Pink Flamingoed (17 page)

“Be at our house at 7:00. We have an important meeting. It shouldn’t take long,” Frank said.

Everyone arrived eager to find out why Frank had
called.

“There’s nothing to worry about. I just wanted to talk
to you a few minutes about Scott. I’m sure that all of you would agree that
Scott has done a wonderful job in the two years he’s been here. Now,  Nancy  will  be  bringing  another  life  into their family and into the life of this
church. I feel that we should all commemorate this joyous occasion and vote
Scott a much needed raise.”

It took only five minutes for the group to agree to a
raise and to decide upon an amount. Even Harry voted to raise their pastor’s
salary.

+++

The following Sunday, Pastor Scott had just concluded
his message and was about to dismiss the congregation.

“Wait, wait, wait just a minute,” Harry said as he
stood up and addressed his pastor.

“Excuse me, Harry. Is there something you’d like to
say?”

“No, but I believe Frank has a few words.”

Frank stood up and faced his pastor.

“Scott, the rest of us got together the other night.
We’re sorry that we couldn’t include you,” Frank said, causing everyone to
laugh. “Scott, we wanted you to know that we are very pleased with the work
you’ve done at The Church On Aylesford Place, and we voted unanimously to give
you a raise.”

Everyone in the congregation broke into applause.

“But Frank, how in the world can you afford to pay me
any more than you’re now paying me?”

“Scott, do you believe in prayer?”

“Of course, I do, Frank. You know that.”

“Well, then, you should try it sometime,” Harry
remarked, causing everyone to laugh again.

“Oh, believe me. I’ve prayed. That’s how Nancy got pregnant.”

Everyone laughed again.

Before Scott could explain himself, Cora shouted,
“That’s not how it was explained to me, Scott.”

Not to be outdone, Brad rose and said, “Hey, Harry,
why don’t you go home and pray after church?”

Again everyone laughed, until Scott raised his hand so
he could  continue. 

“If you’re set on doing this, then Nancy and I are
certainly most grateful, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this
for us.”

“We don’t, and don’t think you’re going to have this
baby all to yourselves, either. This baby is going to have lots of
grandparents,” Cora said.

“And parents, too,” Amy added.

With that, Pastor Scott stepped down, and he, Nancy,
and the children were embraced by everyone in their church family.

Scott opened his front door, stepped outside, and
lowered himself onto the porch swing. It was the second week of March. The sun
was shining. It was the first sign of spring.  Spring!  What  better time to
think of the new life his wife would soon be bringing into the world than the
season known for new life. As Scott sat, he heard a robin. The first robin he
had heard in several months. The first robin of spring always warmed the
pastor’s heart. Ahead of him lay another cold spell and the rains that came
with April, but Scott’s thoughts were not on them. His thoughts were on nothing
but the first warm day of the year, the sunshine that made it so, and the robin
who hopped around much like the neighborhood pastor felt like doing.

+++

When Frank retired early, Cora told him that he needed
a hobby. After giving Cora’s suggestion some thought, Frank chose woodworking.
Frank enjoyed his wood shop class back when he was in school, such a long time
ago. For years, he talked of buying tools and puttering around in the garage,
but like most people’s grand plans, they remained dreams that never found their
way into reality. Frank didn’t want to vegetate after he retired, so he went
looking for information, tools, and classes on how to make something from a
piece of wood.

Frank kept a portable heater in the garage, but he
seldom practiced his hobby during cold weather. But as winter changed to
spring, Frank migrated from the house to the garage, at least during the
morning hours.

When a writer entered his neighborhood and his life,
Frank decided to make bookcases. He planned to start with one, and if all went
well, he would make additional bookcases for his neighbors, a place where each
could store another neighbor’s books.

+++

Brad’s book was progressing quite well. As he read
what he had written, he was pleased with it. Oh, there would be revisions.
There always were, but Brad was pleased with his initial effort. The March
weather fluctuated from sunshine, to wind, to rain, to cold, and Brad had
almost finished the first draft of his book. He made a decision to get most of
his work done on bad weather days. He felt he had neglected Amy, even though he
saw her everyday.

+++

Amy too anxiously awaited spring, her favorite season.
She could hardly wait to get out and take photographs of spring’s new life. She
purposely stayed away from Brad when the weather was bad in order to allow him
to get more work done; however, the next day the sun shined she hoped to pry Brad
away from his work. She would pack a picnic basket and a camera or two.

