by Lynne Gentry
At his father’s door, David shone his phone light on the lock. He turned the key, took another deep breath, and stepped inside.
The scent of books, paper, and his father’s cheap aftershave rushed him hard. He flipped on the light. Florescent tubes buzzed and flickered into a blinding glare. Everything was exactly as it had been the day the funeral director brought the Harper family to wait in this room before the funeral service. The private sanctuary hadn’t seemed so quiet with Aunt Roxie, Momma, and his sister in the room.
Over Momma’s protests, Maxine Davis had furnished the pastor’s office with the olive green velvet couch and matching loveseat she’d discarded after a remodel to her husband’s Cadillac dealership. That was fifteen years ago. To prove she wasn’t completely heartless, Maxine had thrown Momma a bone and let her refinish the bookcases left over from a church garage sale. The shelves sagged with the books and commentaries his father had collected.
David dragged his finger over the book spines as he went to his father’s desk. He set his computer bag beside an ancient computer keyboard. This finger-smudged machine was so slow and his father’s research books so old, he’d have to use his iPad to score anything current.
A light tap on the door frame startled him. “Nellie?”
Cornelia Davis smiled and flipped her auburn hair over her shoulder. “A guy could get used to pastor’s hours, right?”
Shirley barreled past Nellie. “I told her to make an appointment.” The secretary planted her stocky body between him and the elder’s daughter. “Reverend Harper hasn’t even had time to take his coat off, Nellie.”
“It’s Cornelia, and I didn’t know David had been ordained.” Nellie took the woman by the shoulder. “The new Reverend’s personal life is personal.” Nellie moved Shirley aside and marched straight at David. “You did say we needed to catch up, didn’t you, David?”
He backed into the desk. “I think that’s what you said.”
Nellie threaded her arm through his and tugged him up against her leopard coat. “Let’s get a cup of coffee. I’ll buy.”
Visions of a dark baptistry room flashed in his mind. David extricated his arm. “Shirley’s right.” He hurried around the desk. “I’ve got a lot to do, and I’m not sure where to even start.”
Nellie unbuttoned her coat. “That’s why I’m here.” She let the coat fall seductively from her shoulders to reveal a very tight and flattering low-cut, cream sweater. “You need my help.”
Shirley tugged Nellie’s coat back up her arm. “I’m here if the Reverend needs help.”
David pulled out his father’s desk chair. “I’ve got this, Shirley.”
Shirley peered over her glasses. “I’m leaving the door open.” She stopped and tugged Nellie’s coat over her shoulder one more time before she stomped from the room.
“Put hiring a new secretary on the top of your must-be-done-right-away list.” Nellie issued her advice loud enough to make her point for anyone lurking in the hall.
“You didn’t get all dolled up just to torment Shirley.”
“Glad you noticed.” Nellie smiled and let her coat drop to the floor. “I got dolled up to show you how serious I am about helping you get what you want.”
“And what is that?”
“Board approval.”
“I haven’t even had time to set up a meeting with them yet.”
“Christmas is only a few weeks away.” She placed her hands on the desk and leaned forward. The view was equally impressive and discomforting. “You probably haven’t started on the Christmas Eve program either.”
“It’s just barely December.” Suddenly very warm, David shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over his father’s chair. “Momma’s planned the Christmas program for years.” He pulled out the chair and sat down. “She’s probably already started.”
“I’ve asked around and she’s only asked Ivan to play Joseph.”
“I’ll make a note to see where she’s at on the planning.”
“Let’s talk about your mother’s well-being, David.” Nellie rolled his name off her tongue like it was a decedent dessert. “Do you really think she’s up to it?”
Good question. “The more things can stay the same, the better. Besides, I think she’ll welcome the distraction.”
“The Board will be disappointed if Leona just throws something together.”
“Momma never just throws something together. But if that’s what she has to do this year, the Board will have to get over it.”
