The Runaway Pastor's Wife

by Diane Moody

  Gus patted his pocket. “You got cell phone chargers?”

  “We carry a few. Let’s go see if we’ve got what you need.” Mary Jean headed for the next aisle.

  Gus followed her, pleased when they located the exact brand his phone required. He smiled warmly at her. “Well, that’s just great. Thank you, ma’am. I truly appreciate it.”

  “No problem. Anything else?” Mary Jean made her way toward the register.

  “Actually, I was just wondering . . . ”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, my buddy and I are trying to find a friend of ours. He was headed up into this area just a few days ago. So I was wondering if maybe you might have seen him. Tall, muscular, brown hair, real handsome like?”

  “Hmmm, not so as I remember, but let me ask my other half. Bob? Honey, have you seen anybody new around here lately? A tall muscular guy with brown hair?”

  “Nope. No one by that description, anyhow. But we’ll keep our eyes open. If we hear anything, we’ll get word over to you boys at the Inn. That okay?”

  “That works just fine. Come on, Marcus, let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 32

  Seminole, Florida

  “Are you sure you’re up to this?” Sally handed him the order of worship for the Wednesday evening service.

  “Probably not, but it’s what I’ve got to do.” David pulled his sweater over his denim shirt, then attached the wireless microphone to his collar.

  “By the way,” she added, “I never got through to Chet. I left several messages at his home and also at the school office, but so far no response.”

  “Gee, why am I not surprised?” He stiffened, standing a little too tall as a smirk skirted his face. “He’s scared of me, no doubt. Probably shaking in his boots somewhere as we speak. Keep trying.” He winked then headed for the sanctuary.

  Throwing open the side door to the auditorium, he bounced up the steps to the platform. Instantly, a hush fell over the sanctuary. His face warmed as he headed for his chair.

  The keyboard player began quietly playing. Then slowly, applause broke out, spreading through the crowd until it drowned out the music.

  David looked up, surprised to see his congregation on their feet, looking straight at him with smiles on their faces. A lump caught in his throat.

  He held up his hand, acknowledging their spontaneous gesture of love. The applause grew louder until it thundered against the rafters.

  Finally, he got up and approached the pulpit. He raised both his hands to quiet them. The roar subsided. He attempted to regain his composure as he looked around the auditorium. All around him, faces beamed with affection.

  “You are . . . the best.” His voice cracked but he didn’t care. Clearing his throat, he started again. “If ever a man felt the love of God through human expression . . . I can’t tell you how much I needed that.”

  He smiled at them through misty eyes. A familiar voice chimed from the front row. “We love you, Pastor.”

  “Thank you, Belinda—everyone.” He paused a moment to gather his thoughts. “These last few days have been a nightmare for us, as you know. I’ve known disappointment and heartache before, but this has been—” He paused, swallowed. “So hard.” He took a deep breath, determined to continue.

  “But even when I’ve been weak, God has been there for me. Of course, that’s something I preach to you all the time. He promises to always be there for us. Always. Even when I lost my patience or lost my temper and—”

  “That’s enough, Pastor McGregor,” a voice boomed from the back of the auditorium.

  David searched the crowd. Murmurs waved through the congregation. On the far right-hand side, last pew, he spotted him.

  Chet Harrison stood up, straightening his coat jacket, adjusting his tie as if he had all the time in the world. He began to make his way down the aisle taking a deliberate, slow stride.

  “I have something that needs to be said right here and right now.” He stepped up onto the platform, approaching the pulpit without making eye contact.

  David shrugged. “Chet, I don’t think this is the time to—”

  “It has come to my attention that the church family is not fully aware of all the facts in this unfortunate crisis in your family.”

  His hand covering the microphone on his collar, David quietly pleaded with him. “Chet, please. Can’t we—”

  Chet jerked his arm loose from David’s touch and reached for the pulpit microphone.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, as a long-time devoted member of this church family, I am compelled to speak to you.”

