A Change of Heart
Authors: Philip Gulley
A Harmony Novel
To Lyman and Harriet Combs,
who changed my heart
I
t was the Tuesday after Easter, and Sam and Barbara Gardner were reclining underneath a palm tree, their eyes closed, their bodies ghostlike after a long winter.
“This is the life,” Sam said, sipping his ginger ale, then sighing contentedly.
“It’s not quite what I had in mind,” Barbara said.
“What do you mean, it isn’t what you had in mind?”
“When I agreed to be in charge of the church’s Easter program in exchange for your taking me somewhere with palm trees, I wasn’t thinking of the Holidome in Cartersburg.”
“You should have been more specific,” Sam pointed out.
“We could have at least spent the night.”
“Are you crazy? They want eighty dollars a night.”
“And you’re sure we won’t get in trouble for using the pool?”
“Not so long as they don’t catch us,” Sam said. “Just act like you belong.”
Barbara sighed. “Steve Newman is a podiatrist and has a vacation condominium in Florida.”
“Who’s Steve Newman?”
“A guy I dated in college, before I met you. He wanted to marry me, but I turned him down. Now he owns a chain of podiatry offices in Ohio and spends the winter in Florida.”
“Why didn’t you marry him?”
“He gave me the creeps. He kept wanting to touch my feet.”
Sam gazed at her feet. “I can’t fault him. You have lovely feet.”
“You think so?” She lifted her feet to inspect them.
“I especially like your thin ankles.”
“Oh, Sam, you always know just what to say.”
“It’s a minister thing. Seventeen years of being diplomatic.”
Barbara reclined her lounge chair until it was flat, then turned to lie on her stomach.
“Would you like me to rub suntan lotion on your back?” Sam offered.
“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re inside.”
“We can pretend, can’t we?”
“In that case, sure.”
Sam squirted out a gob of lotion in his hand and began rubbing Barbara’s back.
“Be careful not to get any on my feet,” she cautioned. “I don’t want the sand to stick to me.”
“Now you’re catching on.”
They sat by the pool another hour, then rose and made their way to a table to eat lunch. Baloney sandwiches with ketchup, which Sam had made at home, along with potato chips and HoHos. Sam went to the vending machine and bought them a Coke to share.
They lasted another hour before the manager invited them to leave.
“I believe that was a record,” Barbara said on the drive home.
“What record is that?”
“The cheapest date ever.”
“I thought it was creative,” Sam said, slightly hurt.
“Dr. Pierce is taking Deena scuba diving in Belize for their honeymoon. That’s creative.”
“I thought you liked our honeymoon.”
“Sam, you know I liked it. Cincinnati was nice.” She reached over and took his hand. “I just thought when you said you’d take me somewhere with palm trees, you didn’t mean Cartersburg. Those weren’t even real palm trees.”
“Speaking of Dr. Pierce and Deena,” Sam said, eager to change the subject, “I had a good premarital counseling session with them. Did you know his great-grandfather was the Pierce in Pierce-Arrow?”
“Who’s Pierce-Arrow?”
“Pierce-Arrow is a what, not a who. They made cars. That’s where Dr. Pierce got his money.”
“I didn’t know he had money.”
“Quite a handsome amount, according to Deena. I hope he tithes,” Sam said wistfully. “We could use some new hymnals.”
“That’s going to take a lot more than money. That’s going to take Bea and Opal Majors dying.”
“I can dream, can’t I?”
“Sam Gardner, for a minister you sure are cynical.”
Some days, cynicism was all that got Sam through.
It was his fifth year of ministry at Harmony Friends Meeting, which was about four years and eleven months longer than he’d predicted when he’d agreed to become their pastor. To be honest, Sam wasn’t sure whether to attribute his tenure to the Holy Spirit or insanity. He’d once read that insanity was doing the same thing over and over, but expecting a different result. This described his five years to a tee. Each Sunday he preached about becoming a new creation, each week his congregation refused to become it, and the next Sunday found Sam preaching about it again.
