up, son,” Sam said.

  Both boys nodded and said, “Yes, sir,” in unison. Probably, Adam thought, the entire conversation would be more suitable if they both stood at attention while Sam interrogated them.

  “We lied to you and sneaked out to get the animal,” Leo said. “Sir.”

  “But we didn’t plan to pick up the squirrel.” Nick added, “Sir.”

  “Then why did you bring a box with you, Gyrenes?” Sam asked.

  Both boys looked so crestfallen that Adam almost felt sorry for them—until he remembered Maggie’s terror.

  “We wanted to bring it in here and show the preacher. We thought he’d want to see it,” Leo said.

  “’Cause he’s a guy,” Nick added.

  “Yes,” Adam spoke solemnly. “Dead squirrels count as a particular favorite of mine.”

  Sam’s lips quivered for only a moment before he became serious again.

  “After that, we were going to come home and show you, Dad,” Nick finished.

  “How did that box get on the floor and the secretary end up on top of the file cabinet?” Adam asked.

  “Nick dropped it.”

  “Did not. You pushed me.”

  “Did not…”

  Sam held his hand up. “Enough. I don’t care how it happened or who pushed who. You both handled a dead animal, which could have made you very sick. You both brought it in here and scared the secretary. You both knew she’d be frightened by a dead animal. Your actions may also have contaminated the offices.”

  “We didn’t mean to,” Nick said, his eyes wide and round.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Leo said. “Actions have consequences.” He sounded exactly like Sam.

  “Yes, actions have consequences,” Sam said. “We’ll work those out when your mother gets home tonight.”

  “Do you have to tell her?” Nick asked.

  All Sam had to do was raise his eyebrow. Both boys nodded.

  “Of course you do,” Nick said.

  “She’s our mother and she loves us and she has to know,” Leo said.

  Words they must have heard from Sam several times.

  “I don’t keep secrets from my wife.” Sam grinned when he said the word wife. “I don’t lie to my wife and you don’t lie to your mother.”

  “Sir, no, sir,” the boys said.

  “Thanks, Adam.” Sam stood. “We’ll handle this at home. Can you think of a service these two could perform at the church?”

  “They could write an apology to Maggie.”

  “They will,” Sam said. “What else? We don’t have a lot left to do at the house.”

  “We could finish that fence, sir,” Nick suggested as the three left the office.

  Adam smiled. Yes, great kids, but he was glad he hadn’t inherited them.

  “Oh, hey, guys,” Sam said. “Wait for me by my car. I need to talk to the preacher.”

  “Is it about us?” Nick asked.

  Sam raised his brow again and the boys shouted, “Sir, yes, sir,” and ran out.

  “Don’t find another dead animal or break a window or anything else while you’re out there,” Sam shouted at their backs, then he
turned toward Adam and grinned. “They might kill me yet.”

  “You love them. You’re happy.”

  “Never thought I would be again, Preacher, but I am.” He paused and glanced at the wall over Adam’s head before he said, “Umm…I hear Gussie Milton’s coming to town in a couple of weeks.”

  Adam nodded. He didn’t bother to ask how Sam knew that. He’d either heard it from Winnie Jenkins, the Widow who was engaged to his father, or he’d heard it the small-town way: Everyone knew everyone’s business and everyone talked with everyone else about it, over and over, with embellishments. Actually, didn’t much matter which.

  “Yes,” Adam said in a neutral voice. “She’s going to talk to some of the kids about camp this summer. Bree invited her.”

  “So,” Sam said in an equally neutral voice, keeping his gaze on the wall. “How do you feel about that?”

  “Pretty angry that everyone in this town is determined to find me a wife.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Sam made eye contact with Adam. “The Widows hooked me up with Willow and that turned out great.”

  “I’m glad you’re happy, but you would’ve worked things out with her by yourself.”

  “Maybe, but if the Widows are determined to match you up with someone, you’ve got about as much chance of escaping as a gnat in a hailstorm.”

