The First Ladies Club Box Set

by J B Hawker

  “They had their shots last month,” Ken said. “Doctor Wilson is a wizard with a needle, did I tell you? She has it in and out before the kids even notice.”

  “I’m so glad Jane’s daughter took over Dr. Haleby’s practice. I was afraid Gwennie would lose her job, after everything that happened,” Judy said.

  “Nurse Bitsy isn’t quite so happy about the change, though. I hear Dr. Wilson has her on a diet,” Ken laughed.

  “Now, don’t laugh. Weight loss is a real struggle. That reminds me, will you make the cookies for my First Ladies Club meeting tomorrow? Melissa and I volunteered to bring snacks.”

  “How’s she doing these days? I’ve sort of lost touch with the news from the other churches since I’m not going to the Minister’s meetings.”

  “She’s busy substitute teaching most days, but she told me the church had an appreciation dinner for her and Jorge last month. Everyone recognizes what a blessing they’ve become. First Baptist is growing and getting into local mission outreach, too.”

  “So, you’re saying God’s in His Heaven and all’s right with the world?”

  “Absolutely. Can I have some more soup?”

  If you enjoyed this book, please tell your friends and consider posting a review

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank my hard-working proof-readers/editors Neal, Donna, Michele, Joanne, Karoline, Judith, and Andrea.

  Thanks to all my faithful fans for their support and kind reviews.

  Special thanks to my fellow authors who so generously share experience, wisdom, encouragement, and welcome advice.

  Shadows

  of

  Hope

  J.B. Hawker

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 J.B Hawker

  ISBN-13: 9781099604287

  All rights reserved.

  Dedicated to

  All the devoted and self-sacrificing foster parents and child welfare workers everywhere.

  Without you, many more vulnerable

  children would suffer

  Chapter ONE

  Hope sensed a menacing form approaching her from behind a nearby concrete pillar. She shifted her weight, her muscles tense. Running away was no longer an option as the hooded figure rushed toward her with arms outstretched. Dim light from a narrow basement window glinted on a knife as it slashed through the air.

  The tall, fit, auburn-haired young woman grabbed her assailant’s wrist, bending his arm back until the knife clattered to the floor. Using her attacker’s momentum, she rolled him over her hip, sending him crashing at her feet, winded. Snatching up the knife, she dropped her knee onto the man’s neck, holding the blade under his chin.

  A round of applause broke the mood and Hope hopped up, holding out her hand to help the now smiling man get to his feet.

  “That was wonderful, Hope!” Gwennie cried out.

  The other students, mostly middle-aged women dressed in workout gear, chorused in agreement.

  “Are you okay, Dan?” Hope asked her erstwhile assailant. “I wasn’t too hard on you, was I?”

  “No more than usual,” Dan said with a crooked grin. “But getting beaten up by a girl all the time isn’t doing my male ego any favors.”

  “You’ll get over it,” Hope teased, walking back to the front of the room to address her self-defense class.

  “Let’s give Dan another big round of applause to thank him for helping out with the demonstration, ladies,” she announced, gesturing to Dan who gave a mock bow before going up the stairs.

  More than one of the ladies followed his muscular form with their eyes, a few blushing when he turned at the top of the stairs and waved.

  “Now, let’s pair up and walk through the moves you just observed,” Hope said with a grin.

  Hope taught self-defense classes in the basement fellowship hall of the Nazarene Church in this charming seaside community. As a retired Marine, she was well-qualified to help others get fit and learn to protect themselves.

  This particular group of women had been learning together for a few years now, ever since Hope abandoned her nomadic lifestyle to make Bannoch her home. She never expected her life to change so much when she’d decided to move to this small Oregon town.

  She’d been drifting after leaving the military until she ran into a serial killer who’d tried to add her to his list of victims. Although injured, she’d managed to escape his clutches.

