Just Shy of Harmony (15 page)

G
ood Friday morning, Sam Gardner and his brother, Roger, sat at the counter of the Coffee Cup eating breakfast. Roger had come home from the city for the Easter weekend. He and Tiffany, the vegetarian, had broken up.

“I couldn’t take it anymore,” he told Sam. “It was all she talked about—vegetable this and vegetable that. Plus, she was starting to go a little overboard.”

“Oh yeah? What’d she do?” Sam asked.

“She started carrying a can of spray paint with her and whenever she’d pass someone wearing a fur she’d spray-paint ’em.”

Sam laughed. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not. She was going off the deep end. She even got put in jail once. But that’s not the worst of it. She saw me in the drive-through lane at Burger King. All I ordered was a Coke, but she accused me of fraternizing with the enemy and didn’t talk to me for an entire month.”

“That’s a little extreme.”

“All she ever talked about was what she believed. Never cared what anyone else thought. Never lifted a hand to do anything for anyone, but expected the whole world to bow to her wishes. To tell you the truth, I’m glad to be shed of her.”

The bell over the door tinkled. Ernie Matthews walked in. “Hey, Roger, long time no see.”

There was an empty seat next to Sam. Dear Lord, please let him sit somewhere else, Sam prayed.

“I’ll just sit here next to Sam. You don’t mind, do you Sam?”

“Actually, Roger and I—”

“Good, good. I’ll just sit right here. Hey, Penny, can you pour me some coffee over here? Say, Sam, I got this joke. You’ll get a kick out of this one, you being a minister and all. This man walks into a church and sees all these names written on the wall. The pastor comes up to him, and the guy says, ‘What are all these names doing on the wall?’

“The pastor says, ‘Those are the names of the people who died in the service.’

“The guy looks at the pastor and says, ‘Was that the eight o’clock service or the ten o’clock service?’”

Ernie bellowed and slapped the table.

Lord, how could you do this to me? Sam thought.

“That was pretty good, Ernie,” Roger said. “I bet the ladies around here really appreciate your sense of humor. So are you dating anyone now?”

“No, no one in particular. I’m kinda playing the field. But I’ve been thinking of giving Deena Morrison a chance to date me.”

“I bet she can hardly wait,” Sam said.

“Who’s Deena Morrison?” Roger asked. “I’ve not heard of her. Any relation to Harold and Mabel Morrison?”

“She’s their granddaughter,” Sam said. “She moved here last year to open a law practice, but now she’s running the Legal Grounds Coffee Shop.” He leaned closer to Roger. “She’s not dating anyone at the moment. You want to meet her?”

“Not me. I’ve had it with women.”

“You’d change your mind if you ever met her. She’s a remarkable lady.”

T
he bell over the door tinkled again. Dale Hinshaw and Asa Peacock walked in and took a booth near the back, underneath the swordfish. Penny poured them coffee, and Vinny dropped four more eggs on the griddle.

Dale sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Asa asked.

“It’s my chickens. They’re losing more feathers than ever.”

“Did you try giving them some fresh air like I suggested?”

“Yep, I’ve taken them on walks every night. Do you know how hard it is to take twenty chickens on a walk? They’re not like dogs, that’s for sure.”

“Gee, Dale, I’m sorry to hear of your troubles.”

“Oh, it’ll work out okay. I guess I just have to have faith. Speaking of troubles, are you and Jessie doing any better?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s okay, Asa. You don’t have to be embarrassed. I
know you and Jessie have been having marriage problems. In fact, everyone knows. It’s all over town. I just want you to know I’ve been praying for you.”

Asa stared at Dale.

“What happened?” Dale prodded. “You can tell me. Did winning all that money go to Jessie’s head? I was afraid that would happen. I tried to warn her in a Scripture egg.”

“Dale, I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re not having marriage problems. We’re getting along fine.”

Dale reached across the table and laid his hand on Asa’s shoulder.

“Now, Asa, I know this is hard for you, but you can be honest with me. How about me and the missus come visit you sometime? Maybe we can share some Scripture and put Satan on the run.”

“I tell you, Jessie and me are doing fine.”

“All right, if you say so. But I just want you to know that if you need someone to talk with, I’m here for you.”