  “Is that why you’re here? The Widows told you to talk to me?”

  Sam shook his head. “Willow did. I can’t refuse anything she asks.”

  Adam laughed. “Big, tough marine.”

  As he finished the sentence, they heard a crash from the parking lot.

  “Better go.” Sam ran out of the office.

  No telling what the boys were up to. Great kids, and he owed them for distracting their father.

  * * *

  At dinner that evening, when Adam shared the news of the donkey with Hector and asked him to ride Maisie, Hector shook his head.

  “Can’t do that,” he said.

  “Why not? Afraid of donkeys?”

  “Don’t know, Pops. Never seen a donkey up close. But I think…” He paused and studied Adam seriously. “But I don’t think people want a half-black, half-Mexican kid on that animal. They’ll want someone more…well, more like Jesus. Same color.”

  “Don’t agree with you. The church people like you. But, if they do complain, tough. I don’t care.”

  “You don’t care?”

  “Besides, you’re probably closer to the color of Jesus’s skin than anyone else in town. He was born in the Middle East, in Bethlehem, not Dallas.”

  “You know what I like about you?” Hector said. “You don’t go through all that junk about all being God’s children, even though we are. You give it to me straight. Thanks.”

  “You’re going to be Jesus?” Janey asked.

  “Yeah.” Hector smiled at his sister. “Who’d’ve thought I’d be Jesus in a church procession?”

  * * *

  Birdie balanced a couple of plates on her arm. It was Friday, always a busy day at the diner. But this Friday was different. She could feel Farley’s gaze on her as she delivered the order to the corner booth.

  Why did the man keep watching her?

  Did he hope she’d drop the dishes so he’d get a good laugh? Not out of the question because when she carried so many, her left shoulder complained, and more loudly every day. No doubt about it, if she wanted to last here until Mac got through college, she’d have to start carrying fewer plates. But that meant she’d have to make more trips, and her feet had started to ache.

  When she finished placing the order on the table, she turned. The old coot—no, the a-few-years-older-than-she-was coot—still kept an eye on her. A stalker? No, not in Butternut Creek, and not Farley Masterson. He’d been the police chief for years. No history of lawlessness in his background. Besides, he was probably too old and too slow to be a stalker. Maybe he could be a shuffler or a limper, but being a stalker seemed beyond his physical capabilities at his age.

  Five years older than Birdie.

  For a man his age, he looked pretty good. For a man his age, he stood straight and had only a small belly that protruded over his belt buckle. Good hair, thick and white. Not bad looking. Not that she felt a speck of interest in the man.

  “Okay,” she demanded as she strode toward his table after she’d picked up her favorite weapon, the coffeepot. “What do you want?”

  “A hot cup of joe would be nice.” He pushed the mug toward her.

  “I mean, why are you here?”

  “Breakfast?” He sounded confused. “I mean, isn’t that what everyone else is here for?” Then he smiled.

  And she knew. With those words and that expression, she knew he was fooling with her and was pleased he’d upset her, gotten her attention.

  “Why else would I be here, Birdie?” He winked.

  She turned and stalked off.

  Old coot.

  Pshaah. What foolishness. She did not have to act so polite. The man was a coot. A seventy-plus coot counted as an old coot. No use trying to wrap Farley Masterson up in pretty words to hide his age.

  After tossing her shoulders back in pride, she grunted in pain, then started one more round with coffee. She ignored Farley’s wave but knew she’d have to fill up his coffee and bus the table. The vibration of her cell gave her an excuse not to. She wasn’t supposed to check it when she was working, but she’d told her boss that if one of the girls called, she’d answer even if she had to drop a tray in the middle of the diner. There was a text message from Bree. “Coach from Hwrd Col calld. Vball.”

  Bree and Mac used few abbreviations in their texts because, doggone, it took so long for their grandmother to translate them. This one was easy. A coach from Howard College had called about volleyball. It was a two-year school, but a good start not too far away and might offer a good financial package. Heaven knew, Birdie couldn’t afford much. The high school counselor had told her it was a good thing Birdie’s income was so low because that would help with scholarships and aid. Who knew eking out a living could be a blessing? Well, other than in the Beatitudes.