“Don’t be so sure. The Episcopalians are planning a full-fledged candlelight service, complete with wise men and live camels.” Her eyes had taken on the cat-like twinkle that always preceded her claws. “Why don’t you let me make you and your mother look good?” Nellie’s painted nails clicked across the desk as she finger-walked her hand toward him.
Pressing himself deep into his father’s chair, David said, “I don’t know exactly what you’re offering.”
“You know I’ve done theater.”
“In high school.”
She shrugged off his sarcasm and sat down. “Who better to put together a little show?”
“Look, Nellie, I appreciate the offer but I can’t impose on your time. Everyone will understand if we limp by this year. Momma can have Wilma play some Christmas carols, I’ll read the Christmas story, and maybe Parker can ask Amy Maxwell to sing Silent Night. Shirley tells me she has a great voice...or used to. I think it would encourage her to find it again.”
Nellie bristled. “Amy?”
“Bette Bob’s niece.”
“I know who Amy is, David. She used to go to camp with us.”
“Are we talking about the same Amy Maxwell?”
Nellie let out a pleased little laugh. “You don’t remember the shy, sickly little girl who always had her nose in a medical book?”
“That was Amy?”
“That was me.”
David looked up to see Amy standing in the door. Her blonde hair was pulled into a messy bun on the top of her head and her scrubs were wrinkled and stained from a night of work.
“Amy?” In the process of hurriedly pushing his chair back, David nearly flipped over. Arms flailing, he managed to grab the desk and right himself. “We were just talking about you.”
“Shirley told me your door was open. She didn’t tell me you already had a visitor.” Amy tugged at her hospital lanyard. “I should have made an appointment.”
“Wait.” David motioned for her to come in. “Nellie was telling me that you used to go to camp with us.”
Amy shrugged like she didn’t know why he was bringing up old news. “Yeah.”
He came around the desk. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.”
“We weren’t exactly friends back then. You were three years older and ten times cooler.”
“The preacher’s son has always been a hunk,”—Nellie stood and threaded her arm through his again— “hasn’t he?” She raised her hand to her mouth and coughed.
Amy looked from him to Nellie, to the coat on the floor, and back to him. “We can talk later.”
“Wait, Amy.” David shrugged free of Nellie. “I do remember you. You were the girl who iced my ankle that summer I slid into home base and collided with the catcher.” He liked making her eyes sparkle. The permafrost between him and details frozen in time began to melt. “I was so afraid the camp counselors were going to call my parents to come get me, but you had me back in the game in no time.”
“It was just a twist.”
“And I’m an ingrate.”
Nellie butted in. “I brought you a cold drink, David.” She coughed again. “Don’t you remember?”
The memory of Nellie’s hand climbing from his knee to his thigh as he tried to get back out on the playing field sprang from the grave, dragging forth a string of buried memories from that day. Amy had seen the terror in his eyes and cleared her throat, reminding Nellie she was being watched. Nellie had stormed out of the nurse’s s
tation in a huff. No telling what Nellie might have tried if the smart girl with glasses hadn’t come to his rescue.
“It was a long time ago,” David stuttered.
“Nellie, have you checked on that cough?” Amy asked.
“I’m fine,” she said, clearing her throat.
“You sound a little hoarse.”
“It’s just allergies,” Nellie insisted.
“Okay.” Amy looked at David. “I better go.”
“Wait.” Once again he found himself chasing after her. This time, he wouldn’t let her to get away without making amends. “You’ve done so much for me, is there something I can do for you?”
“It can wait.”
“Nellie was just leaving, weren’t you, Nellie?”
Amy cleared her throat in that careful little warning way he remembered from camp. David didn’t know if she’d done it on accident or if she, too, remembered the power of that gesture to save him.
One brow lifted over Nellie’s calculating stare. “I do have to get on our little project.” She picked up her coat and slowly slid her arms through the sleeves. “David’s asked me to put together the Christmas show this year. Give his mother a break.”
