by Anna Schmidt
Doubts assailed her, as they always did when someone assumed she’d have no problem delivering what they had requested. She steered with one hand while rummaging for her cell phone in the glove compartment, where she kept it to avoid the temptation to use it for anything other than an emergency. That had been the deal when Faith had urged her to buy a pay-as-you-go plan. “See, Mom? No contract. No worries.”
“Emergencies only,” Megan had insisted.
“But Mom, calls are free after nine most nights and on weekends,” Faith had countered.
“The phone stays in the car.”
Faith had rolled her eyes, then grinned and hugged Megan. “You worry way too much, you know.”
Megan had only needed to arch one eyebrow before Faith had capitulated. “Fine. I’ll make my calls from the car. That way we’ll be sure to have it handy when that emergency comes up.”
“Well, this is an emergency,” Megan said, as she used her thumb to press the number for the inn. To her relief, Reba answered on the first ring.
“I heard,” Reba said as soon as Megan started to deliver the news. “How’s Ginny holding up?”
“She’s a rock. Rick, on the other hand…”
“He was so close to his dad, poor thing.”
Megan quickly explained Jeb’s plan for services.
“You go on up to the church and tell the others. I’ll get Jeb’s Bible and send Faith up there with it.”
“And a change of clothes,” Megan added. “I’m still in my jeans.”
“Got it. Now hang up and drive,” Reba ordered, and the phone went dead.
One of Henry and Ginny’s nephews dropped Jeb off at the church just as the congregation was singing what had to be the final hymn. Jeb had thought about stopping first at the inn to change, but he wanted to be there as the people were leaving the service. He wasn’t sure how upset the townspeople were going to be. The news of Henry’s sudden death had to come as a real shock to many who had known him as a vibrant and charming man. He’d been a true pillar of the community.
He slipped into the back row, nodding to the Singer family, who slid closer together to make room for him. There was that moment of quiet commotion as everyone settled back into their pews, slid hymnals into the wooden holders and focused their attention once again on the pulpit at the front of the sanctuary as the final notes of Fran’s transitional music faded.
The empty pulpit.
Jeb craned his neck, looking for Megan, and spotted her cap of honey-brown hair. She was seated alone on the front pew. Slowly she rose and, moving as if her legs were made of wood, she stepped up two shallow stairs onto the platform. She was carrying his Bible, one index finger marking the page.
She reached the podium and took her time opening the Bible and setting it on the stand. She was seemingly unaware of the few hushed whispers that followed her.
“Please rise for the benediction,” she said, her voice small but audible.
As one the congregation came to its feet. Every head bowed and the only sound was the wind rustling the willow tree outside the east windows.
“To everything there is a season,” Megan began hesitantly, “and a time to every purpose under Heaven.”
Jeb closed his eyes as the familiar words from the third chapter of Paul’s letter to the Ephesians rolled across the church like a wave on a beach. With every repetition of the phrasing “a time,” Megan’s voice gained confidence and strength. He had chosen this passage because his intent had been to tie the familiar scripture to the changing of the seasons—the coming of spring, the promise of summer, the distant call of autumn that would carry the village back to the quiet serenity of winter. How could he have imagined that it would be the eulogy for a man who had been his friend only a few weeks, but had left his mark all the same?
He thought of how a professor in seminary had warned his students that dealing with death would be among their greatest challenges. At the time Jeb had thought that he had an advantage over most of the other students. He had experienced death in all its cold and dark mystery firsthand. Only now did he truly understand what the professor had been saying. For although he had been the one in need of comfort and explanations before, now he would be the one people would expect to make sense of what God could possibly have been thinking to take such a good and decent man from them in his prime.
He opened his eyes as Megan uttered the final verse. She looked directly at him, then bowed her head as Jasper slipped into the vestibule and yanked hard on the thick rope attached to the church bell. Twelve times it tolled as a community stood shoulder to shoulder to pay silent tribute to their friend and neighbor, Henry Epstein.
