by Tracy Krauss
pretty ‘ard on yourself.”
Lester sat up straighter and tried for a smile. Trust a Newfie to skip small talk and go straight to personal. “So, what do you do for a living?”
“Construction. I know there’s more money in the oil patch, but I don’t care much for camp life. We’re working on some big ‘igh rise building downtown.”
“You don’t say. I’m starting up with a construction outfit myself. What’s the name of yours?”
“Titan,” Jed said.
Lester raised his brows. “Really? That’s who hired me. My cousin put in a good word for me.”
“Always pays to know the right people.” Jed finished his beer and set the bottle on the side table. “Small world, ain’t it?”
“True.” Lester also downed the rest of his beer just as Patsi re-emerged. “Ready to go, Sis?” He stood and stretched.
She glanced at the full bottle of beer sitting where she’d left it. “I’m not done my beer.”
Lester checked his watch. “I gotta get that trailer back before closing.”
Jed winked at Patsi. “You can ‘ave a rain-check sometime.”
“Thanks again for the help,” Lester said.
“Anytime. Whenever you two need anything, just ‘oller.”
◇ ◇ ◇
Lester rubbed his right shoulder and did a few circular motions to try and work out the kinks. All that heavy lifting yesterday had him feeling muscles he’d forgotten existed. He and Patsi had stayed up late and managed to get the bulk of their belongings stored away. It didn’t exactly feel like home yet, but it was one step closer.
“Do we have to go?” Patsi stood in her bedroom doorway, arms folded.
Lester stopped in the hall on his way from the bathroom and surveyed his sister’s grimacing face. “Of course we have to go. You didn’t think we’d just stop going to church did you?”
“But, I don’t have anything to wear.” She gestured down at her black pants and nondescript maroon top.
“What’s wrong with what you have on?”
“It’s so… boring. How do I know what people are wearing in the city?”
“It’s not about what you’re wearing,” Lester said reasonably.
“Okay, fine,” Patsi huffed. “But if I don’t like it I’m not going back.”
“You’re forgetting who puts a roof over your head. If I say going to church is part of the deal, then it is.” Lester crossed his own arms and widened his stance.
“You’re not fair, you know that?” Patsi shot at him.
“Nobody said life was fair.”
Lester continued down the hall to his own small room. He’d given Patsi the bigger one as a concession. The apartment was tight compared to what they were used to. There had been plenty of room to spread out in the farmhouse.
Several minutes later they were heading out the door of the apartment building. Lester was wearing his one pair of dress pants and a white cotton shirt. He figured he might as well put his best foot forward.
“Hey, where are you going?” Patsi stopped on her way to the truck. Lester was already several steps in the opposite direction.
Lester shrugged. “I thought we’d try that church just down the street. No use driving to some mega-church if we can walk every Sunday.”
Patsi threw up her hands. “But it’s probably full of old people.”
“How do you know? You haven’t been there yet.”
“I just know!”
“We’ll see. But today we’re going to try out the church in our own neighbourhood. Come on, at least give it a chance.”
They arrived at the small community church and were greeted at the door by the pastor, a youngish man with a prematurely receding hairline. He was wearing all black except for the small white collar symbolic of his calling.
“Welcome. I’m Reverend Wallis.”
Lester and Patsi shook the young Reverend’s hand then found an empty pew and waited for the service to start. The congregation was small, although larger than their church in Coulee Creek. After three hymns the offering plate was passed and then the Reverend gave his sermon – a short discourse on the merits of being a good neighbour. All in all, it was satisfactory, as far as Lester could tell. The sermon was short and to the point and the minister seemed simple and unpretentious. Just what he liked.
After the service, the mostly elderly adherents filed toward the exit, waiting for their turn to greet the pastor on their way out the door. As Lester and Patsi waited, an elderly woman approached. She stopped directly beside them. “I believe we’re neighbours.” Her tone was clipped.
“Oh?” Lester turned his full attention toward the newcomer. She was almost as tall as he. Her mostly grey hair was smoothed into an iron clad pageboy with nary a wisp out of place. Her lavender suit was perfectly tailored, while the pearls around her neck drew attention to the cords of her throat.
