by P. C. Zick
“No, thanks,” Tommy said. “Is there a place where I can sit and talk to you all?”
“We can go back to our camp,” Carol said. “We’ve got lots of flat rocks down there we use as chairs and sofas.”
After they’d settled down on the river in the cool shade of cypress and live oak trees, Tommy asked a series of questions that led to most of them telling their stories of how they came to live at the river camp. Most of them were veterans who just couldn’t fit into society, and didn’t know how to get help in finding a job. Bud sat away from the group, staring at the river.
“Why is Soup’s On important to you?” Tommy asked in general. “Can’t you get food stamps and at least have your own food here at camp?”
“You can’t get food stamps unless you have a household and an address,” Joshua said. “Leah tried to use the parsonage and church address, but the church folks balked and wouldn’t agree to it when the social worker visited. That pretty much sealed our fates a couple of years back, so Leah started up Soup’s On, and it literally saved our lives.”
“Do you mind if I come back with a photographer later today?” Tommy asked.
“Joshua, do you think that’d be all right?” Leah asked.
“As long as there aren’t any flashbulbs going off,” Joshua said. “That makes some of us jumpy.”
“No flashes,” Tommy said. “Leah, are you going to be serving them food again up at that barn?”
“I am, if I can find someone to donate the food. This came from Reggie’s bar in town, but both restaurants that give me food are closed on Sundays so there might not be any leftovers.”
“I think Clara put some food up last night,” Susie said. “I saw her leaving yesterday, and she said to call her today, and she’d open up for you.”
“I’d like some photos of you serving the food,” Tommy said. “And what about the barn? Susie tells me you might be able to open Soup’s On there sometime soon.”
“It depends on a few things,” Leah said, “but that’s the plan.”
“What things?” Tommy asked.
“Geraldine Davis says she owns the barn and is going to have it torn down, but that may not be the case. Also, if I’m going to use it for a kitchen and shelter, I’ll need lots of donations.”
“Who might own it if Geraldine doesn’t?” Tommy asked.
Leah and Susie turned their eyes on Dean who stood with his hands in his jeans pockets looking at the ground. Finally, he looked up at Tommy. “Tommy, we go back a long way, so for now I’d like to keep this quiet, if you don’t mind. At least until Monday or Tuesday.”
“Sure, Dean. What’s up?”
“Geraldine doesn’t know that Big Jim wrote a new will a month before he died,” he said. “I just found out a few weeks ago myself when the lawyer he used in Jacksonville finally filed the will in probate and contacted me.”
“Does Geraldine know?”
“Not yet,” Dean said. “He’ll be calling her later today.”
“Be sure to let me know what happens,” Tommy said. “This story probably won’t be published until next Sunday.”
Tommy and Susie left for the church, promising to meet up with them later.
“I need to change my clothes for church,” Leah said when they’d cleaned up the last of the food from lunch. “I brought them with me.”
She went to the car, pulled out a small overnight bag, and headed for the barn. Dean followed her.
“I’m just wearing these jeans and T-shirt,” he said. “That used to be all right. Dad wanted to encourage everyone to come.”
“You’re fine,” she said. “I usually wear a sundress instead of shorts and a tank top.”
“You look fine to me,” he said. “But go ahead and change your clothes. I don’t mind.”
“You want to watch me?” she said. “I think you’d better wait outside.”
“You’re no fun,” Dean said. Before he left, he came over and gave her a hug. “You’re beautiful no matter what you’re wearing.”
She watched him walk out the door with a slight swagger. He wasn’t showing off; that’s just the way he walked, and she thought it was the most masculine walk she’d ever seen. It took her a minute to stop staring at him, but eventually she closed the door, opened the bag, and pulled out a floral cotton dress with a ruffled round neckline that covered her completely yet showed off her generous breasts before cinching at the waist and puffing out around her hips. The skirt just reached the top of her knees. She pulled out a pair of silver sandals and stepped out of her flip-flops into the wedged shoes. When she came out of the barn, Dean was leaning against the car waiting. He whistled when he saw her.
“I know a lot of women in Miami who walk around showing the majority of their assets, and not one of them comes close to you in sexiness,” he said. “If only they’d realize that most of us men like to leave some things to our imagination and the privacy of our bedrooms.”
“Is that why you like Sally Jean so much?” Leah asked, and she could have kicked herself for sounding jealous, but the remark did its trick, and Dean winced.
“Sally Jean is history. What you saw was nothing. In fact, she wanted to do more, and I walked away because I couldn’t get a certain someone off my mind.”
“Who would that be?”
“Some chick who attacked me behind the church.”
Leah smiled and walked toward him.
“We’d better get going, or we’ll be late,” Leah said as she tossed her bag in the backseat. “It’s going to be a long day.”
“I’ll say. Tomorrow could be even longer.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Dean and Leah walked into the Sunshine Church right before the doors shut. They slid into a pew near the back, next to Susie and Tommy. Leah noticed Geraldine sitting up in the front pew as always wearing the charcoal gray suit she’d seen in the living room the day before.
Jacob walked in from the side door near the pulpit, resplendent in his white robe with gold trim. His hair was combed neatly into place, and he wore a welcoming smile as he looked out over the congregation.
