He finally fell asleep, but Miriam lay awake, thinking it might be time for Ellis to take up residence in the barn. Maybe set him up with a cot, a recliner, and a small refrigerator, like the one they bought for Amanda to take to college. Miriam never dreamed it would come to this, but it was either that or homicide and as a Quaker she was opposed to violence. Moving Ellis to the barn seemed the lesser evil.
So it was, that in the wee hours of a new day, two virtuous Christian women, Gloria Gardner and Miriam Hodge, were respectively contemplating how best to knock off one man and banish another.
12
Saturday morning found Sam Gardner at the Coffee Cup with his younger son, Addison, eating pancakes and listening to the gossip, much of it about him and how he’d lost his mind and broken the law marrying two women. The same Bob Miles who had lauded his kindness and courage was now predicting Sam would be arrested before the day was over.
“If you get sent to jail, can I have your car?” Addison asked.
“I’m not going to jail. They don’t send people to jail for saying a prayer at a gay wedding.”
“Wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Bob Miles said. “Down in Texas it’s a life sentence.”
“Maybe if a few more states started arresting a few of these liberal preachers, we’d nip this nonsense in the bud,” Myron Farlow said. “I’ll tell you right now, if my priest married two gays, he’d be gone in a heartbeat. I’d see to it.”
Vinny Toricelli, the owner of the Coffee Cup, snorted. “Myron, I haven’t seen you at church in so long you’ve probably forgotten how to get there.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t have my morals,” Myron said.
“Good to know the owner of a bar has morals,” Vinny said.
“Well, just see if I eat here anymore,” Myron said, peeling a bill from his wallet, throwing it on the counter, and stalking out.
Dale Hinshaw, two booths down from Sam, finished his cup of coffee, paid his bill, then stopped at Sam’s table on his way out. “Well, I hope you’re proud of yourself. You’ve got the whole town fighting. That’s a fine Christian witness.”
Sam continued to eat his pancakes, ignoring Dale, who turned and left.
“Dale Hinshaw’s a big, fat butthead,” Addison said.
“Be nice,” Sam said. “Just because he’s rude, doesn’t mean you have to be. Besides, he’s not big. Neither is he fat.”
It being Saturday, Barbara was working at the library, so after Sam and Addison finished eating, they stopped in to see her. She introduced them to Janet Woodrum, the new librarian.
“We’ve met, but haven’t been formally introduced. Hello, Janet. It’s a pleasure to have you in Harmony,” Sam said, extending his hand. “Barbara thinks the world of you.”
“Well, I think the world of her. I can’t believe we have someone of her caliber working with us.”
“We’re very happy for her,” Sam said.
“That’s not what you said last night,” Addison pointed out. “Last night you were complaining about having to do the extra cooking and housework.”
There were days Sam regretted being a pacifist and today was shaping up to be one of those days. It wasn’t yet ten o’clock, and he had already been tempted to wring several necks.
“I understand you pastor the Quaker meeting here in town,” Janet said, deftly changing the subject.
“That’s right,” Sam said. “You’re welcome to join us some Sunday.”
“Thank you for asking, but I’ve been attending the Unitarian church.”
You and half my meeting, Sam thought.
“She and Matt have a date tonight,” Barbara said. “He’s taking her up to the city to see a play.”
“I guess that means he’s feeling better,” Sam said.
“Yes, much better,” Janet said. “And it was so kind of you to step in and conduct Chris and Kelly’s wedding at the last minute. They really appreciated it and so did Matt.”
“I didn’t actually conduct it,” Sam said. “I just said a prayer.”
“All the same, it was very kind of you. And brave.”
“It got him in lots of trouble,” Addison said. “Dale Hinshaw’s trying to get him fired.”
“Let’s not talk about that now,” Barbara said.
“Well, if the Quakers fire you, we Unitarians would love to have you,” Janet said.
