Jillian pulled her ever-present shorthand type notebook out of her large bag, flipped several pages over, placed it on the bar, pulled out a pen from between her ear and her hair, then said, “Okay now, Jo, I want to hear what you think of the new preacher. I know you and Sue Ann had a run-in with him a little while ago and I want the facts before I go to talk to him.”
Jo couldn’t help it, she laughed at Jillian’s antics and the seriousness of her tone. “First of all Jillian, it wasn’t a run-in or confrontation of any sort. I just happened to be in Sue Ann’s at the same time he was in there for a haircut. That’s all.”
Jillian shook her head. “That’s not the way I heard it. Did he insult you or Sue Ann in any way?”
“No, Jillian, he was very nice to me. In fact, he even apologized to me for the way that other preacher treated me.”
She thought for a second, “Really, if anyone was rude or insulting, it was Sue Ann to him.”
Jillian looked disappointed. “Okay then, how did he treat Sue Ann? He must have done something to her for her to be that way with him.”
“Well, considering how badly she treated him, I’d say he treated her very well indeed. He was there for a few minutes before I got there, so I can’t say what may have happened before that, but he seemed so nice. I doubt if he was nasty to Sue Ann the way she was to him.”
Jillian flipped her notebook closed, stuck it in her bag, slapped her hat back on her head, and said, “Well, thanks Jo, gotta go.”
With that Jillian was out the door leaving Jo somewhat perplexed. Was the woman trying to stir up trouble? She certainly hoped not because if anyone could, it would be their somewhat colorful newspaper editor. Jo didn’t need any more trouble like she’d had last year. For that matter, the town didn’t need any more of that kind of trouble either.
Her lunch crowd began to come in and she stayed busy for the next couple of hours. When business died down again, she started toward the cooler to start restocking the bar when the door opened and Earl Jordan ambled in.
She was almost shocked to see him in her place. Not only were they competitors here in town but Earl was the type of person who didn’t usually associate with anyone in town except his customers who tended to be considerably rougher than Jo’s. He had never done more than greet her when they met around town, and even that was usually brief and gruff. What could he possibly want now?
He came right up to the bar and sat on a stool so she turned back to stand in front of him. He was short, not more than a couple of inches taller than Jo. What hair he had left was just in a strip across the back from one sideburn to the other and over his rather large ears. He also looked like he’d put away more than his share of his own beer, if his rather large beer gut was any indication.
“Good afternoon, Earl.”
She wasn’t sure why he was here, but she didn’t want to say any more until he let her know.
He nodded and said, “Mary Jo.” He looked around the large room before bringing his eyes back to her. “I guess you know why I’m here.”
When he didn’t say more, she said, “No, Earl, I’m afraid I don’t know why you’re here.”
He shook his head. “You should know. It’s that blasted do-gooder church. They done gone and brought in another one of those fire-breathing preachers from St. Louis. Well, I, for one, won’t stand for it. I’ve already talked to Clyde and he’s in with me. Are you?”
Jo’s temper flared up so quickly that it surprised her and she fought hard to contain it. She very carefully said, “Earl, exactly what is it you’re asking me to be in on?”
He looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “Well, we’re going to fight them, that’s what. We’re going to hit them before they start in on us this time.”
When it looked like he was going to say more, Jo held up her hands, palms toward Earl. “No, Earl, I don’t want to know any more. You can count me out of any plans you may have to cause trouble for that church or their preacher.”
Earl gave her that incredulous look again. Then he glared at her as if that would change her mind. When it didn’t, he raised his voice. “Well I know blamed well Homer never would’ve let those people run all over him the way you’re doing.”
Now she was really mad and had to take another deep breath to calm herself down before trying to speak again. “No, Earl, I don’t think so and you never knew my dad very well if you could even think he would have intentionally caused trouble for anyone else.”
Earl slammed his fist down on the bar and jumped off his stool. “Well, all I got to say to you little girl is don’t get in our way, that’s all.”
With that, he stomped out the door.
Less than a minute later, Floyd came through the door with a puzzled look on his face.
“Was that Earl Jordan I just saw pealing out of the parking lot?”
Jo was still so angry that she didn’t trust her voice yet. She just nodded.
“Well, what was he doing here and why did he leave like he was mad at the world?”
She finally trusted her voice enough to answer. “He was just mad at me.” She blew out her breath in a loud sigh. “He wanted me to join him and Clyde in fighting the Baptist church and their new preacher.”
Floyd uttered a few choice cuss words then said, “You’re not going in with them are you?”
Jo placed her hands on her hips and glared at her cousin. “Floyd McCracken you ought to know me better than to even ask such a question.”
He smiled back at her and waved a big freckled hand between them. “I know that Little Bit, but I wasn’t asking that as your cousin. As sheriff, I have to ask it.”
Jo picked up her bar towel and started drying glasses. “Still, I think you’d better keep an eye on those two just the same.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right. I’ll just stop in and have a friendly little visit with both of them tomorrow.”
