Just Past Oysterville: Shoalwater Book One (26 page)

"Let's pray," Karl murmured, and in unison
the family lowered their heads.

"Father God," Karl Ferguson intoned, his
voice warm, "bless our family and all its members and friends; bind
us together by your love. Give us kindness and patience to support
one another, and wisdom in all we do. Let the gift of your peace
come into our hearts and remain with us. May we rejoice in your
blessings for all our days."

Jack, peeking from beneath his eyelid, saw
the words being whispered in unison by Karl's daughters, and
realized that this was the family's traditional Christmas prayer.
He felt a surge of gratitude at being included.

Each voice at the table spoke up in conclusion,
"Amen.”

The chatter and laughter resumed
immediately, as platters and bowls began their clockwise journey.
As Jack spooned a second scoop of dressing onto his plate, the
raucous squawk of the doorbell sounded over the general clamor. One
of the children raced from the table, returning a moment later to
tell Jack there was a lady at the door for him.

"And she's crying," the little girl informed
him solemnly.

Jack and Karl exchanged a quick glance as
they both rose. Halfway across the living room, Jack recognized the
familiar idle of Bill's truck, and stepped in front of his boss to
open the door.

The child hadn't been completely correct,
Kathy Beckman wasn't actually crying at that moment, but it was
clear from her reddened nose and swollen eyes that she had been in
the not-so-distant past.

"Kathy," Jack asked, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she murmured, holding out a
small envelope, "I just wanted to drop off your present."

"Come in for a minute," Karl said, his brow
wrinkled with concern, "sit down and catch your breath." With this,
he shouldered Jack out of the way and placed a firm hand on the
young woman's arm, leading her inside.

"I…I can't," Kathy whispered, tears starting
in her eyes again, "Bill's in the truck…"

"Bill can wait," the older man said firmly,
"or he can join us." Karl led her into the living room and sat her
down in his easy chair.

"Jack," he said, without looking up, "why
don't you go get Kathy a glass of cold water, and ask one of the
girls to come in here."

Jack nodded. He was aware of Karl's
philosophy on counseling women.

"Always have another
woman in the room,”
he had
counseled,
“and make sure that she's a
married woman. Never give a woman a ride or accept a ride from them
unless there's another person in the car."

He'd made it clear to his assistant that
these rules weren't from a lack of trust, and that Karl imposed
this behavior on himself as well.

"Better,"
he had told
Jack,
"to avoid any appearance of evil,
even the possibility of wrongdoing, than to have to prove yourself
innocent later."

Jack came back from the kitchen with the
glass of water, and Lisa, in tow. She immediately pulled a hassock
up beside Kathy's chair and sat, resting a hand on the younger
woman's arm.

Kathy glanced up at her and, as their eyes
met, something unspoken seemed to pass between them.

Then Kathy gave vent to the tears she had
struggled to keep back, pressing her face into Lisa's shoulder and
letting Karl's daughter, a complete stranger, stroke her hair and
whisper comfort to her. After a moment, she raised her face, having
regained some control. Karl handed her a tissue.

"So," he asked, "what's this all about?"

Kathy took a deep breath, wiping her
eyes.

"It's not that big of a deal," she said,
"Bill wasn't happy about Jack buying me a Bible, he wouldn't even
open his gift, and he's been drinking all day."

"Do you need to stay here for the night?"
Karl asked, "We could juggle things around and put you in one of
the kid’s rooms; there's plenty of space."

Kathy was shaking her head before Karl
finished making the offer. "No," she said, "that would just make it
worse. Bill’s under so much pressure from the bank right now, every
little thing sets him off."

"Kathy," Karl asked, "has Bill hit you?"

Kathy’s eyes snapped up and caught Lisa's
again. There was a long pause and Jack heard the tinny slam of the
truck door outside. Whatever Karl was going to do, he had better do
quickly. Pastor Ferguson, for his part, remained calm. He must have
heard the heavy, uneven tread of boots coming up the wooden steps
and across his porch, but his eyes never left Kathy's.