“I’d like to begin today with a verse from Proverbs 14:31: ‘He who oppresses the poor shows contempt for their Maker, but whoever is kind to the needy honors God,’” Jacob said as he looked out over the congregation, finally resting his eyes on Geraldine who stared at him.
“We have been kind to the needy at the Sunshine Church by operating Soup’s On out of the recreational hall,” Jacob said. “Our very own Leah Bryant has overseen this project for two years, and it’s been a blessing to those who live in the Deer River camp.
“Today, I regret to inform you that the Board voted this past week to close the kitchen so the Women’s Circle can hold their weekly socials in the hall.”
The congregation began buzzing, and Leah noticed Tommy’s pen flying over the pages of his slender notebook. Leah locked eyes with Jacob and nodded her encouragement for him to continue.
“I haven’t spoken up in defense of Soup’s On until today. I sat silent while the Board held its discussions and made its decision. Yesterday, as I began to plan today’s sermon, I came upon the verse from Proverbs, ‘who oppresses the poor shows contempt for the Creator,’ and knew in my heart I did not feel contempt in any way for our Lord. I honor him and all the things he has created. Therefore, I am now giving a voice to the disruption I felt in my soul when it was decided this church—our church—would no longer serve those less fortunate than us.
“As a result, I’ve called an emergency Board meeting for right after the service today, and I will ask the Board to reconsider its decision.
“Now I’d like to talk about contempt and compassion and how the two cannot exist together in a world where we honor the Lord.”
Susie patted Leah’s knee on one side, and Dean put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze.
“He did a good thing today,” Dean whispered into her hair, and Leah nodded in return as tears thre
atened to overflow.
“He’s very brave,” she whispered so softly no one heard.
Leah watched Geraldine bow her head as if in prayer, but Leah imagined prayers were far from her mind. Her face was flushed and her shoulders were tensed forward. What might happen next was hard to imagine, Leah thought, as she reached for the hymnal to find the next song.
When the service ended, Geraldine stood and walked behind the pulpit and went through the door to the offices, as Jacob walked down the aisle to greet folks as they exited the church. Usually, Geraldine and Leah joined him on the front steps as the first family of Sunshine Church, giving their blessings to all who attended the service. Jacob did the honors alone on this day when he finally stood up to his mother. Leah stayed inside with Dean and Tommy, who had plenty of questions to ask.
“Do you think I can attend the Board meeting?” he asked.
“I’m not sure what the bylaws say about that,” Leah said. “You can ask Jacob; he’d probably welcome you, but there are the others to consider.”
As they stood in the church, a man with a camera around his neck walked past the folks exiting and joined them.
“Simon, you made it,” Tommy said. “Meet Leah, Dean, and Susie.”
Simon shook hands all around. “This place is in the middle of nowhere. Where do all these people come from?”
“The church pulls its members from a pretty wide area,” Leah said. “Some drive an hour to get here. We’re one of the few non-denominational churches around here, unless you want to drive to Tampa or Orlando.”
“What’s the assignment?” Simon asked.
“We need to go down to a river camp on the back side of this property,” Tommy said. “We can drive part of the way, but we’ll need to hoof it down the banks. An old pro like you can handle it, can’t you?”
“You bet. What’s the subject matter?”
“A group of some special folks who make the Deer River their home,” Tommy said. “But first I need to see if they’re going to let me attend a Board meeting. You could take some exterior shots of this building because the story will mention the Sunshine Church.”
“Are you attending the meeting, Leah?” Dean asked.
“I’m not on the Board,” she said.
“But they’re discussing Soup’s On, which has been your program,” Dean said. “By all rights, I think they have to allow you to attend at least the discussion part so you can present your case.”
“I think he’s right,” Susie said. “You need to insist on attending. Maybe if you’d done that in the first place this wouldn’t have happened.”
“I had no idea they were going to vote to shut it down last week,” Leah said.
When Jacob finished greeting the congregation, he came back in. Sweat rolled down his face and onto the collar of his robe. “I really need to think about not wearing this during the summer months,” he said as he ran a finger around the collar pulling it away from his skin.
“Dean, thank you for coming to the service,” Jacob said as he began unzipping the robe. “It’s been a long time.”
“I enjoyed the sermon, Jacob,” Dean said. “That took a lot of courage.”
“Jacob, I want to attend the meeting today, and so does Tommy,” Leah said.
“It’s not customary, but there’s nothing to say you can’t, although when we take a vote, I think you have to leave. The by-laws state that the votes are private.”
“That’s fine, but I’d like a chance to plead my case for Soup’s On,” Leah said. “What about Tommy?”
“They might have a problem with that,” Jacob said.
“I might have a problem if they refuse,” Tommy said. “Does the whole congregation elect the Board?”
“Yes, they do,” Jacob said.
“Then I think the meetings have to be open,” Tommy said. “But it’s a slippery slope, as my paper’s attorney might say. The state isn’t going to get involved in telling the church how to run their business. Separation of church and state and all that.”
“I’m not going to be the one to say no,” Jacob said. “I’ll let one of them do that, and we go from there. I need to get out of this robe and get prepared. See you in there, Leah.”
