Shoes to Fill

by Lynne Gentry

  He pulled free. “Friends?” Maybe he was too deep in grief to see things clearly, but he could’ve sworn he’d seen their relationship going a totally different direction. “A pastor can’t have too many friends, can he?”

  “David, I can’t be more—”

  “You lovebirds ready?” Ruthie appeared at their booth, her pad and pencil poised to take down their orders. “The fried chicken livers are real good today.”

  Amy’s cheeks flushed. “I’ll have the chef salad. Ranch on the side. And sweet tea, please, Ruthie.”

  “Usual for you, David?” Ruthie asked.

  “I think I’ll have what my friend is having.”

  Ruthie’s brow shot up. “For David to change his order, I’d say y’all are way more than friends.” She rubbed her back.

  “Just friends.” David and Amy blurted simultaneously.

  Ruthie’s hand moved in circles over her back as she eyed them both. “Two salads it is.” She drew her hand around with a pained groan and scribbled on her pad.

  “You okay, Ruthie?” Amy asked.

  “I went to see that new doc in town.” Ruthie stuffed her notepad in her apron pocket. “He took one look at me and said I can’t be on my feet twelve hours a day anymore.” She waved her hands to indicate the full diner. “But do y’all see that cute little doctor bussing these tables or hauling burgers so I can sit down?”

  “Sounds like you need help, Ruthie.” Amy’s eyes twinkled. “Doesn’t she, David?”

  David shrugged. “We can get our own tea if that’ll help.”

  “We can do more than fill our own glasses.” Amy’s eyes pleaded for his support. “Can’t we, David?”

  “I guess we could clear our table,” he mumbled, still stinging.

  Amy landed a stealthy kick to his shin.

  “Ouch.” David’s nose was still out of joint from the door Amy had slammed in his face. He didn’t appreciate the blow below the belt. “In case you haven’t noticed, I kind of have my charitable hands full at the moment.”

  “Exactly.” Obviously exasperated, Amy took over the conversation. “Ruthie, what you need is some younger blood. Someone who could keep up with the demands of your business and give you that much-needed break.”

  Comprehension snapped David out of his funk. “You mean Angus?”

  “Angus?” Ruthie shook her head in pity. “Who’d name a fella after a cow?”

  “Truth is, Ruthie,” Amy began to explain. “We don’t know a lot about him but the boy is sixteen and—”

  “Smart.” David added, anxious to steer the conversation back to the one thing he and Amy could agree upon. “You’ll have him trained in no time.”

  “I see what y’all are up to.” Ruthie waved her pencil in their faces. “Angus is that vagrant who fell out at your church, right?”

  “Yes, but—”

  Ruthie held up her palm and put a stop to their less than stellar sales job. “What makes y’all think I’d want some drifter near my cash register?”

  “You’re right, Ruthie,” David said. “It’s not right to expect you to help the kid get back on his feet.”

  “Darn tootin’,” Ruthie said. “I ain’t runnin’ no charity. If word got out that I took in one of those drifters, they’d stack up on my doorstep faster than my cook can say order up.”

  David couldn’t stand the disappointment on Amy’s face. “His name’s Angus Freestone and he isn’t asking for handouts—”

  “Freestone?” The flush drained from Ruthie’s cheeks and she swayed like she might pass out.

  “David!” Amy scrambled to the edge of her seat. “She’s going down.”

  Ruthie regained enough composure to signal Amy to scoot over. “Sixteen, you say?” She dropped into the booth and whispered, “I’ll take him.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Walmart sack in hand, David bounded up the stairs with the things he and Amy had purchased for Angus. Their dash through the store had been so much fun David had almost forgotten they would never be more than friends.

  “He’s sixteen, not sixty. No flannel,” Amy had said as she playfully hung the shirt he’d chosen back on the rack. “Angus will look great in this zippered sweatshirt,” she’d held up her choice like she’d caught a ten-pound bass.

  “I don’t think it matters what he wears,” he’d argued. “Ruthie acted like she’d take him sight unseen.”

  “You never get a second chance to make a good first impression.”

