The First Ladies Club Box Set

by J B Hawker

  “Small Group Study, can you imagine? Not very descriptive, considering every group at our church is a small one. Ken says it’s all part of the effort to make churches less intimidating for visitors, or something. I think it’s just silliness, especially when there are real issues to get worked up about, like global warming and vivisection and genetically modified food.”

  “Changing the name may seem silly to us, but I’ve found over the years that most folks are simply trying to do whatever they can to help their church grow,” Olivette said, and sat down next to Peggy.

  “I agree. It’s tempting to grab onto whatever is the latest fad when your church is struggling,” Peggy said. “I know I’ve sometimes tried to convince my husband to try some exciting new church-growth programs. Once he looks them over, he usually tells me they’ve already been tried under some other name. It’s disappointing.”

  “We all want to help our husband’s ministries, especially when we were fresh out of seminary,” Olivette said. “I remember in my early days as a pastor’s wife, I often had inspirations for sermon illustrations, sometimes in the middle of the night, and I would write them down for Kendall to include in his message. He occasionally tried using one, but it inevitably fell flat. I thought it must be his delivery,” she laughed. “It finally dawned upon me, if God wanted to inspire Kendall, he didn’t need to go through me to do it and, if those illustrations really were divinely inspired, they were meant for my benefit.”

  The others chuckled or nodded in agreement.

  “There are many opportunities for spiritual growth living in a parsonage, all right,” Elizabeth commented.

  “Well, I grew up in a series of run-down old parsonages, and we kids were lucky to have grown up, at all,” Judy said.

  “What do you mean, dear?” Olivette asked.

  “My brothers and I were always in trouble, in the way, or in for a beating. Between having a sanctuary full of self-appointed foster parents bent on either keeping us on the straight and narrow, as befit the children of their pastor, or tattling to our parents about how awful we were…I remember one time we went skinny dipping with the Baptist pastor’s kids in the Baptist church’s great big baptistery the night before a baptism. You would have thought we’d committed a crime, the way folks carried on. We always envied those Baptist kids for that big indoor pool.”

  “I never knew you were a PK, Judy,” Elizabeth said.

  “Oh, yeah. And it was a sort of lonely life, even with my brothers for company. I sure never planned to spend my whole life in the stained-glass fishbowl, but God had other plans, as he often does.”

  “My good friend, Bunny, was a pastor’s wife. I remember her saying she sometimes felt isolated, but I haven’t felt that way since marrying Scott,” Naidenne commented.

  “You probably will, from time to time. It’s the nature of the beast, I’m afraid,” Olivette said.

  “As long as churches are filled with people, there will be those who are difficult to love and who will make things uncomfortable for the pastor and his family.”

  “Speaking of that,” Gwennie spoke up, “I hear a particularly difficult person has returned to your church, Naidenne.”

  “Oh? Who do you mean?” Naidenne hedged.

  “She means Maureen Oldham, of course!” Judy stopped picking the chia seeds and cookie crumbs off her blouse and chimed in.

  “Maureen has come back to the church, yes. But I don’t know her very well, yet. I only saw her briefly this past Sunday.”

  “When you do get to know her, you will wish you hadn’t,” Judy said.

  “Let’s not gossip, ladies,” Eskaletha said in her club meeting voice.

  With that, the women began gathering up their things and thanking Olivette for her hospitality.

  Naidenne stayed to help Olivette clean up after the others were gone. She admired the older woman and enjoyed spending time with her.

  “Olivette, did you know Maureen Oldham very well when she was here before?”

  “She wasn’t part of our congregation, of course, but we were on several community committees together over the years.”

  “Was she as awful as the others say?”

  Olivette sighed, put down the cups she’d been gathering up, and sat on the old-fashioned maroon horsehair-covered settee which had come with the house.

