Hope's Corner

by Chris Keniston

  Disconnecting the call, he slipped the phone into his pocket. “Dad needs to talk to me. I suspect it’s more of the same, but he sounded a little agitated. I’d make my parents wait, but right now—”

  “Your father has to come first. You should go.”

  “Is the offer for dinner still open?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then I promise we’ll take this up where we left off.” The twinkle in her eyes told him, if he kissed her, she wouldn’t object, but the fire inside him shouted, if he kissed her now, he wouldn’t stop.

  “Where’s Pop?” Jeff kissed his mom on the cheek.

  “Waiting for you in his study.”

  “Don’t think you’re getting off easy.” He tapped his mother on the nose with his finger. “You and I are going to have a very long talk when I’m done with your husband.”

  “Of course, dear. I love chatting with all my children.” His mom winked and led the way carrying two plates with freshly sliced blueberry pie. Though he doubted the pie would make his upcoming conversation any easier, it certainly couldn’t hurt.

  Turning the corner at the end of the hall, he could see his dad tucked away under the bright blanket his mom had made. The sight reminded him of an invalid in an old black and white movie. Where a man far too young was portrayed as older than Methuselah.

  “Ah, you made it.” His father stood, giving him a strong bear hug that belied the fragile appearance from a moment ago, then sat, once again becoming the picture of aged frailty.

  “You said this couldn’t wait.”

  “Yes. Yes I did.” Harlon Parker nodded to his wife as she set the two plates on the desk. “Thank you, dear. If you don’t mind, please close the door on your way out.”

  She smiled at her son, shot her husband that remember-what-I-told-you look, and backed out of the room pulling the door closed behind her.

  “Thank God.” His father tossed the blanket to one side. Took a long slow breath. Did a deep knee bend. Handed his son a dish with warm pie, then walked around his desk and sat. “I love your mother beyond reason, but some things are best kept to yourself.”

  Jeff wasn’t sure if he wanted to scold his father for overdoing or sing the “Hallelujah Chorus” that his father appeared strong and healthy.

  “Might as well make yourself comfortable.” His father waved toward the recliner.

  No one was ever allowed to sit in his father’s favorite chair, never mind invited. Clearly this was more serious than Jeff had expected. “What’s wrong? Just tell me straight out.”

  “Nothing is wrong.” Harlon forked a piece of pie, then stopped halfway to his mouth. “Since you were a small boy, your mother and I have known you had a special calling. A special way with people. A gift.”

  “Pop…”

  Harlon held up his hand. “Hear me out.” He dropped his fork back to the plate without taking a bite. “For years your mother insisted I should do more to prepare you. Share some of what I’d learned. Spare you from learning all your lessons the hard way as I did, but I felt it wasn’t my place to impose my ministry on you.”

  Harlon hesitated, toying with the fork and pie. “I suppose in some way I feared having you think I was less than perfect. I’m sorry.”

  “Pop—”

  “Please, Jefferson.”

  Jeff leaned back into the chair that felt way too big for him and nodded his agreement to let his father finish.

  “They say history repeats itself. You’d think, by now, we’d all have learned why that expression never dies, yet we always fail to think it applies to us. When your mother and I were first married, I was offered an associate pastorship not far from her hometown. We thought it a wonderful opportunity. The congregation was large enough to need an associate pastor, but not so large that we didn’t feel at home.”

  His father paused, and Jeff interjected, “I remember the stories. Hudsonville, wasn’t it?”

  Harlon nodded. “There was a family, the Bensons. Lovely people. Judy Benson was an exemplary member of the church. On the telephone prayer team, the new mother’s meal committee, the new member welcome group. I could go on. The father worked two jobs but always found the time to come to church with his family on Sundays. The oldest daughter had a bit of a wild streak. The police brought her home liquored up more than once. By the time she was seventeen, her parents had discovered she’d made an appointment at a clinic over in Tyler. For an abortion. Of course, it was the counsel of the pastor to have the baby. Her parents were willing to take on the responsibility. The daughter, Angela, fought them constantly at first, but then she seemed to straighten up. Her parents were thrilled to see the positive changes in their daughter’s behavior.”

