And the Shofar Blew (29 page)

Eunice got up with Paul the next morning. He had already loaded the boxes of books into the trunk of his Buick. She started breakfast for him while he packed his clothes and shaving kit. Lois came into the kitchen wearing her bathrobe. The shadows beneath her eyes were more pronounced. Opening the cabinet, Eunice took down another cup and saucer and poured coffee for her.

“Thanks, honey. I just came down to wish my son a safe trip.”

Eunice cracked an extra two eggs into the frying pan.

“Did Paul take all the books he wanted?”

“Six boxes full.”

“Any files?”

Paul entered the kitchen. “No time to go through the files this time, Mom.” He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat at the nook table. “Besides, I thought someone in the church may want to read through them, use them to write his biography.”

Lois put her cup into the saucer. “Dennis Nott suggested the same thing.”

“I was going to ask you about him. Who is Nott, anyway? He left a couple of cryptic notes in Dad’s office. Was he Dad’s secretary or what?”

“He was your father’s ghostwriter.”

Paul held his coffee cup suspended. “Ghostwriter?”

“He wrote your father’s book.”

Eunice divided the eggs onto three plates and put the frying pan into the sink to wash later. She served Lois first, then Paul. He looked pensive. Eunice hoped he was thinking about his father’s lack of ethics. Was he wondering if David Hudson was capable of other kinds of deceit, if he could allow the public to believe he had written a book someone else had written for him?

“I wish you could stay a few days longer, Paul,” Lois said. “There are a lot of things I wanted to talk over with you.”

“I wish I could, Mom, but I have a couple fires to put out at VNLC.”

“Trouble?”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed when I get there. The general contractor is turning into a royal headache.” He stood. “I’d better get a move on. I’ve got a long drive ahead of me.” He leaned down and gave his mother a kiss. “You know if you need anything, you only have to ask.” He straightened. “Walk with me to the car, would you, Eunice?”

She went out with him, praying for words of reconciliation.

“Tell Tim good-bye for me.” He gave her a perfunctory kiss and slid into his Buick. “Keep a tight rein on him. I don’t want him getting into more trouble down here. Mom doesn’t need it. And don’t stay longer than a week. You can’t leave your responsibilities to others, whatever you’d like to do.”

Heart sinking, she watched him back down the driveway. He couldn’t wait to get back to his mistress, the church.

Lois was still in the kitchen. “He’s still annoyed that he didn’t get his face in the news, isn’t he?”

Eunice took her seat again. “He just has a lot on his mind.” She tried to raise enough appetite to eat her scrambled eggs. Lois rose and poured herself more coffee, sat again, and remained silent for a long time. Giving up all pretenses, Eunice got up and dumped her eggs into the garbage disposal and put the dishes in the washer.

“It would seem neither of us has an appetite.” Lois stretched out and put her hand over Eunice’s. “Don’t stay away from home too long, honey.”

“I was only kidding about a month, Mom.”

“I know that, but there are times in a man’s life when he is particularly vulnerable. This is one for Paul. He’s very confused. There was a lot of unfinished business between him and David.” She squeezed Euny’s hand and leaned back in her seat again. She turned her cup around in the saucer. “I keep hoping God will open Paul’s eyes. I thought going through his father’s things might jog his memory about the past.”

“He saw what he wanted to see, Mom.” Saying even that much made her feel guilty. It wasn’t her right to speak against David Hudson. Lois had made her privy to information the public would never know. And it would be up to Lois to tell Paul, if she ever decided to do so. To know more of her father-in-law’s sins would only add to the temptation of exposing him. And all that would accomplish was an annihilation of her already-crumbling marriage.

Who would ever guess that a pastor’s wife could feel so trapped in despair?

“I’m not sure what I’m going to do about finances,” Lois said.

“The church didn’t give Dad a pension?”

“Oh, of course. He received a generous retirement. Unfortunately, it won’t extend to me.”

“Oh, Mom.”