  David smiled at the memory of Amy dropping the jacket in the cart and leaving him to contemplate the bad first impression he’d made on her and the tactic he’d have to employ to obliterate that rule.

  David rapped his knuckles on Maddie’s bedroom door. “Angus, got something for you.”

  “It’s open.”

  David walked in, half-expecting to find his sister’s room trashed. Instead, the bedspread didn’t have a crease or wrinkle, nothing on any of the shelves had been touched, and Angus was sitting cross-legged on the floor with his hands in his lap. “Who taught you how to make a bed, Angus?”

  “No one. Why?”

  “These crisp corners look like Momma made it.”

  Angus shrugged.

  Something wasn’t right. “You haven’t slept in it, have you, man?”

  “I’m good on the floor.”

  “When I said no feet on the bed, I didn’t mean you couldn’t pull the sheet back and sleep there.”

  “This carpet is way thicker than the ground I’ve been bunking down on.”

  “We’ll argue about where you catch some shut-eye later.” David tossed him the sack. “You need to hit the shower.”

  “Took one at the hospital.”

  “That was a few days ago.”

  “Gone longer.”

  “Not while you live here, and not before you have your first job interview.”

  Angus’s brow furrowed. “Job interview?”

  “Yep. Thirty minutes.” David pointed toward the hall. “Hit the shower and shave while you’re in there. Everything you need is in the bag.”

  Angus clambered to his feet. “Uh ...” He stood there, shuffling the sack from hand to hand. “Uh ...”

  “Something wrong?”

  “Never shaved before.”

  “What do you mean you’ve never shaved?”

  “Don’t know how,” he mumbled.

  “Didn’t your father—” The embarrassment on Angus’ face stopped David cold. “It’s not hard. Come on. I’ll show you.”

  David trailed Angus into the bathroom. He opened the bag of disposable razors, laid one on the counter, then shook the shaving cream can. He turned on the faucet. “Once you douse your face with hot water, put the toilet lid down and take a seat.”

  Angus complied. He sat, his hands braced on his knees, water dripping from the straggly red hairs sprouting from his chin. Wide-eyed he watched David pop the guard from the blade. “This going to hurt?”

  “Only if you keep talking and squirming around.”

  David set the razor aside and filled his palm with creamy lather. He gazed into Angus’ terrified brown eyes. “Men shave every day and live to tell about it.” David could feel the boy trembling as he spread the lather. “Relax, man. I gotcha.”

  The day David’s own father taught him to shave in this very bathroom sprang to mind. Dad had followed the trail of blood from the bathroom to where David was hiding in the closet. Instead of being mad at him for messing around with his razor after repeated warnings to leave it alone, his father had used David’s disobedience as a teachable moment. A moment that included both of them looking like Santa and laughing their fool heads off. Dad made everything fun. Even discipline for sin. What would his life have been like if he’d had to learn everything on his own? Terrified as he was now to learn about ministry without his father, he couldn’t deny he’d already learned a ton just by watching the man.

  There was a big difference in being on your own at eight years old and twenty-s
ix. He’d had a father. A darn good one who loved him. A man who had forgiven him even without being asked.

  David blinked back the gratitude welling in his eyes, but he didn’t want to ever lose this incredible feeling that his father was watching him with a great deal of pleasure and silently urging him to give the same compassion he’d received.

  David gently dragged the razor across Angus’ tensed face. “See. It doesn’t hurt, right?”

  A smile cracked through the foam around Angus’ mouth. “Tickles a little.”

  A strange mixture of delight and satisfaction came over David. For the first time, he understood his father’s addiction to getting outside of himself and giving someone a hand up. “You give it a try.”

  Wide-eyed, Angus stood before the sink and took up the razor. Several shaky strokes later, Angus was the proud owner of a glistening face.

  “Here.” David stuck a piece of toilet paper to the small nick under Angus’ chin. He stood back and admired the boy. “Good work, man.” He clapped Angus on the back. “Ruthie Crouch won’t know what hit her.”

  “Crouch?” Angus’s voice cracked.