Sam was momentarily lost in thought, imagining what it might be like to pastor a Unitarian church. No more Dale Hinshaw dragging the church back to the Stone Age, no more Fern Hampton waging jihad against the Friendly Women’s Circle, no more Bea Majors pounding the organ every Sunday morning until his eardrums exploded. They used guitars in the Unitarian church! Guitars and flutes, softly and expertly played, with hymns about nature and love and laying down your weapons and riding bicycles instead of driving everywhere. Hymns that actually matched the sermon theme and didn’t consign people to hell in cheerful 4/4 time. The guitarists and flutists didn’t miss half the notes and blame the congregation, like Bea Majors did each Sunday. He wondered how one went about becoming a Unitarian pastor.
When they arrived home, Addison changed into his sweats and went to the park to shoot baskets. The message light on their answering machine was blinking. Miriam Hodge had phoned, informing him they’d returned early from their vacation and would see him the next morning at Quaker worship. “Call me if you need to talk,” she said.
He debated whether to bother her. If he phoned her every time Dale Hinshaw was off his rocker, they’d be talking several times a day. He decided to let it rest, and went out to his garage to organize his nuts and bolts, a task that kept his hands busy and his mind free, permitting him to think grand thoughts and noble ventures.
13
The next morning, Barbara and Sam went to the meetinghouse early to get the coffee started. Before long, Uly Grant arrived with the doughnuts, and folks began streaming in, including Deena Morrison and the Iverson family, with twins in tow, followed by Miriam and Ellis Hodge, who seemed especially cheerful to have survived their out-of-state ordeal and greeted everyone with robust hugs and a few tears.
“You wouldn’t believe it down there,” Ellis told Sam. “It’s crazy.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re back home safe,” Sam said. “It’s good to see you, friend.”
Sam fussed over the Iverson twins, gave them each a doughnut, asked them about school, then predicted they’d be the first twins to serve as president of the United States.
“Don’t be silly. They were born in China,” Fern Hampton said. “They can’t be president. It’s against the Constitution.”
Leave it to Fern to dash a child’s dream.
The twins hurried off to their Sunday school class, while the adults gathered in a circle in the basement dining room. This was the worst hour of Sam’s week, listening to Dale Hinshaw teach the adult Sunday school class. The class was reading its way through the Bible, a verse at a time. Dale would read each verse, stopping after each one to ask, “What do you suppose the Lord is trying to tell us here?” When anyone ventured a guess, he would argue with them. They had been in the book of Habakkuk for several weeks, hung up on the sixth verse of the first chapter, “For lo, I am rousing the Chaldeans, that bitter and hasty nation, who march through the breadth of the earth, to seize habitations not their own.”
“Who are the Chaldeans today?” Dale asked. “What nation has set itself against God?”
No one dared answer, for fear of getting him cranked up.
“I would have to say it’s the Soviet Union,” Dale said. That the Soviet Union had gone belly-up decades before seemed not to have occurred to him, and he spent the next hour blaming every modern ill on a nation that no longer existed.
Sam excused himself to prepare for worship. Deena Morrison followed him out. “Boy, I didn’t miss that,” she said. “We either need a new teacher, or need to start a new class.”
“Probably easier to start a new class,” Sam said. “No wa
y he’s going to give up teaching that class.”
“Maybe Judy Iverson and I can work on starting a new class,” Deena said.
“That would be great,” Sam said. “Run it by Jessie Peacock. She’s the clerk of our Christian Education Committee. I imagine she’ll be delighted to help you.”
“Speaking of Jessie, I heard about Asa’s heart attack. How’s he doing?”
“I saw him the day before yesterday and he was feeling much better. I think they’ll be back at meeting next Sunday.”
“Maybe I’ll take him a pie and talk to Jessie while I’m there,” Deena said.
Sam hugged Deena. “I’m glad you’re back,” he said. “Barbara and I sure have missed you.”
Sam had spent Saturday evening softening his sermon. A sermon that in its first writing had been a scorcher against intolerance and narrow-mindedness was, by the day of its delivery, reduced to a flickering candle, a general admonition to be nice to people and love everyone.
