Faux Pas (A Road's End Mishap Book 2)

by Deborah Dee Harper

  I shook my head to clear it of my dangerous fantasy and turned to Mack. “Will do, big guy, but give me a hint of what you’re talking about here. A threat against the president?”

  Mack grimaced and shook his head. “Not sure yet. Could be. That’s the problem. I just don’t know.” He slapped me on the back and nearly threw me to the ground. “I’ll be in touch.”

  I remembered why I wanted to see him. “Mack, just so you know, my ...”

  He put one hand to his earpiece and held the other up to quiet me. “Roger that, Eagle Two. On my way.”

  “Gotta go, Hugh. One of my agents reports some trouble along the road into town.”

  I felt the first stirrings of dread. “What kind of trouble?”

  “Nothing we can’t handle, Hugh. Don’t worry about it. Probably just someone out for a drive.”

  The stirrings turned to thrashing. “But, I need to tell ...”

  “Seriously, Hugh. Nothing to worry about. Just an old man and woman. Got a little feisty when my men refused them entrance to town. Not to worry, though. They’ve got ’em cuffed, and they’re cooling their heels in the back of one of our vehicles.”

  Please, please, Lord, don’t let this be happening. “Mack, listen to me. Ask them their names.”

  Mack sighed but fingered his mouthpiece and talked into it for a few seconds. He eyes grew large, and he gave me a sideways glance.

  My mother is never going to let me forget this.

  Chapter 31

  Knowing we had a potential problem adding to the guaranteed problems the day would no doubt bring took any air of good will out of my sails for a while. What air I did have left was expelled apologizing all over the place to my parents. After a few minutes of good-natured ribbing, though, they forgave me and made their way indoors to say hello to the bride and groom. I forgot to mention their newly acquired great-grandson, but figured what the heck. They’d already been arrested by federal agents and it wasn’t even 7:00 a.m. What’s one more little surprise?

  I made my way over to the church. I’ve made this walk many times, but for some reason, that morning’s trek was prettier than usual. Although I wasn’t a name-that-flower kind of guy, I appreciated the colors and fragrances of God’s greenery, and Virginia in full bloom left little more to be desired. All around me flowering trees stood against the blue sky, and flowers—Mel told me they’re daffodils and tulips—bloomed here and there, bobbed in formal flowerbeds and danced in the tall grass and wildflowers scattered around the vicinity. Squirrels, who were probably responsible for the relocation of the colorful blooms, chittered above me and chased one another from branch to branch in the oak trees that bordered Rivermanse Lane. Birds chirped, and a slight breeze ruffled the blooms on the dogwood trees in the churchyard. I felt like I was in a Disney movie. I half-expected to see Bambi wander across the yard, look up at me with those big brown eyes, then gracefully bound away to play with a skunk.

  Instead, up walked Grumpy. Dragging Happy. Followed closely by Sneezy. Three dwarves of my very own. Thanks, Walt.

  I faked a grin as genuine as I could muster considering Sadie was yanking at my sleeve and yapping ... excuse me, talking as loudly as she could. “Pastor Foster! Wait up. Wait up, I said. You forgot the boy.”

  “Hello, Sadie. Tanner, my man, how are you? And Ruby Mae, I must say you’re looking particularly ... uh, blossom-y this morning. So covered in flowers and all.”

  Sadie scowled. Tanner jumped up and down and yanked on her arm like it was a pump handle, and Ruby Mae sneezed, causing her hat to tremble as though a great wind had blown through town, choosing to disturb only her flowered-bedecked head.

  “Excuse me, Pastor,” Ruby Mae said between sniffs, “but my allergies are actin’ up somethin’ fierce today. Has to be my delicate temperament, you know. Particularly delicate women such as myself often suffer seasonal maladies.”

  “Oh, shut up, Ruby Mae,” Sadie said with all the charm she could muster. “Your nose is running. Plain and simple. Has nothing to do with whether or not you’re delicate, which, by the way ...”

  Oh no. Not here, not now, Sadie. “Uh, excuse me, Sadie, but did you say something about my forgetting Tanner? Was I supposed to do something with him this morning?”

  “Didn’t you get the message?”

  “What message?”

