The Pastor Takes a Wife

by Anna Schmidt

  “No, I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Yeah, you would,” Jeb told him and saw the man bristle with surprise.

  “Not intentionally,” Owen argued as he stood a little taller, clearly prepared for a fight.

  Jeb shrugged. “No one said it was ever intentional, Owen. But hurt is hurt and all I’m saying is that, between you and her mother and Faith’s father, Megan has had her full serving and then some.”

  “I can do this right,” Owen assured him, although it sounded more like he was trying to reassure himself.

  “I’ll set up the interview and get back to you,” Jeb said. “In the meantime, how about coming to services this Sunday with Mike and his family?”

  He saw that Owen recognized the test Jeb was giving him. “I’ll be there,” he said.

  Jeb smiled at the older man and drove away. But as he navigated the turns of the road back into town, he began to have doubts. “I’m flying blind here, God,” he prayed aloud as he drove. “It feels right, but maybe I got so caught up in Owen’s story. Maybe I saw a man seeking redemption—a man like I was after the accident. Did I want to save Owen because I know how it feels to be so totally lost, blaming yourself and drowning in regret?”

  He swerved to miss a squirrel that darted across the road and suddenly had the thought that maybe this was what it had been like that night. Deborah had swerved, lost control and in seconds the car had been upside down in a ditch, its front crushed in and the lifeless bodies of his wife and daughter trapped inside.

  “I told Owen that this wasn’t all about him, but maybe what I’ve failed to see is that I’m tempted to make his situation all about mine. He has this last chance to make amends, to find forgiveness in the hearts of his only child and grandchild. He has this chance that I never had. Is that it, God? Am I wanting Owen to succeed because I failed so miserably?”

  A horn honked impatiently behind him and he realized he’d slowed to a crawl. Shaken, he pulled to the side of the road to allow the other car to pass. And then he noticed that his hands were trembling and his breath was heaving as if he’d just run a marathon. He rested his forehead against the steering wheel. “Guide my steps as I try to help these good people,” he prayed.

  Another car horn sounded and he looked up. Megan had stopped her car next to his. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Jeb got out of his car and leaned one hand against her vehicle. Of all the faces Jeb might have hoped to see at that moment, Megan’s was far and away the first he would have prayed to see and the last he could have imagined. And yet it was in her face that he found his answer. There were no signs that the meeting with her father had taken its toll. “What are you doing out here?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “He doesn’t have a car and I’m not sure how he’s getting around, but he needs food and Reba had some of Stan’s clothes she’s been meaning to give away and he’s going to need to look sharp for the council interview and…”

  You love him, Jeb realized. In spite of everything he’s put you through.

  “Were you planning to stay and talk awhile with him?”

  “Nope. No more talk until I have a chance to discuss this with Faith. Just drop these off and head back. We have a meeting tonight about the parade, remember? And I still have to get supper and… Why didn’t you tell me he was back?”

  Jeb studied her features, expecting repressed anger, and found only hurt. “I should have,” he admitted. “I wanted to make sure that he’d come back for the right reasons—I mean, that he wouldn’t cause you or Faith more pain.”

  “You wanted to protect us? How?”

  “I’m not sure,” Jeb admitted. “In the barbershop it seemed to me like all I was offering was a place where he could come and talk to someone trained to listen.”

  “But?”

  “But once he showed up at the house, I don’t know. I had to really fight to get a handle on my emotions, to not want to tear the guy apart for all the pain he’s caused you over the years.”

  “That doesn’t sound like the kind of pastoral care you learned in divinity school.”

  Jeb searched her eyes and saw forgiveness there. “Sometimes I slip.” He played a little drumbeat on the roof of her car with his hands. “Tell you what—how about you take those things to Owen and meet me at the burger place at the intersection? We can grab some supper and then go on to the meeting from there.”