+++

Allison continued to see Chuck, but because Chuck
taught school each day, their week usually consisted of a phone call each
evening   when   Chuck   got  home  from  school,  a  date   every Friday and
Saturday night, and church and dinner together on Sunday. It was not as much as
either of them would have liked, but they looked forward to summertime when
Chuck would have both his days and his nights free. Allison longed for the
set-up Amy and Brad had. While Brad’s writing schedule kept him busy every day,
living next door make it easy for him to pop over and see Amy. Allison wondered
if Chuck could afford the house next door to Melanie, and if Melanie would be
willing to sell it to him.

+++

While Harry liked the influx of warmer weather, Harry
detested mowing his lawn. Each year, he toyed with the idea  of  buying  a 
new  mower, and each year he kept his money in his pocket. Harry could still
remember the first time Kenny saw him mowing the lawn.

“Where’s the motor?” Kenny asked, after looking at
Harry’s lawn mower.

“It doesn’t have one,” Harry replied.

“So, where do you put the gas?” Kenny asked.

“It doesn’t use gas. Gas only pollutes the air and
adds to the expense of the chore. Besides, with this one, the noise doesn’t
disturb anyone.”

“Well, then, how does it go?”

“The old-fashioned way. You push it.”

“Seems like a lot of unnecessary work to me. Let me
know when you get a riding mower, and I’ll cut your grass for you.”

While most of the residents on Aylesford Place had
lived long enough that at one time or another they had used an old-fashioned
push mower, Harry was the only one who continued to use one.

+++

Amy could control herself no longer. Even though she
managed to see Brad for a few minutes each afternoon and they took time to dine
together on most evenings, Amy still felt as if she and Brad rarely saw each
other. Amy walked out the door, down her steps, and marched across the yard to
the house next door where her true love lived.

“Well, Dr. Watson. What a pleasant surprise!”

“Really, Mr. Holmes. I wasn’t sure if you still
remembered my name.”

“I’m sorry, Amy. I’ve been rather busy lately. I
really am sorry. How can I make it up to you?”

“Well, since you asked.”

“Am I going to regret this?”

“No, it will be relatively painless. The weather is
supposed to be nice tomorrow, so I thought the two of us might go on a picnic.”

“And I imagine that one of us will be taking a
camera.”

“Oh, no.”

“No?”

Then, thinking quickly, Brad managed to answer in
unison with Amy, “Two cameras.”

“Plus three bags,” added Amy.

“And a tripod in a pear tree,” Brad sang.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you,” Amy exclaimed. “It’s
been too long.”

“It has been,” Brad answered. “People have even
stopped talking about us.”

“Well, we can’t let them do that, can we?” Amy
exclaimed through her laughter.

“It’s good to hear your laugh,” Brad said, “but it’s
even better to see your face.”

“Oh, you romantic writers are all the same,” Amy said,
drinking in his compliments.

“Romantic whodunit writers. So, what’s the agenda?”
Brad asked.

“Then you’re willing to put your book on hold for a
day and go with me?”

“Only if you pick me up in a white carriage pulled by
a white horse,” Brad replied.

“How about a brown picnic basket instead?”

“I think I’ve eaten far too much this winter to fit
into a brown picnic basket, but I might be strong enough to carry one.”

“I might be able to stuff your head in it. That is
unless your book sales have made your head too big to fit in a picnic basket.”

“I think I’d rather keep my head out of the basket,
except when I insert it to find food.”

“So, you’re willing to go?”

“You drive a hard bargain, my lady, but alas, I accept
your offer.”

“Fine, how about 10:30, and I’ll drive?”

“I cannot wait until 10:30,” Brad answered, as he took Amy in his arms and kissed her.

“Now I know what I’ve missed about you,” Amy said.

“It’s the smell of my after-shave in the morning.”

“You don’t wear after-shave.”

“See, I told you you missed it.”

“Oh, you’re hopeless. Get back to your writing and
I’ll see you in the morning.”

+++

Kenny walked up the street, bored. He looked down and
kicked at any stray gravel he found. As Kenny passed the Conklin house, he
didn’t notice Harry hidden behind the morning newspaper. Something struck
Kenny’s neck, and instantly he reached for the back of his neck as if
responding to a rubber hammer.