“I’ll manage. I have Social Security. I’m not counting royalties on David’s book. I’m keeping only enough of it to pay the taxes on the income. I’ve arranged for Dennis Nott to receive 25 percent, and the rest is going to missions.”

Eunice wished Lois had said all this to Paul.

“Sometimes I think I should tell Paul everything.” Lois sipped her coffee. “I’ve thought about it so many times. But every time I think it’s time to lay everything out on the table, something stops me. I end up examining my own motives and realizing they’re less than pure. All those years of hurt, the years of watching David play at work. I don’t want to use truth as a weapon of revenge, Euny.” Her voice broke. She looked out the window for a long time before speaking again. “I kept hoping God would get through to David and he would repent. The Bible says, ‘God gave them over to shameful lusts.’ I saw that happen from up close. Too close. God kept reminding me that a man may be won over by his wife’s submission.” She looked at Eunice. “I left David once and took Paul with me. Has he ever told you about that?”

“No.”

“Maybe he doesn’t remember. He was just a little boy and we weren’t gone long.”

“Where did you go?”

“Morro Bay. I couldn’t afford a motel room, so we slept in the car. It was in my head to keep following Highway 1 up the coast all the way to Canada, but I headed home the next day. It was Saturday. Everyone would’ve been asking questions if I wasn’t seen sitting in the front-row pew on Sunday morning.”

At least Eunice would be saved those speculations. She had the ready excuse of a death in the family.

Lois pushed her cup and saucer away. “Enough whining about the past. I’m going to make some changes in my life. First thing tomorrow, I’m going to call a Realtor and put this house on the market.” She looked around the kitchen. “One person doesn’t need a place this big.”

Eunice leaned over and touched Lois’s arm. “You can come stay with us for a while.”

“I don’t think so, Euny. I don’t think I could stand to watch . . . ” Lois shook her head. “A pastor’s life is difficult. It would bring back too many memories.”

“Maybe you should wait on making any decisions.”

“No. I need to unload this house. I need to unload a lot of things. No more reflected glory for me.” She looked fragile and broken. “You know what hurts most, Euny? I can’t seem to hear the Lord’s voice anymore. It used to be so clear that it was like a trumpet call—like the shofar of ancient Israel. But I can’t hear Him anymore. Not even the still, small voice. And I want that more than anything.” She took Eunice’s hand, her eyes filled with anguish. “Don’t let it happen to you, honey. Please, don’t let it happen.”

CHAPTER 13

S
TEPHEN DECKER knew how the wind was blowing the minute he opened his church newsletter and read the headline: “Building Stones for New Life.” He had said everything he could to dissuade Paul from agreeing to Gerald Boham’s latest fund-raising scheme—a program designed to give special recognition to all those members who gave a thousand dollars or more to the building fund. Designated gifts would also receive recognition. If you paid for a pew, a small brass plaque with your name would be attached. Give a stained-glass window and your name would be etched on it. Names of those donating smaller amounts would be posted each Sunday. Courtyard paving stones would be marketed between the sanctuary and the education complex.

Father, forgive us.
Crumpling the newsletter, Stephen slam-dunked the wad into his wastebasket. They would need Jesus and His whip to clean out the new temple. Stephen reached for the telephone and punched the speed-dial for VNLC. The answering machine picked up. Everyone was busy, but someone would be with him soon. Then a recording clicked on, advertising the upcoming events at the church. Stephen banged the phone back onto its cradle. What he had to say was best said in person.

Reka’s eyes widened when he walked in the door. “You want me to buzz Pastor Paul?”

“Don’t bother.”

“Stephen, he’s counseling—”

Stephen was too mad to care. He rapped twice on the door and opened it. Sheila Atherton sat on the couch, eyes wide. “You scared the life out of me, Stephen.”

Stephen knew that look. “Why? Did you think I was Rob?” She was dressed to kill.

Pastor Paul was on his feet. “Who do you think you are barging into my office like this? I’m in the middle of a counseling session.”

Pastor Paul was pretty quick to her defense. Sheila noticed, too, and looked smug. Was Paul naïve or just plain stupid? “Five minutes is all I need, and then you can get back to business as usual.”