  She hesitated and he knew she was wrestling with whether having a burger with him violated her promise to Faith that they would be just friends. “Hey, it’s a cheeseburger,” he coaxed.

  “Extra pickle and mustard?”

  “You got it.”

  She smiled. “Okay. Give me twenty minutes—thirty tops.”

  Jeb returned to his car.

  “And Jeb? Vanilla malt, okay?”

  “You want fries with that?”

  Her laughter was like a soothing balm for his spirits. “Bet you never thought you’d be saying that when you ran that big-time company,” she teased. “Yeah, fries, too. If I’m going to clog the arteries might as well go all the way.” She waved out the open window as she drove away.

  Jeb stood in the street, watching her go. She was the most remarkably resilient person he’d ever known, and he was all too aware that he was falling in love with Megan Osbourne.

  Chapter Eleven

  T he Fourth of July dawned sunny and warm—perfect weather for a parade. Tourists and locals alike came early to reserve their places along the parade route with collapsible chairs, blankets, strollers and coolers on wheels that doubled as benches. It seemed everyone was decked out in some combination of red, white and blue and the crowd was easily triple what it had been on Memorial Day. The streets buzzed with chatter, laughter and anticipation that was almost palpable.

  But Megan had too much on her mind and frankly the crowds, the traffic and the general confusion were more irritating than inspiring. To her surprise the church council had unanimously approved hiring Owen as the custodian. True, they had made it clear the hiring was probationary—in this case, one strike and out. But these were people who had known Owen for decades—knew his history, knew how many times he’d made promises he couldn’t keep. Were they setting him up to fail?

  No, they wouldn’t do that, she thought. On the contrary, it seemed as if several people were working hard to make sure that Owen didn’t fail. Reba had invited him for supper—along with Jeb—two or three times a week since his return to Singing Springs. And Megan had to admit that those occasions had gone far better than she might have imagined. Faith seemed to be fascinated with her grandfather, encouraging him to tell stories of hopping an empty boxcar to save money on his way to California, and to describe the scenery, the weather, the people there and how it differed from Wisconsin.

  Just the night before, while she and Jeb were washing the dishes, Owen and Faith had disappeared and when she went looking for them, she’d found them sitting together on the inn’s porch swing. Owen had his arm around Faith’s shoulders and was talking to her in low tones.

  “What was that about?” Megan had asked her father later, after Faith had gone to bed.

  “She’s worried that boy she’s running with will dump her when summer’s over,” Owen said.

  “And what did you tell her?” Megan fought against the wave of jealousy she felt that Faith would have such a conversation with this man she hardly knew, rather than with her own mother.

  “I told her she was probably reading things right. I told her, knowing that, it would be important for her to watch herself. I told her there probably was no more she could do to make that boy stay with her than…”

  He hesitated and Megan froze.

  “Tell me you didn’t say something about my not being able to make Danny stay so she’d have a father.”

  Owen bristled. “What I said was ‘no more than I could make your grandmother stay once she made up her mind to go.’ I have no idea what you might have done to make that Moreland boy stay. I’
m sure you remember that I was too drunk most of the time to care.” He got up and stalked off down the road.

  Megan had thought of going after him the way she had dozens of times when she was a girl, but her feet felt rooted to the floorboards of the porch. She couldn’t believe he had changed so much that going after him would make any more difference this time than it had back then.

  Jeb had come out on the porch then. The way he’d rested his hands on her shoulders as she watched her father disappear around a corner told her that he’d heard most of her conversation with Owen.

  “If he’s going to drink, nothing I can do will stop him—short of praying,” she’d said without waiting for Jeb’s comment.

  “There’s one more thing,” Jeb had said, resting his cheek against her hair. “You can love him in spite of his flaws.”

  “I do,” she’d protested, and knew it for the lie that it was the minute the words were airborne. “It’s complicated.”

  “He wants to make it this time, Megan. He’s put his past to rest, taken responsibility for the damage done and finally come to understand that he has something to live for—you and Faith.”