  The expression on his father’s face shifted. Until now his father was merely a man retelling a story. The memory of what he was about to say clearly weighed heavily. The natural sparkle in his dad’s eye faded. A muscle along his jaw flickered with tension.

  “Shortly after the birth of the baby girl, Angela seemed to have found wilder ways. She’d sneak out of the house in the middle of the night and disappear for days. Sometimes the police would find her wandering the streets high on her drug of the day. When Bill and Judy Benson realized their baby girl was hooked on heroin, for the first time in my life, I could truly see a broken heart. The girl was in and out of rehab programs over the next year or so. Finally she seemed to turn a corner. It had been decided by my superiors that someone younger, closer to her age, would be a better counsel. We’d worked together for over a year, when I saw the signs she’d turned the corner. She’d gotten a job, paid more attention to the baby, the Bensons were so happy to have put the horrible past behind them.”

  Though Jeff wouldn’t have thought it possible, the sadness in his father’s eyes deepened. His shoulders dropped, and he finally stopped all pretense of eating pie, letting his fork fall to his plate with a clank.

  “Her parents came to me worried. Something wasn’t right. Angela was going through all the motions, a steady job, a small apartment for her and her daughter, a night class at the community college, but Judy was convinced something was amiss. I visited with Angela one evening at the Dairy Queen where she’d been working. I didn’t see it. Didn’t notice the way her eyes never met mine. Didn’t give any thought to the back booth full of boys who were there before me and yet never ordered any food. Judy called me several times a week convinced her daughter was pulling away, hiding something. By then your mama and I had been blessed with you going through teething. I’d assured Judy that working and raising a little girl was exhausting work, that Angela was learning independence.

  “Then it happened. One day Angela didn’t drop off the child with Judy before going off to work. When Judy called her daughter and no one answered, she rushed over to the apartment. Angela was gone. I was still convinced Judy was overreacting. Angela and her daughter had probably spent the night with friends and simply forgot to call her mom. I reassured her Angela would be calling in anytime now. Two days later the Dallas police called. A concerned neighbor called on the toddler who seemed to be wandering in her yard unsupervised, and no one would answer the front door. Angela had been dead for two days. A heroin overdose.

  “Every pastor at some point in his life has an Angela Benson. The ones we want to help and can’t. I’ve learned never to dismiss a mother’s instinct. Not to accept the easiest answer because it’s what you’d like it to be. And especially, all I can do is my best. Unlike Angela Benson, Jenny Buckner didn’t die because of your ignorance or mistakes. She died at the hands of an animal because you cannot will people to do what you want. You couldn’t make Jenny leave her husband any more than I could take away Angela’s cravings for the stronger faster high. Don’t set an impossible standard for yourself.”

  It took a few minutes for Jeff to register his father had said all he intended to say. “What did you do?”

  “I fought with God for days. Why? Why her? Why me? Why didn’t I know? Why couldn’t I
do more? And then one day a calm settled over me, and I understood, I knew. I’d received my answer. I can only show people the way, but I can’t force them to follow any more than God can force His will upon us. Every person is responsible for his own decisions and his alone.”

  Jeff leaned forward, his hands clasped, forearms resting on his knees, his gaze caught on a distant speck of lint on the carpet. “Every time I thought I’d convinced Jenny to leave her husband, he’d promise to change, and she’d believe him. The last time the battered women’s shelter had even arranged for a safe place for her to stay. If only she’d… I thought confronting him was the answer. Instead he snapped as Jenny had always feared.”

  “Son.” Harlon moved next to Jeff and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You can't blame yourself for what Frank Buckner did. But there are more Jenny Buckners and Angela Bensons out there. If you walk away now, you may not be there for the one who will follow. The one who will fail if you're not there for them.”

  “I can't stop thinking, I should have known better, should have done something…different.”