Kenny looked up, but there was no tree which had lost
its acorn. Kenny looked around, but saw nothing except Harry reading a
newspaper. Kenny walked on until a second projectile found its target. This
time Kenny was too quick for Harry.

“Hey!” Kenny exclaimed.

“Hey, yourself,” Harry replied.

“What’s that thing you’ve got in your hand?”

“You mean this?” Harry replied, holding an object.

“Did you shoot something at me through that straw?”

“This is no straw, Kenny. This is my peashooter, left
over from my childhood.”

“Mind if I see it.”

“Come on up,” Harry replied, eager to educate one so
young.

Within ten minutes, not only had Harry educated Kenny
on the fine art of peashooting, which Kenny wanted to demonstrate on his
sisters, but the two of them found themselves in Harry’s attic looking over a
box of toys left over from Harry’s youth. Harry began by showing Kenny a couple
of tops, which he demonstrated by spinning them, then Harry moved on to his
trusted slingshot.

“I know what that is, Mr. Conklin. Were you a good
shot?”

“Too good, Kenny.”

The quizzical look on Kenny’s face told Harry the boy
needed more explanation, an explanation Harry wanted to share.

“When I got in trouble, Kenny, was when I changed from
my small slingshot to this one. I found out this one was big enough to propel a
small water balloon. One day my sister was having a tea party. I wasn’t
invited. The party was on the backyard patio. Figuring there was no way I would
get caught, I sneaked out the front door. No one knew it, but I had already
perfected the art of shooting over the house and landing a balloon on the
patio. Sometimes, if it was quiet enough, I could hear the splat.

“Well, I made two mistakes the day of my sister’s tea
party. She  was  there  with  some  friends,  all dressed up  in  some frilly
outfit. I sneaked out the front door and made the mistake of shooting just as
my mother opened the back door with some refreshments. That was my first
mistake. My second mistake was deciding to use permanent ink in the balloon for
the first time.”

Kenny laughed. Maybe Mr. Conklin was more fun than he
thought. “Got grounded, huh?”

“Got thrashed first.”

Harry and Kenny sat on the attic floor for over an
hour while Harry moved from one toy to the next. Kenny thought the hula hoop
sounded too much like something a girl would do, but when Harry told Kenny
about his tree house, Kenny thought it sounded like something he could talk his
dad into making for him. At least from a tree house, Kenny could see if his
mother opened the back door before he splattered his sisters.

+++

Scott stayed busy. Not only did he pastor a church and
spend around twenty hours preparing his weekly sermon, but he was involved
outside the church. He devoted most afternoons to visitation. He tried to visit
every shut-in at least once a month, he made hospital visits when the situation
warranted, and he visited people in his congregation. In addition, he met with
other local pastors on a weekly basis. He also served on a civic committee, and
once a week during the colder months he helped out at the soup kitchen. Plus,
he dropped in at the orphanage from time to time. Sometimes he spoke to the
children. Other times he checked to see how he might be of service and to find
out any needs they had that the church might be able to address.

In addition to all of this, Scott had his family
responsibilities. He juggled the thought of having another child with the life
of the three children he already had. He fielded questions from the neighbors
about his wife’s health. In his spare time, he managed to work in some sermon
preparation and thoughts about Easter.

+++

The first of April arrived just as Brad put the final
touches on the first draft of his latest novel. Now, the hard part began. Or
was it the hard part? Brad stayed in touch with his editor, who wanted to be in
the know as to how Brad was progressing. Brad held off as long as he could,
then sent a few chapters to his editor to see what his next move might be. He
preferred to wait until after he had made a few revisions, and he had made a
few, but he liked to make most of them after reading the completed novel. Brad
took a couple of days to read it and made notations as to what he liked and
what he planned to change. He hoped he and his editor were of one mind. It
helped that Brad had a track record. Four successful novels.

+++

Palm Sunday came complete with palm branches in the
hands of Pastor Scott’s children, who, as everyone knew, were the only children
in the church. Just as quickly, Palm Sunday passed and Pastor Scott turned his
thoughts to the church services of Holy Week.

The Armbrusters attended a worship service on Good
Friday, but Pastor Scott did not have to preach because The Church On Aylesford
Place was one of three congregations that combined their Good Friday worship
service. Each year a different pastor shared the message. This year, Pastor
Johnson, the pastor of the black church, delivered the message.