With that he walked out leaving Jo wondering if that had been the only reason he’d come in.
* * *
Gil was still formulating in his mind what he would like to see the editor write in the newspaper about him when a pint-sized tornado blew into his office and captured one of the chairs across from him. She dropped a huge bag on the floor that looked as if it was full and quite heavy, took off a large floppy hat, and placed it on chair next to her.
He used the few seconds it took her to get situated in her chair to take a good look at her. She was short, probably even less than five feet. She was also a little on the heavy side. It was impossible to tell how old she was since her short curly hair was an unnatural shade of black on top of a face that was beginning to wrinkle. But the brown eyes that stared up at him were full of life, intelligence, and probably even humor.
“You get your fill of looking me over?”
Gil was so embarrassed that he knew his pale skin was bright red all the way down to his toes. He’d been so fascinated with her unusual looks that he hadn’t realized he was staring at her.
“I’m sorry.”
She cackled. “Aw don’t be Sonny. I hit everybody that way the first time around. If you didn’t look at me that way, I’d think you were a dishonest person or at least one that was a little too good at hiding his thoughts.”
He was afraid to say anything to that, so he waited for her to begin. She didn’t keep him waiting.
“Okay, Sonny, let’s get started. I’m sure you already know that I’m Jillian Clark, owner, publisher, editor, and star reporter of the Crowleyville Gazette. And like I told you on the phone, I’d like to do a feature article on the new preacher in town for my Sunday paper.”
Gil wasn’t sure an answer was expected, so he only nodded and watched as she pulled a steno pad from the bag and flipped it open. Then she pulled a pen out of the curls above her right ear and said, “Okay, what’s your name?”
“Gilbert Turner, but I go by Gil.”
“Okay. Now, where you from and what’s your family like?”
Th
is went on for ten more minutes with her asking direct, short answer questions, and he found it rather easy to answer the way Richard had advised him to do.
Then she slid the pen back in her hair, placed the pad on her lap, put her hands on her hips, and said, “Okay Sonny, give me the straight of it. Are you going to stir up trouble like that last preacher here did?”
Gil had been expecting that question when she walked in, but all the other harmless questions that came before it had lulled him into a false sense of security. He paused a little too long for the newspaperwoman.
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
She started to get up, but Gil held out both hands in a pleading motion. “No, Mrs. Clark. It’s not that at all. It’s just that you took me by surprise.” He tried to sit back in his chair and not appear too nervous or eager. “I have no intentions of causing anyone any kind of trouble here in Crowleyville. In fact, I would like to think that I’ll be doing just the opposite here.”
She sat back down and Gil hoped that he was getting through to her.
“I only found out this morning about what happened here last year, and I want you to know that not only will I not cause any trouble, but I want to help this community heal from the troubles of last year.”
Gil was out of breath when he finished and fell limply back into his desk chair. He watched her face, especially her eyes, for any sign that he had made the right kind of impression on her.
She stared right back at him for so long without even blinking that he was beginning to think something might have happened to her. She looked almost catatonic to him.
Then, finally, she slapped both hands on her knees as the note pad fell to the floor. She let out what Gil could only describe as a whoop and said, “Sonny, I think I’m going to like you. Yes, sir, I surely think I’m going to like you.”
With that, she picked up her pad and tossed it back into her bag. Then she pulled a rather expensive looking camera out of the bag and said, “Smile.”
While he was still trying to catch up with her, she snapped several photos of him and put the camera back into her bag. Then she slapped her hat back on her head, jumped up, and rushed out the door as fast as she’d come in it. On her way out, she yelled, “See you in the Sunday paper Sonny.” Then she paused and tossed over her shoulder, “And you can call me Jillian.”
Gil had risen while she was leaving and just stood there staring at the open doorway until Betty appeared in it.
She was laughing so hard she had to hold on to the door facing to remain standing.
Gil looked up at her face and began to wonder whether she was laughing at him or what, when she stopped laughing long enough to almost fall into one of the chairs in front of his desk.
He tentatively sat back down in his chair waiting for her to explain.
Finally, after pulling a tissue from a box he had just that morning placed on a table near the two visitor chairs, she looked over at him and said, “That was beautiful! You handled her exactly the way you needed to.”
“I did?”
“You sure did. Jillian is the most irritating person in the world when she wants to be, and she threw most everything at you just now.” She smiled again. “And you passed every test she threw at you.”
“I did?”
Gil knew he was not only being redundant, but sounding rather simple too.
“Do you mean that she’ll write something good about me?”
Betty nodded her head emphatically. “I’m sure of it simply because I think she likes you if nothing else.”
After Betty went back to her desk, Gil sat there for some time thinking about his meeting with Jillian Clark. Did he make a favorable impression on her? Would she actually write good things about him?
He didn’t know the answers to those questions yet, but he knew that he would for sure come Sunday morning.