  “That stupid man. I’ll get him for this.”

  I wanted to ask her which stupid man she was referring to but decided I didn’t have the time for her to go over the list. “Well, no harm done. Whatcha need?”

  Sadie held Tanner’s arm out toward me and said, “We’ve volunteered to take turns babysitting Tanner during the day so Mandy and Jonathan can get on with whatever it is they need to get on with ... seein’ they’re gettin’ married tonight ’n all. Now it’s yer turn.”

  Ruby Mae was winding up for a sneeze, so I waited until that explosion abated, then said, “I’d be glad to watch Tanner. Thanks for thinking of me.” I took his hand and leaned down. “I’m on my way to the church to help Grace with the decorations. Wanna help?”

  He beamed up at me; I noticed a tiny smear of chocolate and what might have been lemon filling on the tip of his nose. “You bet, Gwampa.”

  I snapped my fingers. “And hey, I think, our church cat might be hanging around today, too. I know she’d love to play with you. Would that be okay?”

  Tanner’s eyes grew wide as he stared at me in absolute wonder. “She would? She weally would?” He grabbed my hand with both of his and squeezed. “Yep, yep, yep, yep, yep!” For a little guy, he has quite a grip.

  “Her name is Pewter.” I ruffled his hair and turned to Sadie and Ruby Mae. “Thanks again for bringing him, ladies. I’ll take good care of him.”

  Grumpy and Sneezy walked off in the direction of the inn, and I could hear Sadie expounding on Ruby Mae’s runny nose all the way to the back door. I resumed my walk to the church, little Tanner in tow. “Are you getting excited, Tanner?”

  He nodded. He was also skipping, swinging my arm, leaning down to pick dandelions, and singing at the top of his lungs, so I’m surprised he had the energy to be excited, but he told me in no uncertain terms that he was. “We’re gonna be a fambly, Gwampa. Me and Daddy and Momma Mandy.”

  Momma Mandy. My throat tightened up on me. On no, you don’t, Hugh. No getting teary eyed. I couldn’t believe my little girl was out of kindergarten, let alone being married and called Momma all in one day.

  I grinned down at him. “That you are, Tanner. That you are. And you have so many people besides your dad and Mandy who love you. There’s me and Grandma, your Grandpa and Grandma Austin, your uncle Stuart ...”

  “You mean Uncle Pwesident?”

  I laughed. “Well, yes, Tanner, he’s the president, but I’ll bet he’ll want you to call him something besides Uncle President. Let’s ask him when you see him next, okay?”

  Tanner nodded then stopped dead in his tracks. I nearly tore his little arm out of its socket before I got myself stopped. “What’s up, little guy?”

  “Nothing. Just thinking.” He looked so somber all of a sudden. He looked up and said, “I’m not supposed to call him Gwampa Austin.”

  “Really? Oh. Well, that’s okay. Some people prefer other names. What do you call him? Papa? Gramps? Grandfather?”

  “Sir.”

  I wasn’t sure I heard that correctly. “Did you say you call Grandpa Austin ‘sir’?”

  Tanner nodded. “Yep. He toad me either ‘sir’ or ‘senator.’” He pronounced it sentatow. “But never, ever Gwampa.”

  I said nothing for a moment. “Well, I guess that’s okay. He is a senator, after all.” What could I say? Your other grandfather is a blowhard, egotistical, thorn in the side to everyone who knows him—especially Uncle Pwesident? Just didn’t seem right. Especially standing on the church steps.

  Tanner nodded then plopped down on the top step, propped his arms on his knees, and put his little chin in his hands. “I don’t think he yik
es me, Gwampa.”

  I sat next to him and put my arm around his tiny little shoulders. “Why would you say that, Tanner?”

  “He calls me names when no one else is around.”

  “Names? What kind of names?”

  “Bwat. He calls me that a lot. ’Specially when he’s on the phone. And yittle orphan Tannie. And no-sense. He always says I’m nothing but a big no-sense.” No-sense? Nuisance?

  “Well, maybe he’s trying to be funny. Sometimes grownups say things they mean to be funny, but they don’t sound that way to kids. He likes you. I’m sure of it. Why wouldn’t he? You’re a wonderful, kind, sweet, well-behaved little boy. Not to mention handsome.”

