Signs and Wonders

by Philip Gulley

  The prospect of delivering a message to the congregation intrigued Deena. She called a meeting of the committee, their first meeting in two years, and asked for sermon ideas. They were singularly unhelpful, except to suggest she avoid two topics—peace and social concerns.

  “Dale Hinshaw doesn’t like it when we talk about peace,” Ellis Hodge said. “He believes peace won’t come until Jesus returns and that people who work for peace are opposing God’s plan, so I’d avoid that subject if I were you.”

  “And try not to say anything that’ll make the Republicans mad,” Bill Muldock suggested. “None of that helping-the-poor stuff.”

  “If people get mad when we talk about peace and social concerns, why do we have a Peace and Social Concerns Committee?” Deena asked.

  “Because we’ve always had one,” they said.

  Word of Deena’s new job spread through the meeting quickly. The Friendly Women were not at all pleased. “If I’ve seen it once, I’ve seen it a hundred times,” Bea Majors said. “These do-gooder types get caught up in some liberal cause, and then they stop shaving their legs. The next thing you know, they’ve moved to California, joined some cult, and changed their name to Moonflower. We need to get her a man, before she’s ruined.”

  Fern Hampton peered at Eunice Muldock. “Isn’t your son Johnny coming home for Christmas?”

  “His name is Jimmy,” Eunice corrected her. “And, yes, he’ll be home this Friday.”

  “Why don’t you invite Deena over for supper and let ’em look each other over,” Fern suggested. “It couldn’t hurt.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think Deena is his type.”

  Fern snorted. “Well, of course she’s his type. She’s a woman, he’s a man. What other types are there?”

  Another type is gay, which is what Jimmy is, though Eunice didn’t want to mention that, so she kept quiet.

  Fern mistook her silence for agreement. “Now don’t hover over them,” she said. “He can’t propose if you and Harvey are hanging around like a couple of old geezers. Eat dinner, then excuse yourselves and go for a drive. Give love room to weave its magic.”

  That these arrangements were made without the consent of Deena and Jimmy didn’t seem to trouble the Friendly Women, who asked Eunice to report on her progress at their January meeting.

  As for Deena, when Eunice invited her over for dinner, she was mildly interested. Jimmy was college-educated and artistic, and he lived in Chicago.

  “He doesn’t wear fishing T-shirts, does he?” she asked Eunice.

  “No, he doesn’t like to fish.”

  When Deena heard that, she decided to buy a new dress.

  Jimmy was a harder sell. When his mother mentioned a friend of hers was dropping by, he immediately grew suspicious.

  “Which friend? Fern? Bea?”

  “No, her name is Deena. I don’t think you’ve ever met her. She owns the coffee shop here in town.”

  “Mom, you’re not fixing me up, are you?”

  “Oh, don’t be silly. I wouldn’t do that. I just thought you’d enjoy meeting her. Stop being so suspicious.”

  Jimmy had decided before coming home that this would be the trip he’d tell his father, Harvey, he was gay. Even though he suspected his dad already knew, to have it confirmed would be painful, on account of he was his father’s only son. The Muldock legacy would end with Jimmy. Even worse, there’d be no Muldock heir to inherit Harvey’s Cranbrook convertible.

  Harvey blamed his wife. He’d read that homosexuality was caused by a shortage of testosterone during the development of the fetus. He’d thought about asking Eunice why she hadn’t made more testosterone, but didn’t want to start a fight. The last time they’d argued, he’d had to cook his own meals for a week.

  Jimmy arrived in town late Friday night. He woke up Saturday morning and went to the Coffee Cup with Harvey. He’d hoped to tell his father over a leisurely breakfast, but the Coffee Cup didn’t seem like the place to do it. It didn’t feel right talking to his father about such things with Asa Peacock in the next booth cracking jokes.

  “Yeah,” Asa was saying, “I was milking the cow this morning, and this bug started buzzing around the cow’s head and flew right in her ear. Next thing I know, the bug squirted out in my bucket. Yep, went in one ear and out the udder.”

