Authors: Elaine Cantrell
Rest Thy Head (29 page)
Mrs. Amos gently patted his shoulder which drew his attention to her hands. They were large with short fingernails polished with clear polish. Most of the women he knew had artificial nails they’d painted in some bold color. Some of them had flowers or rhinestones too.
“You’re very welcome, Clint. Neal, I mean Reverend Amos, can’t get through an evening without a little snack. I thought you’d probably need one, too.”
“Let’s get you settled in,” the preacher said.
He accompanied Clint back to his apartment and took an electronic ankle monitor out of his pocket. “Let’s get this on you. Would you sit down and fasten it around your leg, please?”
A burning resentment consumed Clint as he took a seat on the red sofa. He didn’t deserve to be treated like some kind of wild animal. Even the police knew he hadn’t burned the church on purpose. Nevertheless, he put the thing around his ankle. Maybe he did deserve it. After all, he was the one who’d been dumb enough to drive while he was drinking; he was the one who made the decision to stop in the churchyard that night.
“Do you know how this works?” the preacher asked.
“No.”
“That square, black thing on the ankle bracelet is a transmitter. It sends a signal to a monitoring unit which is a small box connected to a power supply and a telephone outlet. When you connected the strap, you armed the transmitter which will stay armed until seven o’clock tomorrow morning. Then you can take the transmitter off. If you try to take the transmitter off or unplug the telephone or the power to the monitoring unit, we know you’re somewhere you shouldn’t be. You can’t go out of range of the monitoring unit either.”
Clint’s lips compressed into a thin line. “How far can I go?”
“Just inside the apartment.”
Great. Talk about being a prisoner. He hadn’t escaped jail at all.
“Let’s pray before I go, Clint.”
Clint’s head snapped up. Pray? Nobody said anything about praying before he came here. Guess he should have realized the preacher would make him pray. He decided not to make a fuss about it. Spending the holidays in jail didn’t sound super appealing. “That’s okay. I can pray by myself.”
Clint almost thought he saw a twinkle in the preacher’s brown eyes. “Oh, I’m sure you can. I’d like to help you anyway.”
Clint shrugged and tried to remember that being there was his own fault. He guessed he’d better get used to all this praying stuff. The preacher knelt down beside the sofa and rested his elbows on it. “Join me.”
Clint knelt, too, and Amos prayed. “Dear Lord, I thank You for this beautiful day. I see Your handiwork in the glory of the sky and trees, and I thank You for all Your many, wondrous gifts to man. I also thank You that You’ve brought Clint to us. Bless him, Father, and help him to learn from us. I ask this in the blessed name of Jesus. Amen.”
He got to his feet and indicated the bookshelf. “Find a Bible to take with you to church tomorrow. There’s an alarm clock in the bedroom so you can wake up on time.”
“Yes, sir.”
The preacher went back to his own house, leaving Clint to resentfully study the fetter on his leg. The judge didn’t know it, but he had sentenced him to prison anyway. Vegetable soup, milk, cookies, Bibles, and electronic monitors? What a way to live.
****
Rachel poured the leftover vegetable soup into a bowl and covered it. “Mama, why did you bake cookies for him? Aren’t we supposed to be punishing him? I hope you didn’t spend all afternoon slaving for that man.” She looked around the kitchen for more cookies. “What about our family? Don’t we get cookies too?”
Her mother opened the pantry door and took out a cookie jar. Then she handed a chocolate chip cookie to Rachel. “You’re right, Rachel. He doesn’t deserve those cookies. On the other hand, though, neither do you and I.”
“Oh, I know what you’re thinking. We’re all sinners, right?” She took a big bite of her cookie. Decadent and yummy as usual.
“That’s right.”
“We never burned down a church,” Rachel pointed out.
Her mother laughed. “God can forgive any sin, even burning down a church.”
“I know, but…” Rachel gave up and stuffed the rest of the cookie into her mouth. She forgot that she had prayed for strength to forgive Clint. Her parents were like children. Had they forgotten everything this man had taken from them? That little building had been a part of her life since she was six years old. It was a place to respect, not a place to drink and smoke. Didn’t the jerk know that?
Let God forgive Clint Hayes if He wanted to. Why did her father have to bring such a person into their home? He should have let the judge sentence Hayes to jail. If her father wanted to save Clint’s soul, he could have visited the man in jail. Honestly!
She closed her eyes. Calm, Rachel. What’s good about the man? Something has to be good. What would God see in him? Well, she had to admit he was cute. He wasn’t especially tall, maybe six feet at the most, but he was so well proportioned he looked taller. He had sandy blond hair and intense blue eyes. His face looked sensitive yet…what was the word…vulnerable. That wasn’t exactly it either, but at the moment she couldn’t think of anything any better. The look in his eyes made her think he was waiting for life to kick him in the teeth and wanted to be ready for the blow.
Against her instincts, she did see what God saw in him: a wounded child in need of guidance and love. And it scared her.
She turned out the light in the kitchen and ran to her room. Maybe he’d had a hard time in his life. Maybe he drank and smoked because no one had ever cared enough to teach him any better. If so, maybe in a way he was as much a victim as the congregation of Saved By Grace. Sighing, she pulled her Sunday School book out of her night stand.
Maybe she’d dress up tomorrow. She had a new fall suit in a warm shade of chocolate brown that looked beautiful with her hair. The length of the skirt pleased her, although her father would probably think it was too short. He had definite opinions about such matters.
The blazer looked nice, too. She’d add a pair of high heels and some gold jewelry. Smiling, she thought of how nice she’d look. Way out of his league. Color flooded her cheeks. Why had she even thought of such a thing? Who’d want a man like Clint to notice her as a woman? Her boyfriend Josh was a nice guy, not a church burner. He’d been to school and had a future.
Morning came all too soon for Rachel. No one knew how much she dreaded going to church with Clint Hayes. She clattered down the stairs to join her parents. “Isn’t Mr. Hayes here yet?” she asked, aware of how snooty she sounded but unable to stop herself.
“Not yet,” her father answered.
Rachel cocked her head. “You don’t think he ran away do you?”
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