  “Too bad he didn’t come to this epiphany until he found out he was dying.” She hated the bile of bitterness that filled her thoughts and words.

  “We’re all dying, Megan. It comes with the package. The trick is to live and love fully every hour and day without the assurance of more time. Owen may have come to that realization late in life, but it’s not too late. Not for him. Not if you’ll meet him halfway.”

  And later when she was in bed and staring out at the black night, Megan thought of her father stumbling along the narrow road that led from the tavern or convenience store back to Mike’s farm. She envisioned him alone inside the small trailer, slumped onto the sofa that doubled as his bed. The images were vivid because she did not have to use her imagination—only her memory. Her eyes filled with tears that leaked down her temples and into her hair. Her chest heaved with sobs as she prayed that this time—please, God—was different.

  But with the dawning of Independence Day Megan awoke with a sense of dread. The holidays had always triggered the worst binges. And so she’d been up before dawn, driven out to the trailer, banged on the door and found it unlocked. Inside everything was pristine—no dishes in the sink, no sign of beer or other spirits, no sign that her father had been there at all. Her heart quickened with panic and she drove slowly back into town, checking the ditches and fields along the way for any sign of him.

  By the time she got back to the inn, the parade was beginning to assemble up the hill in the church parking lot. Jeb, she thought as she hurried up the hill. He would know what to do.

  She reached the parking lot, breathless with worry and exertion. “Faith,” she called, “have you seen Rev Jeb?”

  Faith motioned toward the church, then turned her attention back to Caleb and his friends as they finished adding bunting to the youth center’s float.

  Megan thought of the advice her father had offered Faith. Good advice and just maybe, coming from him, she would take it. Megan hurried into the church vestibule. It was ten degrees cooler in there and she paused for a moment to catch her breath before heading toward the sound of voices floating up from the basement.

  And then she heard familiar laughter. Not Jeb’s, but her father’s. The sound tugged at her memories of better times, times when he had held her on his knee, times before her mother had left them both, long ago and nearly forgotten times when they had been a family.

  She pulled open the heavy carved door leading to the sanctuary. “Dad,” she cried, her voice echoing with relief in the empty church.

  Owen startled and turned toward the sound as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. When Megan reached him and touched her fingers to his face, peering deeply into his eyes, he hesitated only a minute before hugging her. “You haven’t called me that in years, Meggie,” he murmured as she broke down sobbing against his shoulder.

  “I went to the trailer and you weren’t there, I thought… I’m so sorry.”

  “Shh, little girl. You had every reason to think that. I’ve got a long road ahead of me before you’re going to trust me and I just hope I have the time to make it all the way.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” Megan said, pulling free of him and swiping at her tears with the backs of her hands. “Oh, my.” She gulped as she really looked at him for the first time. “Look at you.” She straightened the oversize red, white and blue bow tie he was wearing and then took another step back. “Look at you,” she repeated and grinned. Her father was in full costume—minus the beard—to play Uncle Sam in the parade.

  Owen blushed. “It was Faith’s idea. That granddaughter of mine has a way of talking folks into things. I seem to recall you were that way once.”

  Megan couldn’t seem to stop grinning. Her father was right here, stone-cold sober and wearing a costume to boot. “But where did you go last night? The trailer looks…”

  “He ended up here,” Jeb said. “We talked about some things and before we knew it the rooster was crowing, so your dad sacked out on the couch for a couple of hours.”

  “You need your rest,” Megan fussed, peering closely to see just how exhausted he was.

  “And I’ll have it right after we get this show on the road. You watching or riding the float?”

  Megan gave a little shriek. She’d forgotten all about the parade. Her costume was back at the house. “Riding the float,” she said with a wave. “Wait for me.”