“Momma may not want a—”
“Don’t you fret, Handsome. I’ve got the Harpers’ best interest at heart.” She flipped her hair out from under her collar. “We’ll get that cup of coffee later and I’ll give you the rundown on my plans.” She kissed David’s cheek then shot Amy a triumphant smile. “Good to see you again, Amy.”
Before David could make it clear to Nellie that he was never having coffee with her, she was out the door. He was so relieved to see her go he wasn’t about to chase after her. He might not have a choice when it came to letting Nellie take over planning the Christmas Eve service, but he could ask Amy to sing himself.
“Come in.” He led Amy to the chair still steaming from where Nellie had parked her hot body.
Amy remained standing. “Aunt Bette Bob told me your mother always directed the Christmas Eve program.”
“She has for eighteen years.”
“Does she know Nellie is taking over?”
He shook his head. “You want to tell her?”
“Thanks, but no.”
“It’s hard to know how much to keep the same and how much to let change take its natural course.”
“Your mother’s suffered a shock, but from what my aunt tells me, she’s one tough gal.”
He chuckled at the way she’d nailed his mother. “Look, I know it seems like we’re always apologizing but I can’t let it go that I owe you one. A big one.”
“You don’t owe me an apology.”
“I do.”
“David, your twisted ankle happened years ago.”
“I’m not talking about icing my ankle. I’m not even talking about not recognizing you, although you have changed.”
She smiled. “For the better I hope?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Thanks.”
“No...I mean...I watched you wrap my ankle and I thought you were very pretty then and I think you’re even more beautiful now. I’m sorry I was a jerk.”
Amy’s cheeks flushed. “Because you ignored me at camp?”
“Then, and since then.” He pulled the chair up to the desk and indicated she should sit. “I ... well ... people, in their efforts to offer comfort to my family, have offered all sorts of idiotic platitudes.”
Understanding shaped her lips into a perfect O. “And so when I said I know how you feel, you thought I was adding to the useless pile.”
Her gentle validation was as soothing as ice on a sprain. “Yeah.” He sat on the edge of his father’s desk. “Shirley told me about your parents. I’m so sorry.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Losing Dad was bad. I don’t know what I’d do if I’d lost Momma too.”
“You’d go on,” she said softly. “Maybe not as gallantly as you’re trying to go on now, but you’d manage.”
Drawn by the incredibly tempting compassion filling her eyes, he leaned forward. “I’d like to hear your story, I mean if you can talk about it.”
She sat back, rather surprised. “You’ll find out very few people really want to hear about your grief, so your offer is very appealing.” She shifted forward, in body and intensity. “But I’m on a short break and the favor I need is more important.”
He didn’t know why he thought she’d spill her guts to a guy who didn’t even remember that she’d once wrapped his ankle. “Sure.” He’d racked up quite a bit of debt with this woman and he was anxious to pay some of it off. “Name it.”
“I’m not good at asking for help, but I’ve been thinking...”
He recognized the old drop-a-line-and-wait bait she’d tossed out. Instead of biting, he asked, “Is thinking something new for you?”
If she appreciated his weak attempt at humor, she didn’t allow it to show on her face. “Angus needs more than I can do.”
“Doctors having trouble regulating his sugar?”
She shook her head. “His needs are more complicated than managing his diabetes.”
“Not sure I’m following.”
“Angus needs a chance to get back on his feet. He deserves a second chance at life and ... I was thinking who better to help him go for it than ... the church?”
“You want the church to do what exactly?”
“Rehab him.”
“Rehab him?”
“Help him get off the streets and become a productive citizen.”
David fell back in his chair. “Are you asking the church to do this, or are you asking me?”
“Well ... aren’t they the same?”
“Technically, all of us are the church.”
“I know, but you’re our leader.” Her eyes measured him, not with the same unfriendly appraising sense he’d felt when he’d cornered her in the church sanctuary, but measured, nonetheless.