Sheila smirked as she picked up her purse. “Jealous?” She mouthed the word, her back to Paul.

“You don’t have to leave, Sheila. Stephen is the one leaving.” He was so solicitous, so careful of her feelings. A goldfish courting a piranha.

“It’s all right, Pastor Paul. I don’t think Stephen would behave in such an unseemly manner if it weren’t important.” She closed the door behind her.

Paul’s face was red. “It better be good, Stephen.”

Stephen thought of Eunice, loving and faithful, and turned his head, staring into Paul’s eyes.
“You’d
better be good.” If he saw so much as a flicker of guilt, he was going to smash his jaw.

“What’re you talking about?”

Pastor Paul didn’t have a clue. Stephen let it go and got to the point of his visit instead. “Building Stones for New Life?”

Paul sat. “You said you needed more money. We’re getting you more money.”

“Don’t you dare lay this at my feet! I said we need more
time!”

“We won’t need more time if we have more money, and it’s been pouring in since that newsletter went out. Ten thousand dollars came in just this morning.”

“For what? The cross? Whose name are you going to carve on that, Paul?”

“You’re out of line!”

“And seeing the light.” He shook his head. “You’re way off track, my friend.”

Paul made a noticeable effort to rein in his temper. “You have no idea the pressure I’m under. If we hadn’t finally sold that old church building, we’d be drowning in debt.”

Stephen had warned him. “Pressure from whom? Pressure from what? You’re the one pushing every Sunday, browbeating the congregation into giving more and more. You’re using coercion, Paul. What’s next? Are you and General Gerald going to start selling shares in the church? You going along with that idea, too?”

Paul’s eyes flickered. “Not shares. Bonds. There’s nothing wrong with it! It’ll give us what we need to finish the project.” Paul tried on a smile, but it didn’t fit. “You won’t have to worry about paying the subcontractors anymore.”

There was no talking to him, no heading him off from disaster. By the time the church was finished, it would just be another big project brought to fruition. Stephen wished he had never gotten involved. He wished he had never done the conceptual drawings and the blueprints.
God, forgive
me. Please. I didn’t know what I was getting into. I didn’t know what I was getting
these people into.
He felt sick. “I’m contracted to finish the west wing. It’s almost done. After that, I’m out. I can’t in good conscience move forward. Not in the direction you’re going.”

Paul looked grim, but not surprised. He folded his hands on his desk. “Gerald didn’t think you’d have the staying power.”

“Is that so? Based on what information?” He’d never left a project unfinished until now. Then again, he had never worked with a pastor and board who thought they had unlimited resources. They ran this place like the government, a new tithe increase every term.

“We’ve had our disagreements, Stephen, but I hoped you would see this project through. The end result will be every bit as fantastic as we first envisioned it.”

The end result was exactly what Stephen had been talking about for months, but Paul didn’t seem to get it. “I was under the impression a church wasn’t just a building, Paul. A church is built on faith.”

Paul’s eyes darkened. “I don’t need to be told that. It is being built on faith.
My
faith in the ability of the people of this church to come through!”

“Come through for what? for whom? You?”

“You’re the one without faith, Stephen. You had enough to get us started, but not enough to endure to the end. And that’s saving faith. You don’t even have as much as a mustard seed.” He took on an expression of profound disappointment. “Who’d have thought you would be the stumbling block to a project like this? Something that will bring credit to your name whether you finish it or not?”

“I don’t want my name mentioned. I never did.”

Paul shook his head. “The least you can do at this point is give us some recommendations.”

Stephen couldn’t believe his brass. “Someone with more faith than I have, you mean? Someone who’ll work for 3 percent? Other subcontractors who’ll walk when I do because they will know Marvin Lockford holds the key to the money and they’ll have to use dynamite to get into the vault?”

“It’s always the money with you, isn’t it? So much for all your rhetoric about building something for God!”

Stephen clenched his fist.
Lord, help me think straight. Don’t let my anger
get the better of me
.