At the conclusion of worship, Dale stood, announced that the elders had called an emergency meeting of the church, and urged people to stay.
Gloria Gardner announced the profits of the Chicken Noodle Dinner, then reminded the ladies of the Friendly Women’s Circle to gather Tuesday morning to begin making noodles for the next dinner.
Sam offered a closing prayer. He hadn’t even said “Amen” before Miriam Hodge was hustling toward Dale. “What do you mean the elders called an emergency meeting? I’m the clerk of the elders and I wasn’t aware of this.”
“We sent out an e-mail this past Wednesday,” Dale said. “Don’t you read your e-mails? Something came up when you were gone and we had to meet. We’ve got ourselves a situation and people need to know about it.”
Miriam was starting to remember why she didn’t take vacations. The congregation was making its way to the basement for the meeting. It was out of her hands now.
Harvey Muldock was the clerk of the meeting. He was a nice man, good with furnaces and lawn mowers, but the finer distinctions of chairing a meeting were lost on him. He clerked a meeting like he drove—gas pedal to the floor, no brakes.
“Let’s start with a prayer,” Harvey said, after everyone had found a seat. The crowd fell silent. “Lord, we don’t know why we’re here, but you know why and we trust you to be with us and guide us. Amen.”
“Amen,” people rumbled.
Harvey turned to Miriam. “Miriam, you’re the clerk of the elders. What’s so important it couldn’t wait until our regular meeting?”
“I have no idea. Ellis and I have been out of town. This meeting is a total surprise to me.”
“Dale, what’s going on here? Miriam’s the clerk of the elders. The elders can’t call a meeting of the church without her knowing about it.”
“Says in Faith and Practice they can. If the clerk of the elders is unavailable, the elders can call a meeting. Miriam was out of town, but the rest of us could meet, so we did. We sent everyone an e-mail announcing today’s meeting, and called the folks who don’t have e-mail.”
“Well, what’s so all fire important it can’t wait another week?” Harvey asked.
“Sam conducted a lesbian wedding,” Dale said. “It says in Faith and Practice that marriage can only be between a man and a woman. And Sam knew that and did it anyway.”
“Is that right, Sam? Did you marry two women?” Harvey asked.
“It was inadvertent,” Sam explained. “I didn’t realize they were both women until the service had started.”
“Where was this wedding?” Harvey asked.
“At the Unitarian church,” Sam said. “Their pastor got sick at the last moment, so I stepped in to help him. We ministers do that for one another in emergencies.”
“The Unitarians don’t have any rules against lesbian weddings, do they?” Harvey asked.
“Apparently not,” Sam said.
“Well, then, I don’t see the problem,” Harvey said. “You weren’t conducting a Quaker wedding. You were conducting a Unitarian wedding, so you had to go by their rules. If it’s not against their rules, I don’t see how we can fault you. Anybody else have a problem with Sam helping the Unitarians?”
“I think it’s terrible,” Fern snapped. “He needs to be fired.”
Bea and Opal nodded their heads in agreement. Were it up to them, Sam would be blindfolded, given a last cigarette, stood against a wall, and shot.
“St. Ambrose said, ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans do,’ ” Miriam Hodge observed.
“Well, if it’s good enough for a saint, it’s good enough for me,” Harvey said. “Now, Sam, if you ever get sick and the Unitarian minister has to pinch-hit for you at a wedding, we would expect him to do things our way just like you did things their way,” Harvey said.
“I’m sure he would,” Sam said.
“Then that’s that,” Harvey said, standing up. “If we leave now, we’ll get home in time for the Colts game. Meeting’s over, folks.”
“You can’t end a meeting because of a football game,” Dale protested. “You haven’t given everyone a chance to talk.”
“I don’t see how sitting around flapping our jaws is going to help us one bit,” Harvey said. Several people nodded their heads in agreement, all of them men who wanted to watch the game. “Looks like we’re done then,” Harvey said. “Thank you all for staying.”