“I’ll remember that. I appreciate your concern.”

How sad, Dale thought. He can’t see what is perfectly clear to everyone else in town. Poor guy.

Asa didn’t feel much like eating after that. He pushed his eggs around the plate and drank a little coffee, then excused himself.

“See you tonight at church,” he told Dale, then paid his bill and left.

A
sa went home and told Jessie what had happened. She was so upset she wanted to cry. “I can’t be
lieve they would think that of us,” she said. “After all these years, for them to think that about us. How could they? To heck with them. I’m going to the Catholic church tonight. That’ll show ’em.”

“Now, now, don’t get all worked up,” Asa said. “They didn’t mean anything by it. Besides, if I go to the Quaker church and you go to the Catholic church, they’ll really start talking then.”

She finally settled down, but it took a while. Asa was glad he had work to do outside.

T
he Good Friday service began at seven that evening. Sam got there with his family around six-thirty, turned on the lights, and got the coffee going.

The Harmony Friends Good Friday service is always a brief one. They meet for a half hour to contemplate the Crucifixion, then retire to the basement for cookies and coffee. “Why get all worked up?” is their philosophy. “We know things turn out okay in the end.”

Roger came with Sam and Barbara and the boys. He’s not a big one for the church—never went in for God in a big way—but he likes cookies. He stood next to Sam as people entered the meetinghouse. He saw Deena Morrison walking down the sidewalk with the three Fleming kids. “Say, who’s that?” he asked Sam.

“Deena Morrison. But since you’re not interested in women, I won’t bother to introduce you.”

“You didn’t tell me she had kids. I like kids.”

“Those aren’t hers. Those are the Fleming kids. Their mom’s the one in the hospital with leukemia. Deena’s been caring for them.”

“That’s awful good of her.”

“I told you she was remarkable.”

Deena and the Fleming kids climbed the steps. “Hi, Sam,” Deena called out.

“Hi, Deena. Deena, this is my brother, Roger. Roger, this is Deena.”

Deena smiled at Roger.

Oh, she was beautiful. She was so…so…robust. She was no Tiffany, that was for sure.

“Are you a vegetarian?” he asked.

She laughed.

Oh, her laugh was a joy.

“No, I’m not a vegetarian. Why do you want to know?”

Dumb, dumb, dumb, Roger said to himself. Roger Gardner, you are a moron.

“Oh, no special reason. I was just curious. Say, it’s kind of crowded in our pew. Do you mind if I sit with you? Maybe I could help you with the kids. I really like kids.”

Lord, please let her say yes, Roger prayed. Suddenly, Roger Gardner believed in prayer as never before.

Deena smiled. “Sure, you can sit with us.”

Roger’s insides shuddered. Thank you, Lord. I’m your man from here on out.

R
oger and Deena sat in the Wilbur Matthews pew, just behind Fern Hampton. The Fleming children sat between them.

Roger was glad his mother had made him change
clothes before coming to church. He’d come downstairs wearing black, his favorite color. A black polyester shirt with black pants and black shoes. He was thinking of growing his hair long enough to wear a ponytail.

His father had looked up from his easy chair. “For cryin’ out loud,” Charlie Gardner had snorted.

For Christmas, a few months before, Roger’s mother had bought him a new outfit from the Penney’s catalog—khaki pants, a blue shirt, a navy blazer, and a reversible belt. “Didn’t you like what we bought you for Christmas?” she asked. She sounded hurt.

“I thought I should dress more somberly since it’s Good Friday.”

“Let’s not focus on the negative,” his mother said brightly. “Remember, He rose again. Now why don’t you slip back upstairs and put on that nice little outfit we got you for Christmas?”

Now Roger was glad she’d made him change. Eating all those vegetables with Tiffany had slimmed him down. He looked successful in his navy blazer, like an investment banker.

He smiled down the row at Deena.

She smiled back.

His insides shuddered.

Then the phone rang in Sam’s office. Sam was busy making his way up front for the start of worship. Roger eased out of the pew and made his way to Sam’s office. He picked up the phone on the fifth ring.

“Hello, this is Harmony Friends Meeting. Can I help you?”

“Uh…who’s this?” The voice sounded defeated.