“How about giving me the name of someone who values his reputation?”

Stephen felt a cold wave of shock. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s what people will say when word gets out that you quit in the middle of building our church. And what will the papers make of it? I wonder. Did you think of that before busting in here with your demands? Stephen Decker doesn’t finish what he starts. He’s not dependable. That’s what people are going to say. I don’t think you’ll be welcome at VNLC after word gets out. I doubt you’ll find much work in the area either.”

“And you call yourself a man of God.”

“You’re the one turning your back on the church, Stephen! You’re the one deserting Jesus Christ!”

Stephen couldn’t believe the man sitting behind the mahogany desk was the same man who had befriended a stranger at Charlie’s Diner. Or had all that just been a good cover for what he really was underneath the surface? “It’s because of Christ I’m walking away from this project, Paul. And it’s because of Christ I’m not coming over the top of your desk right now and pounding your face into a bloody pulp.”

His eyes widened in fear. “Try it and I’ll have you arrested for assault.”

“You know your real problem, Paul? You’ve forgotten who you work for.” Stephen yanked open the door.

“Finished so soon?” Sheila crooned, rising like Venus from the sea.

Stephen figured Pastor Paul could fend for himself in shark-infested waters.

Samuel sat in his DeSoto across from the old Centerville Christian Church, a newspaper lying beside him on the seat with the headline that had sent him out for verification: “Historical Landmark Sold.” The front doors of the church were open. A cherry picker was parked on the curb, a two-man crew at work on the steeple. Samuel saw a pickup pull up. A man got out and pried up the For Sale sign with a Sold banner across it, heaved it into the back, and drove off. A local sign company was at work mounting a new marquee on the front of the building.

He heard shouting from the basket of the cherry picker. The wooden cross that had stood above the treetops of Centerville for over a hundred years toppled, bounced down the roof, and fell, splintering into pieces on the front steps of the old church. Samuel made an anguished cry, but no one heard him. Who cared about an old man in an old car watching progress come to town?

Two young men came out of the church. One held a box. They talked animatedly as they put letters up on the marquee. When they finished, they embraced. The crew from the cherry picker gathered up the pieces of the cross and tossed them into the back of the truck, then received a check from one of the young men. As the cherry picker pulled away, Samuel was able to read the marquee:

Paul answered the telephone on the second ring, and his heart leaped at the familiar voice on the other end. “Paul, I have to talk with you.”

He glanced toward the kitchen where Eunice was peeling potatoes. “I told you never to call me at home.”

“I couldn’t help it. Rob was an absolute monster before he left yesterday. He said the meanest things to me. I need to talk to you. I’m desperate.”

Paul could hear her soft weeping. “Sheila, I’ve explained before. You have to call the church office and make an appointment through Reka. The last thing either of us wants is misunderstanding about our relationship.”

“Reka doesn’t like me.”

Eunice looked his way. He shrugged and rolled his eyes, pretending it was someone unimportant. “Why do you say that?”

“I can tell. Every time I call for an appointment, she leaves me on hold for five minutes.”

“We get a lot of calls.”

“You know I would never bother you without reason, Paul. I know how important you are.”

“Maybe I should call Carol Matthews. She has a master’s in family counseling.”

“I don’t do well with women, Paul.”

“She’s well trained.”

“It doesn’t matter how well she’s trained. It never works.”

Eunice was looking at him again. He carried the phone into the living room, but found Tim lounged on the sofa, reading his American history textbook. Sliding the glass door open, Paul went out to the patio.

“They don’t like me, Paul. I think they’re jealous. I have money. They don’t. I do everything I possibly can to look my best for my husband. And they gossip about everything from the age difference between me and Rob to the size of my bustline. I’ll bet you didn’t know that, did you?”

“No, I didn’t.” A small white lie.