  “Sit down, Chet! You’re out of order!” a voice yelled from the middle of the room.

  He held up his hands, cocking his head to the side. “On the contrary. There are times when situations may circumvent the usual way of doing things, and this is one of those times.”

  David stepped aside, folding his arms across his chest. Go ahead. Get it out of your system. Have your five minutes of fame.

  “No one is more sympathetic than I about the difficult week that has occurred in this man’s family. All of us grieve for what must surely be a heart-wrenching experience for Pastor McGregor, his children, his mother—”

  David looked across at the pew where his mother always sat. Their eyes met and he felt her prayers.

  “And while we may not fully understand why his wife has suddenly disappeared—”

  “Chet, I’m begging you,” David tried one more time.

  “—I am quite uncomfortable with some of the facts coming out of this situation. While I would not think to discuss these matters here in the house of our gracious Lord, I am nevertheless obliged to inform the church family of my opinion—and that of several others among us—that our Pastor is not fit to serve at this time and should be relieved of his position of leadership.”

  Boos and shouts erupted across the room, rolling through the crowd like a tsunami. A number of deacons stood, but they were too late. Chet nodded his head ever so slightly. His ready followers quickly filed across the front of the sanctuary. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they formed a human chain between the platform and the congregation.

  A hush swept over the crowd. Several of the elderly ladies up front whispered among themselves. In the aisles now, the deacons slowed their pace as they watched the scene unfold.

  Chet tapped the microphone forcing the room back into silence. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am not here to offend or upset you. But we cannot leave the leadership of this body of believers in the hands of a man who is emotionally unstable. Our just and righteous God would not have us do that.”

  David moved back to his chair, sat down and buried his face in his hands.

  Chet continued. “I feel as much compassion as any one of you, as all of you. But duty dictates that we must do the right thing. As I have said, there are facts you do not know—”

  “Such as what!” shouted one of the deacons on the side aisle. “You claim to know something, Chet. So spit it out!”

  David looked up just as Chet took a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe his brow. Ever the drama king.

  “I didn’t want it to come to this, I assure you. But word has come to me that our pastor’s wife has disappeared all right. Right into the arms of another man.”

  A split second of silence. Before the shouts of protest could pass the lips of his congregation, David flew out of his seat, grabbing Chet Harrison by the back of his neck. Whirling the arrogant chump around to face him, he reared back and belted him right in the nose. Harrison fell back onto the floor as absolute silence paralyzed the brethren.

  Oblivious to everything else, David reached out to pull up his adversary by his bloodied shirt only to feel himself being pulled away from his target. “Let me go!” he cried. “He can’t get away with this! He has no right to—”

  Chet crawled backward across the carpeted platform, yelling, “Help me! Somebody help me! He’s crazy!”

  David watched the surreal scene unfold aro
und him.

  Geneva Harrison ran to the front of the room howling for her poor husband.

  Mary Bloom, the oldest member of the church at ninety-seven, fainted, sliding under the front pew like a piece of linguine. Sitting at the end of her aisle, PJ Ludwinski rushed to her side shouting in Polish. Her elderly friends wailed their dismay.

  Men throughout the auditorium rushed forward, attempting to break through the barrier of Chet’s men. Fist-fights broke out among them like a WWF brawl. Steve Anderson was shoved from behind by Dwight Eggers, one of Chet’s men. In retaliation, Steve picked up his contender and threw him over his shoulder. The feisty little guy bonked him on the head, causing Steve to lose his balance. With the room spinning around him, Steve began to twirl around and around until he let go of his captive who catapulted against a stained glassed window, crashing on impact. The sight and sound of it sickened David.

  He turned in time to see Mary Bloom’s minion of friends come to her rescue. Leaving her to their care, PJ shuffled up to the platform. He checked to make sure David was safe under the protection of his friends, their eyes locking as the old man frowned in obvious concern for him. David’s stomach churned as he saw PJ turn his attention to Chet. The troublemaker lay with his head in Geneva’s lap, a handkerchief held to his nose to stop the bleeding.

