by J B Hawker
“Sure, that’s fine,” Gideon said. “I’ll make the salad.”
While they worked together getting dinner ready, Gideon kept glancing at his wife.
He finished chopping a tomato and put down the knife, turning to Hope.
“I’m surprised at you,” he said, taking an avocado from the basket on the counter.
“What do you mean?” Hope asked sprinkling olive oil and fresh basil onto the steaming pasta.
“You were a Marine, right?” he asked, raising his eyebrows, and Hope nodded, looking puzzled.
“So, how come you’re afraid of a bunch of perfectly nice neighbor women? It seems out of character for the feisty woman I married, that’s all,” he said.
Hope made a face at him and carried the bowl of pasta to the table.
“Okay. You’ve convinced me,” she said later, placing her fork on her now empty plate.
“I’ll go to the silly meetings. Maybe I’ll pick up some pointers.”
Gideon laughed and sipped his iced tea. “How exactly did I convince you? I haven’t said anything about it while we were eating.”
“No, but you kept giving me that look... oh, don’t go all wide-eyed innocence... you know what look I mean,” she said, getting up and carrying their plates into the kitchen.
Gideon helped clear the table, set the dishes in the sink, and pulled Hope into his arms.
“Let’s leave the dishes until morning and have an early bedtime,” he murmured into Hope’s hair.
Hope nodded, smiling and squeezing his hand.
Gideon switched off the light and followed Hope upstairs with a spring in his step.
……
Surrounded by a pile of discarded garments and wearing only a slip, Hope stood frowning in front of the mirrored door of her closet on Sunday morning.
Gideon walked into the bedroom in time to see her collapse cross-legged onto the floor among the heap of somber skirts and dresses.
“It’s no use!” she moaned.
“What’s wrong?” Gideon asked, crouching down beside her.
“No matter what I wear, I’ll never look like a proper pastor’s wife!” she fumed, tossing a maroon beret across the room.
Gideon pulled her up, laughing.
“And exactly what does a proper pastor’s wife look like, my darling?” he asked, hugging her.
“Not like me, that’s for sure,” Hope grumbled, stepping back and gesturing to her reflection in the mirror.
Gideon smiled into the mirror.
“Well, I haven’t seen many proper pastor’s wives in their underwear, so I suppose you’re right,” he said.
Hope turned around, laughing.
“Goof!” she said. “Don’t tease me. This is serious. I want to make you proud of me, but when I put on any of these frumpy clothes, I feel like I’m playing dress-up in my old granny’s things.”
“Hope, my precious darling wife, since even before we were married, I’ve been trying to reassure you that you don’t need to change. I don’t know where you got the idea that you have to become dowdy in order to be a pastor’s wife,” Gideon said.
Hope picked up one of the books from a stack on her bedside table and held it up so Gideon could see the title, “How to be a Proper Pastor’s Wife.”
“It says here that the pastor’s wife should always look to the most modestly dressed women in the congregation for her style cues, so as not to stand out,” she said. “And you’ve seen how our older women dress for church.”
Gideon held out his hand for the book, took it over to the wastebasket, and dropped it in.
“If you’re getting that sort of advice in those other books you’ve collected, please just toss them out, too. You don’t need to follow someone else’s pattern to be a good pastor’s wife. You are the proper, no, the perfect wife for this pastor, just the way you are. Be your sweet self and wear whatever feels comfortable. I’m going over to the church, now, for my quiet time before I meet with the elders for prayer. If you take my advice, you’ll bag up those hats and the rest of the old lady clothes to donate to the next church rummage sale,” he said, giving Hope a kiss.
She hugged him tightly and nodded.
“Thank you, darling. That’s exactly what I’ll do. Did I tell you lately how much I love you?”
“Yeah, but it always bears repeating,” he said with a grin. “I love you, too. See you in church.”
Smiling, Hope watched him depart, and then selected a favorite pair of slim gray slacks and a yellow pullover from her closet and slipped them on. She looked at her reflection and nodded, then began gathering up the rummage sale donations from the carpet.
Chapter TWO
In mid-afternoon, Gideon and Hope returned home to the mock Colonial house Gideon had purchased when called to the pulpit of Mount Zion.
After everything Hope had read about the difficulties of life in a church-tied parsonage, she was grateful Mount Zion had sold theirs many years prior and now provided their pastors with down-payment loans, enabling them to build equity with their housing allowance. Although there were extra insurance, maintenance, and property tax expenses, Hope felt certain it was worth it for the added privacy and autonomy.
Before marrying Hope, Gideon lived in the house with his unmarried older sister, Shebana, who had recently moved to the nearby town of Tillamook.
Hope liked her new sister-in-law and would have been happy to share the home with her, but Sheba, as Gideon called her, was unwilling to impose on the newlyweds, although she often joined them for church and family get-togethers.
Walking into the casually decorated family room, Hope flopped down on the overstuffed cranberry-colored leather sofa, kicked off her shoes and tucked up her feet.
Gideon pulled off his jacket and loosened his tie.
“I’m going up to change out of my preacher suit and then I’ll be right back to join you,” he said.