“Yes. I live in suite twenty-four. I saw you moving in the other day. I’m Millicent Peacock. I’ve been attending this church since nineteen-sixty-five.” She inhaled sharply through her nose and tilted her head up slightly, as if the information she’d given was of great importance.
“Pleased to meet you.” Lester smiled and stuck out his hand. “I’m Lester Ray Tibbett and this is my sister Patsi Mae.”
“Just Pat,” Patsi threw in.
Millicent ignored the offered hand. “Your sister? Well, that’s a relief.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“I’m glad you’re not one of those young couples just living together, although I should have known since you seem a bit old for her.”
Lester blinked. He didn’t even know how to respond. He glanced over at the minister to see if he could squeeze ahead in the line up.
“I’m actually quite surprised to see you here this morning,” Ms. Peacock went on.
Lester swung his gaze back to the elderly woman, his eyebrows raised in question. “Oh? Why’s that?”
“All the ruckus when you moved in. I heard more than a few choice words coming from your mouth, Mr. Tibbett. I’m glad to see you have some fear of God in you after all. You may have to learn to tame your tongue, however.” Her steely blue eyes dared his to stray.
Lester opened his mouth to respond but Millicent was already moving forward to shake the pastor’s hand. Lester stood for a moment with his mouth open until Patsi elbowed him in the ribs. He jerked his gaze in his sister’s direction. She had a smirk on her lips, the unspoken ‘I told you so’ written on her face.
With a sigh, Lester moved forward and shook Reverend Wallis’s outstretched hand. “Good sermon, Reverend.”
The minister smiled. “Thank you. Ms. Peacock tells me you moved into her building. I hope that means we’ll be seeing you again next Sunday.”
“Um, maybe,” Lester mumbled. Thankfully, there were others waiting in line to shake the Reverend’s hand.
When they were far enough away from the church Patsi finally spoke. “I told you it would be all old people. And the nerve of that old lady! She probably sits by the window spying on everyone in the building.”
“Let her. I doubt we’ll be seeing her much anyway.”
“Not if you insist on going to that church every Sunday,” Patsi pointed out.
Lester frowned. So much for a simple solution to keeping his sister’s spiritual life in tact. It had been a steep learning curve and he’d made some mistakes, but bringing her up in the fear of God was one thing he was determined not to mess up. Even if it killed him.
◇ ◇ ◇
Lester lowered himself onto a makeshift stool made of a plastic crate and gazed out over the cityscape. From this vantage on the eighteenth floor of the new concrete structure, he had an unobstructed view of the other high rises that made up the downtown core. There were no windows or finishes of any kind as yet, just cement pillars and gaping holes. The wind whipped pretty briskly up here, but he found he liked it. He’d never been afraid of heights and the freedom he felt at this ele
vation was something new.
It was lunchtime on his first day. He unscrewed the lid on his thermos and poured some steaming coffee into it, using it for a mug.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
Lester recognized the voice as Jed’s and swivelled around to greet his new friend. “Thought I’d enjoy the view while I ate lunch.”
Jed came and stood beside Lester, gazing past the large openings. “It is kind of cool.” He looked down at Lester’s thermos and lunch cooler. “I guess we think alike.” He held his own lunch kit aloft. “Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all.”
Jed set his lunch down and walked two paces to where another crate sat waiting. He kicked the dusty crate with his foot until it was near Lester and then he sat down on it. “Lots of the other guys go out for lunch.”
“Can’t afford to eat out everyday.”
“Same.” Jed looked around the expanse of cement. “It’s a nice view from up ‘ere, but I guess we’ll ‘ave to wait and see if the finished product is any good. Sometimes these fancy architects don’t take the practical into consideration.”
“I guess if they hired him he must know something.” Lester took a sip of his coffee.
“From Toronto, I ‘ear. Chan or Chow or some kind of Chinese name.”
“They couldn’t find anyone local?” Lester asked.
“Beats me.” Jed took a huge bite of his sandwich. “Mm-mm. I do love a good bologna sandwich!”
“Bologna, eh?” Lester surveyed the other man, obvious relish in the way he was chewing on his lunch. “I never cared for it much.”
“Newfie steak, don’t ya know,” Jed said with his mouth full. He swallowed and gulped some