Chapter Five
“L ovely service, Reverend Matthews,” Megan heard Nellie Barnsworth tell Jeb. Nellie had the kind of voice that carried beyond surrounding noise. Neither the chatter of other church members nor the final notes of Fran’s postlude could cover the older woman’s next pronouncement. “I do wonder that you didn’t ask Jessica Burbank to read that last passage though. Don’t get me wrong. Megan has a lovely soft voice and, of course, being new here you may not have known.”
“Known what, Mrs. Barnsworth?”
“Why, Jessica is such a gifted actress. We couldn’t do without her in our little community players group. Next time,” she added as she started down the front stairs, calling out to her husband to lend her a hand.
Megan saw Jeb turn his attention to the next couple exiting the church, accepting the man’s handshake and inclining his head sympathetically as the woman asked how Ginny Epstein was holding up.
There were three people between her and the front door—between her and Jeb. Megan thought of the way Jeb had been looking at her when she’d glanced up from the reading. She’d been surprised to see him there in the last pew, as if he were simply another member of the congregation. But the way he’d watched her, his expression had been unreadable. Was that because he hadn’t expected her to read the passage well? Had he had second thoughts about entrusting her with a key portion of the spontaneous service? Megan retraced her steps and slipped out the side door.
She paused for a moment at the railing of the ramp that made the historic church accessible to members like Reba who had trouble managing the steep front steps. She was trying to decide her next move. To return to the inn she would have to walk past the front entrance. Jeb would see her. He might even call her over so he could thank her for taking a role in the service, as she’d heard him thank Jasper. She was considering heading for the basement community room to help close up after Sunday School classes when she heard Faith’s laughter.
Megan followed the sound and turned the corner of the church to find Faith and Caleb Armstrong, oblivious to anyone but each other, their foreheads nearly touching. His hands were braced flat against the church wall to either side of her daughter’s narrow shoulders. Faith’s breath was coming in quick little gasps of excitement, judging from the steady rise and fall of her chest.
“Why, Caleb,” Megan called out in an overly cheerful tone, which startled the young people to attention. “I didn’t realize your family had opened the summer house for the season.”
“Hello, Ms. Osbourne.” Caleb took a step back from Faith, who was now glowering at her mother. “I just came up for the weekend with some friends. We’re supposed to be studying for exams, so…” He shrugged and gave Megan a charming smile that she was sure worked magic on most women.
But Megan didn’t like Caleb Armstrong. Not that he’d given her cause. He was always polite, and his grandparents had begun summering in the area before Megan was born. Still, there was something about his interaction with Faith that rattled every protective bone in Megan’s body. He’d first taken notice of Faith the previous fall, and Faith had been thrilled by his attention. She liked to point out that she was a year younger than he was. But Megan was well aware that age, when one party was a high school junior and the other a graduating senior, could be far too large a gap.
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sp; “The whole Armstrong clan will come up to stay later in June,” he added when Megan made no comment. He glanced at Faith. “So, be seeing you around?”
“Sure,” Faith said. “You know where to find me,” she added with a coquettish smile that made Megan bristle.
Caleb chuckled and started toward a baby-blue convertible parked at an angle so that it occupied three spaces. “Nice seeing you again, Ms. O,” he called with a wave.
“Okay, that was embarrassing,” Faith mumbled. But she continued to smile and wave as if the boy were leaving for war instead of his parents’ log house on the far side of the lake.
“I have nothing against Caleb Armstrong,” Megan said, mentally asking forgiveness for the lie.
Faith rolled her eyes. “Really? Coulda fooled me.”
“Watch your tone, missy,” Megan snapped, sounding more like Reba than herself.
“Sorry,” both said at the same time.
“I thought you trusted me,” Faith added.
“I do, honey,” Megan assured her. It’s him I don’t trust.