Paul conceded Sheila was the most beautiful woman in the congregation. And he had overheard gossip. LaVonne Lockford made a crack at a dinner party not long ago about Sheila Atherton having a body like the
Star
Trek Voyager
character Seven of Nine. Whether it was manufactured by plastic surgeons, Paul didn’t know. But he was a healthy male. He couldn’t help but notice her body when she came to counseling sessions in figure-fitting pants and sweaters. Sometimes she moved in such a way that his mouth went dry.

“I’ve been holding back, Paul,” Sheila had told him last week. “I didn’t want to seem disloyal to my husband. But I guess it’s best to be honest and get things out into the open. I think there’s something wrong with Rob. I wanted him to go in for a checkup, but he says he’s fine.” Paul had pressed her. “Well, I don’t know how to say this . . . ” She had explained in embarrassing detail what the problem was.

No wonder the poor girl was unhappy.

She said she wanted children, but there didn’t seem much chance of that happening. Besides, Rob already had three children by his first wife and a grandbaby on the way. “I’ve tried to be friends with them, but they hate me. They think I’m the one that broke up their father’s marriage to their mother. But it was over and done with long before I came on the scene.”

The more she talked, the more his mind wandered into realms he knew he should avoid. She’d given him a hug the last time, and he had been shocked by his physical response. Of course, she hadn’t meant anything by the embrace. She’d just been thanking him for all the time he spent counseling her and trying to help her fix her marriage. She was so grateful.

“Could you come out to the house? Rob left this morning and I’m so upset. I don’t think I can drive without getting in an accident. Please, Paul.”

“I can’t, Sheila.” Rob was out of town. “It’s inappropriate.”

“Inappropriate?” Her voice broke. “Why? You’re my pastor, aren’t you?”

“People would get the wrong idea.”

“The wrong idea about what?”

She was so innocent. “I have to be especially careful about my reputation.”

“And you think I’d ever do anything to hurt you? Oh, I wouldn’t. I swear I wouldn’t.”

“I know you wouldn’t. But people can easily get the wrong idea. They talk.” A reputation that had taken years to build could be undone in a few minutes. He felt a twinge of conscience. Stephen Decker had little business in Centerville or the surrounding area anymore because Marvin Lockford and Gerald Boham had said Decker wasn’t as upstanding as people might think. Did they know he’d spent time in an alcoholic treatment center? Paul had stayed out of it, but his silence had helped fan the sparks into a fire-storm against the contractor. And Stephen had said nothing to defend him-self. The first few Sundays after the gossip started, he had come to church and sat near the front, looking up at Paul. After a month, Stephen left VNLC.

Sometimes Paul regretted it, but at least no harm had come from his leaving. The building program was on schedule. The new contractor wasn’t a Christian. He didn’t quibble about cutting corners.

“I’m sorry, Paul. I guess I’m asking too much again. Rob says I’m always asking for too much.” She was crying harder now. “It’s just that . . . that I’m so miserable. Sometimes I wish I was dead. Sometimes I think Rob would be happy if I drove my car into a tree! Or took a bottle of pills.”

Paul felt a prickle of fear. He’d learned in training never to take a threat of suicide lightly. “Don’t talk that way. He cares about you.
I
care about you.” Maybe he should go to her house. She needed him. And she didn’t trust anyone else. Ordinarily he could take Eunice along for something delicate like this, but Sheila thought women didn’t like her. She would never open up if Eunice was there.

“I’m sorry I called you,” Sheila said in a broken voice. “I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“You’re no bother.”

“I’ll be all right. You don’t need to worry about me anymore.” She fum-bled the telephone as she hung up.

How desperate was she? What had Rob said to get Sheila into such a state? Could he believe her that she would be all right? And if she wasn’t, how could he live with the knowledge that she’d called him and made a desperate plea for help? He couldn’t in good conscience abandon her.

“I’ve got to go out for a couple of hours.” He put the telephone back on the power source and headed for the back door to the garage.

“Who was calling?”

He pretended he didn’t hear her as he grabbed his car keys. “I’ll try to call you later.”

She dried her hands on a towel and followed him as he went out the door. “Paul?” She stood in the doorway.

All he could think about was getting to Sheila before she did anything crazy.