“Get away, Lucy. I know what I’m doing,” Charlie snapped.
Carl came slowly to his feet, his stance shaky. “You want a fight? Go on, take the first swing. I dare you.”
Carl felt his heart pound, the blood rushing into his head. He was a little dizzy and wasn’t sure what he’d do if Charlie actually took a swing at him. Fight back as best he could, he guessed. He didn’t care if he was half dead. He wasn’t going to back down from this puffed up, bug-eyed bully.
Charlie stood staring at him, considering his next move.
He’ll probably grab me by the collar and drag me out of here, Carl thought. Not without a struggle though.
The bell above the door jangled and the door opened. Reverend Ben Lewis stepped inside and stared around. He spotted the two men and paused for a moment, then slowly walked over. “Hello, Charlie. Hello, Carl,” he spoke in a normal tone, seemingly unaware of the tense standoff he had interrupted. “Glad to see you up and around, Carl. How are you feeling?”
“I walked into town to get some air,” Carl answered awkwardly.
“That was ambitious. You must be hungry. Did you eat lunch yet?”
“He was just leaving,” Charlie said flatly.
“Really? I hate to eat alone. Maybe you can sit awhile and keep me company,” Reverend Ben persisted.
Carl glanced at Charlie’s warning glare, then back at the reverend. Finally, he nodded. “Have a seat, Reverend. I’ve got all the time in the world.” He swallowed a lump in his throat and sat down again, avoiding Charlie’s scowl. “I guess I am hungry, after all.”
Lucy stepped deftly around her husband and slipped the crutches off the seat opposite Carl, clearing the space for the reverend.
“I’ll just put this aside for now,” she said. “Your menus are on the table, gentlemen. Specials are on the board.”
She glanced at Charlie’s frozen expression, then went to get the reverend a glass of water and to refill Carl’s glass. Charlie glanced at Carl a moment, then back at the reverend. Carl could see he knew he’d been beat.
“I’d better get back in the kitchen. See you later,” he mumbled as he walked away.
Carl peered at the reverend from under the brim of his hat. Reverend Ben had pulled his fat from the fire just now, that was for sure. But he didn’t know how to thank him. He pretended to read his menu, then stared out the window.
Lucy came by and took their orders, a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich for Reverend Ben and a burger for Carl.
Finally Reverend Ben slipped his menu back between the salt and pepper shakers. “I don’t know why I spend so much time reading that thing. I could recite it by heart by now.”
“I know it up and down, and I haven’t stepped foot in this place for twenty years.”
Reverend Ben grinned. “So, what do you think of the town, Carl? Does it look different to you?”
Carl shrugged. “Not as much as I expected. That was always the good thing about this place as well as the bad. It doesn’t change much.” He glanced over his shoulder at Charlie, who was working behind the counter. “The people around here don’t either.”
The reverend nodded. He removed his wire-rimmed glasses and polished them with a hanky. “Do you think people can change? Or that God just makes a person a certain way and that’s it?”
Carl laughed nervously. How did God get mixed up in it all of a sudden? Leave it to a preacher to pull a fast move like that on you.
“I don’t know. What do I know about God?” Carl shrugged but the reverend kept looking at him, as if he didn’t accept that as a fair answer. “I guess people can change, sure. Why not?”
“Exactly. Why not.” The reverend put his glasses back on and stared straight at Carl, a mild smile on his bearded face.
Carl felt the silence between them pressing him to speak.
“The question is, what’s a guy going to get out of all the effort it takes to change. If there’s no payoff, why bother?”
“That’s one way of looking at it.” The reverend nodded. “Of course, in my line of work, I see it from a different perspective. I see people struggling to change and sometimes failing at it, wondering, like you say, what’s the payoff? Meanwhile they don’t see that they already have the payoff in hand. Before they even try. And even if they never try at all.”
Carl cast the reverend a puzzled look. He gave a nervous laugh and leaned back in his seat. “I’m sorry, Reverend. You lost me now. This kind of talk is getting a little heavy for me.”
