by Lynne Hugo
“I doubt Gary will stay. He just wanted to get away from the church for a bit before he went back to work on his sermon,” Louisa said. She seemed to have caught on. She must have been wondering what I had in mind. So was I.
“That’s what he said. Like I mentioned, he just went for a hike,” I threw on, to fill Louisa in on the story I’d spun. I didn’t see how Gus could be so thickheaded, but it all just floated over him.
“Well, just a romantic evening for me and my sweetheart, then. It’s about time,” Gus said, doubtless already planning his nap. No wonder he wasn’t suspicious. His skull was filled with hormones instead of brain cells.
“I’ve got to get going,” I said. “I’ll just run in and get my purse. You two have a lovely evening. Gus, you please give Louisa a hand, and give her time to shower and dress, will you?” That last was my hint to Louisa to fix herself up and not to wear one of her bag-lady outfits. A little makeup wouldn’t hurt either.
“Right, right,” Gus said, not moving a muscle.
I hurried into the house. “Feed Jessie for me, will you?” I called over my shoulder to Louisa. “I’m running late now.” Inside, I rushed to the bedroom, grabbed diapers, a bottle, a can of formula, a clean onesie, and Gracie’s two favorite rattles, stuffed everything into the diaper bag, and grabbed my purse and keys. I looked at the picture of Charlie that I’d added next to Harold’s and said, “Help me now, honey,” picked up Gracia’s baby carrier, and as quietly as I could, snuck through the house, put it all in my car and took off.
I didn’t know where Gary had gone, and I’d told him not to come back. I tried to call him again, but still no answer. This time the message I left told him I was waiting in my car about a hundred yards down the road toward the Athertons’ and to come with Gracie as fast as he could. He didn’t call me back. Surely if he started down the driveway, he’d see Gus’s truck. I asked myself if I could count on his not being entirely stupid, and the answer didn’t reassure me. I edged my car closer to our driveway, thinking I’d be able to see him approach in time if he was coming from the far side. He’d been gone long enough now that Gracie would be getting hungry and likely to start fussing. Would he know what that meant?
As I sat there alternately checking my rearview mirror and peering ahead, I realized that I couldn’t bear the thought of losing Gracia. Gary was looking all over for her mother, and now I didn’t want him to find her. Not ever.
Chapter 20
CarolSue
It was an agonizing twenty minutes before Gary appeared in my rearview mirror. I saw him stop and lean over Gracie, and then start pushing the stroller again. I admit, nothing disastrous had happened. She wasn’t howling, and her face wasn’t red, but I could tell she was letting him know she wanted me. Meaning it was time to eat.
“She’s hungry,” I announced by way of greeting. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“What are you doing out here?” he countered.
“Gus is at the house, which you’d know if you answered your phone.” I busied myself with getting Gracie onto the berm and unbuckling, lifting her out. “Did you have fun, sweets?” I murmured into her ear. “I know you’re hungry, aren’t you.”
“Why are you—” Gary had the nerve to start to question me.
“I just told you. It’s not like you can take her home.” I went right back at him, really irritated about the phone, which my nephew was not accustomed to from me.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I forgot to charge it.”
“That can never happen again. I brought all her stuff. It’s in my car. I’ll take her. I told Gus you just wanted to get away from the church a bit—of course he saw your van—that you had to go back and work on your sermon. You went out hiking.”
“Hiking?” He chortled.
That set me off again. “You would have had a better instant idea?”
“Sorry.”
“He’s going to invite you to stay to dinner. He brought steaks. I told him I’d made a friend at the library and we were going to dinner in Elmont, just for your information.”
“Steaks? Does he know my mother? I mean, he takes her out to dinner a lot. What does she order then?”
I gave a half shrug, impatient with discussing Louisa’s diet while Gracie squirmed and fussed. “Whatever. That’s her problem. I’ve got to feed this baby. You kept her out too long.”
“She was fine, really. She loved it. It’s a beautiful day, and I was showing her the leaves. The Athertons’ horses are pastured, y’know, and she really liked them.”