  This was not an environment conducive to personal disclosure, so Jimmy kept quiet.

  Deena spent the day working on a social-concerns sermon that wouldn’t offend Dale Hinshaw or make her sound too much like a Democrat, which was not an easy balance to strike. She decided in the end to warn against urban sprawl and leave it at that. That was a safe topic in a town that hasn’t had a new house built in twenty years.

  She had hoped to be more prophetic, to use the sermon as an opportunity to challenge indifference to human suffering. But it’s not an easy thing to confront people you love, so she went with urban sprawl, though was ashamed of her cowardice.

  She finished the sermon, took a bath, put on her new dress, and arrived at the Muldocks’ just as Eunice was pulling the pot roast from the oven. Jimmy was a pleasant surprise. Deena feared he might look like Harvey—thin on top with tufts of hair over his ears, leaning toward portly, and wearing a baseball cap. But he wasn’t like that at all. Chiseled was the word that came to mind.

  It took a moment for Deena to find her voice. Who had been keeping this man a secret? she wondered. What a dreamboat! Blue eyes, thick black hair. He looked like John Kennedy, Jr. She suddenly felt the need to sit down.

  Dinner was a blur. The pot roast was tougher than asphalt, but she scarcely noticed. Her knee accidentally brushed against his under the table. He looked up and smiled. She blushed.

  Eunice and Harvey began clearing the table, and then Eunice turned to Harvey and said, “I need to go to Cartersburg to buy a few more Christmas presents. Let’s go.”

  “Why do I have to go?” Harvey asked. “I want to stay here and visit with Deena.”

  “Stop arguing and get your coat on.”

  They left, and there sat Deena and Jimmy, smiling at each other.

  “I understand you own your own business,” Jimmy said.

  “Yes, I own the coffee shop here in town.”

  They discussed coffee for a few moments. “So, are you married?” Jimmy asked after a while. “Do you have a family?”

  “No, I’m single.” She hesitated. “And how about you? You’re single, too, aren’t you?”

  “Actually, no, I’m involved with someone.”

  Deena felt the joy drain out of her. Of course, he would be involved with someone, she thought. He’s the first interesting man I’ve met in nine months. Of course, he would be spoken for. She tried to appear unperturbed. “Tell me about your friend. What’s her name?”

  “Dan,” Jimmy said. “She’s a he. I’m gay.”

  Deena reddened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I thought when your mother invited me over that you were unattached.”

  “I’m sorry she gave you that impression. My mom keeps thinking if I meet the right woman, I won’t be gay anymore. I must say she has good taste. You’re a beautiful woman. I love your dress.”

  “You do? You don’t think it makes me look fat?”

  “Not at all. It complements you perfectly.”

  “Thank you, that’s kind of you to say.”

  There was an awkward pause. “I’ve never really talked with a gay person before,” Deena said.

  Jimmy chuckled. “I’ll bet you have. You just didn’t know they were gay. It’s not something most of us go around talking about.”

  “I suppose you have a point,” Deena said. “Do your parents know?”

  “Mom does, but not Dad. At least we’ve never talked about it. I was going to raise the subject this weekend.”

  “I’m curious why you would even bring it up,” Deena said.

  “I want them to meet Dan. If you had been with someone for eight years, wouldn’t you want your parents to meet him?�
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  Deena thought for a moment. “Of course. I hadn’t thought of it in those terms.”

  “Don’t feel bad. A lot of people haven’t.”

  “That’s a shame,” Deena said. “Maybe if we just talked honestly about it, we wouldn’t be so afraid of it.” She paused. “You know, Jimmy, the church put me in charge of our Peace and Social Concerns Committee. I have to bring the message tomorrow. Maybe I should talk about how we treat gay people.”

  “I would avoid that topic if I were you,” Jimmy counseled. “It tends to upset people.”

  “I don’t think it would these people,” Deena said. “They’re good people. They have their oddities, but down deep they’re nice people.”

  So the next morning she rose early, wrote another sermon, put on her new dress, and walked the three blocks to the meetinghouse. It was packed. She looked around for an empty seat. Then Sam noticed her and motioned for her to come sit with him behind the pulpit. They sang, took up the offering, and prayed for the Christmas travelers and those without family.