It was, according to Ellis Hodge, who had attended every church meeting for the past seventy-two years, the shortest meeting ever held in the history of Harmony Friends Meeting.
While Sam was pleased with the outcome, he knew Dale Hinshaw would not go silently into the night, and that even now, in the dark and twisted recesses of his corrupted mind, the man was plotting Sam’s pastoral demise.
14
The haste with which Deena Morrison began a new Sunday school class was staggering. By Sunday evening, she had secured Jessie Peacock’s approval, drafted the help of half a dozen people, went online to research curriculum, narrowing it down to two possibilities: God as She: A Perspective on Feminist Theology and The World’s Religions: The Many Paths to God. She phoned Judy Iverson for her opinion, who suggested Deena put it to an informal vote.
“Why don’t we send out an e-mail to the meeting with a brief description of each class? See what people might be most interested in.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Deena said. “If people have a say in it, they’ll feel more invested.”
Deena sent out a church-wide e-mail the next morning, on Sam’s day off. Within fifteen minutes, he’d received four phone calls from irate Quakers threatening to jump ship. By the end of the day, God as She had gotten three votes, and The World’s Religions, two. But eight people had voted to rescind Deena’s membership in the meeting, fire Sam, and appoint a pastoral search committee.
At the meetinghouse, Lindsey Hinshaw had gotten a dozen phone calls, left at noon for lunch, hadn’t come back, and wasn’t planning to do so anytime soon. She left a message on Sam’s answering machine to tell him she was quitting, that it wasn’t worth the trouble.
“I don’t know how you do this,” she said in her message. “These people are driving me crazy. They’re so uptight.”
Barbara was working at the library. Sam spent the day there, reading a book on how to sell your own home. The nostalgia that had motivated the return to his childhood church was quickly fading. He was beginning to imagine what it might be like to start fresh somewhere else. He’d always wanted to own a hardware store in a small town and sell pocketknives and tools and other useful items. He’d never met a depressed hardware store owner. He and Barbara had visited the Bahamas for their twentieth anniversary. There were seven hundred islands in the Bahamas and surely one of those islands needed a hardware store.
He went home at lunch to eat a sandwich. He got four phone calls, but ignored them all. He had learned not to answer the phone or listen to his answering machine on his day off, lest he be plunged headlong into work. He started a load of laund
ry, then returned to the library.
“Are you going to spend the entire day here?” Barbara asked.
“I most certainly am,” he said. “Not one person in the congregation knows I’m here. I might move in a cot and sleep in the periodicals.”
He napped for an hour, read National Geographic cover to cover, then talked with Janet the librarian about her relationship with Matt the Unitarian pastor. He advised her against marrying a pastor.
“It’s no kind of life. You spend all your time helping people, but it’s never enough. Plus, you have to work every weekend when your children are off from school. When you have time, they don’t. When they have time, you don’t.”
“Matt probably won’t stay a minister,” Janet said. “What he really wants to do is teach.”
“Well, there you go. Tell him to do it now, while he’s young.”
Barbara’s shift ended at five, so they walked home together and made breakfast for supper—French toast and bacon—which boosted Sam’s mood considerably. He loved breakfast food for supper and would have it every night were it up to him. After supper, they washed the dishes, folded laundry, and went for an evening walk, just the two of them. An empty-nest kind of evening, a portent of things to come.
They talked about the boys, then made plans to visit Levi in a few weeks, after he’d had time to settle in at college. Addison was still planning on joining the military, a prospect that alarmed them both. The Gardners were not warrior stock. They came from a long line of passive people who hated conflict, and now their younger son, their baby, was going to be yelled at by sergeants and taught how to knee people in the crotch. It depressed them to think about it, so they changed the subject.
“What are you going to do about Lindsey?” Barbara asked.
“What’s wrong with Lindsey?”
“You didn’t listen to the answering machine, did you?”
“Nope, not on my day off.”
A Place Called Hope: A Novel Page 5