  When she was discharged from the hospital, Hope needed to recuperate from her narrow escape. She’d wanted a change; something to erase the memory of her brush with evil. She’d decided a hefty dose of salt air would be the perfect antidote for what she’d been through.

  When Hope stepped off the bus in this beachfront village, she felt the ocean breeze cool her battered body, heard the roar of the surf, and was soon enchanted with the town’s slow pace and friendly inhabitants.

  Settling in and starting her classes, she had found not only a new home, new friends, and a new faith, but, much to her surprise, she’d fallen in love, as well.

  Her recent marriage to the Reverend Doctor Gideon Hopkins of Bannoch’s Mount Zion Tabernacle had changed her last name, but she continued teaching her fitness classes and had yet to become comfortable in her unfamiliar role as ‘first lady’ of Gideon’s predominantly Afro-American congregation.

  Hope wandered around the room checking on her class members’ progress. Gwennie Barthlett, wife of the Nazarene pastor, looked up from the exercise mat where she’d been flung by a sweet little old retired librarian, and called Hope over.

  “Will you be at next week’s First Ladies Club meeting?” Gwennie asked, struggling to raise her bulky form off the mat. “You’ve been a pastor’s wife for almost three months, now, and everyone is eager to welcome you to our group.”

  “I’ve been meaning to come. I’ve just been so busy. Moving and all, you know how it is,” Hope said.

  “Oh, I know,” Gwennie said while grabbing the librarian and throwing her over one hip.

  “Adjusting to becoming a pastor’s wife can be hard,” she continued, pinning the smaller woman to the mat. “That’s why we started the First Ladies Club to support one another. Here in Bannoch, no matter what denomination we serve, we are sisters in God’s service. Don’t think of our meetings as another dreaded task, please. The club has been a life-saver, more than once, believe me!”

  “I’ll try to be there next week,” Hope promised. “Now, stop kneeling on Doris and help her up. I think you two have the moves down.”

  Hope walked across the room, irritated with herself. Why was she so reluctant to join the other preachers’ wives? She’d never been shy before, but for some reason the thought of all those experienced women intimidated her. Giving herself a mental shake, she brought her thoughts back to her class.

  …

  “Come in, Sister Evans!” Gideon cried, jumping up from his desk as a formidable matron charged through the door of the Pastor’s Study.

  She marched in and plopped her considerable bulk onto a chair, causing a burst of air to escape noisily from the vinyl cushion.

  “What are you going to do about it, Doctor Hopkins? That’s what I want to know,” she said with a firm nod of her head.

  Gideon was distracted for a moment by the wild fluttering of an abundance of faded flowers on her hat before he sat down clasping his hands on the desk and giving his visitor his full attention.

  Gideon Hopkins was a tall man, over six feet of lean muscle with close-cropped black hair, liquid brown eyes, and a creamy caramel complexion, the result of his mixed blac
k/white/Native American heritage. He looked more like the Army Ranger he’d once been, than a stereotypical minister.

  “What am I going to do about what, Sister Evans?” he asked, wide-eyed.

  “You know I’m not one to complain, but, well, when the reputation of Mount Zion Tabernacle is at risk, someone has to speak out,” she said, clutching her black vinyl handbag on her lap. “It was bad enough when the church decided to become independent from our founding denomination, opening the membership to all and sundry, but this is just too much!”

  “Now, Sister Evans, our Lord tells us in the Scriptures that we are all God’s children, no matter what our background, nationality, or race. The congregation voted to become a community congregation no longer focused only on those of African descent. It was nearly unanimous, and obviously in line with our Christian beliefs.

  “I’m sorry to see you so unhappy. Would you like me to pray with you?” he asked.

  “I’m not here about that!” she snapped. “Although I’ll admit I was more comfortable before all the new folks started turning up for worship and getting on the boards and all, but I came to talk to you about that woman you married. Do you know what she’s doing right this minute?”

  Gideon sat back, blinking. What could Hope have done to upset Mrs. Evans?

  “I believe she is teaching her exercise class this morning,” he said.

