The Pastor's Son

by Rebecca Joanne

  A bit too hard, I might add.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.

  She ceased her movements. “About what?”

  “About why you didn’t sleep well.”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Does it have to do with the clothes?”

  “What clothes?”

  I made my way to the kitchen. “Your father’s clothes. The ones I keep wearing.”

  As I approached her side, I let my eyes wander. She had her robe wrapped tightly around her, but not once did it diminish the beauty she exuded with every second she existed. The way her curves naturally filled in her nightgown made me hold my breath. The way her supple peaks and valleys jostled with her movements made me swallow hard. Kendall wasn’t just the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Oh, no. That wasn’t enough.

  She also possessed the most beautiful soul I’d ever come across.

  “I suppose it is… hard… to see you in them,” she said softly.

  I nodded. “What can I do to help?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. You need clothes. There’s no question about that.”

  “But what do you need?”

  She shrugged. “Why do you care what I need?”

  “Because I care about you.”

  She whipped her attention over to me. “Say what now?”

  I sighed. “You’ve been kind to me, Kendall. Generous. Gracious. You’ve accommodated a stranger up here on this mountain due to a storm and my own antics, and not once have you batted an eye.”

  “You needed help. Why wouldn't I have helped?”

  “Exactly. People aren’t like that nowadays. They aren’t like you nowadays. And if there’s something you need during all of this--something I can provide--I’d like you to tell me so this isn’t a one-way street. You deserve things, too.”

  She snickered. “What I want, you can’t give me.”

  “Why don’t you try me?”

  Her eyes danced between mine for a while, and I thought I had her. I thought I finally had her hooked on my lure. But, they quickly fluttered away, and she tossed her gaze somewhere else.

  Somewhere that wasn’t me.

  Only to block me out again.

  “You could start by setting the table. I’m almost done cooking. And you can grab yourself some coffee. The pot’s fresh.”

  I resisted the urge to sigh. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She giggled. “‘Kendall' is just fine.”

  By the time I was done setting the table I had opened all the cabinets and familiarized myself with her kitchen. I helped her get the food and coffee to the table, where we both sat down exactly as we’d been the night before. I wondered if that meal would be as silent as dinner. I wondered if Kendall would shut me out further while we sat there.

  I wondered if I was even up for conversation after the almost-sleepless night I’d had.

  “How’d you sleep?” she asked.

  I poured myself some coffee. “The bed back there is comfortable.”

  “That didn’t answer my question.”

  I reached for the creamer. “I suppose I slept as well as any man who’s lost his father and gotten himself trapped on a mountaintop can. What about you?”

  “Is there anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable?”

  “What. About. You, Kendall?”

  I took a sip of the liquid lifeforce I’d relied on since I was sixteen years old as Kendall stared at me. If she thought she was getting away with not talking about herself, she had another thing coming. I’d rather sit there in silence and eat the wonderful food than endure a one-sided conversation. I hated those.

  My father was good at those.

  “Sometimes I sleep well, and sometimes I don’t,” she said.

  “So, you didn’t sleep well.”

  She picked up her fork. “Not a big deal. Happens to everyone.”

  I set my mug down. “It does, yes. Was there any particular--?”

  “How are the funeral plans on your end going? You need me to help with anything?”

  I blinked. “Why is this so hard for you?”

  “Why is what hard for me?”

  “Talking? Having a basic conversation with someone? Why is that so hard for you?”

  “I suppose that depends on what answer you want.”

  I paused. “Why not all of them?”

  I watched her push her eggs around on her plate before she licked her lips.

  “I don’t like small talk,” she said.

  “Okay. Why not?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. People waste too much precious time on it instead of getting to know someone. Small talk is pointless. It gets people nowhere. The only thing it does is forge imaginary relationships with pretend people to make others feel better. I’d rather be alone than endure small talk from someone who wants to make me think they care.”

  Well, that’s a lot to unpack.

  “Do you mind if I read between the lines for a second?”

  She put her fork down. “I don’t suppose I can stop you.”

  “Will you look at me?”

  “Why?”

  “Humor me for a second. Will you look at me?”

  Her gaze slowly gravitated to mine, and the sorrow behind them left me speechless. The hurt this woman carried made my bleeding heart twitch. The rawness of the nerves she had exposed to the world made me angry. There was no reason in this world for such a beautiful creature to exist with such pain and desolation. I felt a growing need to hurt whatever had hurt her. I felt a growing desire to wrap her in my arms and pull her close, so she felt a little less alone.

  But, I settled for the one thing my mother always told me would work in my favor one of those days.

  I settled for reading between her lines.

  “Someone close to you made you believe you had something you didn't,” I said.

  She sighed. “That all you got?”

  I shook my head. “No. It’s not. But it’s what I want to start with.”

  She reached for her coffee. “Yeah. I call him my ‘ex.’ But, he was more than that.”

  “How so?”

  “He just--.”

  I watched her take a sip of her coffee before her stare fell to her lap.

  “I know the pain you’re going through, Adam. And if you ever want to talk about it, just know that I’m here,” she said.

  “Kind of hard to talk to someone about the lowest point in my life when I can’t even get her to tell me her favorite color.”