Leah and Tommy walked into the conference room across the hall from Geraldine’s office. The five board members and Jacob sat at the long table. Donald Cameron, the chair, sat at one end. Geraldine, who was the treasurer, sat at the other end. Brian Long sat next to Jacob and across from them sat Martha Rollings and Arnold Simmons.
“Hello, Leah,” Donald said as they walked toward the table. “Are you here for the meeting?”
“Yes. I’d like to be here for the discussion about Soup’s On,” she said. “And this is Tommy Jackson, a reporter from the Tampa Tribune. He’s doing a piece on the Deer River people who are most affected by the closing of the kitchen.”
“I protest,” Geraldine said. “Leah is not a member of the board, and we certainly don’t need a reporter here while we discuss the private matters of the board.”
“Geraldine, we are a board elected by the congregation so in effect, Leah is our boss, and she may attend this meeting,” Arnold said. “However, since Tommy is not a member of our church, we can refuse him entry. It’s our decision on whether he stays or not, and I for one see no reason to refuse his request.”
“I agree,” Martha said. “We’re very open here, Tommy. It’s good to see you. It’s been a long time.”
“Let’s take a vote then,” Donald said. “Who’s in favor of allowing Mr. Jackson to stay for the meeting?”
Four hands went up, but Geraldine sat with her hands in front of her on the table.
“Tommy, you’re welcome to stay until we take a vote,” Donald said. “But our by-laws allow the votes to be private to protect the anonymity of the board members so they’ll feel free to vote.”
“Thank you,” Tommy said. “I’ll just sit over here in the corner, and let you all conduct your business.”
Leah sat down on a chair near the wall behind Jacob. She had a clear shot of Geraldine who was glaring in her direction. Leah forced her attention on Donald and what he was saying.
“I’ve been getting some calls from members of the congregation,” Donald said. “Many of them have heard that we’ve shut down Soup’s On, and they’re not pleased.”
“I’ve been getting calls, too,” Geraldine said. “And they’re all congratulating us on making the right decision for the church. In fact, many of them are encouraging us to run those folks off the property down at the river.”
“Does the church own that property?” Martha asked.
“I don’t think we do,” Brian said. “We only own the property here where the church and parsonage stand. Geraldine owns the rest of it.”
“I’d like your blessing to get the authorities involved in getting them out of our town and away from our church,” Geraldine said. “It gives us a bad image.”
“A bad image?” Arnold asked. “It gives the church a bad image if we give assistance to the homeless and allow them to make a camp on land we don’t even own?”
“Yes, it does. We have a standard to uphold,” Geraldine said. “We have to think about all those grants we apply for and how we’re portrayed. How will we help those orphans in Haiti or the poor in Uganda or the village in Nicaragua if we can’t get the funds?”
“We look like the good Christians we are,” Martha said. “You heard Jacob’s sermon this morning, didn’t you? We can help the rest of the world, but it doesn’t mean very much if we turn our back to those right here under our nose.”
“Why did you vote to close down Soup’s On last week?” Geraldine asked. “Where was your compassion for all those folks down at the river who refuse to go out and work for a living?”
“You brought us false information,” Brian said. “I’ve done some checking since then, and your claim that the kitchen is underfunded is false. Leah’s done a wonderful job with that kitchen, and I’d l
ike us to reconsider our vote from last week. I want to open the floor back up for discussion.”
Leah raised her hand to speak, and Donald recognized her.
“I’d like you to consider letting me use the hall temporarily,” she said. “I’ve found a place to fix up and two places in town are helping me with food so the church budget won’t be so taxed. I find it hard to believe that the kitchen has been a drain on the budget because we held that big garage sale in April and then the Christmas craft bazaar. Both of those events brought in thousands of dollars.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Arnold said. “I’d like to see the paperwork on that, Geraldine.”
“Are you saying you don’t trust me to run the books?” Geraldine asked as she looked around the table. “Besides, Leah’s basing her comments on something that’s absolutely false. She wants to fix up that old barn down by the river and turn it into a shelter. I own that barn, and it’s going to be demolished next month.”
“I’m only asking the board to reconsider allowing me to run the kitchen out of the hall for the next several months,” Leah said, ignoring Geraldine’s threat. “I don’t have to serve lunch on the days the Women’s Circle is held.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Donald said. “I think I’m in favor of taking another vote.”
“What about the funds?” Geraldine asked. “Where do you want me to get those?”
“I’ll hold a bake sale or go door to door,” Leah said. “I bet some of those members who called Donald would be willing to give a little money.”
“You can’t go begging,” Geraldine said. “I know you used to do that before I saved you from the streets, and I don’t appreciate you turning on me now just because of some misguided notion you have about saving those people.”
“Maybe you could return that suit you bought yesterday and give that money to Soup’s On,” Leah said. “Maybe it would pay for the next month of lunches for twenty people.”
Geraldine stood up from the table. “I will not stand here and be insulted by the likes of you. You’re nothing but the daughter of a drug addict who couldn’t even take care of her own daughter. I own that dress on your back, and I paid for that diamond ring on your finger.”