  “We live in an imperfect world. Frank Buckner was a stick of dynamite ready to explode. You did everything humanly possible to save Jenny, but your mother is right. We’re not God. You have a gift. This community needs you. You can’t walk away now.”

  “Well, it does seem my resignation is being ignored.” Jeff looked up at his father. “John Haskell thinks Pamela Sue and I are engaged.”

  Harlon’s eyes grew wide.

  “Marriage to Pam seems to be the Holy Grail that wipes clean all my sins.”

  Harlon scratched his head, looked over his son’s shoulder at the closed door, then silently walked around the large wooden desk before slowly sinking into the leather chair. “I didn’t see that coming.”

  “Mom didn’t tell you?”

  One eyebrow shot up. “Tell me what?”

  “I’m not sure, but I know she and Euphemia McCarthy are behind this. Kenny mentioned it briefly last night. I thought he was exaggerating.”

  “And now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  His father leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers together. “What precisely are we talking about?”

  Jeff let out a heavy sigh. “I suppose everything.”

  At exactly four minutes to five Pam was more than ready to call it a day. A very long day. After fielding three phone calls within ten minutes from happy parishioners dousing her in well wishes and congratulations, Pam opted for screening the rest of the day’s calls with voice mail, including the one from Jeff letting her know he’d be at his parents’ house until she got home from work. Apparently he and his father were having a long overdue heart-to-heart.

  She’d avoided the four calls on her cell from her sister. Until she knew what to say to these people, there was no point in answering the phone. While earlier in the day she’d struggled over what to say to Jeff when she found him, this afternoon a blanket of calm had settled over her, and now she knew in her heart it didn’t matter what she said. Whatever happened, they’d be in it together.

  By five-thirty she’d pulled into her driveway with a roasted chicken and quart of macaroni and cheese from Kroger’s supermarket in hand. She’d promised Jeff dinner, but at no time did she say she’d be the one to cook it.

  As she stood by her door, key in the lock, a warm baritone voice floated up to her. “Do you need some help?”

  Unlike the first time she’d heard that molten voice, this time the words filled her with warmth and a yearning she thought she’d never feel again. “You bet.”

  Jeff eased the bag out of her arms. “Smells good.”

  Pam unlocked the door. “Gotta love Kroger’s in a pinch.”

  “Don’t tell Mom. She thinks takeout is sacrilege.”

  “I bet!” Pam laughed, loud and deep. It felt wonderful.

  While Jeff emptied the grocery bag, she set the kitchen table. Aside from Jeff mumbling, “I’m starved,” and Pam agreeing, neither had much to say. Not about the parental heart-to-heart, not about the engagement rumors, and especially not about making out like randy teenagers on her office desk.

  Jeff sliced some chicken breast for her, and Pam wondered, when had he learned she preferred white meat? From the fridge she pulled out a pitcher of sweet tea and poured two glasses. Setting them on the table, she paused to ask, “Would you rather have something else to drink?” It didn’t surprise her when he replied, “Tea is perfect.” The man drank more iced tea than anyone she knew, and she did know. The same way she knew he’d have one cup of coffee after dinner with half-and-half, not milk, and no sugar.

  “I can throw a salad together, if you’d like?” She placed a serving spoon in the tub of macaroni and cheese.

  “No need.”

  “Okay,” Pam managed to say through a yawn. “Excuse me.”

  “I know how you feel.” Jeff pulled her chair out for her. His mama had certainly taught him right. “It’s been a long day and not getting much sleep last night isn’t helping.”

  “Try no sleep. I know I closed my eyes, but it was a complete waste of time.” She yawned again.

  “Just don’t fall asleep in your food.”

  “As far as I know, I haven’t done that since I was a toddler.”

  “Fall asleep in your food?”

  “Mmm.” She forked a mouthful of macaroni and cheese. “My baby books are filled with photographs of me in my high chair, gripping a spoon or fork in one hand and leaning over, sound asleep, in my dinner.”

  Jeff swallowed fast, almost choking on his chicken from laughter. “Those I want to see.”