  “I remember her as a very forceful woman, pretty determined to have her own way. She didn’t seem to be overly concerned with the feelings of others. But she was a very hard worker and I’m sure she meant well. Who can know what burdens she carried, then or now?”

  “I was intrigued when Rosamund and Scott talked about her coming back to Bannoch, but now I’m mostly intimidated, I think. How do you handle these hard-to-love members of the congregation?”

  “Not as well as I should, I’m sure. However, I do pray for them and I always try to act as if I really like them. May seem hypocritical, but sometimes I actually forget I’m acting.”

  She sat quietly for a moment, and then went back to clearing the clutter from the meeting. On her way out of the room she paused and asked, “Is your sister-in-law back in town, yet? I miss Rose in the quilting circle.”

  “We expect her back soon,” Naidenne replied.

  “Good. Miss Dot from up Cannon Beach way is going to be our guest speaker at our next meeting. Rosamund wouldn’t like to miss that.”

  *

  Rosamund paced in front of the large window in the boarding lounge of the Medford airport. She stopped every few moments to look toward the security screening area, lines of anxiety marring her brow.

  While gazing unseeingly out the window, where planes were landing and taking off, she noticed a change in the reflection on the glass and turned quickly.

  “Len! You made it,” she cried out.

  “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. I can’t believe we are actually going to...”

  Rosamund stopped him with her hand over his lips.

  “Not one more word. Remember your promise.”

  Len kissed her fingertips, then pulled her into a quick hug before stepping back to look at her.

  “You know, I think your little impromptu vacation has done you good. You look rested and even more beautiful than ever.”

  “Oh, go on!” Rosamund said.

  She was blushing happily, almost simpering, when the boarding announcement sounded.

  Len took her hand and the two stepped into line.

  *

  Schramm spent the next couple of days watching TV and eating all the food in Maureen’s house. When he began to get restless, he found a phone book and began calling the area churches.

  He’d remembered the conversation he overheard at the farmhouse and that his tall goddess was married to a preacher named Scott.

  He began calling the churches in the listings, asking for “Pastor Scott.”

  Since small town churches can seldom afford full-time secretaries, the phones frequently went unanswered or were picked up by machines. Those he marked to call back at another time. He could afford to be patient. He knew he would hit the right one, eventually.

  There weren’t that many churches in the town and two of those were Catholic, with no pastor’s wife in the rectory.

  On the sixth try the phone was answered by a man with the words, “Bannoch Community Fellowship, Pastor Scott Davidson speaking,” and Schramm knew he’d hit the jackpot.

  Hanging up without speaking, he noted the address of the church and began to make plans to follow the preacher home later in the week.

  Carver Schramm was no stranger to stalking a victim and looked forward to the next few days with relish.

  “They always say getting there is half the fun, don’t they?” he spoke aloud to himself.

  “Looks like this long, slow walk up the coast is going to be its own reward. Gettin’ sick on that spoiled chicken must have been fate.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Ken! Please don’t put your nasty bacon down o
n my prep counter. Now, I have to purify it again before I can fix my food,” Judy complained to her husband at breakfast.

  “Oh, for crying out loud. I must be the only Presbyterian minister in the country who must put up with a ‘kosher’ kitchen in the manse.”

  “I don’t keep kosher, you silly thing. But you know I’m a very strict vegan. I can’t have the juices of a poor murdered animal mixing with my food.”

  “Vegan schmeegan! It’s a lot of hogwash, if you ask me. God put the creatures on this Earth for man’s use, not the other way around.”

  “The Bible clearly tells us to be good stewards of creation. It takes so many more acres to feed cattle than to grow soybeans and other wholesome organic produce, it just makes good sense to eat veggies.”

  “And would you starve off all the food animals? They do still need to eat, right? So, we feed them and care for them and get nothing back, is that your plan? And what about dairy products? How does not eating them work into your stewardship plan?”

  “It’s exploitive to take a mother animal’s food away from her babies! And, and, um, to keep her either pregnant or lactating all the time, and not even let her raise her own babies.”