“This is Roger Gardner. I’m the pastor’s brother. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Is Sam there?”

“Yes, but he’s kind of busy right now. Can I take a message?”

“Please tell him Wayne called and needs to talk with him. Tell him something’s happened.”

“Will do,” Roger said. He walked out of the office. Sam was seated up front behind the pulpit. Bea Majors had begun the organ prelude. It would have to wait.

Roger walked back to the Wilbur Matthews pew and slid in next to Kate Fleming. He hadn’t really noticed her before. She looked worried for such a small child. He studied the children closer. They all looked that way. Preoccupied and weighed down.

T
he phone rang again from Sam’s office. Dale Hinshaw was standing near the back of the meetinghouse, overseeing the ushers. He slipped into Sam’s office to answer it.

Bea Majors went on with her prelude.

Dale stepped out of the office, looking pale. He walked toward the front, oblivious to everyone around him. He stopped midway down the aisle.

Sam looked up from his chair. “What is it, Dale?”

Bea stopped playing the organ and turned to stare at Dale.

“That phone call.” Dale swallowed hard. His chin trembled. “There’s been a death.”

All across the meeting room, people stiffened in
their pews. Deena reached over and drew the Fleming kids to her.

Dale let out a sob. “It’s my chickens. They’re all dead. That was the missus on the phone. She stayed home to watch them, and she says they just keeled over dead.”

“Thank God,” Sam said.

“Thank God? Thank God? How can you say that?”

“Dale, I’m sorry about your chickens. But can this keep until after church is over?”

Bea Majors spoke up from the organ. “Sam, would you like me to play something in memory of Dale’s chickens? Maybe something from the light classics.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

This place hasn’t changed much, Roger thought.

“It’s like we’re cursed,” Dale said. “First Sally got sick. Then Asa and Jessie are having marriage problems. Now my chickens are dead.”

“Asa and I are not having marriage problems,” Jessie insisted from the eighth pew.

How sad, everyone thought. She can’t see what is perfectly clear to everyone else in town. Poor Jessie.

A
fter the service they all trouped downstairs for cookies and coffee. People clustered around Dale, consoling him.

“It was a fine ministry while it lasted,” Miriam Hodge told him. “There’s no telling how many lives it changed.”

“I’d like to think that somewhere right now a little pagan boy or girl is cracking open an egg and finding the Lord,” Dale said.

Asa patted him on the back. “You know, Dale, if Good Friday teaches us anything, it’s that something good can come from something bad.”

“I’m bearing that in mind.”

Roger slipped up to Sam. “Hey, brother, you got a phone call from some guy named Wayne. He wants you to call him. He said something’s happened.”

Sam looked stricken. “When did he call?”

“Just before church started. I didn’t want to bother you with it then.”

Sam set down his coffee and cookie and hurried upstairs to his office. As he ran up the stairs, he prayed, Lord, don’t let it be that. Please don’t let it be that.

He stepped into the office and closed the door behind him. He paused to pray again, then dialed the hospital number. “I’d like the room of Sally Fleming,” he told the hospital operator.

“I’ll transfer you.”

He listened as the phone rang once, then again and again. Finally, someone picked it up. “Yeah.” The voice was choked and weary and sounded far away.

“Wayne. Is that you? This is Sam. What’s happened?”

“Oh, Sam, she’s…she’s…”

Sam heard crying, then a click, and the line went dead. He sat at his desk for a moment, thinking, his heart racing. Then he walked to the door and opened it. Roger and Barbara and the boys were standing in the entryway.

“What’s going on, honey?” Barbara asked.

“I’m not sure. Wayne could barely talk. I think maybe I ought to head up to the city to see him.”

“I’ll go with you.” She turned to Roger. “Rog, can you take the boys home and get them to bed?”

“You bet.”

Their car was parked outside at the curb. Barbara said, “It’s been a long day for you. Why don’t you let me drive, and you get some shut-eye? Something tells me you’re going to need the rest.”

T
hey talked for twenty minutes until the hum of the highway lulled Sam to sleep. Barbara drove on toward the city, an occasional truck hurtling past in the opposite direction. Across the fields she could see the lights of farmhouses.