  She snapped the phone shut and attempted to ignore the realization that her granddaughters were growing up, that they’d both leave for college someday and she’d be alone, exactly as Mercedes had said.

  She should rejoice, be happy to have the house back to herself, to order her life around her needs not the schedules of teenagers. But she knew the quiet of the empty house would be oppressive with only the meows of Carlos the Cat to break the silence. She’d miss the clattering of the girls’ feet up and down the steps and the slamming of the front door, those things she always nagged them about.

  “Coffee,” shouted Farley.

  She glanced at him. Not even when the girls were gone and she was lonely would she have the least interest in the man.

  * * *

  As Adam listened to the music coming from the AME Church on the street behind the parsonage, he heard Hector come out the back door. Easy to recognize Hector’s arrival because doors slammed behind him and he took huge strides that thumped across the dry yard. On the basketball court, he moved like a ballerina—not that Adam would ever tell him that—but he clumped along like a buffalo in real life.

  “Hey, Pops.” He sat next to Adam. “I’d…” Hector glanced at Adam, uncertain. “Pops, that’s the church music I grew up with, when I was a kid, when our mother took us to church. I miss it.” He shook his head. “I like your church, but it isn’t my church, not yet.”

  For a moment, Adam felt incredibly guilty. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have forced you to attend the Christian Church.”

  “Hey, no, Pops. I like being there. I like the people and I owe them a lot, but…but I’d like to go there”—he gestured to the source of the music—“now and then.”

  “Want to go tonight?” Adam glanced at his watch. “The service started a couple of minutes ago. We could run over there.”

  “You’d
come, too?”

  “Why not? I’ll enjoy it. Get Janey.”

  Within five minutes, they’d hurried across the backyard of the parsonage, through the gate, and crossed the street to stand at the door of the AME Church.

  “Welcome.” After a start at seeing Adam, a smile creased the face of the greeter. “Find yourself a place to sit.” He gestured to a nearly filled sanctuary.

  After they found a pew all three of them could squeeze onto, Adam stood with the congregation and listened. Hard to believe, but the music was better inside the building.

  He marveled at the skill of the pianist who seemed to use every key, added notes and trills and beats that he’d never heard, and still pounded out the melody. Adam couldn’t help but clap with the congregation and move with the rhythm.

  For a few minutes, he drank it in, then turned to look at the kids. Hector swayed with the beat and Janey listened intently, her body moving side to side.

  When the pianist started “Oh, Happy Day,” Adam joined in. Not that he could sing well, but he knew the words and could feel the spirit moving through him. It took him a few seconds to realize the congregation split into parts, one side singing the line and the other echoing it. “Oh, happy day,” his side sang. The other section sang, “Oh, happy day…”

  He understood why Hector needed this, why he thought the service at the Christian Church was boring. Joy, this service was filled with joy.

  When the pianist segued into “There Is a Balm in Gilead,” Adam heard a lovely, pure voice coming from beside him. Everyone looked around but Adam looked down. Janey, her eyes closed and head lifted, allowed music to flow from her. The notes filled and swirled around the church. She sang for nearly a minute before she noticed the others had stopped. At the realization, Janey opened her eyes, closed her mouth, and dropped onto the pew, her head down. Immediately the other worshippers picked up the tune and sang on. Hector and Adam sat down, one on each side of her and each took one of her hands. He felt he’d witnessed a miracle.

  As the congregation sat at the end of that hymn, the minister asked, “Do we have any visitors with us tonight?”

  Adam looked around. The only white person in the sanctuary, he stuck out like a daisy in a bed of pansies. Certainly it was obvious he was a visitor, and so was the little girl with the golden voice. But the minister waited politely, his eyes moving across the congregation until falling—as if surprised—on Adam.