“Mom, I’m not stupid. I know Caleb’s interest is more physical than anything else. He’s a guy, right?” She grinned, and in that grin Megan saw the little girl she’d raised to be strong and smart and self-assured.
“So what’s the appeal?”
Faith shrugged. “I like him. He’s smart and funny and different from the boys around here. Hey, maybe it’s more of a challenge. I want him to see beyond the blooming bod. I want him to see that a girl from Singing Springs is not just some hick. I may not be as worldly as his other friends, but I’m way more interesting.”
Megan hugged Faith hard. “How did I get so lucky to have a daughter like you?” she whispered.
“Ah, Mom.” Faith pulled away and laughed. “You worry way too much.” She hooked the hobo cloth bag that Reba had made her over one shoulder. “I have to go,” she said. “I promised Aunt Reba I’d handle the phone and front desk while she goes over to see Mrs. Epstein.”
“Okay. I’ll see you later.”
Megan watched Faith race off down the hill, her skirt flying around her long legs and her golden ponytail swinging from side to side.
“There you are.” Jeb’s footsteps had been silenced by the bark mulch that lined the path around the church. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
“Here I am,” Megan repeated.
“I wanted to tell you how very special I thought your reading of the scripture was this morning. It was…”
“I just read the words,” Megan protested. “I’m just glad you selected a passage that I was familiar with.”
A slight frown furrowed Jeb’s brow and he took a moment before he said anything more. “You touched people’s hearts, Megan,” he said quietly. “You made familiar scripture fresh for them. That’s a gift.”
Megan felt the heat rush to her cheeks. “How’s Ginny?” she asked, casting about for anything that would take his attention off her.
“She’s an amazing woman,” Jeb replied. “For now she seems to be leaning on Rick. I think she understands that he needs that now.”
Megan nodded. “Rick and his father were very close.” She thought of how envious she had sometimes been of that closeness. “It’s not going to be easy for him. I mean, Henry’s death was so sudden and unexpected.”
Jeb looked away, but not before Megan saw the expression of abject sadness cross his face that she had noticed before. She placed her hand on his arm. “Rick respects you, Jeb, and he’s going to need help making sense of this.”
“I’m on my way over there now. Do you want to come along? Maybe while I have a few minutes with Rick, you could be there for Ginny?”
It occurred to Megan that perhaps in the city, where Jeb had lived a good portion of his adult life, things might be different. But here in Singing Springs, she was well aware that the Epstein house was probably already crowded with neighbors and friends and extended family. “Ginny’s not alone,” she assured him. “Reba’s there and probably half the congregation by now.”
She saw by his surprised but pleased look that she had read the situation accurately. “It’s a small town, Jeb. We’re all like family here.”
He smiled and shook his head. “That’ll take some getting used to, but it does sound nice.”
Megan laughed. “Be careful what you wish for, Reverend. That small-town closeness can also sometimes get to be a little cloying. You’ll soon get the hang of who’s who and what role each person has been assigned,” she teased.
“Like Jessica Burbank is the actress?” He was watching her closely, his expression serious once again. “I saw you waiting in line. You heard Mrs. Barnsworth’s comments?”
“Everyone within shouting distance hears Nellie when she decides she needs to make a point,” Megan assured him. “And the truth is that Jessica is truly talented. If you thought I did a passable job, you would have been blown away by Jessica.”
“I never said ‘passable,’ Megan.”
“The point is that in small towns people have their roles to play—no pun intended.”
“You mean they get labeled.”
“That’s another way to look at it—a negative way though. Look, folks mean well and you just have to keep that in mind.”
“Sounds like you’ve had some practice.” He braced one hand against the wall of the church as if settling in for a long discussion.
Megan met his gaze. “I live here, Jeb. I’ve lived my whole life here, and I expect I’m as prone as anyone to label and cast people in the roles that best suit them. There’s no harm meant—or taken.”
To her surprise, Jeb grinned. “You know what, Ms. Osbourne? If I had met you back when I was in the business world, I would have hired you on the spot.”