  She clicked her tongue. “You can reroute your brain back to my comment on small talk.”

  “It isn’t small talk if you don’t talk at all, Kendall.”

  She stood. “Look, the offer’s there if you want it. I only said I’m here if you want to talk. That’s all.”

  I stood with her. “All I want to know is--.”

  “Adam, can you stop? Please?”

  I expected her voice to be harsh or critical. Filled with cynicism and anger. But, what I got was a voice filled with weakness and shame. What I got was a pair of beautiful eyes that wouldn't meet my own. What I got was a strong woman with hunched shoulders who looked like she couldn't hold herself up a second longer.

  And for some reason, I got the feeling it was my presence that opened up all those dormant emotions within her.

  “I’m sorry. Truly,” I murmured.

  She wiped at her cheek. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  Then, she brushed past me.

  “Kendall, wait. Please, I just--.”

  “I’ll be out in a bit to put away the food. I hope you enjoy it.”

  “Kendall!”

  The sound of her bedroom door closing was the only thing that greeted me. And as I stood there, at a loss for words, I heard my father’s voice rumble through my mind.

  Why are you always so ungrateful?

  I turned around and looked down at my plate full of food. I sat down, relegating myself to my gro
wling stomach as I stabbed at my eggs. It wasn’t that I was ungrateful. On the contrary. If anything, I wanted to repay Kendall for her kindness and her generosity. And I figured I could do that by listening to her problems. I mean, she was kind enough to listen to mine. To put up with my grief and deal with a man crumbling in front of her. It only seemed fair that I listened to the kinds of things she was carrying around. So she didn’t have to be alone.

  Just like she made sure I wasn’t alone.

  I didn’t know what to do. So, I ate. I hummed and groaned over the glorious food and ate two entire plates before even thinking about putting things up. I had hoped Kendall would’ve come back out to eat. I knew she had to be hungry. But, after eating two plates and enjoying half a pot of coffee, I finally decided she wasn’t coming back out.

  “Guess I can at least clean,” I said to myself.

  I let my mind wander as I put away unused dishes and found the Tupperware containers filled with food that hadn’t been eaten. My mind ran down the mental checklist of things I still had to accomplish. And one of those things was getting a formal obituary to the small newspaper that ran a publication once a week in the town. I knew people would call and pester me with questions if I didn’t run something. But, as I gazed out the kitchen window, I wondered if anything down in the valley was open for business in all of it.

  I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “Pastor Jacob Riley, the lead pastor of Rankin Summit Memorial, was a good and faithful man. Who simply happened to die of a heart attack because he enjoyed too much bacon in his diet.”

  Reads more like a botched headline rather than an obituary.

  “Pastor Jacob Riley--62--died Thursday, January 27th, 2020 after collapsing in his driveway early in the morning from a heart attack. A service in his honor will be held at Rankin Summit Memorial--.”

  Ugh. Too formal.

  I sighed. “Pastor Jacob Riley of age 62 has been called home to God. A memorial service in his honor will be held at the church he pastored for over thirty years on…”

  The email.

  I abandoned the cleaning and rushed back down the hallway. I stormed into my bedroom and rummaged around for my phone, trying to figure out what in the world I did with it. I couldn’t have an obituary without a date for his funeral. And I had yet to set a date for it.

  “Come on, where are you?” I grumbled.

  I got down onto my knees and looked under the bed. I searched the bedside tables as well as behind them. I even rushed back into the bathroom to try and find it. But my phone was nowhere to be found. I felt panic rising in my gut. My hands began trembling as I strode back out into the living room. I made my way for the front door and ripped it open, wondering if it might be possible for me to get back into town.

  But, the fresh, cold powder that tumbled over my feet gave me pause.

  “Oh. My. Word.”

  My gaze slowly panned out over the white expanse around me. Trees were lined with snow, and there wasn’t an animal track in sight. The snow had piled up so greatly that I couldn't even see the front porch. All I saw were mounds of fresh snow as it piled up against the edge of the house.

  It blew onto my bare feet as the wind whipped around.

  It stunned me how much snow there was. It made me feel lightheaded as I took in the acres of literal nothingness around us. Kendall was tucked high up on the tallest mountain that bordered our small valley town, and it felt as isolating as it sounded. Then, my attention made its way over to the lake. A lake that had quickly frozen over with snow still piling on top.

  I’m not getting down this mountain any time soon.

  “Looking for this?”

  Kendall’s voice rang out behind me, and I whipped around. With snow still blowing around me as the wind grew fiercer, I saw her holding something up in her hand. With her arm tucked around her chest and her free hand holding up my cell phone, she emerged from the hallway. With red eyes, puffy cheeks, and tear trails still streaking her skin that she had missed.

  “Yes, actually. Where was it?”

  She held it out for me. “Found it in the hallway last night. I scooped it up for you, so it didn’t get lost.”

  I took it from her. “Thank you. I--just--.”

  She walked behind me. “It’s not a problem. Really. Though, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t let all of the heat out of this place in one panicked get-go. Yeah?”