  Judy paused for breath while her husband smirked.

  The couple had been over this same territory uncountable times, without resolution, but it never failed to get Judy wound up.

  The buzz of the doorbell interrupted the discussion and Judy wiped her hands and went to see who it was.

  She was surprised to find a strange man on the steps, with the identical copper-colored hair and round, pink faces of her fourteen-year-old twin daughters peeping out guiltily behind him.

  “Paisley, what’s up? Who is this man? Why aren’t you and Astilbe in class?”

  Her daughters merely looked sullenly at the ground.

  “I’m Officer Harness, are you Mrs. Falls?”

  “Yes, what’s this about?”

  “May we come in?”

  “Oh, yes, of course. But why are you here and what are you doing with my daughters?”

  “I’m the school attendance review officer and I’m afraid we need to talk.”

  “Please sit down,” she said, obviously flustered. “Excuse me, I need to get my husband.”

  When Judy padded into the kitchen, her husband was seated in the breakfast nook eating his bacon and eggs and reading the paper.

  “Ken, the school attendance review officer is here, and he brought the girls with him.”

  “What, you mean the truant officer? For Heaven’s sake, what have your daughters done now?”

  Ken slammed his paper onto the table and strode into the living room.

  “Reverend Ken Falls, Officer. What can I do for you today?” he introduced himself before sitting in one of a pair of tapestry-covered wingback chairs and leaning forward intently, gesturing for the officer to take the other chair.

  “Well, Reverend, I’m afraid we have a problem with your daughters’ school attendance.”

  “Please explain,” Ken said.

  “We’ve sent letters before now, but their attendance hasn’t improved. I’m afraid with their absences this week, we have escalated beyond warning letters.”

  Ken turned to his wife, standing nervously beside him.

  “Judith, you didn’t tell me the girls were missing classes. I wasn’t aware they have been ill.”

  “They haven’t. I’ve sent the girls off to school on time every day, without fail. They are almost never sick…we are vegans you see, Mr. Harness, and only eat certified organic foods, no genetically modified freak-food or junkie snacks in this house…I can’t remember the last time they stayed home from school.”

  “You may have been sending them off, as you say, but I assure you the girls’ actual attendance this year has been spotty, at best. They haven’t attended many classes this week.”

  “You mentioned warning letters,” Ken said, then turned to his wife, “Judith, why haven’t you shown these letters to me?”

  “But I never got any letters, honestly…Oh, Paisley! Is this why you’ve been volunteering to go pick up the mail every day? I was so pleased when you wanted to help. Mommy’s very disappointed!”

  “I guess we know what became of those letters, Officer. What happens, now?” Ken asked.

  “You and the girls will appear before the school attendance review board. They will review and rule on the situation. I came today to deliver this summons in person,” Harness said as he leaned forward, handed the envelope to Ken and stood to go.

  “I’ll leave now and give your family privacy to talk this over. The time and date of the board hearing is noted on the summons. I’ll see myself out.”

  The silence after he left lasted for several seconds before Judy began shaking her head and emitting a soft clucking sound, like a distressed chicken.

  “How could you girls do this to Daddy and me? Why, you have been lying to us for months!” Judy said, her voice rising as she spoke.

  “You girls go to your room. No TV, no computer, no electronics of any kind,” Ken instructed, then stopped the girls as they turned toward the stairs. “And leave your cell phones.”

  The girls began to protest, until their father demanded, “Hand them over. Now.”

  Paisley pulled her phone from her backpack and reluctantly placed it in Ken’s hand.

  Astilbe ran to her mother, threw her arms around her and begged, “Please, Mommy! Don’t let him take our phones. How will we talk to our friends?”

  “The phone, Astilbe,” Ken said, with his hand outstretched.

