Authors: Patrick McGhee
Unexpected Angel (19 page)
“I think I just might do that,” replied Norman. “I need to get started back in church. And, besides, I have never heard you play the organ.”
Wally rolled over on his back. Norman gave him a gentle hug. They clung to each other. Norman’s goatee scraped softly across Wally’s cheek. Once again, Norman acted on what he already knew. It
was
just like guys and girls. But, Norman’s mind was becoming a battleground--newfound desires at odds with reason and nurture. He made this kiss a short kiss. Forcing himself to pull away, trying to hide his predicament, he whispered, “Good night, Wally. I love you.”
Chapter 32
The next morning the two were in church. Wally was at the organ. Norman wanted to sit close to the front so he could see Wally. He wasn’t sure what kind of church this was, so he thought he might need something to hold on to, in case things got a bit spirit-filled. The first pew didn’t have a rail or anything in front of it, so Norman chose the pew behind it.
The last time he was in church, there were ladies with tambourines, dancing and swirling. The congregation swayed and clapped to lively music. People shouted and prayed in languages Norman had never heard. No one was really quiet, not even before the service started. It had been more like the crowd at a ball game.
The preacher began the service by whistling and shouting, “Hey, let’s hear it for Jesus.” The audience chanted, “Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!” The sermon lasted nearly two hours. At times, the preacher would get excited and suck in air while he was still talking. Sometimes, he would turn around to the choir, and the old Hammond organ would punctuate the pastor’s words with a chord or a run. If that wasn’t enough, there was always somebody shouting, “Hallelujah, praise Jesus!” or somebody else going, “Amen, brother!” When they were singing the last hymn, the preacher kept asking for more verses. That went on for so long that Norman left the building. That was three years ago. For all he knew they were still singing it.
Wally’s church wasn’t like that. The service had not begun, but people were whispering anyway. The music Wally played wasn’t like a funeral, but neither was it like rock music. It was more like some of the hymns Norman had heard. Norman passed the time by looking around and fidgeting. In a rack, on the back of the pew in front of him, were a Bible and two songbooks. Norman chose one of these--
Presbyterian Hymnal
. He leafed through the book. Norman had heard about these Presbyterians. Their worship was kind of dry, but they had lots of potluck dinners and good fellowship. It might not be so bad. The people in this church seemed very friendly. Norman felt at home.
Looking at the printed program for the service, Norman noticed that the preacher’s name was The Reverend Bob Morrison. As he listened to the whispering around him, Norman heard the man referred to as Pastor Bob. He also heard people talking about things in the bulletin. He thought, that must be what they call the program.
The sermon, this morning, was about love–unconditional love–the kind God has for us–the kind people should have for each other. It wasn’t particularly moving, but Norman listened because he felt a need to get his own life back in order. On top of that, he wanted to be part of Wally’s life. Wally had become devoted to this church. Norman would have to do that, too. A scripture passage used in the sermon commanded Norman’s attention. It was from the book of Ruth:
Do not press me to leave you
or to turn back from following you!
Where you go, I will go;
where you lodge, I will lodge;
your people shall be my people.
and your God my God.
Norman remembered hearing this passage before, but he couldn’t remember where. He thought, People at work always talk about
being on the same page
. Maybe it’s wise to do that with religion, also. Wally and I need to go to the same church.
Norman remembered seeing TV preachers who called for people to come forward during the final hymn. He also remembered the invitation in the last church he went to. He had not listened well enough, toward the end, to remember if Pastor Bob had made such a call. So, as Wally played, and the congregation sang, the closing hymn
,
Norman slipped from his seat and walked to the front of the church. Pastor Bob smiled and shook Norman’s hand, like this stuff didn’t happen every Sunday. He gave Norman a card to fill out.
Norman soon realized that he had just joined the church. Pastor Bob introduced him to the audience. There would be paperwork and counseling later in the week; but, Norman was now a candidate for membership in this congregation. These were the folks who were on their way down the aisle to welcome him. Norman was overwhelmed.
When Wally finished the postlude, he made his way over to Norman and stood beside him. He thought it might help Norman to feel more comfortable. Toward the end of the line of church members, came an elderly lady, perhaps in her early eighties. She was dressed as if going to church required something special. Her gray hair was styled in a manner befitting a woman of her generation. She walked with a cane. She balanced herself so well that it would be hard to determine if the cane were medically necessary, or part of a carefully tailored projection of what graceful aging ought to be.
She introduced herself. “Young man, I am Sylvia Hunnicutt. I have attended Central Presbyterian all my life. My father, Lester Hunnicutt, was one of the founders. He also built the huge Victorian house at the end of Main Street. Though Daddy has been dead for some thirty years, I still live there.” Sylvia looked proud that she had established her prominence. Looking directly at Norman, she went on. “I hear that you and Wally Jackson are friends, close friends. Is that not correct?”
Norman nodded to affirm it. “Yes, we have become very close, lately. We have things that remain to be worked out, but we are becoming devoted to each other.”
“That’s very good,” remarked Sylvia. “Young Wally hasn’t the best judgment in choosing friends. Perhaps you can keep him from wandering out to pick daisies, as it were. It may be you who will help him to be more observant and not to bury his head in the sand like an ostrich. I can tell you that the benefits will outweigh the effort. Each of you will have someone to come home to, someone to share with.”
Behind Sylvia Hunnicutt was a short lady in her late sixties. She had reddish hair with patches of gray. She was not as elegant as Sylvia, but she had a stunning smile and a playful air. She kept waving her hand, smiling, and batting her eyes trying to get Norman’s attention. She cleared her throat.
Sylvia stopped talking. She threw her head back, moving it slowly from side to side, with her lips in a snarl that seemed to say, Can’t she wait her turn? I must
finish introducing myself first.