On a more positive note, Harmony Friends Meeting was finally beginning to grow, Dale Hinshaw was hinting he might join the Baptist church, and the thirty-year-old spinster Deena Morrison had snagged herself a man.
They crested the hill in front of Ellis and Miriam Hodge’s farm and spied the town’s water tower on the horizon. It was built in the summer of 1929 by a metalworks company from the city. When the tower was finished, the town closed Main Street and threw a party for the workers, one of whom waltzed with a beautiful, young lady; they fell in love and two months later were married.
He quit his job at the metalworks company, opened a welding shop, and bought a house on Poplar Street, at the base of the water tower. They had the best water pressure in town. He could shower in the basement while she washed dishes and never miss a lick. Seven years into their marriage they had a daughter named Gloria, who later gave birth to a boy named Samuel. As far as Sam knows, his grandparents were the first couple ever brought together by public utilities. He thinks about them whenever he sees the water tower rising above the town, a monument to romance.
“Have I ever told you how my grandparents met?” Sam asked Barbara.
About a million times, she thought. Desperate to change the subject, she pointed to a mobile home sitting in a field. “I wonder who lives there?” she asked.
“Oh, that. That’s where Ellis Hodge’s brother, Ralph, lived with his wife. Remember, they moved here with Amanda, and Ellis bought them that trailer. Then they went off to California and left Amanda with Ellis and Miriam.” Sam paused. “Drinkers.”
“Ellis and Miriam are drinkers?”
“No, Ralph and his wife. That’s how Ellis and Miriam ended up with Amanda.”
She’d heard that story a million times too, but it was a shorter story.
“Anyway,” Sam continued, determined to finish his family’s tale, “my mother’s father came here in 1929. I think it was in May, but it might have been June. Anyway, he came here to build the water tower and when it was done—”
“He met your grandma and they were married and had great water pressure and your mom was born and met your dad, then you were born. Yes, I’ve heard that story.”
“Boy, you’re not just kidding about that water pressure,” Sam said. “It’d peel your hide right off.” He sighed. “I wish we had water pressure like that.”
“Well, honey, we can’t have everything.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Sam admitted, sounding rather woeful.
They passed the old tourist cabins, built before the interstate, when Harmony was on the road to the city. The cabins now rent by the week, mostly to single men down on their luck. Two blocks later, out front of the Dairy Queen, Oscar Purdy was perched on a ladder putting letters on the sign.
“
NOW HIRI,
” Sam read. “I wonder what
NOW HIRI
is. It sounds Japanese.”
“It’s
NOW HIRING,
” Barbara said, as Oscar slid an
N
into place. “For crying out loud, Sam, he puts the same sign up every year. You think you’d know that by now.”
“I was just kidding.”
Bob Miles, the editor of the
Harmony Herald,
was peering out his office window.
“Duck,” Sam commanded.
Barbara slid down in her seat. “Why am I ducking?”
“It’s Tuesday. He’s writing his ‘Bobservation Post’ column. If he sees us together, he’ll write about it and everyone will ask me what we were doing when I was supposed to be at the church today.”
She slid down farther.
“Rats.”
“What’s wrong?” Barbara asked.
“The light turned red. Stay down. He’s looking right at us.”
Three weeks earlier a state highway truck had rolled into town and they installed a traffic light at the corner of Main and Washington, in front of the
Herald
building and Kivett’s Five and Dime. Bob Miles had editorialized against the unbridled power of state government. Before the stoplight had been installed, he could count on a car wreck each week to plump up the front page of the
Herald.
There hadn’t been a wreck since, newspaper readership was down 25 percent, Bob was desperate for hard news, and everyone in town was trying their utmost not to become it.
Sam turned left at the light and headed toward home. There was a small knot of people gathered outside Grant’s Hardware. Sam slowed to a stop. Asa and Jessie Peacock were standing at the edge of the crowd, looking anxious.