  “Do as your Daddy says, now, sweetheart. I’m sure it will be for only a short time. Daddy’s doing what he thinks is best, because he loves you. We both love you and Paisley, very, very much. But you’ve been very, very naughty,” Judy said.

  After the twins’ bedroom door closed with a bang, Ken returned to his breakfast, Judy following behind.

  “This coffee is cold,” Ken pronounced and then retreated behind his newspaper.

  “Here, let me get you some fresh,” Judy said, taking his cup.

  When Judy returned to the table, Ken put the paper down and looked at her for a few moments without speaking.

  Judy was about to get her own breakfast when he spoke.

  “Sit down, Judy. I need to talk to you.”

  “Of course. What is it?”

  “When I married you twenty-two years ago, I overlooked the difference in our ages. In fact, I appreciated your youthful enthusiasm. Knowing I can occasionally be a bit too serious, I felt you were a good balance and I was convinced you would mature with age. Recently, I’ve begun to feel like I am the only adult parent of three teen-age daughters. This morning was a telling example.”

  “But, Ken, I thought the girls were going to class!” Judy protested.

  “It appears you were mistaken. If you were being a proper mother to the girls, rather than trying to be what’s currently referred to as their BFF, you would have known something was going on. Your daughters have made a fool of you and you had no hint. I have enough on my hands taking care of the congregation. I leave it to you to run our household. You have failed. This state of affairs cannot be allowed to continue. I am very disappointed.”

  “I’m sorry, Ken. I will try to do better, really. Please don’t be angry.”

  “Very well, but I trust there will be no more episodes like this morning. I must get to the church, now. I have a counseling appointment. Make certain those girls stay in their room the rest of the day. Tomorrow you will accompany them to school and see that they stay there.”

  “Please don’t be too hard on them, Ken. It’s not very interesting for teens in a small town like ours.”

  “Oh, please! The other pastors were going on about the poor, bored teen-agers at the last ministerial meeting. There seem to be plenty of interesting things keeping your daughters out of school. These youngsters have every entertainment device available to mankind and they complain of boredom. We shou
ld put them to work for a change. That’s what I told the other ministers, too.”

  “Good-bye! See you at dinner,” Judy called to Ken’s retreating back and began to put away the breakfast things. While she worked, she planned a little picnic to carry up to the girls for lunch.

  *

  Olivette Vernon and her husband, Kendall, were just finishing breakfast in their dark and ancient parsonage.

  Kendall carried the dishes from the rectangular chrome kitchen table to the chipped and stained enamel sink and began to squirt dishwashing liquid into the running water.

  Olivette sat on one of the matching red vinyl and chrome chairs, sipping her tea.

  “You never told me what you got up to at the ministerial meeting this week, dear. Was there anything interesting?” she asked.

  Kendall rinsed a plate, set it on the draining board and turned to his wife, drying his hands and slinging the towel over his shoulder.

  “Well, it was mostly just the usual, but there was one new topic. Dr. Evans, from the AME Church, suggested we create a sort of rotating youth club among the community churches.”

  “What’s a rotating youth club?”

  “The way Tyrone explained it, each church would take one afternoon or evening each week to open their social hall for the teen-agers to hang out and do their homework. He figured we’d provide a place to play Ping Pong or Foosball and board games and we’d have snacks for the kids. He said it would give them a safe place to gather and keep out of trouble.”

  “Sounds like a good idea. We were talking at the First Ladies Club about needing something like that.”

  “It may sound good to you and me and Dr. Evans, but the whole idea was picked apart pretty quickly by some of the others.”

  “That’s too bad. What was their objection?”

  “Oh, they had a list. Seems like having young people in the church building, when it’s not during a regular service, is asking for all sorts of trouble. Then there were the complaints about not having enough volunteers willing to come out, utilities costs of keeping the building open, security, liability insurance, and on and on. One fellow actually said he wouldn’t like ‘unchurched’ kids mixing with the children of his congregation. Can you imagine? It was very discouraging to hear.”