“It’s simple, Carl. God loves us just the way we are. He loves us and forgives us, no matter what we do. That’s the payoff I’m talking about.”
Carl felt uneasy. He shifted in his seat, not knowing what to say.
“Sure . . . I get you,” he finally replied.
Lucy brought their food, and the two men began to eat. Carl’s thoughts wandered back to the days when his stepmother would bring him and Tucker to church on Sunday mornings. She would hold his hand when they walked across the village green, maybe just the way good mothers do. Or maybe because she was afraid he was going to take off on her.
He did remember some of this stuff. Of course in prison the ministers were always coming by, hoping you were so bored staring at four walls, you would try reading the Bible and talking with them, but they had never gotten far with him.
Carl set his hamburger down and wiped his hands on a napkin. “I never thanked you for taking me to the hospital. And visiting me there.”
“That’s okay. I’m glad I could help you.” The reverend sat back. “I’ve been meaning to ask, Carl, why did you come back here?”
“I just wanted to see the place again. I’m not really sure why.”
“Because it was home?”
“Yeah, maybe. For better or worse. I have more unhappy memories than good ones, I guess. But they’re all mine.”
The reverend took a sip of coffee. “I’m glad you came back,” he said suddenly. “I think it’s good for you and Tucker to see each other again.”
Carl laughed. “Then you’re the only one with that opinion. Tucker doesn’t want me here. Neither does his wife. I don’t even think the dog likes me.”
“No, Carl. I think you’re wrong. It might take time, but I think that eventually you’ll see what I’m saying is true.”
“Yeah, well, that’s the thing. I won’t be here for long. Not that long, anyway.”
The reverend didn’t reply, looking at Carl as if he knew something Carl didn’t know. The look made Carl uneasy. These preachers get ideas in their heads sometimes. Doesn’t mean I have to listen, Carl told himself. He wasn’t going to stay around much longer. He’d been here too long already.
ON THURSDAY NIGHT, MOLLY DROVE HOME FROM HER SECOND CLASS feeling hopeful and energized. The instructor, a woman named Pauline Turner, spiced up her lessons with strange but true catering and restaurant adventures that were funny and instructive. She had started her own business in circumstances much like Molly’s and was very successful, despite some struggles along the way. Her story gave Molly heart, and the practical how-to instruction—on everything from renting equipment to hiring helpers to timing each course—helped Molly feel that at some point, she too could manage her own catering business.
Still, she didn’t feel ready to disclose her plan to the world-at-large. That would add too much pressure. What if she decided not to go through with it? Then she’d feel like a failure for not even trying.
She did have to ask Sam and even Phil to help her out by watching the girls while she was in class, but she had told them she was taking a first-aid course in CPR. She already knew CPR, but fortunately neither of them remembered.
Tonight at the last minute Sam got held up, so Jessica had come over to stay with Lauren and Jill.
“I’m home,” Molly announced. She found Jessica in the living room, reading a book in the armchair. “How did it go?”
“Just fine. Your daughters are perfect angels.”
“R
ight, tell me about it.” Molly sat down on the couch and found a bunched-up sock wedged between the cushions. She plucked it out and tossed it on the floor. “They’re so neat with their belongings, too. What are you reading?”
“Nothing special.” Jessica held up her book so Molly could see the jacket. “Some historical for my book group. It’s a little boring, actually . . . but I was also reading this, which looked very interesting.”
Jessica leaned over and picked up a book from the side table. Molly recognized one of her textbooks from the class, the one she had forgotten to bring with her tonight.
“Food with Flair: A Complete Guide to the Catering Business.” Jessica looked up at Molly, then opened the book and pulled out Molly’s registration card. “You’re not studying CPR at the high school, are you?” she asked with a small smile.
Molly sighed and shook her head. “The canapé is out of the bag, I guess.”
“I guess,” Jessica agreed with a short laugh. “Why the big secret? Why didn’t you tell anybody?”