"No," she whispered finally, her eyes
dropping.

Then Bill's heavy fist beat angrily on the
door, rattling the windows. Jack began to rise, but Karl grabbed
his arm first. "You just stay put," he said, his voice making it
clear that he would brook no nonsense on the subject, "whatever's
going on, your two cents isn't going to help!" Then he stood and
walked to the door.

His friend looked so different, standing in the pale light of
the Ferguson porch, that Jack gasped out loud. Bill, who had always
been whip-lean, now looked skeletal, his skin pulled tight across
his cheekbones. His unshaven face was the color of paste, and deep
purple hollows filled the space beneath his eyes like dark bruises.
His hair, a thick mass of greasy coils, was pulled tight into his
traditional ponytail and, even from across the room, Jack could
smell the rank odor of alcohol and stale, unwashed sweat. He was
also dead drunk, swaying slightly, with one hand resting on the
doorframe to steady himself. Focusing his red-rimmed eyes on the
cherubic old man in front of him, Bill took a belligerent step
forward.

His voice a low growl, "I want--"

Karl stepped into the doorway, his bulk
effectively blocking any hope of entrance, and placed a meaty hand
in the middle of the younger man's chest, easing him back onto the
porch.

"I didn't ask you what you wanted, son."

Karl Ferguson's voice was
hard as nails; unlike anything Jack had ever heard from him before.
"What you're going to
get
," he continued, backing
Bill up another step, "is a night in jail, if you try to walk
into
this
house uninvited…and drunk."

Bill stopped, blinking owlishly in confusion
as the portly man took instant and unquestionable control of the
moment. Thinking hard, swaying and covering Karl in bourbon fumes,
Bill decided to try another tact. "Katie...honey, you in
there?"

Karl snorted. "C'mon Bill,"
he said, "of course she's in here, you just saw her walk through
the door two minutes ago, didn't you? If you'd ask
politely
, you could
be in here too."

Bill thought about this, and then muttered,
"'Kay, so can I come in?"

"Are you going to be nice?"

Another pause, "Yeah."

“
Okay," Karl stepped back
out of the doorway, "but no trouble Bill, I mean it! I'll toss your
rear right back out in the street and call Sheriff Bradley to haul
you off, understood?"

"Yeah."

He stumbled through the door and, for an
awful moment, Jack was sure that Bill was going face down onto the
hardwood. The unsteady eyes caught Kathy's and seemed to soften a
bit, as he glanced shamefully around the room. Then he saw
Jack.

Bill's face froze into a hard iron mask at
the sight of his former friend. A hooded, dangerous look that Jack
had never seen before fell over Bill's eyes as his lip curled into
a snarl.

"So," he slurred, taking a lurching step in
Jack's direction, only to have Karl's fist clamp firmly onto his
narrow bicep, "You like to buy fancy presents for my wife,
huh?"

"Be nice…" Karl murmured, his face impassive
and unreadable.

But, Bill was mad and here at last was the
object of his anger, at least in his own besotted mind.

"I'm being nice, lemme go!" he cried, never
looking away from Jack. "I can buy my own wife presents, buddy
boy!” He turned back toward Karl, his voice rising, "Maybe you
should tell your youth pastor there to be nice! Tell him to keep
his lousy hands to hisself, and off my wife! I seen 'em
together…"

Jack rose from the couch, his face
flushing.

"Now hang on!"

Bill twisted, trying to free himself and
lunge at Jack, his features contorted in a mask of drunken fury,
"You tell 'em Jack, you just tell 'em what I saw!"

Karl's free hand dropped to Bill's other
bicep and, and he stood, an unmovable mountain of calm and, as he
looked up at Jack, his voice was flat and emotionless.

"Jack, I want you to go into the
kitchen."

Jack hesitated.

"Right now, I mean it."

Jack, stiff with anger, walked across the
room and through the swinging wooden door, where he found both
daughters’ husbands standing, waiting to burst into the living room
if Bill got out of hand. Wordlessly they pushed him to the end of
the line, making it clear that both agreed with Karl; Jack wasn't
welcome or needed in this confrontation.