  Then Deena stood to preach. She mentioned she’d been placed in charge of the Peace and Social Concerns Committee and that Sam had asked her to bring today’s message. People shifted in their seats. This was an intriguing change—a sermon from someone who’d never preached before. And Deena Morrison at that, a veritable feast for the eyes.

  In keeping with the holidays, she talked about how Jesus had come to share the tender mercy of God with the people of Harmony Friends. All across the meeting room, people nodded in agreement. They were all for the tender mercy of God, especially when it was directed toward them. But it’s not just for us, Deena added. They nodded their heads in agreement. Of course it wasn’t, they thought. It was for others also. Others who were like them, for instance.

  In fact, she said, God’s mercy was for all people. Even people who were different. Homosexuals, for instance.

  At the mention of that word, the meetinghouse grew deathly still. People leaned forward, focused and attentive. Jimmy motioned for her to cut it short, but she plunged ahead, talking about how she’d met a gay man that very week, in this very town, and how kind he was. Harvey Muldock glanced at Eunice. The other men began eyeing one another suspiciously. They reached over and put their arms around their wives.

  Halfway through her talk, it occurred to Deena that she had seriously misjudged the open-mindedness of Harmony Friends Meeting. She turned and looked at Sam, who was seated behind her, his face buried in his hands, wishing he had prepared an innocuous sermon on the birth of Jesus and the wise men and shepherds.

  Afterward, Deena stood at the back door to shake hands. Most everyone left by the side door, except for Miriam Hodge, who thanked Deena for giving them something to think about.

  Dale Hinshaw paused long enough to show Deena the Bible verse in Leviticus calling for the death of homosexuals.

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “I’m familiar with that passage. It’s right before the verse that forbids dwarves and people with poor eyesight from serving as priests.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that,” Dale admitted. “I haven’t read that part.”

  “Perhaps you should,” Deena said sweetly. “It always helps to interpret biblical passages in their proper context.”

  This did not deter Dale from calling an emergency meeting of the elders, where, over the protests of Miriam Hodge and Sam, Deena was deposed as head of the Peace and Social Concerns Committee. The coup was startling in its swiftness, with Dolores Hinshaw reclaiming the throne a half hour after worship, pledging to devote her considerable energies to the salvation balloons ministry.

  Mabel Morrison was proud of her granddaughter and told her so. “If wise people don’t start speaking up about this matter, people like Dale Hinshaw will always carry the day. I’m proud of you, honey.”

  “It appears I’m not destined to have a conventional life with a husband and children,” Deena said, “so I might as well be a reformer.”

  At the Muldock house, it was very quiet. Eunice heated up the leftovers from the night before. Harvey set out the placemats while Jimmy poured the iced tea. They took their places at the kitchen table.

  “You know,” Harvey said, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of pot roast, which a night in the refrigerator had not improved, “that wasn’t a bad sermon. It made me think. And what I think, is that if there was someone in my family who was that way, I could accept that.”

  That was all he said.

  There was more chewing. Jimmy wiped his mouth on a napkin, then reached across the table and laid his hand on his father’s arm. “Thank you, Dad.”

  That was all he said.

  They looked over at Eunice. “Care for more pot roast?” she asked.

  “No, thank you,” Harvey and Jimmy said.

  That was all they said.

  Eighteen

  Dale’s Crusade

  Three weeks after Deena Morrison’s sermon on the mercy of God, people were still buzzing about her mentioning the “H” word in public. Certain Friendly Women had been particularly distressed and were rethinking their commitment to see her wed.

  “Maybe the reason she’s not married is because she’s, you know, that way herself,” Bea Majors speculated at their weekly gathering.

  “It wouldn’t surprise me in the least,” Fern Hampton said. “My nephew Ervin was hers for the asking, but do you think she was interested? Not for a minute.”

  “What more proof do we need?” Dolores Hinshaw asked.

  “Maybe Ervin wasn’t her type,” Miriam Hodge said. “That doesn’t mean she’s homosexual.”