The sun slanted down fall-gold across us all, and there was tenderness on Gary’s face. He reached over and caressed Gracie’s cheek with the back of his forefinger.
“I’m sure she did,” I said. “That was good of you. You’d better get in and spin your side of the story to Gus—I tried to stick to what you could tell the truth about, you being a Reverend. You really were out walking, and you do have to get back to the church to work on your sermon. But I suppose you could stay to dinner if you want . . .”
“No, how about we all just go to the church. We can pick up something to eat and take care of Gracia there until Gus is gone.”
“What if somebody... ?”
“You’re babysitting and visiting me. True.”
“Okay. I’ll buy.” I knew how tight his money always was.
“You don’t need to—”
“I insist.” We put the stroller in my trunk, settled Gracia in her carrier, and I gave Gary a fifty-dollar bill from my purse before he headed on to the house. “I’ll meet you in the church parking lot,” I said. “I’ll feed her there, in the car. I don’t have a lot of time before she’ll melt down from hunger.”
“You really know her,” he said. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, truly.” I don’t know what he thought was my pleasure. I meant the baby.
* * *
Church parking lot is giving the grassy area in front of the barn Gary uses a lot of dress-up language. It meant a lot to him, though. But it was strange to park in front of a banner hung from a barn that read in giant black letters JESUS IS THE ANSWER while feeding a baby whose mother seemed to have disappeared. A baby that I desperately wanted to keep. If Jesus was the answer, how exactly should I frame the question? I was pondering this, burping Gracie and having increasing sympathy for Louisa’s issues with the cult Gary had hooked up with, when he pulled up beside me. Carrying two good-sized bags, he beckoned me to follow him into the barn/church. I followed him a couple of minutes later, with Gracie in her carrier, content now, but needing a diaper change.
Gary had stopped. “Why don’t we sit out here in the sanctuary section,” he said. “More space.”
I looked around. The floor was bare. There was no soft place I could lay Gracie down to change her diaper.
“Is there any place with a rug? I don’t have anything but the receiving blanket from the stroller. I need something—”
“Can you use the blanket?”
I couldn’t figure out why Gary looked uncomfortable. “It’s out in the trunk.” I gestured with my head, my hands being full of baby. “With the stroller.”
“I’ll get it,” and out he went. Strange as all get-out. I looked around and immediately wished I hadn’t. Glitter Jesus paled in comparison to His counterparts here. Mainly because the size here required double the amount of glitter for the halos. One depiction showed Him with an outsized hand raised toward a neon sun. If that was supposed to be a blessing, it looked more like He was about to smite me dead. And had His fiery sequin-centered eyes ever caught his eyebrows on fire from the pupils glowing like live embers??
What I mean is, either Gary was some kind of artistic genius (which I didn’t think was likely for any art done on black velvet and glitter, but what do I know?) or these were the worst paintings to ever desecrate a barn. Oh, I suppose it wasn’t really his pictures that bothered me so. We were all used to that from his school days. But I stood there a moment shaking my hea
d and thinking, Gary, Gary, honey. What have you gotten yourself into? You miss Cody and your father, don’t you? Louisa misses Harold and Cody, too. I miss Charlie. We all grieve. But this cult, this Brother Zachariah you’re so taken with? I don’t know, I just don’t know.
Maybe Gracie just needed to burp, but I took it as a sign of both intelligence and good taste that she began to fuss, and I checked around for a spot with less scary scenery. There was a door at one end of the barn and I headed there. I was just stepping in that separate area when Gary came back in. “Uh, that’s my office,” he said. “I don’t think—”
“Oh, look,” I interrupted. “If you don’t mind, the rug on the floor here will be good to put her down on. Just put the receiving blanket on top of it, will you?”
I could tell he didn’t really want to, but I’d had enough of Gary acting weird. I took the blanket and sort of tossed it on the floor. At that, he didn’t really have much of a choice. He spread it out, and, awkward as it was, I bent to put the baby down. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to straighten up, so I just got down on the floor with her and stayed. “Come on, now. Give me the diaper bag. I’ll change her, and let’s eat. What did you get us?”