“A lot of ministers dress pretty casually these days, and I know you’d be more comfortable, especially in the summer, but I’m glad Mount Zion prefers a more professional look. I think a pastor should be set apart from the crowd, you know? And besides, you are so handsome in your suits,” Hope said, getting up to give him a hug.
“So, I shouldn’t change?” he asked, raising his eyebrows and grinning. “Just how much worse do I look to you in my grubbies, anyway? Tell me now and all my casual clothes will join your old things in the rummage bag.”
“You always look terrific to me, in anything or nothing at all... but then, I’m still a new bride, so who knows how I’ll feel when the honeymoon wears off,” Hope teased, heading into the kitchen for a drink of water.
Gideon swatted her bottom as she turned away and loped up the stairs, laughing.
“Will you want any supper tonight?” Hope asked her husband, later, as they lounged together on the sofa with his feet in her lap.
“Maybe a light snack, if I ever manage to digest the lump of potluck casserole sitting in my stomach.”
“You shouldn’t have eaten so much,” Hope said.
“I had to. If I hadn’t sampled everyone’s dish, someone might have been offended. These ladies have hearts of gold, but when it comes to cooking, they can be cut-throat competitors. Besides, everything was delicious. Did you have any of that peach pie Sister Jones brought? It was dee-vine!” he said with his eyes closed as though savoring the taste on his tongue again.
“No, I must have missed it. I got to the serving table late and a lot of the dishes were already empty.”
Gideon opened his eyes and peered at Hope.
“Did you get enough to eat? What delayed you, anyway?” he asked.
“I was talking with the Millers. Have you spoken with them about the annual youth group campout, lately?”
“No, why?”
“It looks like they won’t be able to chaperone it this year. They’ve got a family emergency. They’re leaving tomorrow and will be out of town for several weeks,” Hope replied.
&
nbsp; Gideon slid his feet off Hope’s lap and sat up.
“This is awful,” he said. “We’ve just started to get the group built back up and our kids have been working toward that camping trip all summer. We can’t let them down at the last minute.”
“Well, what can you do? You are already committed to those meetings in Portland. Who would be willing or able to take the kids on an outing like this, especially without more than only a couple of weeks’ advance notice?” she asked.
“There might be someone,” Gideon said, looking sideways at his wife. “Someone who is available and more than capable of handling all the rough stuff required on an outdoor adventure.”
“Who? Wait, you aren’t thinking about me taking over?” she said. “I’ve never run a youth group and I don’t know anything about kids.”
“You wouldn’t really be taking over from the Millers, just helping out for the one camping trip. And I’m sure we can get someone to go with you. You wouldn’t be on your own with the kids. At least think about it, okay?” Gideon asked.
…
“Dan, can you demonstrate that choke-hold release with Allison?” Hope asked the next day at her defense class.
“Sure,” Dan replied, gesturing for a slight, mousey-looking young woman with short dark hair and wire-rimmed glasses to come to the front of the room.
The rest of the students watched intently as Allison prepared to ward off her would-be attacker.
It seemed to most of the observers that there was no way for a woman of Allison’s stature to survive an assault from someone of Dan’s size and strength. If she could do it, maybe there was hope for each of them.
As Dan crept up melodramatically upon his “victim” Hope smiled.
It had been such a blessing when Gideon introduced her to his friend. Dan was a fireman who worked rotating shifts. When he’d learned of Hope’s classes, he’d offered to help whenever he could.
Seeing their defense techniques work against such a large, fit man did wonders for her students’ self-confidence and Hope knew that self-confidence was absolutely key in self-defense.
She chuckled to herself to see the handsome firefighter twirl an imaginary villainous mustache and wriggle his eyebrows at the class as he prepared to spring upon the poor, unsuspecting heroine of the scene.
Dan was serious about helping the women, but he had a gift for making what could be frightening lessons fun.
When Dan grasped Allison from behind, she screamed and stomped on his instep, following up with an elbow to his solar plexus. As he doubled over, she jogged out of reach, miming calling for help on her phone.
The class burst into applause.
Hope walked Allison and Dan through the scene in slow-motion for the students, before having the class pair up and practice the moves.
“That was fun,” Shebana walked up to her sister-in-law later, wiping perspiration from her face.
“When do I get to partner with Dangerous Dan, eh?” she teased.
“You interested?” Hope asked, eyebrows raised. “I could invite you both to dinner some night, you know.”
“Oh, that would be subtle,” Shebana laughed. “I was just joking, anyway. I don’t have time for any of that stuff.”
“That stuff? What, like fun, romance, love, maybe even marriage and a family?” Hope asked.
“Someday, maybe. Right now, I’m too busy,” Shebana said, looking away and fiddling with her towel.
Gideon had hinted to Hope about his sister’s youthful heartbreak; something that kept her from getting close to another man in order to protect herself from pain. This was the first time Hope had seen it with her own eyes.
Hope thought Dan could be the perfect man to break through all Shebana’s defenses.
Hope had noticed his eyes lingering on Shebana more than once and no wonder; Shebana, mixed race like Gideon, but with an added measure of Asian ancestry, was a beautiful woman.