Sam leaned out the window. “What’s going on?”
Asa and Jessie hurried over to Sam’s car. “It’s Dale Hinshaw. Something’s awful wrong with him,” Asa said. “We called Johnny Mackey to come with his ambulance, but he’s not here yet.”
It would stagger the mind to know how many people in our town have died in the past thirty years waiting for Johnny Mackey to arrive with his ambulance.
Sam jumped from the car and ran to Dale, edging people aside. Dale was stretched out on the pavement. His shirt was loosened around his neck and his feet were propped up. He was deathly pale.
“Hey, Dale,” Sam said, bending down beside him.
Dale’s eyes fluttered open. His lips moved, but no sound came out. The one time Sam wanted Dale to speak, and he wouldn’t.
“What happened?” Sam asked urgently, looking around the crowd of people. “Who knows what happened?”
“He was coming out of Grant’s and he just sorta fell over,” Bea Majors said. “I saw the whole thing. I was sitting in the chair at the Kut ’n’ Kurl getting my hair fixed. Do you like it?”
Dale groaned.
“What is it, Dale?” Sam asked, leaning over to place his ear near Dale’s mouth.
“I’m…going…” Dale said weakly, then fell silent.
“He’s in no shape to go anywhere, if you ask me,” Bea said.
“I think he stopped breathing,” Uly Grant said.
“Does anyone know CPR?” Jessie Peacock asked, glancing around anxiously.
To his credit, Sam Gardner didn’t even consider how much easier his life would be with Dale gone. He dropped to his knees, tilted Dale’s head back, pinched off his nose, placed his mouth squarely on Dale’s, and exhaled mightily.
Back and forth he moved, compressing Dale’s chest, then blowing in his mouth. Five minutes passed, then ten. Johnny Mackey was nowhere in sight, a larger crowd had gathered, and Sam was tiring.
“Let me help,” Deena Morrison said, stepping forward from the cluster of people. “You compress, and I’ll breathe.”
Several of the men in the crowd considered collapsing to the sidewalk themselves so Deena would press her lips to theirs.
It took Johnny Mackey twenty minutes to arrive with his ambulance. “Had to get gas,” he explained.
Meanwhile, Jessie Peacock had gone to fetch Dr. Neely, who arrived just as Johnny pulled up. By then, Dale appeared to be rallying. His color was returning, and his breathing had evened out. Sam and Asa lifted him onto the gurney and loaded him in the ambulance. Dr. Neely climbed in after Dale, Johnny switched the siren on, and off they drove toward the hospital in Cartersburg.
Sam sat on the curb, exhausted, his body aching with spent adrenaline.
“You saved his life, Sam,” Asa said.
Sam couldn’t tell whether Asa was pleased with him or not.
“What’s going on here?” asked Bob Miles, pushing his way into the center of the crowd.
“Sam and Deena just saved Dale’s life,” Jessie Peacock said. “They gave him CPR.”
Bob was thoroughly disgusted. “And I missed it! Why didn’t someone come get me? I could have put a picture of it on the front page.”
Kyle Weathers, the town barber and perpetual bachelor, spoke up. “We could do a photo re-creation like they do on those cop shows on television. I’ll lie down and Deena can give me mouth-to-mouth.” He eased himself down to the sidewalk and looked up expectantly at Deena.
“Not in your wildest dreams,” she said.
“Come on, honey, let’s get going to the hospital to be with the Hinshaws,” Barbara said to Sam, taking him by the arm and guiding him toward their car.
“Just think,” Sam said, after a few steps. “If we had gone where they had real palm trees, I wouldn’t have been here to save Dale’s life.”
“Yes, I guess you’re right,” she said, leaning her head into him and squeezing his hand. “I’m awfully proud of you.”
Sam beamed, secretly hoping the day wouldn’t come when he would regret what he had done.