  “Shame on you!” PJ shouted, trying to push his way through the crowd of people. “You big blow hole! You see this?” he taunted, holding up a gnarled fist. “Let me at him!” He elbowed his way against the wall of men. “Nobody talks to David that way! Nobody!”

  Then, amidst the mass confusion, David noticed the back doors of the church fly open. There, his own mother-in-law, her face flushed with excitement, escorted in a television crew.

  “All right! This is great stuff!” A smiling camera man began to roll tape.

  “He’s a maniac! I told you the pastor was nuts! But no one listened to me!” Darlene ranted, hustling after the camera crew.

  David groaned under his breath. He watched as the cameraman neared the platform. Moaning louder for the camera, Chet tried to sit up. “Help me, honey—I’m afraid the pastor may have given me a concussion.”

  “I’ve never witnessed anything so ridiculous in my entire life!” Caroline paced back and forth across the family room carpet. “I’ve a good mind to rush over there and give that man a piece of my mind!”

  They had arrived home only moments earlier. Pete Nardozzi escorted them home after a parishioner called him to the scene at church. He joined them after placing a few phone calls from the privacy of David’s study.

  “They’ve already released Chet from the hospital. His buddy Dwight wasn’t quite so lucky. They’ll be plucking colored glass out of his, uh—posterior for another couple of days.” Pete tried to hide his smile.

  “Never in my life have I seen such an ungodly display of stupidity.” Caroline continued. “To think that this church could have that many raving lunatics! Well, I can guarantee you one thing, David McGregor—that man will have a lot of explaining to do when he comes face to face with his Maker—if the good Lord lets him in those pearly gates.” She stormed out of the room, ranting all the way into the kitchen.

  “Daddy, did you really punch Mr. Harrison’s lights out?” Jessica asked, her soulful eyes searching his.

  He lifted her onto his lap. “I’m afraid so, princess. He said some unkind things, and unfortunately, I overreacted. It was a very wrong way for me to respond, and I’m sorry for what I did. Very sorry.”

  Her eyes grew even wider, her fingers gently caressing his face. “That’s okay, Daddy. Somebody needed to teach him a lesson.”

  “No, sweetheart, it isn’t okay. It’s never okay to hit somebody—no matter who it is and no matter what the circumstances.”

  “David, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Pete interrupted. “Chet was out of control and had to be stopped.”

  “That may be, but not this way. I had no business decking him like that. And in front of the whole church? I don’t know what came over me! What kind of a message does that send to my church family?” He hugged his daughter. “Sweetheart, why don’t you go see if Gran could use some help?” She kissed his cheek and scampered out of the room.

  Pete looked him straight in the eye. “You did the same thing I would have done, so enough of the guilt. Got it?”

  The house phone rang. Pete grabbed it. “Officer Nardozzi.” Pause. “Sure, Max. He’s right here, just a minute.” He handed the phone to David.

  “Max!”

  “Dad? Why did Mr. Nardozzi answer the phone?”

  “It’s a long story. One you’ll probably enjoy, come to think of it. But I’ll tell you all about it later when you and Mom get home. Where are you?”

  “We had an agreement, Dad. Remember?”

  “Oh sure, I know. I forgot. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, but my transportation just died.”

  “What happened? You okay?”

  “I think I just ran the life out of it. It was old to begin with and I’ve put a lot of miles on it.”

  “Can you get to a mechanic?”

  “I’m at a truck stop right now and there’s a mechanic here, but he’s really busy. I’m hoping he can find out what’s the matter with it. I don’t know how long it’s going to take. I’m really bummed.”

  “I know, Max. But take it easy, okay? It’s probably good for you to stop and get some sleep. Is there a motel near by?”

  “I think so. The thing is, Dad . . . I’m, uh, I’m a little nervous, I guess.”