  I stepped out of her way as she kicked the snow back out the door. I watched her intently as she took a peek outside before closing the front door. And locking it. Why in the world did she lock it? It wasn’t as if anyone was up there with us. It wasn’t like anyone would walk in on us.

  Why does anyone else lock a door?

  “Because they don’t feel safe,” I murmured.

  “What was that?” Kendall asked.

  I shook my head. “Nothing. I… I got a lot going on in my mind right now.”

  “Anything I can help with?”

  I snickered. “You’re not helping me with anything else until you let me help you with something.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I don’t like constantly taking and not giving something in return. It’s not in my nature.”

  She paused. “Seriously?”

  She seemed more shocked than annoyed.

  “Yes. Seriously,” I said.

  She paused. “Well, I guess you could start by finishing the dishes. That was nice of you to do. And thank you, for, you know, putting up the food and all.”

  “It’s the least I can do.”

  As I looked down into her beautiful stare, I saw the cloud of sorrow and desperation slowly lift. A small smile crooked her lips upward, making me smile as her arm fell away from her body. I felt my smile expose my teeth as I watched her mock my movements. Her smile set her stare ablaze, more fervent than any fire she could conjure. My palms itched with a want to cup her cheek. My lips tingled with a need to feel hers. And as I took her hand in mine, a thought dawned on me.

  I’m truly snowed in with this woman.

  Which only made me smile bigger.

  “You going to get that?” Kendall asked.

  I blinked. “What?”

  She pulled her hand away from my grip. “Your phone. It’s flashing.”

  I looked down at it. “So, it is.”

  “I’m honestly shocked people can still reach you on your phone, with the storm raging outside.”

  “You and me both.”

  She giggled softly, and the sound washed over me like morning rays of sunshine.

  “You go back and rest. I’ve got the kitchen,” I said.

  “Are you sure? Because if you need to get that--.”

  “I’m a grown man, Kendall. I can multitask a bit.”

  “Not a lot, though. Right?”

  “Eh, depends on the day, I guess.”

  She giggled again for me as I answered my phone.

  “Adam Riley speaking,” I said.

  And as I pointed down the hallway, signaling for her to go lay down and rest, I headed back into the kitchen. I set my sights on cleaning the room up while Maybel rattled on in my ear about something regarding the church. I listened intently, though I was only half-present. Because as I stood at the sink, I stared out the window at the winter landscape before me, while Kendall stood near the kitchen table.

  She stared at me, as if no one were watching her.

  Chapter Six: Kendall

  My eyes blinked with a need to be closed, and I caught myself. I turned on the balls of my feet and quickly made my way out of the room, heading straight down the hallway. How long had I been staring at him? Did he catch me? Why in the world had I been staring in the first place?

  Why am I so drawn to him?

  I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand it. The pull I felt toward Adam confused me. And enraged me. I prided myself on my ability to keep my emotions in check. To always have a handle on my thoughts and capabilities. I needed that, as a lawyer. Especially in my line
of work. Usually, I dealt with grieving family members whose parents hadn’t prepared a will, and I had to be the speaker of reason.

  So, why did I feel so out of control around Adam?

  I mean, my tongue got loose around him. I felt a pull toward his warmth. It took more effort for me to keep myself in check. To not give in to his pain and his grief, and even his joking demeanor. I knew he meant well, but the last thing I needed in my life was to tangle up with someone else. The last thing I needed was someone else to take care of.

  Taking care of my grieving family while my parents died off had been enough for me.

  A shower. That’ll reboot me.

  I slipped into my bedroom and closed the door. Then, I locked it. Just to make sure. I stripped myself out of my clothes and headed for my bathroom, where I closed that door as well. Though, I didn’t feel the need to lock it. Adam didn’t strike me as the kind of man that would pick one lock to get to me. Much less, two. So, after feeling a bit more settled, I turned on the hot water.

  And stepped right into the cleansing, battering stream of water.

  I showered until the water ran lukewarm. Until I had exhausted all other wells of hot water the cabin had. Then, I got dressed. It didn’t shock me when I heard Adam’s voice in his room. As I stepped into the hallway, I heard him speaking on the phone with someone. No doubt, more plans for his father’s funeral. And yet again, I felt that tug. That need to go to his door. That want to be by his side. That desperate, pathetic quality within me to be needed by someone. Anyone. No matter what the need.

  Do something else, for once. You don’t always have to be people’s fallback plan.

  I had to force myself to walk back into the main part of the cabin. But, when I did, my jaw fell open. There was a fire raging in the fireplace. The wonderful smell of wood smoke and cinnamon filled the air. I looked over at the kitchen and saw it practically sparkling at me. It was shining, and smiling, because of its cleanly nature. The oven light was on, so I went to investigate. And it didn’t shock me one bit when I dipped down to see what was baking.

  Cinnamon rolls.

  I rose upright and shook my head. Adam had completely cleaned up. He put the leftovers away. Scrubbed the dishes. Put them in the dishwasher. I gazed back toward the fireplace and saw my blankets neatly folded and piled up in the middle of the couch. The television was on mute, running a movie I didn’t recognize. And on the kitchen counter, in front of my coffee pot, was a mug of coffee.