“Burritos. Hope that’s okay. I have a lot of change for you.”
“Oh my God. Not from the gas station?”
“Well, sort of.”
“Just wonderful. Did you at least get me something to drink?”
His face brightened. “Dr Pepper.”
“Great. Caffeine. I won’t sleep for three days. Open it for me.”
I changed Gracie, and Gary and I ate, sitting there on the floor with Gracie, with two pictures of Cody looking down on us, one of him dressed for his first and only prom—Louisa had the same radiant picture of him and his date, both scrubbed and beautiful with their lives shining ahead of them. But there was one, too, of Cody as an infant, and of course all babies look alike but I thought that Gracie reminded me of Cody and then I realized maybe the baby picture of Cody was what made Gary not want Gracie in his office—that it was too hard to bear—and I was sorry I’d been impatient with him. Maybe it was clumsy to try to get his attention on something else, but I asked Gary if there’d been any problem with Gus when he went into the house.
“Didn’t really go in,” he said. “Just stuck my head in the door and yelled, ‘Mom, I’m taking off now. Hi Gus, bye Gus.’ Didn’t give him a chance to ask me to stay for dinner.”
“Probably smart. Ask me no secrets, I’ll tell you no lies, right?”
Gary got the same uncomfortable look then and I thought he avoided my eyes for the next minutes. “Gary, you okay?” I said. “Is there something going on? I mean, bothering you?”
“. . . Not really. Just . . . got a lot on my mind. Nothing I can talk about . . . not really.”
“Okay. But you know, I can keep things to myself.”
“No, really, I’m fine. But thanks.”
I’d have sworn he wanted to tell me something. But he didn’t. Not then. Everything might have been easier if he had. I’d have told him, Tell the truth, Gary, ask for help. It’ll be a nice shortcut to where you’ll end up anyway.
This might be a good time to fortify yourself for the rest of the story. You might want to use Louisa’s recipe for some special tea. I know I found myself in need of it as things progressed. It’s plain exasperating how you have to let people work out their own problems, isn’t it? Especially if you love them, and you just know they’re likely messing up, making things harder and worse than they need to be. But we can’t fix others’ lives, can we? All we can do is love them. Watch them fall, get up, fall again. Love them and tell them. Love them again and still.
Gary
How do terrible and wonderful coexist, Gary wondered about the afternoon he’d spent with Gracia. His daughter. No, not his daughter, he couldn’t let her be. And yet she was, so he’d spent an afternoon with her. Listened to her little sounds, watched her random movements, seen her crane her head to look for him. Not her father. Her father. But she didn’t know that, of course not. Or did she have some primal connection to him that she sensed? When Muffin, the Athertons’ bay mare, stuck her head over the fence, too big, too close, startling Gracia in her stroller, and she cried, was that visceral tie to him why she’d then relaxed close to his chest when he picked her up? She’d watched, intent, as her not-father but yes, father, stroked the horse’s forelock and talked to the two of them, the horse and his not-daughter but then, yes, daughter.
He felt the tie himself and he’d felt love stirring, and that was wonderful. Having had her alone with him, picking her up out of the stroller to show her the horses out in the Indian summer light, when the corn was just starting to be cut in some of the neighbors’ fields, oh yes, he remembered his dad on the combine doing that on their farm, and he’d told Gracia about it as he held her. And then, he’d told her, too, that she’d had a brother named Cody, who’d loved horses and maybe she would, too, one day. And he’d been able to bear the memory, perhaps because it was whispered, just between the two of them. She’d met his eyes and not looked away.
But the church had to come first. It was what God wanted. And that was part of the terrible in it, and the other was how he’d filled with guilt over Gracia in his office on the rug where she’d been conceived, while the pictures of Cody stared at him and her like spectral accusations. God had forgiven him for failing his son, but his father never had, and Cody’s mother and his own mother never could. And right then his aunt, who was like a second mother, asked him if something was bothering him.