“Okay. Someday, then,” Hope replied with a shrug. “For now, help me clean up here and I’ll treat you to lunch. I’m starving.”
…
They showered and changed at Hope’s place and then sat on the patio enjoying their lunch in the late-summer sunshine.
“We need to enjoy this nice weather while we can,” Shebana said, dragging another pita chip through the bowl of spicy hummus. “All too soon the rainy season will return.”
“Here on the coast, the rainy season is just about every season, it seems to me. I treasure the clear days in late summer and the early fall,” Hope said. “Although I’d just as soon put off autumn this year.”
“Why?”
“Oh, that brother of yours wants me to take the church youth on their annual camping trip,” Hope replied.
“What’s happened to the Millers?” Shebana asked. “They are still the youth sponsors, aren’t they?”
“A family emergency. A grandbaby came early, a preemie with complications, I gather, so they had to take off. We don’t know when they’ll be able to get back home.”
“Well, you are certainly qualified to help out on a camping trip. What’s the problem? The time I went with the kids we had a blast.”
“It’s not the camping part... I’m just not very good with kids. I’d much rather lead a class of Golden Oldies than try to relate to a gang of teenagers.”
“They aren’t all in gangs, you know,” Shebana laughed. “You were a kid once, yourself. Just channel fourteen-year-old Hope!”
“No way! I never want to relive those years,” Hope said, more vehemently than she realized.
“Didn’t you have a good childhood?” Shebana asked, sobering. “You never talk about it.”
“Nothing to talk about. I survived, so that’s all that matters, right?” Hope said, getting up and taking their empty plates into the house.
Shebana followed. Her curiosity aroused, she decided to ask Gideon about his wife’s youthful past at the first opportunity.
“Well, anyway,” she began. “You wouldn’t be alone with the kids. A few parents always go along. You could hang out with them.”
“Gideon said he’d keep trying to find someone else to do it. Say, how about you? You’ve done it before,” Hope said.
“No way! I’ve paid my dues,” she laughed. “Seriously, I can’t get away right now. I’ve got a couple of important writing projects due that weekend. They could lead to some serious opportunities, so I can’t be late with them or blow them off. In fact, I better be on my way. I’m interviewing someone for one of the articles this afternoon.”
Shebana hugged Hope, thanking her for lunch, and snatched up her exercise gear as she dashed out.
Hope slumped down onto a bar stool in the kitchen, hoping Gideon had better luck finding someone to lead the youth campout.
…
On the following afternoon, Hope was at Mount Zion, in the social hall, making plans for the youth self-defense class she planned to begin the following month.
She was in the supply closet, trying to decide how to store the exercise mats, when the door slammed shut and the light went out.
Hope tried to open the door, but, although it wasn’t locked, something seemed to be jammed against it, holding it closed.
“Hey! Is someone out there? I’m in here and the door’s stuck!” she called.
She heard a suppressed snicker, smiled, and using all her strength, forced the door open.
When she burst through, she saw TyVon Mitchell, one of the church youth, stagger back and fall onto the seat of his baggy pants with a thump.
He looked up at her with a sheepish grin.
“Hi, Mrs. Hopkins. I thought someone left the door open. I didn’t know anyone was in there. I was just trying to help,” he said, not meeting Hope’s eyes. “You’re a lot stronger than you look,” he added.
“There is usually more to someone than meets the eye, TyVon. For example, I had no idea that you are such a practical joker... or such an easy pushover, either.”
“Pusho
ver? You think I’m weak?” he said, getting up and flexing his muscles. “That’s not what the other guys on the football team think.”
“Well, then, maybe you just underestimated me, but I still think it would be a good idea for you to sign-up for my self-defense class.”
“I can take care of myself. I don’t need to take a class with a bunch of wimpy kids,” he bragged.
“But all the younger ones look up to you, TyVon. Having you in the class would set such a good example... and you might even learn a few of the techniques I picked up in the military. Even if you can protect yourself just fine, getting new skills could help you protect someone else,” Hope said.
As she and TyVon chatted, Orville Watts, the church custodian, walked into the social hall.
“When are you kids gonna get all that camping gear out of my storage closet?” Orville asked TyVon. “Every year it’s the same thing. I get crowded out by all your supplies until after the big campout.”
“Yeah, well, I guess you’re gonna have to work around our stuff until next year. The Millers had to go down to L.A. to take care of her mother, or something. Anyway, they won’t be here to take us camping,” TyVon said with a shrug.
“Isn’t there anyone else who can step in?” Hope asked. “I know you’ve all been looking forward to it.”
“Nah. But it’s no big deal. Camping’s for kids, anyway,” TyVon said.
“But you would still want to go, if you could, right?” she asked.
“I suppose.”
“Good. Because I’m sure it will be easier to find someone willing to fill-in if they know you will be there to help. Like you said, you aren’t a kid, anymore. How old are you? Seventeen? Eighteen?” she asked.
“I’m sixteen, but I’ll turn seventeen in only ten months,” he said, puffing out his chest a bit, obviously flattered.