by Robyn Carr
It was a lot of happy horseshit, she knew. Christmas was bound to be miserable, but what could she do? Run home every time something bothered her or reminded her of her dead husband, of her fatherless boys? Every time she got lonesome? The kids needn't be constantly reminded that their lifestyle was slightly different from others, and this was a way to show them that it could be fine, even if Daddy was missing. Bev was determined to face the fact—and the fact was that the noisier it was on Christmas Day, the less lonely it would be. Still, they would stay home.
On Thursday Bev went to the rec room in the church about fifteen minutes before the meeting was to start so that Carl and Sharon could take her by the hand and lead her around to meet all the other goodie-goodie people working on the Christmas pageant. She hated him for asking her to do this. What she didn't need now was a bunch of straight-laced devout people with whom she had to spend a lot of time through the holidays.
They became less stuffy as she spoke with them and drank two cups of coffee. When she felt relaxed, they seemed warm and genuine. She was the snob.
Charles Sullivan was the new minister and his wife was with him, Joe Somebody-or-other was the assistant minister, and Bev's mother, Delores, the big-time Sunday school executive, was fluttering around like a nervous moth distributing pencils and paper for the meeting on her biggest project of the year. All things considered, Bev thought they were making a bit much of this production, but it didn't seem to be more than she could handle. It was a good thing because Carl beeped and then disappeared before they even sat down.
“We shouldn't give Carl a job,” Sharon said. “He never gets to do it.”
“It must be hard. Do you ever see him?”
“We have five children. I see him when it counts. He really enjoys this kid stuff. I wish he had more time for it. Are you going to start coming here now?”
“There's a little church in Murphy that's closer. I've been taking the boys there. But they want to be in the Christmas program here, so if they want to stay in this Sunday school, I'll make the long drive. Mother would be thrilled.”
“Well, understudy for my beloved husband, give the pageant all you've got. You may end up doing this without Carl, since so many pregnant women are shooting for tax deductions and all. Take good notes and I'll tell Carl what went on when I see him.”
“I think I can handle it.”
There wasn't much to handle. The older children would act out the Nativity and the younger ones would sing. There would be only a few lines for each class to learn and choir robes would be fashioned by loving mothers. Some decorations would be involved and Bev volunteered to do the artwork. She could have gotten off a lot easier, but she liked doing the artwork. She would be pleased to paint, and the church would be pleased to pay for the supplies.
Suddenly Beverly got excited. What did they think of the idea of a permanent backdrop for the Nativity that could be used year after year? They loved it. And what about some scene changes? Wonderful. And some stars and things to hang from the ceiling and some portable animal figures? Terrific. And how much should she spend? Oh, about fifty dollars, but they would work on getting a larger budget if necessary.
The meeting broke up with Beverly feeling good, challenged for a change. She was wearing a not very familiar smile. It felt nice. She felt nice. Almost happy, if she dared go that far. She grabbed her coat and was going to pull it on when she noticed a man was holding it for her. It was that Joe Somebody-or-other.
“Thank you.”
“Listen, Bev, I'd be glad to help you with the artwork. You don't have much time, and I can hold a brush if you'll tell me what to do.”
“Thanks, I might take you up on your offer.”
“How about taking me up on a cup of coffee? You in a hurry to get home?”
“No, but...” She straightened up while preparing to knock him flat. “Aren't you married?”
“No. I probably wouldn't have asked you out if I were.”
For some reason she thought preachers were issued wives in the seminary. “Well, I left the kids at Mother's. I had better pass.”
“How about tomorrow night?”
“For coffee?”
“Whatever. Can I call you?”
“Aren't you the assistant minister here?”
“Yes.”
The assistant minister was on the make? “Doesn't that mean that you're a minister, full-fledged and anointed?”
“Yes,” he said, and laughed.
“Then I guess that means coffee.”
He shrugged. “If you say so. What's your number? Here, let me get a pencil.”
Delores was waiting for her, but at quite a distance, Bev noticed. She also noticed her mother was pretending to be busy. That, Beverly knew, was so she could fool around with the assistant minister for as long as she wanted. Don't get your hopes up, Mother, she felt like calling out to Delores. He doesn't impress me.
“Okay, what is it?” Joe was asking. She recited the numbers. “Good. Can you get a sitter?”
“How did you know I needed one?”
“Aren't the kids you left at your mother's yours?”
“Oh, yeah. Well, how did you know I wasn't married?”
“Would you have accepted if you were?”
“Come on, Joe. Who put you up to this?”
“No one, honest. I've known your mother for a few months and I already guessed that you must be the widowed daughter with the two kids who moved back to Ohio.” He shrugged. “That's it.”
“Humph, I'll bet. We aren't going to go out compliments of the collection plate, are we?”
“The church pays my salary, Beverly.”
“Then we'll go Dutch.”
“Beverly...”
“Dutch or nothing.”
“Okay, I was just going to tell you that I have an outside income. I'm a referee with the city league. Youth basketball. I could make sure I take you out on that salary.”
“Why do you want to take me out at all?”
“Why not?”