  Pam waved a forked piece of chicken in the air. “We might be able to work something out.”

  It wasn’t until dinner was finished and the two stood side by side at the sink rinsing plates that the subject of the engagement rumors came up.

  “Mom insists she can’t be held responsible for other people jumping to conclusions.” Jeff slid two dinner plates onto the bottom rack of the dishwasher.

  “Well, what did she expect?” Pam handed him some silverware. “You can’t very well call your local printer, ask how much it would cost to print two hundred wedding invitations, and not expect her to think you’re planning a wedding.”

  “Believe me, I said pretty much the exact same thing to her, but she merely shrugged a shoulder and went back to rolling dough for more pie crust. According to Kenny, Mom called the Promenade Print shop at 10:00 a.m. and thirty seconds. The thirty seconds was probably to allow Gladys time to put away her keys. Apparently that and two hours was all it took for the entire town to put two and two together and marry us off.”

  “You know, you gotta give your mom some kudos for a well-conceived plan. She knew darn well, if she called that early, it would only add a sense of urgency to the situation. Folks would jump to the expected conclusion, and without your mom actually coming out and saying there’s a wedding, marriage rumors would spread like wildfire.”

  “Oh, yeah. As far as we can deduce, within the first hour, Gladys had notified her bridge club, the head of the PTA, the church board, the city council, and every single person on her prayer chain.”

  “Busy woman.” Pam closed the dishwasher and hit the buttons for the short cycle. “And the best part of it is, no one can accuse your mother of making this up to protect you. Gladys and half the town took care of that for her. Coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  Before Pam could grab the carafe, Jeff was filling the glass pitcher with just enough water for two cups. One for each of them. She reached across to scoop the coffee grounds into the filter and nearly gasped when her chest brushed against his arm. An innocent contact and yet every sensory nerve had now gone on high alert. Her insides clenched in fiery anticipation of the next touch. In self-defense, she abandoned the search for the coffee can, and settled instead for moving away from him and retrieving the half-and-half from the fridge.

  Jeff hit the coffeemaker’s
on button and spun around, arms and ankles crossed, to face Pam. “We’re going to have to stop the rumors. And soon.”

  “Before or after coffee?”

  The trivial question brought the desired effect. Jeff dropped his hands to his sides and flashed a broad smile. “I suppose after will work.”

  Pam stifled another yawn. “That’s assuming I don’t fall asleep standing up.”

  A deep crease formed a sharp V at the bridge of his nose. “Maybe it’s better if I leave and let you get some sleep. We can talk about this tomorrow. Another twelve hours won’t make much of a difference either way.”

  “No. I’m not really that tired. A cup of coffee will do the trick.”

  “Are you sure?” His hand moved forward slightly, before he snatched it back to his side.

  He was certainly right about that much. The slightest of touches from Jeff at this point would send all their good intentions to hell and back. All her common sense seemed to have leaked out her ears in the last few days. Who knows what she’d be capable of with no one to interrupt them this time? “Yeah, I’m sure. All I need is a quick dose of caffeine.”

  “In that case, you go rest in the living room. I’ll bring the coffee.”

  Though the hostess-with-the-mostest in her wanted to argue the point, the too-pooped-to-pop woman in her was more than happy to wait for her after-dinner coffee on the comfy overstuffed living room sofa. Most definitely.

  Grabbing the remote from the coffee table, Pam collapsed onto the sofa, and chose an old Barbara Stanwyck film on the classic movie channel.

  Two cups of coffee in hand, Jeff found Pam curled up in a corner of the couch sound asleep, her head resting on a large pillow, her arms folded around it. All he could do was stare. Had he ever felt like this about anyone in his life? She looked so delicate, so vulnerable, and so damn beautiful.

  While he had no intention of allowing more fuel for rumors to stir around them by remaining all night just to watch her sleep, staying to drink his coffee shouldn’t pose a problem. When he finished, he’d nudge her toward her room. Though he’d much rather crawl in bed beside her, even if only to hold her close, he had enough of the sense God gave him to know that would be a really bad idea.