“Oh no, I’m fine,” he’d said. He wondered if Jesus was keeping an actual count of his lies. Was he writing them down? Gary didn’t see how anyone could keep track of so many, but then he reminded himself that Jesus wasn’t actually human and could do anything. It was not a comforting thought.
In the days following, though, after his aunt had taken the baby over again—a strange way to put it, but it did feel like she took possession and Gary was confused that he did not feel grateful—he thought of confessing. Wouldn’t it be simpler? If God really wants the church to survive, then God will make it happen. Or is this all testing my commitment to the church, if I will really put the work of Jesus first? How the hell am I supposed to know? Thinking in these circles was not conducive to getting a decent sermon written. Not even a mediocre one. And it had to be brilliant because the bills were due, plus another payment to Brother Zachariah. That last was already late.
* * *
Gary was still struggling with the sermon on Saturday afternoon when his cell phone rang. He sighed when he checked the screen and realized it was Brother Zach. He’d been hoping to get over to his mother’s, to spend some time with Gracia—although he’d tell his aunt and mother that he’d come to see what help they might need—but all he had was a recycled pitch for donations that hadn’t worked well enough before. He had to come up with something better. He knew what Brother Zach was calling about, that was for sure. But maybe this was a Sign. He hadn’t asked for help when he started the church and look where it got him. Now, here was Brother Zach calling, exactly when Gary was struggling.
“Brother Zachariah, I think you must have known I need help today. Or Jesus does, and had you call me.”
“I did feel a message,” Brother Zachariah said.
Gary leaned forward in his chair, fingers tight on the phone. It would have been more comfortable to use the speakerphone, but that felt even more dangerous.
“There’s something I need to discuss with you. A . . . confession.”
“Brother Gary, that’s a step in the right direction. I already know the payment is late. You can rectify this and restore yourself and your church to good standing in the eyes of Jesus.”
“Thank you, Brother. There’s something else and it may, no it does, affect the church. I think I need guidance, and since I failed to ask the first time . . . I thought . . . perhaps if I—”
Brother Zachariah cut
him off. “You’d best come clean. What’s the problem? You need to pay the tax, you know, I advanced—”
Now Gary interrupted. “I know, I know. And I apologize for being late. I’m working on a sermon, and trying to think, but there’s a sin weighing on me, and I’m thinking maybe if I confess, but that might cause people to lose faith, you know, not donate either, but it would be the right thing, maybe it’s what Jesus—”
There was a sort of eruption in his ear. “What are you talking about?” Brother Zachariah did not sound patient and kind, like Corinthians said to be. “What the hell have you done?”
Gary shifted in his chair. Took a breath. It was still hardly a whisper. “I . . . fornicated.”
“What the hell did you say?”
“Fornicated.” Gary cleared his throat. “I fornicated.”
“Oh. Well. Did anyone see you?”
“Huh? I mean, no.”
“All right, then. Don’t tell anyone. I mean all right, you’ve confessed to me, and in Jesus’ name, I forgive you. God forgives you. Don’t do it again, hear me?”
“Uh . . . yes. Thank you.”
“So, get that payment in now.” Brother Zach sounded impatient.
“Well, there’s more, see.”
“Oh good God, what? She wasn’t married, was she?”
“Oh no, not that—” Gary was horrified at the suggestion. Surely what he’d done wasn’t quite as bad.
“Tell me it wasn’t a male.”
Gary shook his head, then remembered he was on the phone and that didn’t help. “No. No! It was almost a year ago, and . . . now she’s left a baby in the church, with a birth certificate. And the birth certificate says the baby’s mine.”
Silence. And more silence. Then, ominous-sounding, “Have you told anyone else?”
“No.”
“What did you do with the . . . child?”
“My mother and aunt have her. I . . . didn’t say whose . . . she is. I feel like maybe I should. I can’t find the mother, see, and maybe I should confe—”