He certainly didn't make it easy to refuse. Such innocence mingled with guile. Well, at least he wouldn't try to rape her, she could be reasonably sure of that. Did ministers get turned on? Doubtful. Did they drink? No. What did they do? Paint scenery for Christmas pageants, drink coffee, and save souls. Oh, Beverly! How stupid can you be? He's going to want to save your poor lost soul. How are you going to get out of this one? That was the question she was asking herself as she and Joe said good-bye.
Delores moved in then and in championship mother style extracted the news of the date from Bev. Delores quickly grew feverish with happiness. He was such a nice young man, so good-looking. He came to Ohio for this assistant's position and would very likely be getting his own church. He wasn't married, of course, but a nice man like that wouldn't be single for long. And he loved children, especially boys. Oh, and the boys were going to love him, too—
“Mother! I made a date for coffee. Now, stop it before you get so worked up you'll be a candidate for a heart attack.”
“It's just what you need, Beverly, to get together with a nice man like Joe.”
“I'm not getting together with him. I'm having coffee with him. That's all.”
“He has such a good outlook on life. He's been organizing sports for the young boys in the church.”
Probably just another funny-bunny. “That's great, Mother. Now forget about him.”
“Why should I forget about him? I'm glad he asked you out.”
“He didn't ask me 'out.' We're just going to talk about the program.”
“Well, that's a start—”
“Mother!”
“Beverly, I can't help myself. I'm happy that you're interested in a good Christian man like Joe, dark and...”
Oh, Lord, Beverly thought, her mother had no tact whatever. Getting interested in a good Christian man was not one of Bev's goals. She had been looking for a way to live without a man. She wanted to stop thinking about what to do with
some man's clothes when he died, or how to scrape his image away from a home shared and loved with him. She wanted to stop wondering who would help her cut the grass, act like a father to her sons, and hold her when she cried. Looking for someone had been painful. Whether he was a Christian or a heathen wouldn't make it any easier when a man let you down... or just died. Bob had been a good Christian man.
Beverly had been a Christian.
Even now she prayed, but for something to believe in. She had decided there was no God. Or, if there was, He was indifferent and careless—and she didn't want to put her faith in one like that.
There was a time when her faith had healed her spirit, given her hope, and added courage to her optimism. It strengthened her determination to be morally strong and decent. In raising children one couldn't just show them the world and let that guide them. She had introduced them to religion and hoped that the moral teachings of the church reinforced her efforts to help them grow into good men. She wouldn't mind if they believed there was some Divine reason for their sufferings, but she could no longer accept that.
When she was mourning Bob's death, Delores had said, “I believe there is always a reason for these things, however hard it is to understand.”
“Good, Mother. You believe that if you want to,” Bev had said, but she thought that no loving, caring God would kick a man when he's down.
Just the same, Beverly tried to put that minister together in her mind all the next day. She had Terry come to baby-sit and stay the night, but the eager-beaver preacher hadn't even called. Finally, at about five o'clock, he did.
“Hi, Bev. This is Joe.”
“Hello, Joe. How are you?'
“Fine. About tonight. Let's make it seven and I'll take you to dinner. I'll treat... on my ref's salary.”
“I don't know, Joe. Maybe we better just stick to that coffee date.”
“Why? Do you have other plans?”
“No, no, it's not that. Aren't your finances rather... limited?”
“Yes,” he admitted with a laugh. “After I have you eating out of my hand I'll just take you to the park or something on our dates.”
“I think I'd rather have coffee.”
“Put on something terrific. Something feminine. I'll take you to a great place tonight and tomorrow night I'll just take you for a ride.”
“I don't recall you asking me to go steady, Reverend. In fact, all I remember is that you asked me out for coffee.”
“Okay, we're having our coffee at the Marquis Lounge. Wear something slinky. See you at seven.”
“Joe? Joe?”
Well, damn. He didn't even ask how to get to her house, she fumed. Now what? And he thought she was so easy that he didn't even have to ask for a second date. Slinky? What was this slinky business? He was a minister, for Christ's sake. Well, something like that.
Chapter Three
“I can't imagine what he's thinking of,” Bev told Terry. “I didn't think ministers took their dates to places like the Marquis Lounge. I thought they took them to PG movies and ice cream parlors.”
“Well, he's only a man, after all. What are you so nervous about? He's a nice guy.”
Nice guy. Red alert. Nice guys hurt. And not always on purpose. “I don't think we have very much in common.”
“He's easy to get along with. He heads up the youth program at church. The kids really like him.”
“Why?”
“Because he's with it, I guess. For a preacher, he doesn't spend much time preaching. The kids talk to him.”
“You? Do you talk to him?”
She shrugged. “I don't have anything to talk to him about.”
“Well, religion. You're pretty religious, aren't you?”
“I have so much going on at school, Bev, that I'm doing good just to make it to church most Sundays with Steve. But I like Joe. He's a real nice guy.”
Look out, here comes another real nice guy. “Well, I hope we don't have a terrible time. I hope we don't discuss religion.”
“What's the problem? You were practically raised in that church. At least you're the same religion.”
'“Only a little.”