Chapter Three
Gil wanted to start his first Sunday morning off right and set himself a good routine for the future. Therefore, he was up at six and spent some time in his study praying before he sat down in the kitchen with a bowl of cereal and began thinking about his plans for the day.
Looking at the cereal box reminded him of when he’d gone to the grocery store yesterday. He’d have to remember never to go there again on a Saturday. The store had been packed and when he walked in the doors, everyone in the place stopped and just stared at him. No one said anything to him, even when he tried to greet them.
He’d rushed through the store picking up whatever he saw that he thought he needed until he could come back when it wasn’t so crowded. Even the checker only spoke to him when she told him how much his bill was.
He forced his mind onto his schedule for the day. He wanted to spend another hour in his study with his sermon before going over to the church. Then he wanted to greet everyone as they came in for Sunday School.
During Sunday School, he planned to go around to each of the classes and familiarize himself with the classes and their teachers.
Then he wanted to be at the front doors of the church when people began coming in for the worship service. He had learned from a wise mentor that it was extremely important to always try to greet every person as they entered the church and then again as they left.
Gil had just about finished his hour with his sermon when he heard shouting behind the house. As he opened the back door to investigate, something fury shot past him into the kitchen. Just then, Bert came flying through the door knocking Gil flat out on the floor.
Before he could get up a small fury dog began licking his face as he lay there on the kitchen floor.
“I’m sorry Mr. Preacher, but Harry don’t listen to nobody when he thinks there’s food where he’s headed”
The dog was already off Gil and sniffing all the kitchen cupboards by the time Bert stepped over him and went after it.
Gil sat up in time to see the dog slip away from Bert and race into the living room. He pulled himself to his feet and followed Bert in time to see the dog jump up on Gil’s overstuffed sofa, stretch out, and look over at them with what looked like a contented smile on his face.
Gil turned to Bert and said, “You need to get him out of here and take him home where he belongs.”
Bert turned toward Gil and hanging his head, said, “He is home Mr. Preacher.”
Gil’s smile turned into a frown. “What do you mean Bert?”
“Well, Mr. Preacher, it’s kinda like this.” He took his cap off and scratched his head. “I found Harry digging in the trash cans out back of the church a few months ago and nobody ever said anything about having lost a dog so I kept him except Miz Daisy won’t let me keep him at the home so he’s been living here ever since.”
He seemed to pause for breath since he’d said all that on a rush. “I been feeding him and brushing him just like you’re supposed to do with your pet dog.”
Gil was still trying to follow all of Bert’s jumbled together speech when it hit him. “Where did you say he’s been living?”
Bert grinned and hung his head again. “Here.”
Gil wanted to make sure he understood. “Do you mean here on the church grounds or do you mean here in the parsonage?”
Bert’s grin began to slip a little but he nodded his head and pointed down at the floor then over to the doggie door in the kitchen door that Gil had closed that first day when he moved in.
“But where has he been for the last four days?”
Bert must have sensed that he wasn’t going to get yelled at so he raised his head and said, “I’ve been trying to get him to sleep in the tool shed out back. And it worked real good . . . ‘til this morning that is.”
Gil didn’t know what to say or do. He looked at the fury little dog who’d made himself comfortable on Gil’s sofa then over to Bert who was back to hanging his head again.
“You won’t ever have nobody try to break into your house now Mr. Preacher.”
“No, Bert, he can’t stay here.”
An hour later, Gil was ready to go over to the church and Harry was set with a bowl of water and the open doggie door that only let him go out into the fenced backyard. Gil kept telling himself that it was only until they could find a real home for the dog.
The first person he encountered was Richard who grinned at him and said, “Harry’ll make you a real good pet, Pastor.”
Gil wondered if there was anyone in the whole town who didn’t know that he now had a dog in his house.
When he didn’t respond, Richard said, “Did you see the Sunday paper?”
Gil shook his head and Richard handed him the paper. On the front page was a large photo of him with his chin in his hand in a rather stoic pose. His first thought was, where did she get that photo. Surely he didn’t pose like that when Jillian was in his office.
Richard snorted. “The article is really pretty good . . . except for two things. Did you really pose for that picture? And did you talk to her about your degrees?”
“I sure don’t remember that pose but she did take several and that was taken in the office here.” He shook his head. “She must have learned about my degrees from somewhere else. I did like you suggested and didn’t mention that at all.”
“Well, she must have meant well, but she stressed how lucky we are to get someone so overqualified like you are for a little country church like this one.”
Gil was still processing that bit of information when Richard cleared his throat and began speaking.
“I been meaning to talk to you about something I think might be real important to you Pastor.”
He certainly had Gil’s attention with that opening.
Richard chuckled, “I guess there’s really two things I been meaning to talk to you about. First, we’re having a deacon meeting this afternoon at four if you can make it.”
Gil said, “Yes, Richard, that would be great. I look forward to getting to know the rest of the deacons.”
No Easy Solution (Crowley County Series Book 1) Page 4