“As what?”
He narrowed his eyes as if sizing her up for a job. “Something to do with understanding people, for sure. Maybe something in human resources. No, market research.”
Megan laughed. “I’m not sure what market research is, but I think I’ll pass, thank you. Now, if that ride to Ginny’s is still available, I’ll take you up on it.”
Jeb pushed himself away from the building and gave her a slight bow. “Your chariot awaits, ma’am.”
The next two weeks were jam-packed with preparing his sermons and the eulogy for Henry’s funeral, plus helping Rick complete repairs to the parsonage. Jeb was relieved to see that working on the roof seemed therapeutic for Rick, rather than a challenge to his grief, as Jeb had feared. Jeb was well acquainted with the toll grief could take. It had been his constant companion ever since the deaths of his wife and child. But on the morning he was scheduled to move back to the parsonage, Jeb realized that he had gone for days without once feeling the familiar stabbing pain of loss.
However, he was well aware that he could not bury his memories and regrets on this day. This was Memorial Day, the anniversary of the accident that had changed Jeb’s life forever. As usual, he planned the hours very carefully, staging them to simply get him to tomorrow.
The move would take only an hour. Over the two weeks he’d been staying at the inn he’d brought down several boxes of books and papers as well as more of his clothes, but everything would fit in his car for the trip back to the parsonage. Everyone in town was excited about the annual parade and picnic in the park to kick off the tourist season. He doubted if anyone would miss him. His plan was to pack up his things, then go to the lakeside trail where he’d walked with Megan and spend a quiet morning in meditation and prayer.
But apparently God had other ideas about how the day might go, as Jeb discovered as soon as he went into the kitchen for breakfast.
“Oh, Jeb, you’re just the person we need,” Reba exclaimed, as she dished up blueberry pancakes and set a plate and pitcher of syrup in front of him. “Ty and Minnie Glover were scheduled to lead the parade with their horse-drawn buggy, but now Nellie—the horse, not the woman—has pulled up lame. Jasper has offered one of his a
ntique cars as a substitute, but since he’s the parade marshal, Nellie—his wife, not the horse—insists that it’s only proper for the two of them to be driven through town in Jasper’s vintage Thunderbird.” She poured coffee for him without a break in her explanation. “I told Jasper that I’d see to it. Poor henpecked man, I thought he was going to burst into tears of gratitude.”
She set the coffeepot back on its heating unit and plopped a man’s black derby hat on Jeb’s head. “Perfect. I told Megan you would be perfect for the part. She, of course, was bound and determined to drive the car herself, but I told her she could not go against history, and at the turn of the century no woman was driving in this community. Not that I recall personally, you understand,” she huffed. “I’m assuming you can handle a stick shift on a Model T Ford?”
Jeb took a swallow of his coffee just in case any response he made was interrupted by more of Reba’s monologue. When she remained silent, impatiently tapping one foot, he cleared his throat. “I’ve driven stick, but have to admit I’ve never driven a Model T before.”
Reba dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “A car is a car. Faith!” she shouted.
There was a stirring in the laundry room and the teenager stuck her head around the corner. “I’m right here,” she said.
“Good. As soon as you finish ironing that shirt take it to Jeb’s room.” She turned back to Jeb. “Your black suit pants will work. It would be best if you had a handlebar mustache, but no matter. Suspenders,” she muttered and limped down the hall.
“Faith?” Jeb called out.
“Coming,” the girl replied and came around the corner with a crisp white collarless shirt on a hanger.
“Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“On the surface or behind the scenes?”
“Both.”
The girl hooked the shirt hanger over the top of the door and perched on a high stool. “Okay, on the surface she’s saving the day, making sure the parade is not a disappointment for anyone. She’s thinking that you, Mom and I will get all dressed up like it was 1910 or something and lead the parade through town, driving Mr. Barnsworth’s Model T that will be all decked out in bunting and flags and such.”