From the living room, they heard a few more
murmured words from both Bill and Karl, and then Jan went back to
the table to reassure the children that everything was all right.
After several moments, the front door opened and closed and they
heard Karl flop into his chair with a heavy sigh.

“
Okay," he called wearily, "the show's over, you can all come
in now."

The three men hurried into the living room.
Jack looked around quickly, realizing that Kathy was nowhere to be
seen.

"You didn't let her leave with him, did
you?" he asked, aghast, not meaning to shout but doing so
anyway.

Karl stood up, frowning, and crossed the
floor to face his assistant.

"With her
husband
, you mean?
Of course I did. I asked her if she wanted to stay and she said no.
What did you want me to do, Jack, kidnap her?"

The younger man said nothing, but stood
fuming, knowing that Karl was right, but hating it all the
same.

Karl turned to the rest of his family, "You
guys go ahead and finish dinner; Jack and I will be in the study.”
With that, he turned and walked down the hallway, neither glancing
back nor gesturing for Jack to follow.

Pastor Ferguson's study was the last small
room at the end of the hall, chosen for the large picture window
looking out onto the backyard, where Karl could watch his
grandchildren at play while he worked. A floor-to-ceiling bookcase
dominated the wall opposite the door, and a heavy oak desk sat in
front of this, where the light of the morning sun would fall across
his study area.

The narrow strips of exposed shelves in
front of each row of books were taken up with all types of
knickknacks and mementoes from a lifetime of ministry. Mostly these
were figurines of preachers, ranging from an exquisitely painted
porcelain Dutch minister in wooden shoes, to an African pastor
forged in bronze. The three remaining walls were covered with
pictures of Karl's children, grandchildren, and members of the
congregation. Jack noticed little of this as his employer eased his
girth behind the desk and gestured for Jack to close the door and
sit, which he did.

Karl removed his glasses with a sigh, wiping
them with a tissue and rubbing the bridge of his nose. He looked up
at Jack with an expression of mixed sadness and resolve. A
much-used study Bible lay on the desk before him and he flipped
though this until he found the page he was looking for, and then
spoke.

“
Okay Jack," he said, "I'm
only going to ask this once, and I'm not going to apologize for it,
because it's my job. Have you had any inappropriate contact or
conversation with Kathy Beckman?"

Jack felt his entire frame shaking, and
struggled to steady his voice as he answered. "No, never."

Karl sighed again. "If it makes you feel any
better, I was pretty certain of that, but the Word is clear on how
this type of thing is handled, and I won’t make any exceptions, not
even for you, Jack."

"I know."

"Good," he said, "and I believe you, but I'm
still going to read this passage so we're completely clear on the
subject." Karl slipped his glasses back on and peered at the page
before him, finding the verse.

"Those who sin are to be
rebuked publicly,"
he quoted,
"so that the others may take warning. I charge
you, in the sight of God and Christ Jesus and the elect angels, to
keep these instructions without partiality, and to do nothing out
of favoritism.
That’s First Timothy
chapter five, verse twenty-one." Pastor Ferguson
finished.

"I'm familiar with it," Jack said. "It was a
popular verse in Bible College."

Pastor Ferguson’s lip
quirked upward. "I would imagine so," he said, "now, let's figure
this mess out. Tell me why
you
think that Bill said what he
said? Besides the fact that he was about three sheets to the
wind."

Jack took a deep breath and told Karl
exactly what had happened the night of the youth group meeting, in
the hallway of the church. Karl nodded and then shook his head.

"I'm not going to coddle you Jack,” he
warned, “I hope that you don't expect me to. If you want to be a
pastor, this is the type of lesson you have to learn the first time
because you might not survive it a second."

"So," he continued, "can you tell me why
this situation is as much your fault as anyone else's, maybe
more?"

That hit Jack hard, like a fist in the
belly, and he nodded miserably, refusing to look down. "Because I
didn't make sure there was someone else there with us. I allowed an
opportunity for the appearance of wrong."