And, as then, he couldn’t explain why he didn’t want to seem lacking in her sight. “Look, I’m not even officially the interim pastor yet. Besides, I thought we’d established I’m pretty much winging it.”
“You’re all we’ve got.” A plea laced her words.
He redirected his gaze to his computer bag and gave letting her down easy his best shot. “I suspect Angus needs family counseling at the very least. This church doesn’t have the staff for that.”
“The county offers counseling.” This woman had an answer for everything. “What this kid needs is a place to stay, one hot meal a day, a job, and a bit of hope.”
“Kid?”
She nodded. “He’s only sixteen. No parents. He’s officially been on his own for six months, but I suspect he was taking care of himself long before his mother died.” She leaned in. Her hospital badge scraped across his father’s desk. “Angus Freestone needs Jesus.”
He drummed his fingers on the desk. Amy had cared for his ankle with the same passion she now infused in this preposterous proposal. To say he wasn’t moved once again by her selflessness would be lying. “There might be enough money in the benevolence fund to cover a few nights at the Double D and a couple of blue plate specials at Ruthie’s.”
She shook her head. “He needs more than a motel room and a hamburger.” She reached across the desk and stayed his hand. “He needs role models. People who care about him.” Her touch was a fire that spread up his arm and flushed his cheeks. “I know how important it was for me when Aunt Bette Bob took me under her wing.”
David slowly released a trapped sigh. “Maddie will be out of town until Christmas Eve doing residency interviews. I guess Angus could stay in her room.”
“No, I wasn’t asking your family to take him,” Amy argued. “Your mother’s got enough to deal with since your grandmother got kicked out of rehab. Poor Leona hasn’t had one quiet minute to process her grief. I’m not asking her to take on another houseguest, especially one we don’t know much about.”
“A couple
of weeks ago, Momma could have taken the guy in with one hand tied behind her back, and she would have, but now—”
“Mt. Hope is full of good people, David.”
The way she said his name, he could almost believe she thought he was one of them. “I guess the least I can do as interim pastor is help you find someone.”
She smiled, her first true smile since he’d met her. A smile that lit her eyes with an angelic glow. A smile that made him wish he could give her the moon.
CHAPTER SIX
David paced the slick sidewalk in front of Dewey Hardware. He blew into his cupped hands while watching for Momma’s van. He’d practiced all sorts of different arguments for the decision he’d made on his walk from the church and none of them would hold up in Momma’s courtroom.
“Hey, David.” Ruthie waved to him from the partially open door of the Koffee Kup café next door. “How about a cup of coffee while you wait?”
“Thanks, but Momma should be here any minute.”
Ruthie stepped outside, rubbing her hands over her crossed arms. “Saul’s in here polishing off a burger. He won’t be in the mood to tackle your father’s estate until he finishes his second cup of coffee.”
Obviously attorney-client privilege didn’t count for much in Mt. Hope. Saul had probably passed his father’s will around the diner and everyone had already formed their laments for the destitute widow.
He’d love to give this small-town lawyer a piece of his mind, but it might be wiser to pump the guy for info. That way he could have a mental list of options prepared for his devastated mother. “Can you fry me a burger too, Ruthie?”
Her grin exposed the gap between her front teeth. “One double cheese, everything but onions coming up.”
David sent his mother a quick text asking her to meet him at the diner before their meeting with Saul.
Smells of fried meat, coffee, and pancake syrup stirred forgotten memories of the Saturday fishing trips David used to take with his dad. Long before the sun rose, he and his dad would climb into the van which they’d stocked the night before with fishing poles and a cooler of iced soft drinks. On their way to their favorite pond, they’d stop by the Koffee Kup for what his father called fortification for the fun ahead. Hamburgers for breakfast had been their little secret...something they’d never told Momma. What else had his father kept from Momma?