  “Yeah, the lady who’s graciously agreed to give you a shot at a real job.” David mopped the counter. “Don’t screw it up. You only get one chance to make a good first impression. Trust me. I know.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “You may think your son’s little civic project is harmless, Leona”—Maxine waved her condemning finger at Leona—“but I Googled missing teeth and I can tell you that homeless boy is a meth addict if I ever saw one.”

  Amy’s jaw tightened as much in defense of Leona as Angus. “His drug tests came back negative.”

  Maxine wagged that same finger at Amy. “You’d do well to steer clear of this drugged-out vagrant too, young lady.”

  “He’s sick, Maxine,” Leona said.

  “Says who? That new little doctor who treats us like we’re all ignorant as fence posts?” Maxine tugged on the fur collar of her coat. “Well, I, for one, didn’t fall off the turnip truck yesterday. I’ve watched enough of those reality cop specials to know druggies are good at snowing folks. They keep a spare bottle of sober pee in their pocket.”

  “That’s ridiculous, Maxine,” Amy argued. “Why would anyone do that?”

  “It’s for when they get hauled in. They can slip into the bathroom and just pour it into one of those little cups and no one is the wiser. In my educated opinion, you cannot trust those drug tests.”

  Amy gripped the spoon she’d been swirling through her coffee. “I drew his blood myself.”

  Undeterred by medical facts, Maxine turned to heap more of her displeasure on Leona. “When he steals you blind, don’t think y’all are going to file a claim on the church insurance.”

  Amy sprang from her chair at the kitchen table where, until Maxine barged in unannounced, she’d been enjoying getting to know Leona while David was upstairs helping Angus clean up for his job interview. “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”

  Maxine put a hand to her chest like she’d taken a blow to the heart. “Voicing legitimate concerns is not casting stones.”

  Aunt Bette Bob had warned Amy to steer clear of this elder’s wife, but Maxine had done nothing but criticize since she’d stormed into the Harper kitchen. Amy felt bad enough that she’d not said anything to defend the Harpers’ privacy when she realized Maxine had let herself into the parsonage, but she drew the line at letting the slander of an innocent kid go unchallenged. “You’re judging someone you don’t even know.”

  “Leona, are you just going to stand there and let this outsider insult me in the very parsonage my contribution pays for?”

  “Outsider?” Amy couldn’t believe the nerve of this woman. “My mother grew up here. You went to school with her. I’ve lived in Mt. Hope over a year!”

  “I think what Amy means, Maxine”—Leona’s voice was far more placating than Amy thought the woman deserved—“Is that I’ll pour you a cup of coffee and you can stick around and meet Angus.” She offered the flustered elder’s wife the chair Amy had vacated. “Once you get to know the boy, I’m sure you’ll agree that he’s a good kid who’s simply had some very bad luck.”

  “You’ll think bad luck when he murders y’all in your beds.” Maxine reluctantly perched on the edge of the vinyl seat. “Cleaning up that mess would be a bigger job than getting up those hot chocolate and sugar cookie stains all those visitors leave on the sanctuary carpet after your little Christmas Eve services.”

  “Maxine, the boy has diabetes,” Leona whispered, her head tilting toward David and Angus standing in the kitchen door. “He’s not deaf.”

  “And I ain’t dumb.” Angus jammed his hands into the pockets of his new Walmart jeans.

  “Oh, I believe you’re very clever, young man.” Maxine swiveled in her chair. “Choosing to pass out in our church proves you know how to play on the sympathies of good folks. It remains to be seen if you can prove yourself trustworthy.”

  “Maxine, the boy didn’t choose to pass out in our fellowship hall,” Leona snapped.

  Amy couldn’t help feeling a perverse pleasure at seeing Leona stand up to this horrible woman.

  Maxine crossed her arms. “Maybe not, but—”

  David interrupted, “Angus, let me introduce you to one of the members of Mt. Hope Community who has been praying for you.” He took their lanky project by the elbow and urged him forward. “Right, Maxine?”

  Maxine worked the words, “Of course, I’ve prayed for him,” between her taut lips.

  Angus flipped his wet hair out of his eyes. “Praying I leave town, most likely.”