  He looked up at me and grinned—chocolate, lemon, and all. He nodded. “I am, aren’t I, Gwampa? Momma Mandy says I’m the handsomest boy in the world.” Wo-wold. “And that she can’t wait to be my here-and-now momma.”

  “Your here-and-now momma, huh? Sounds good to me, little man.”

  He looked serious again as he scanned the gravel parking lot and the church grounds. “My other momma is my heaven momma ’cause she died when I was just a yittle baby. Momma Mandy says she’s lookin’ down at me and smiling ’cause I’m so special. You think so?” He peered upward at the canopy of blue above us as if he might catch a glimpse of her watching him.

  I hugged him close to me and breathed in the smell of baby shampoo. Suddenly, I was holding one of my three boys again, feeling their sturdy, but oh so tiny shoulders, and sniffing a combination of clean hair, peanut butter, and probably Kool-Aid. “I sure do, Tanner. I sure do.”

  Tanner stood and reached down to help me up. “If Sir doesn’t yike me, will you still yike me?”

  I wanted to bawl. I reached for him and pulled him into a big hug. “Tanner,” I said, “How about if I love you—forever? Would that be okay with you?”

  His smile would have lit up the inside of Senator Austin’s black, nasty heart. If he’d had one, that is.

  While I wouldn't say anything before the wedding, I knew I’d have to approach Jonathan with what Tanner had told me. I hadn’t yet met the man in person, but from what I’d read and heard about him, what Tanner told me sounded true to form. Senator Gilbert Austin might be a big man in Washington, D.C., but he was just another man outside the halls of Congress. And when it came to Tanner, he’d better tread lightly. Mel and I hadn’t known the little boy for four hours before we’d both fallen hopelessly in love with him.

  What was unfortunate about having to spill the beans was that even though Gilbert Austin apparently didn’t care for Tanner, his grandmother, Irene, adored him. Up to this point, I’d never given their being a couple much thought, but from all I’d heard, without having met Gilbert in person, I still couldn’t help but wonder what on earth she saw in him. He was of medium height, in good shape for a man his, and my, age, and balding, but I can’t say much on that issue either. If not for the perpetual scowl on his face, he’d have been a relatively handsome man. But it was his haughty carriage that said Extremely important man coming through. Peons, make way, and don’t expect an excuse me.

  On the other hand, Irene was the epitome of grace and good humor. She resembled her brother, STR, but if we hadn’t known of her relationship to the president, her demeanor or remarks certainly wouldn’t have indicated she thought anything special of herself. She and Mel hit it off immediately, and I know Mel was relieved to know Mandy’s mother-in-law was a loving, Christian woman. I would have loved to talk with her about so many things—in particular, her egotistical husband and what my chances were of bringing her brother back to the Lord—but time was critical. Even if I’d had a moment to spare, I knew neither topic was any of my business anyway.

  But Tanner was. That part of my concern would be addressed.

  Grace immediately assumed control of Tanner, wiped off his face … “Honestly, Colonel Pastor, are you blind?” … and took him into the sanctuary where she and Hazel Parry were decorating for the wedding. I left him in good hands, licking a sucker and holding a basket of ribbons that Pewter was doing her best to shred. Nothing like a little sugar and a rambunctious cat in the morning to make a kid happy. Given the two sweet rolls he’d already eaten and smeared all over himself, make that a lot of sugar.

  I grabbed a cup of coffee and wandered into my office to work on my notes for the ceremony and my sermon the following morning. I sat in the leather chair my parents gave to me years ago, and leaned back. I looked around at the shelves of books that stretched to the ceiling and watched the dust motes dancing in the sunbeams streaming through the wavy-glassed windows.

  I turned sideways to look out the window behind me and glanced over at the cemetery. Roscoe Livingston’s headstone was still on its back, staring at the sky overhead. So far, nothing we tried had kept it upright for more than a day, and since there was no extra money for maintenance work around the church, it was likely to stay that way for a while. Blades of grass and errant flowers bloomed around the graves, though, giving the cemetery a cheerful look despite its mournful reason for existence. Enjoy the view, Roscoe.