  “Don’t say that word,” Bea said, covering her ears. “I hate that word.”

  “Do you hate that word when someone is condemning it?” Miriam asked.

  “Well, no, of course not. But that’s different.”

  “Then it’s not the word you hate. What you hate is the idea that God loves homosexuals.”

  This conversation was moving far beyond the Friendly Women conversational comfort zone, which was usually confined to talk of noodles and Brother Norman’s shoe ministry to the Choctaw Indians. Bea Majors began gathering her things to leave. “I won’t be a party to this filthy talk,” she said. She tromped up the stairs, while the other Friendly Women looked on, speechless.

  “Well, I hope you’re proud of yourself, Miriam,” Fern said. “Attacking a fellow Christian until she was forced to leave.”

  It had been like this ever since Deena had delivered her sermon on the mercy of God, though that wasn’t what everyone was calling it. Others were referring to it as “that sermon in support of abomination, which will cause God Almighty himself to spew us out of his mouth,” to quote Dale Hinshaw directly.

  After a brief Christmas recess, Dale had launched an investigation that was now being dubbed Deenagate. Specifically, he’s been trying to uncover how Deena rose to power on the committee so suddenly, why Sam let her preach on the biggest Sunday of the year, and, most important, the identity of the gay man she referred to in her sermon.

  He’d demanded Sam’s resignation immediately following the sermon, but had been fended off by Miriam Hodge and Asa Peacock. Then, as the head of the Furnace Committee, he asked for equal time in the pulpit. “If Deena gets to preach because she was head of a committee, why can’t I?”

  The elders thought of several reasons why, but weren’t up for the fight, so they caved in and let him preach the second Sunday in January, when he clarified whom God loved and whom God didn’t love. “There are certain so-called Christians,” he shot a look at Sam, “who’ll tell you God loves everybody, though anyone who’s bothered to read the Word knows better.”

  The problem, as Dale saw it, began with free school lunches, which led to a welfare mentality with all sorts of people insisting on their rights, including the right to be perverted, and the government didn’t do a thing about it because the liberals in Congress were running scared from the United Nations, who were trying their
darndest to create a one world order, which would ultimately bring God’s wrath upon Americans in general and Democrats in particular.

  His sermon was an oratorical marvel, consisting of one long sentence, which Sam endured only by closing his eyes and thinking of past vacations.

  Dale corralled him after church and asked him if he knew who the gay man was Deena had mentioned.

  “I don’t have a clue,” Sam said. “And if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. It’s none of our business.”

  This was a clear dereliction of duty, as far as Dale was concerned, and the next day he wrote a letter to the Quaker superintendent in the city suggesting he replace Sam with a real minister, someone who knew the Word and didn’t prattle on about God’s love, which was fine in theory, but if taken seriously could lead to all sorts of depravity.

  It was the third letter the superintendent had received from persons at Harmony Friends since Deena’s sermon, so the last week of January, he phoned Sam and asked to meet with him.

  Sam left for the city early the next day, arriving a little after nine. The superintendent kept Sam waiting outside his office for a half hour, which gave Sam time to remember why the superintendent annoyed him. He had gotten the job because his uncle was head of the search committee that hired him. The superintendent was an apostle of conformity, inclined to side with the whiners when they complained about their pastors. The last time he’d summoned Sam to his office, he’d cautioned him to stop agitating Dale, who seemed to him to be a sincere and thoughtful Christian who loved the Lord and didn’t need Sam making his life more difficult. “Your job is to sell Dale on you! Show him you can deliver the goods! Can you do that, Sam?”

  Before he’d become the superintendent, he’d owned a car dealership. He told anyone who’d listen that the superintendency was his way of giving back to the Lord, who’d blessed him with twenty-three years of record car sales. He talked a lot about pastors meeting their quotas and how the parishioner was always right. “If we don’t make the folks in the pew happy, they’ll take their tithe check and go down the street to the Methodist church. So let’s go the extra mile. If you know they’re goin’on vacation, offer to mow their yard and feed their pets.”