  “Angus Freestone, I’d like you to meet Mrs. Howard Davis.” David elbowed the boy in the ribs. “In the South we say, pleased to meet you.”

  Angus lifted his chin. “But I’m not pleased.”

  “Well, I can see you’re suffering from a serious lack of upbringing, young man.” Maxine snugged her purse under her crossed arms. “Davy, I know you young people have your ideas, after all Nellie’s planning to put together a praise band for this year’s Christmas Eve service. And let me tell you, Howard and I like that idea about as much as we like cookie crumbs on our pew, but I think taking in a stranger is unnecessarily dangerous.”

  “A praise band?” Leona’s gaze shot to her son for an explanation. “For Christmas Eve?”

  Maxine straightened in her seat. “Cornelia’s planning the candlelight service this year, Leona. Didn’t Davy tell you?”

  “Momma.” In an instant, David abandoned Angus and shot to his stiffened mother’s side. Distress over the pain she wasn’t able to conceal creased his brow. “I meant to tell you about Nellie’s offer to take the burden off you this year, but it just slipped my mind.”

  Blinking the shock from her eyes, Leona whispered, “I’ve already arranged for Deacon Tucker to play Joseph.”

  “You ask Ivan to play Joseph every year, Leona,” Maxine said.

  “You’re right, Maxine. I don’t own the Christmas Eve service.” Leona rallied a tight smile. “It was just another change I hadn’t expected.”

  “See what I mean?” Maxine patted Leona’s arm. “I thought with you elbow-deep in grief, this would be the perfect time to make a change.”

  “Change?” Leona’s nostrils flared. “You’ve opposed every change J.D. ever suggested. If you wanted to change the Christmas Eve service why didn’t you just ask me?”

  Feeling responsible for the storm brewing in the kitchen, Amy leapt headfirst into the turbulence. She positioned herself between Angus and the two warring women. “Actually, Mrs. Harper, it’s my fault David hasn’t had a chance to talk to you. I recruited him to help with Angus, and I’m afraid finding Angus a job might have kept him a bit distracted.”

  “We cannot have a pastor so easily distracted,” Maxine’s barbs didn’t stop there. She turned her threats on David and said, “I’m assuming your request for a special Board meeting means you want to bec
ome our permanent pastor. Am I right, Davy?”

  David shook his head. “I’m willing to serve as an interim, if the church will have me.”

  “And Mt. Hope Community would be blessed to have him,” Amy said. “Maxine, I heard you say how much you enjoyed his sermon.”

  “I’ve always loved Davy.” Maxine’s glare traveled between Amy and David, her knuckles white on the handle of her purse. “But, I can tell you right now, the members of Mt. Hope Community will not tolerate a pastor who champions drifters while the important affairs of the church, like the Christmas Eve service, languish.”

  “How can helping a man get a job be wrong, Maxine?” Indignation had transformed Leona’s earlier surprise into fire and brimstone. “It’s exactly the kind of work a pastor should be doing.”

  “Searching the Messenger’s Help Wanted ads will suck Davy’s time the same way it used to suck J.D.’s, and what will Davy have to show for the investment...a bunch of stacked up vagrants, that’s what. Because let me tell you, word gets out we’ve helped one, they’ll flock in faster than a gaggle of geese.”

  “Stacked up?” Instead of cowering, Leona took a bold step forward. “For your information, Angus already has a job. And it took my boy less than ten minutes to find it,” Leona announced proudly.

  “Your boy?” Maxine’s eyes teared up. “Be glad you still have your boy.”

  “Maxine, I’m so sorry.” Leona reached for the deflating woman. “I didn’t mean to bring up—”

  “You’ve always been glad it wasn’t Davy on that horse that day.” Cheeks streaked with tears, Maxine bolted past everyone.

  Angus broke the silence. “Wow, I’ve seen people give up their last can of beans easier than you folks gave up on me.”

  Leona clapped both hands to her quivering mouth. Shaking her head in disbelief, she finally said, “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  David wrapped his arm around his mother’s shoulders. “Maxine and Howard are only two of the five votes on the Board, Momma. We’re not down for the count yet.”