  As far as Jeb was concerned there could never have been a Pilgrim lovelier than Megan Osbourne. She wore a simple high-necked gray dress adorned with a wide, white, starched collar and apron. She was seated on the front of the float that the kids had decorated to resemble a boat landing at a huge rock. When Jessica had suggested that Jeb play the part of the Pilgrim man, Megan had been quick to suggest that Rick Epstein would be good for that role. “Jeb would make a wonderful Thomas Jefferson.”

  The float was designed to show three key episodes in the founding of the country—the Pilgrims’ landing at Plymouth Rock, Thomas Jefferson writing the Declaration of Independence and finally Owen as Uncle Sam holding the American flag. Understanding that Megan was concerned that they not be portrayed as a couple, even in storybook fashion, Jeb had seconded the idea of playing Jefferson. But after the parade, he had every intention of spending the better part of this day with Megan—and to his relief, Reba had agreed to help.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, gather round for the annual silent Cakewalk auction,” Pete Burbank shouted through the handheld bullhorn later that afternoon when everyone had gathered in the park. “Here’s how this works. Gentlemen, line up here and when I call your name pick one cake. The maker of that cake is your dinner partner this evening, so choose carefully. And please don’t drop the cakes, gents. Those delectable creations are our dessert for the evening.”

  Everyone chuckled at that and also because most people knew that at least the married men were well aware which cake belonged to their wives. Thanks to Reba, Jeb had the inside track on which cake Megan had contributed.

  “Rev Jeb, why don’t you get things started?”

  Jeb took his time studying each cake. He could see Megan standing on the fringe of the crowd, pressed against the roped-off barricade, but he didn’t let on that he knew she was there. He started to pick up one cake, heard a gasp from Nellie Barnsworth, and then set it back down. He deliberately passed by Megan’s cake and saw her brow furrow in what he hoped was disappointment. He was hoping that in spite of her reservations, there was no one she’d rather spend the evening with than him. After all, who could question their being together when the cause was a blind test like the cakewalk?

  “Rev Jeb?” Pete spoke into the bullhorn. “You take much more time and it’s gonna be dark,” he chided. The crowd laughed.

  Jeb grinned and started back up the row of cakes, again passing Megan’s with barely a glance. “
I’ll take…” He waved his hand over three cakes, none of them Megan’s, and then turned suddenly and picked hers up. “This one.”

  Reba let out a whoop and everyone applauded as he handed the cake to Jessica for the women to slice for the picnic, and Pete called out Megan’s name.

  “Ms. Osbourne,” Jeb said with a bow, and then as he joined her to watch the rest of the contest, muttered, “Had you worried, did I?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” she whispered, but she was smiling and her fingers tightened on his arm.

  Later, after they filled their plates with barbecued chicken, homemade coleslaw, potato salad and corn on the cob, Jeb led the way to a shaded area overlooking the lake. Megan followed, carrying cups filled with lemonade.

  “I didn’t have a chance to really thank you for taking my father in last night,” she said as she sat down on the blanket he’d spread for them.

  “He’s a good man at heart, Megan.”

  “I was so afraid that…”

  Jeb covered her hand with his. “I know, but he wants to make it this time, Megan—for you and Faith. He doesn’t want your last memories of him to be…what they would have been had he not come back. He told me a lot of things last night and I have to say that, in your shoes, it would be hard for me to forgive some of it.”

  “Oh, Jeb, I’ve forgiven him, but he’s always been a weak man—someone who tried but failed at so many of the important things in life. You can’t blame me for worrying about how he might disappoint Faith. I mean, you’ve seen how she’s taken to him.”

  “Like a father?” He waited while realization dawned.

  “Exactly,” she murmured.

  Jeb took a bite of his chicken and chewed it slowly, buying time, wondering if he would overstep his bounds to suggest what he’d been thinking. His role as her pastor and spiritual advisor kept getting in the way of his feelings for her. May the words of my mouth… The ancient prayer was one he had relied on often—one that had never failed him in the past. “Megan?”