  “Say the word and I’ll come to you. Maybe that’s the best thing anyway.”

  He didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know. Give me a chance to think for a little while.”

  “Whatever you say, sport.” David covered the receiver with his hand. “Pete—any way you can find out where this call is coming from?” he whispered.

  “No problem.”

  David gave him the thumbs-up. “Are you still there, Max?”

  “Yeah, sure, Dad. I’m pretty tired. Think I’ll do like you said and get some sleep. I’ll call you back in a couple of hours.”

  “Okay, just be careful.”

  “Love you, Dad.”

  “Same here, big guy.”

  He carefully hung up the phone and looked at Pete.

  “Just press the star button and the numbers six and nine.”

  ”Okay.” David punched the keys. A long distance number appeared. “Wow, like magic! I didn’t know you could do that. Okay, so what state has an area code with 719?

  Pete worked his Blackberry, pulling up a directory. “It looks like area code 719 includes Pueblo and Colorado Springs.”

  “Max is in Colorado?” David asked in disbelief.

  Pete whistled. “That kid of yours has covered a lot of territory. I’ll get someone to track down that number. We can pinpoint his exact location. Shouldn’t take but a minute.” He activated the shoulder mic which squawked to life. A few moments later, he had his answer. “He’s at Bailey’s Truck Stop in Boone, Colorado. That’s about twenty miles east of Pueblo off State Road 96.”

  David stood up. “Boone, Colorado. Pueblo . . . What’s Annie doing in—” He slapped the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Christine! Why didn’t I think of it before? That’s got to be it! Pete, I know where she is!”

  CHAPTER 33

  Southeast Colorado

  Max headed to the motel adjacent to the truck stop. A flashing neon sign caught his eye.

  HOT HOMECOOKED MEALS

  After living on pretzels, Little Debbie Oatmeal Cakes, and Big Macs, he was starving for something more substantial. He headed straight for the diner, his taste buds already gearing up for meatloaf, friend chicken, or maybe even a thick juicy steak.

  The blast of warm air knocked the chill off his bones as he entered the spacious, austere diner. Max looked for an empty booth finding most of them occupied with truckers. He slipped into one on the end, slidin
g across the red vinyl seat.

  A waitress brought him a glass of water and a menu, along with a quick rundown of the specials. He scanned the menu, deciding on the fried chicken dinner with mashed potatoes, gravy, macaroni and cheese, tossed salad with blue cheese dressing, and biscuits.

  “Oh, and save me a slice of your cherry pie for dessert?”

  “Sure thing. Anything to drink?”

  “Coffee. Black. Thanks.”

  “No problem. Be right back with your salad.”

  He sat back in the booth, stretching his long legs beneath the table. He rubbed his face brusquely hoping to awaken his mind enough to enjoy the meal. Sipping the glass of water, he pulled the folded map of Colorado from the pocket in his jacket and spread it out across the table. Even if the mechanic could make time to look at the old van, he knew he couldn’t afford a costly repair bill. Frustrated and weary, he breathed a silent prayer for direction.

  With his eyes still closed, he couldn’t help overhearing the animated conversation in the booth across the narrow aisle.

  “Yes, I understand, ma’am. But I am not in Weber Creek. I’m the sheriff from Weber Creek, and I’m calling you from another location. I’m on my way back to Weber Creek. All I’m asking is how much longer you expect the phone lines to be down in that area.”

  Max peeked sideways to see who was talking. A uniformed sheriff sat alone in the booth talking on a cell phone.

  “No, the phones here are fine. That’s not the problem—what? No, I’m not on a pay phone, I’m calling from my cell phone. What?”

  An idea took shape even as Max continued to eavesdrop.

  “Okay. No, forget it. Never mind!” The sheriff snapped off the phone and blew out an exasperated sigh.

  “Excuse me?”

  The sheriff jerked his head toward Max.

  “I couldn’t help overhearing. You’re heading for Weber Creek, right?”