Then, Sylvia turned to face the lady behind her, to let her see the snarl. After that, she turned back to face Wally and Norman, and graciously stepped to the side. “Gentlemen, this is Dorothy Pritchard. I just call her Dotty. Before Daddy died, she was his housekeeper. During her employment, we became friends. Now, we live in that big house together, partners in crime, you might say.” She smiled, though somewhat strained. She did not know how Wally and Norman would receive that bit of information. “We often entertain new members of this church. We would be delighted for the two of you to come over for dessert this evening. Dotty bakes a simply sinful chocolate cake.”
Dotty made a slight curtsy. She smiled and kept batting her eyes, but didn’t say anything.
Wally smiled at Norman as if much more was understood than was spoken. Sylvia and Dotty looked at each other. Years of devotion shone on their faces.
Norman spoke, “Yes ma’am. We’d like that.”
Sylvia replied, “About sevenish, then?” As she and Dotty were turning to leave, Sylvia added, “Much is to be said about devotion and caring in a friendship. The relationship must be forged on a common bond, held together by love–unconditional love–just as you heard in the message this morning. Both parties must be willing to make equal contributions for the friendship to endure. Else, you have little more than a carnival atmosphere where one reaps all the benefits, and the other is rather like an all-day sucker. Don’t ever forget that, young men. Don’t
ever
forget that.”
Chapter 33
Wally and Norman decided not to go out for Sunday dinner. Since they would be having that luscious chocolate cake, with Silvia and Dotty, in the evening, Wally would fix lunch. They would spend the rest of the afternoon watching TV, surfing the internet, or napping.
As the elevator door opened on Wally’s floor, he and Norman could hear a phone ringing. “That sounds like my landline,” said Wally. “It is my landline!” He started running down the hall. The ringing stopped just as he reached the door. “Crap, it’s hard to tell who that was. I don’t have caller ID except on my cell phone.”
As Wally entered the apartment and crossed the living room, he noticed the red light flashing on the answering machine. “How about that! I hardly ever get a message, and now there is one. It’s probably a telemarketer where they give you a toll-free number to call back.”
Wally walked over to the machine and pushed the button. The recording started. “Hey, it’s Tony. I’ve been trying to get hold of you. Things are beautiful here, just like everyone says. I love you. Bye.”
Wally’s mouth flew open. His chin quivered. He turned and fled into Norman’s arms, sobbing. All the grief of the past few days had finally come to roost.
Norman’s strong arms eased the movements of Wally’s shoulders. His broad chest muffled Wally’s wailing and gasping. He rested his chin on the top of Wally’s head and softly patted him on the back. Wally’s crying eased into a whimper as Norman ran his fingers through Wally’s hair and lightly kissed it. Now, Norman didn’t feel strange that his arms were wrapped around another man’s body. There was no sense of urgency about the proper amount to time to caress without being labeled odd. Norman didn’t seem bothered that feelings of tenderness spread through his mind, that an inborn desire to protect flared within his heart. He didn’t even feel embarrassed by the tinge of stiffness that crept into his groin. He began to breathe heavily as a chill crept up his spine and spread into his shoulders. Playfully, he fluffed Wally’s hair. He drew back, kissing Wally on the forehead. With his voice soft, yet still very masculine, he said, “Something told me I needed to be here for you.”
“Thank you,” said Wally. Then, with his face out of shape, red, and wet, he looked at Norman. He smiled through leftover tears. “I love you, Norman. I’ve got to get over this and go on with my life. I love you.”
Norman’s compassionate look turned into a wide smile. “Well, it so happens that I love you too, Mr. Wally Jackson. And I’m willing to work out something between us, but . . . ”
“But what?” interrupted Wally.
“Last night I discovered that I’m in love with your soul, your mind, your heart, everything that makes you special. I’m just crazy over you. I don’t want to be without you, not even for one night.”
“I kind of figured that,” said Wally. “I mean--that kiss . . . how can you kiss me like that and not go any farther? It could drive a person wild.”
Norman smiled and rolled his eyes, “Those kisses are a gift. I don’t know how or why I can do that. I guess it is something we both need. I prayed about it because it’s just not the usual thing that guys do with each other. I didn’t get an answer, but I didn’t feel condemned, either. I guess it’s like my toe.”
“Huh?” asked Wally. “I must have lost something in the translation.”
Norman chuckled. “One of my toes is crooked. I mean I have this absolutely perfect body and a crooked toe. But, I am not going to ask God why or treat it like a major deformity. God has been so generous with my good looks. I guess he has reasons for everything.”
Wally smiled playfully. “You’re not bashful, are you?”
Norman smiled. “No, I’m not.” He had a playful twinkle in his eyes. “I can’t help it if I’m such a hunk. Think of it this way. You’ve got your own private male model, your own personal centerfold . . .” Norman stopped abruptly. He whispered. “And, I’ve got you. Oh, God! I’ve got you!” Norman placed his hands on each side of Wally’s face and peered intently into Wally’s eyes. “I can’t even begin to explain how I feel.”
Norman hugged Wally and playfully kissed the end of his nose. Then he asked, “Could we fix up the extra bedroom for me? I’ll buy some new furniture. We would each have a room, but once in a while, or maybe lots in a while, we could sleep in the same room, and talk, and kiss, and . . .”
Wally cleared his throat. “I think you know what my answer is. You’ve got to be certain that is what
you
want, also. We’ve got to be careful not to assume things about each other. We need to remember we are wired up different.”
Norman’s eyes were full of understanding as he looked at Wally. “I think this is a real concern of yours. But, what does it matter how we are wired up, anyway? You want us to be together a lot, but you’re concerned about my
caramba
. You’re afraid the temptation is going to be too big . . . ”