“I don’t know. . . . I’m thinking about starting up a little business. A shop, maybe, where I can sell stuff I cook and then use it as a home base for catering.”
Jessica sat up with an excited expression. “That’s a great idea! You’d be perfect for that.”
“Not so fast, please. I’m just taking the course for now to see what’s really involved. I didn’t want to tell anyone because . . . well, if I don’t do it, then everyone will be bugging me and asking why and making me feel dumb or something.”
Jessica didn’t say anything for a moment. She closed the textbook and put it back on the table. “I see what you mean. Sometimes it’s better to plan something like this privately. What are you going to do for capital?”
Leave it to a banker to go straight to the bottom line, Molly thought. “Well, that’s the problem right there. I have zero assets. Who’s going to loan me enough money to get this thing off the ground?”
“A bank can make you a loan, even if you don’t own a house or have a lot of assets. There are still ways to finance a start-up business. I can help you,” Jessica offered. “I’d love to help you, really. That’s what I do. You know that.”
Molly was moved by the offer. She didn’t have the best relationship with her sister-in-law; she never expected Jessica to believe that she could make a go of this catering idea. Molly had never felt that Jessica thought that well of her.
“A loan like that is a big commitment,” Molly finally answered. “That part worries me, too. What if I screw up and the business fails? Then I’d be stuck with this huge debt.” She looked up at Jessica. “I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”
Jessica gazed at her a moment and then gave her small smile. “I understand.” She looked back at the book. “I noticed the course doesn’t cover the finance chapter until later. Maybe after you go over it at school, you’ll feel more comfortable talking about it with me.”
“Maybe,” Molly agreed. She took a breath. It actually felt good to talk to someone besides Betty about this instead of keeping it all inside her head. She was still surprised, though, that her confidante turned out to be Jessica.
“You’ve met a lot of people who try to start a business. Tell me the truth, do you really think I can do this? My feelings won’t be hurt if you say no,” Molly added hastily, even if it wasn’t entirely true.
“Absolutely,” Jessica replied. “I’m sure you can. But you have to believe you can do it, even if other people don’t. I guess that’s the common denominator in the people who come to me and really make a go of it.”
“Yeah, the confidence thing. I have trouble with that,” Molly admitted. “I did find a great dress for meeting new clients. That’s helped a lot,” she joked.
“Hey, don’t knock the clothes factor. There’s nothing like a good hair day to make you feel you can take on the world. But everyone feels shaky from time to time, Molly. Nobody has it all together all the time.”
“Sure, I know that. Not even Oprah,” she said, making Jessica smile. “But sometimes I feel like other people have it together a lot more than I do. It’s like, they know some trick that I don’t know.”
“You mean like in a self-help book?” Jessica glanced around and found one in a stack of books on the table. “I used to read these all the time, too. Some of them aren’t so bad. Then I realized something that helps when I feel down about life and everything seems to be going wrong.”
“Really? What’s the secret?” Molly asked with a grin.
“That I don’t have to do it all myself.”
Molly knew Jessica was talking about God and felt distinctly uncomfortable. But she also knew that Jessica had not always been so spiritually minded. When she came back to Cape Light last year to help take care of her mother, before she met Sam, she was like me, Molly recalled. But Jessica had seemed much happier since then. Molly always thought the change was because of Sam. But maybe it was more.
“You mean thinking about God helps you have more confidence? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Something like that. Let God into your life. Tell Him your problems, your worries about the future. Let Him help you. He created the whole world in six days. A little catering business shouldn’t be so tough.”
Molly laughed. “That’s pretty odd advice from a banker.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Jessica smiled and came to her feet. “You wouldn’t think it was strange if I recommended some new self-help book, right? Well, think of the Scriptures as a really good self-help book.”
Molly didn’t know what to say. She knew she had a Bible in the house somewhere, but she’d probably get an allergy attack from the dust if she ever dug it out.
“I hope your plan does succeed, Molly. I really do,” Jessica added sincerely.