  “Exercise class! That’s what you call it? Well, I call it violence. She’s over at the Nazarene Church teaching women to fight! It’s not seemly for our pastor’s wife to be over at another church, jumping around, punching and kicking, and who knows what all with a bunch of militant feminists. You’ve got to make her stop,” Mrs. Evans said, folding her arms over her ample bosom.

  Gideon stifled a grin, stood up, and walked around his desk.

  “Sister Evans, I appreciate your concern for the good name of our church, but I think you have been misinformed. My wife teaches a women’s self-defense class. She isn’t inciting violence. I don’t see how helping women learn to protect themselves can reflect badly on Mount Zion.”

  “Why can’t she do it in our church?” Mrs. Evans blustered, finally getting to the heart of her objection. “She shouldn’t be promoting the Nazarenes when we’ve got a perfectly good church right here.”

  Gideon leaned a hip on his desk and seemed to be considering the older woman’s words.

  “So, you would be okay with the classes if Hope taught them in our building?” he asked.

  With a wary expression, Mrs. Evans said, “I suppose so.”

  “Good. Then we have no problem. The Board has given permission for Hope to begin a series of self-defense classes for the youth group. She’ll be holding them in the social hall this Fall. Her current classes will remain where they are for the convenience of her students. After all, she’s been holding them at that location for several years.”

  Mrs. Evans clamped her lips together as though holding back the words trying to push their way out in response to this unhappy turn of events.

  “Very well,” she said in a pinched voice, getting up and moving toward the door.

  “It seems to me the First Lady of our church should spend more time on the women’s work and less time on prancing around in yoga pants,” Gideon heard her hiss as she pulled the door shut, rattling its frosted glass panel.

  He shook his head and sank into his chair, chuckling to himself. He was sure that Hope would get a laugh when he told her about the older woman’s visit.

  Sister Evans was a character, all right, but Gideon knew she was a hard worker with a generous heart, once you got past her prejudices and fixed ideas.

  Gideon admired the seriousness with which his older members considered their faith and worship practices. He wished that more of the younger generations realized the importance of nurturing their faith and spirituality. However, it could be difficult for older people to accept change, especially changes in their church life.

  It was a balancing act to minister to a church in transition without alienating the long-time pillars of the congregation, and at the same time make room for the perspectives of younger people or new believers of any age. Only by the grace of God could it be done.

  Before returning to his sermon preparation, Gideon bowed his head and prayed.

  …

  When Gideon arrived home later that afternoon, he heard the shower running upstairs and knew Hope had returned from her classes.

  He took the stairs two at a time, removing his shirt and tie as he went.

  In the bedroom, he tossed his clothes onto the bed and slipped into the bathroom, tapping on the glass shower door before joining his bride.

  He’d learned the hard way just how dangerous it could be to sneak up on Hope.

  He’d come home from their honeymoon sporting a black eye.

  Hope wiped shampoo suds from her eyes and wrapped her husband in a welcoming hug as the water rained down on them both.

  After the shower, Hope dried her hair while Gideon changed into jeans and an old Army tee-shirt. He pulled the shirt over his head, noticing how frayed the neck had become. He hated to think of discarding this last souvenir from his days as a Ranger.

  “How was your day?” Hope asked him, pulling her wayward curls into a ponytail atop her head.

  “Fine... oh, yeah, you’ll get a laugh out of this... Sister Evans came to see me,” he said.

  Hope stood up and turned to face him.

  “What did she want that was so funny? She’s never seemed particularly humorous to me... in fact, she scares me to death.”

  Gideon chuckled, “She wanted to get me to stop you from teaching your self-defense classes. She said it isn’t ‘seemly’ for the first lady of Mount Zion Tabernacle to, as she said, prance around in yoga pants and sports bra. She thinks it doesn’t reflect well on our church.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding! She wants me to give up my classes?” Hope asked.