  Luckily, there was no need to move any of the caskets during the renovation of the church basement. Besides the usual reasons for not disturbing the resting places of the dead, many of the parishioners were fearful of upsetting Roscoe. As Grace continually reminds me, “He was a mean one.” I’ve tried telling them Roscoe doesn’t give a hoot what happens to his grave and that our mindfulness of his resting place is strictly out of Christian love and respect and not rooted in some silly fear of retribution by a replanted dead guy. I might as well have been talking to his headstone.

  I was ten minutes into my Sunday sermon, when Mack walked in the door, shutting it behind him as though he were chased by demons.

  “Hey, Mack,” I said. “What’s up? Someone after you?”

  He grinned. “Naw. Just didn’t want to attract any attention. That secretary of yours is here, right?”

  “No time for a tussle this morning, huh? Are you actually afraid of a little woman like Grace?”

  “Aren’t you?” he said.

  He had me there. “Good point. What brings you over here?”

  “More intel.”

  “More? Intel?” Good one, Hugh. Clearly, I was made for this spy game.

  “I don’t want to worry you, Hugh, but we have a situation.”

  You’re just now noticing this? I curbed my tongue and instead said, “Welcome to my world, Mack. Just one big situation after another. What’s up?”

  He stepped back to lean against the wall. “Well, first of all, there’s the weather.”

  I looked skyward through my window—blue as far as the eye could see. You have to be paranoid to find trouble in sunny skies. “I don’t get it, Mack. I know the gloom and doom that Titus Shadler’s been broadcasting, but take my word for it, unless you want George and Dewey making another volcano, you’d be better off just ignoring him.”

  He gave me that I don’t get it look, and I waved my hand at him. “Never mind. What’s your concern?”

  “Well, I’ve got it on better authority than Titan ...”

  “Titus.”

  “Okay, Titus Shadrach ...”

  “Shadler.”

  He sighed. “I don’t give a rip what his name is. I’ve got the National Weather Service telling me we’ve got a doozy of a storm brewing, and it’s going to hit some time in the middle of the night.”

  “Tonight?”

  He nodded. “Yep, sometime after midnight, so the wedding won’t be affected.” He held up his finger. “But ...”

  There’s always a but.

  “But ... that ties in with the other intel I have.”

  “More?”

  “I just told you I had more intel. Remember?”

  Oh yeah. “Okay, shoot.”

  He grinned slightly, probably remembering the last time I used that word and ended up flat on my face on my desk. “I can’t go into detail, but I need you to make sure you’v
e got adequate shelter for your guests.”

  “We have a basement. Not a very pretty one, but it’ll give us shelter. Just how bad is this storm supposed to be, anyway?”

  “Big. They’re not sure yet just where it’ll be its worst, but I have to assume it’s going to be right here ...” He pointed to the floor “... and make good and sure we’re prepared.”

  “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

  “Good. Maybe this other thing will just blow over, but one thing we know for sure is we’re going to get blasted tonight with storms, so if I have one less thing to worry about, I’ll be a happy man.”

  Ross MacElroy a happy man. That’s what everybody wants. At least that’s what I want. “You’re not going to tell me anything else, are you?”

  He shook his head and grimaced. “Nope. Might be there’s nothing to tell. We’ve been in this situation before and it’s amounted to nothing. Don’t worry. Your family and guests are all safe. Besides, I’m not worried about them.”

  Well, thank you very much, Mr. Secret Agent Guy. I had a wedding in twelve hours, a storm on its way—why is it always storming in Road’s End—the President of the United States across the street, and a town full of senior citizens who want to either carve him up like a turkey, kneel at his feet, or present him with an amendment to the Constitution. But, oh no, let’s not worry about my family and friends.

  Or me, for that matter.

  A little while later Tanner and I headed back to the inn. On the way, we stopped by the dairy to check that the door was shut. Secretly, I wanted to show off my collection of antiques to someone who would appreciate them for what they were: an impressive array of rusty, dirt-encrusted tools with which to do mighty man things. And let’s not forget the antique plow I’d set in the corner. Tanner had been mighty impressed at its sheer … rustiness. I let him touch the plow while I explained its purpose and let him handle some of the tools. His face lit up with a huge grin when I handed him a hatchet.