“What do you mean 'only a little'?”
“Well, I go. I haven't burned my membership card, but I don't believe.”
“That's crazy.”
“Is it?” Bev turned to show Terry the hard glint in her eyes. Terry was the only one Bev purposely spared, but not this time. Now she let her mind focus on Bob's suffering before his death, then the misery of clearing his presence from the house they had lived in together, finally her fears and strain raising his sons alone. The blue of Beverly's eyes was usually alive and bright in spite of all she'd been through, but when she allowed herself to feel that pain, her gaze was lost someplace miles away. Hard and distant. It was no joke.
Terry swallowed hard. “Why bother even going to church then?” she asked softly. “Why get the boys all involved and everything?”
The question brought Bev back to herself. Mention of the boys usually did. Facing up to the hard truths in life was painful; she could almost get lost in the pain. However, she was more of a caring mother than a bereaved widow, a feeling that very often saved her life. “Because I'm not opposed to religion, Terry. And there's nothing wrong with faith that makes people strong. The boys shouldn't be deprived of that.” And a little because Bob would have wanted it that way.
“There's the bell,” Terry announced as if Bev had suddenly become stone deaf.
“Let him in, will you?” Bev called as she raced for her room. “I'm going to brush my teeth.” And put on the finishing touches. She heard Terry as she reached the bedroom door.
“Mark and Chuck, this is Reverend Clark.”
“Joe. Just call me Joe. Where's Beverly?”
“Getting ready. She seems to be a little nervous.”
When Beverly glided back into the living room, Joe was smiling. His smile went very well with his tanned face and sandy-colored hair. It was bright and wild. Even sexy, if you could say that about a minister without being condemned.
Beverly had obliged him in the slinky department. The jump suit was even a little more than slinky; it simply drooled over her long, slim limbs. She had unbuttoned a few buttons to allow her cleavage to show. As if that wouldn't be enough, she had decided on a necklace that would bring attention to her assets. And dangling earrings against her super-short hair. Plus plenty of makeup.
Terry was staring with wide, horrified eyes. And Bev could read her mind: what are you doing, Sis? Trying to scare him away?
She was right in style for Joe Average, but how was Joe Preacher going to respond, Bev wondered.
Joe Clark smiled.
“I think I'll have a drink before we leave, Joe,” Bev announced smoothly. “Will you join me?”
“What are you having?”
“Scotch on the rocks.”
“Fine. Put some water in mine.”
Terry choked. The whole world was falling apart. Joe lit Bev's cigarette and, as she took the first long drag, Terry wanted to disappear into the wall. She was astounded. Crazy, the whole world must be going crazy when ministers asked for water in their scotch and lit cigarettes for their dates.
“I made reservations for eight o'clock, so let's not waste too much time. Did you tell Terry where we'll be?”
“I wrote the number down, Terry. By the phone. Call me if the boys give you any trouble.”
She handed Joe his drink and he took one swallow, two, thank heavens he didn't take three. He held the glass away from his face and studied the amber fluid. He was catching on.
“Is your drink okay?”
“Fine.” He went directly to the water faucet. She wasn't fooling him a bit. “A little strong.”
Terry whirled away, unable to take anymore. The whole world would go up in smoke if Beverly didn't stop trying to bait a man of God. Beverly must be losing her marbles.
“You don't drink?” Bev asked Joe.
&n
bsp; “Not often.”
“That means sometimes,” she decided aloud.
“It could mean that.”
It could mean he didn't buy drinks. “Good scotch,” she hummed, sipping.
“It's okay.”
“You don't like it?”
“I'm not wild about scotch, no.”
“Then why are you drinking it?”
He smiled mischievously. “So my mouth will taste like yours. Don't overdo it, Bev. I'm not scared of you.”
Oh, yeah? We'll see. “Will I have to drive you home?”
“I hope not. Are you about ready?”
Whenever you are, preacher baby. “Yes, shall we?”
Joe went to say good-bye to the boys, who were parked in front of the TV. He looked very unlike a man of the cloth in his tan pants and dark green sport coat. No tie, of course, and the top two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned. She noticed a froth of hair on his chest, and then hated herself for noticing that. He was real sharp, as a matter of fact. Shouldn't he be giving all his money to starving children instead of going around looking sharp? At least he didn't wear gold chains. That would be too much. But he didn't need them tangled up in his chest hair. And he was quite tall, a little over six feet. Not that she cared.
He tousled Chuck's hair and gave Mark a pat on the head. Bev checked eyes with Terry. Oh, very, very cold eyes. She was warning her. Don't you hurt him. He's a nice guy. Bev's warning system went off. Nice guy. Red alert.
They walked out to the car. Did the congregation buy the car too? She felt a little less safe with him. There weren't any people around to keep him from belting her. But then, would a minister belt a lady? No more than one would drink.
“Cute kids,” Joe said. “Real tough little guys. Do they like basketball?”
“They seem to like all sports.”
“Can I take them to the gym tomorrow?”
Bev's head shot up in surprise. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Why wouldn't you want me to?”
“But you don't even know them. They might be real monsters for all you know. Little devils.”