  “Turns out it isn’t the classes so much as where you hold them. She’s actually okay with the youth classes you’re planning to lead here at the church,” Gideon replied, sitting on the bed to tie his running shoes.

  “You mean, I’m not supposed to darken the doors of any other church? That’s ridiculous! What about other church’s parsonages? Just today Gwennie asked me, again, to attend the pastors’ wives support group meetings, and they are held in church halls and parsonages all over town,” Hope said with a frown.

  “Oh well, I guess this is as good an excuse as any to avoid them,” she added under her breath.

  Gideon grabbed Hope around the waist and pulled her onto his lap.

  “Hey, what’s up? I thought you’d get a laugh about Sister Evans’s silly ideas. Why so upset?”

  Hope stood up, looking at her hands, before replying.

  “I’ve been afraid all along that I wasn’t cut out to be a pastor’s wife, and I was right. I’m going to get you into trouble with the congregation... maybe they’ll even ask us to leave!” she said, finally looking up.

  Gideon pulled Hope back into his arms and stroked her hair, “Silly goose! I’m not in trouble and everyone in our church loves you.”

  “Not Sister Evans,” Hope mumbled into his chest.

  “Even Sister Evans,” he said. “Anyway, you don’t need to worry. I love you and you are doing a great job in the church.”

  “I want to be a help to you, Gid, but I’m just feeling my way and I’m afraid my blundering might hurt your ministry,” Hope said, looking up.

  “You are my greatest asset, darling. Please don’t worry about Sister Evans. I know she can be opinionated sometimes…”

  “And her opinion of me isn’t good,” Hope interrupted.

  “Has Mrs. Evans said something hurtful to you?” Gideon asked, looking concerned.

  “Well, no. Not really,” Hope admitted.

  Gideon looked relieved.

  “Do you think you might be projecting, just a bit?” he asked. “Your anxiety coul
d be coloring your perceptions, couldn’t it?”

  Hope rested her head on Gideon’s chest, but didn’t reply.

  “She’s really a good woman, sweetheart. I know you’ll see that once you get to know her. Maybe she seems hard, but she brought up five children all by herself. Her husband died when the kids were small. Those kids are grown, now, and doing very well. She’s raised a nurse, a fireman, a teacher, and even a pastor.”

  “That’s only four,” Hope said, stepping back, not quite ready to give Mrs. Evans the benefit of the doubt.

  “Well, yes. Her youngest daughter went off the rails in her teens, despite her mother’s best efforts. She ran away from home and just a few years later she ended up in a Portland alley, dead of a drug overdose.”

  “How awful!” Hope said, suddenly feeling more sympathy for Mrs. Evans.

  “Yes. It was a test of her faith, but she held firm. She loves the Lord and she is devoted to Mount Zion. Please believe me; her visit today wasn’t an attack on you or me. She was trying to protect the church,” Gideon said.

  “But she doesn’t want me to teach my classes at the Nazarene church, right? Will she make trouble if I don’t stop?” Hope asked.

  “Of course not! She’s not that kind of woman. She blusters a bit, but there’s no malice in her. By the time she left my office, I think she was fine with what you are doing. I hope whenever you see her, you can look beyond her rather formidable exterior into the good woman inside.”

  “I’ll try, but it’s so hard, Gid! I want to be a good pastor’s wife, but I don’t know how,” Hope moaned.

  “Sounds like that support group would be a good place to start. Why don’t you want to join?” he asked as they walked downstairs together.

  “I don’t really know. I already know Gwennie from class and Naidenne Davidson was my pastor’s wife at the Community Fellowship while I was a member there, but I don’t know any of the other ladies; well, except Olivette Vernon. She attended my senior citizen’s class a few years ago, but she’s a widow, now, and she only goes to the meetings now and then. I’ll just feel like a fish out of water with all those experienced pastors’ wives,” she explained, looking into the refrigerator. “What do you feel like eating tonight? Is pasta with a tossed salad okay?”