Molly felt embarrassed. “Thanks . . . so do I.”
ALL IN ALL, TUCKER THOUGHT, THE TALK WITH FRAN HAD HELPED. SHE wasn’t walking around the house with that tight, angry look anymore. That didn’t mean she’d changed her mind about Carl. The other night Michael asked Carl if he wanted to play a video game with him. Fran hadn’t said anything, but she kept making excuses for Tucker to go into the den and check on them. Carl, it turned out, was good at video games.
On Saturday Tucker had the perfect excuse to escape the house for a while. He had promised Reverend Ben he would stop by the church and do some small repairs around the building. Gus Potter used to take care of those things. Since he got sick, there had been talk of hiring a regular groundskeeper, but so far nothing had been done and all of the deacons took turns. Today was Tucker’s.
Reverend Ben was not very handy, but he liked to watch an ongoing repair. He seemed fascinated, always studying just how it was done. So Tucker wasn’t really surprised when he heard the reverend’s footsteps approach. The timing could have been better, though. Tucker was on his back, his head stuck under a sink as he attempted to repair a leaky pipe.
“How is it going, Tucker? At home, I mean.” That question wasn’t a surprise, either. “Is Fran getting used to the idea of having Carl around?” the reverend asked, handing Tucker a wrench.
“Things are better with Fran. We talked it out and she’s resigned herself to the idea of him being there, at least for a while.”
Tucker fitted the wrench to the pipe joint and gave it a yank. It didn’t budge at first. He took a deep breath and pushed with all his might. It moved a fraction of an inch.
“I see. So Carl is accepted but not exactly welcome?”
“Pretty much.” Tucker grunted, pushing hard on the wrench and finally unfastening the pipe section. “Fran’s doing the best she can, but it’s hard for her. She’s like a lot of other people in this town. She thinks he’s trouble.” Tucker came out from under the sink and shook his head. “I feel for Fran. But I also feel bad for Carl. He knows she doesn’t really want him there.”
“That’s not the best situation for either one,” Reverend Ben agreed. “What do you want?�
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“Search me,” Tucker said ruefully. “All I know is Carl’s got no other place to go, and I promised him he could stay with us until he’s strong enough to be on his own.”
The reverend reached out and patted Tucker’s shoulder. “You’re doing the right thing, Tucker. Don’t forget that.”
“Thanks, Reverend. I know you’re in my corner. The problem is, I worry that maybe Fran, and even Charlie, might be right. Maybe Carl hasn’t changed and never will. I could be the one making a big mistake here.”
“If Carl hasn’t changed, you’ll find out and have to deal with it. But you can never make a mistake by sticking to your principles and showing compassion for your brother. Especially under such pressure.”
“I’m feeling the pressure all right,” Tucker admitted.
The reverend didn’t reply. He watched as Tucker checked the threaded edges of the pipe, then eased himself back under the sink.
“I’m not that great a plumber, Reverend. I think it’s fixed for now. But keep your eye on it.”
“I will.”
“Hand me that wrench again, will you?” Tucker called to him. The wrench appeared, and Tucker took hold of it.
“I think you’ve just given me an idea.” The reverend stuck his head under the sink, looking surprised and happy. “If Carl feels good enough to walk into town, he’s probably able to take a job. The church needs a handyman, and I have the authority to hire anyone I choose.”
“You’d hire Carl to work here?” Tucker began to sit up and hit his head on the bottom of the sink. He came out again, rubbing the sore spot.
“Exactly. Carl needs a real job, a sense of purpose—somewhere to go every day and money in his pocket. I think this is a good solution all around, don’t you?”
“It could be if Carl wants to stay here,” Tucker said cautiously. “He is feeling much better. And he had a good report from the doctor yesterday.” Tucker rubbed his head again. “He’s handy, too. Much better than me. I’ll talk to him about it, see what he thinks.”
“Tell him he can drop by anytime to see me. The job is his for the asking.”
A New Leaf Page 20
