Moondust Lake

by Davis Bunn

  When Carey shivered, Beth could only hope there was a hint of excitement mixed with the very real fear. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

  “Daughter, look at me. Two very important things. First, you mustn’t tell Buddy about my condition. I’m phoning your sister as soon as I arrive home. If you need to talk to someone, do so with her. But you must let me tell Buddy in my own time.”

  “But—”

  “No arguments. Please. I don’t have the strength.” She waited until she was certain Carey understood, then continued. “And second, knowing Jack as I do, we must assume that we won’t have much warning. You need to be ready to move very swiftly when the time comes.”

  “I’ll do it. For Buddy.” She shivered, but she also smiled, the tiny wounded child alight in her eyes. “And for you.”

  “Thank you, darling.” Beth reached out to hug her baby girl. “I knew I could rely on you.”

  CHAPTER 28

  At the meeting of the elders, Kimberly and Preston were asked to wait in the church council’s antechamber. The senior pastor gathered with a number of the church’s deacons and elders in the main conference room. Kimberly had some vague idea of what was going to happen, a formal question-and-answer session. She had done nothing wrong. She was as prepared as she could be. She had her cousin for company. The last time she had confronted a group of examiners, she had been sitting for her counseling degree. She had not slept the night before that, either.

  Then Buddy entered the waiting room, and offered them both a tentative smile. She rose to greet him, then accepted hugs from Beth Helms and Carey, both of whom carried their own evident strain. “Thank you all for coming.”

  “What nonsense, thanking us for something that our family has caused.” Beth hugged her again. It was the first time they had ever touched, and it left Kimberly’s eyes burning. “How are you, dear?”

  “Coping.”

  The senior pastor’s door opened. Ross Burridge shook Buddy’s hand, greeted Beth and Carey, and announced, “It appears that your father is not coming.”

  “He wouldn’t,” Buddy agreed. “Not unless he was certain of victory.”

  “He has sent his lawyer,” Ross said.

  “The gall of that man is astonishing, even to me,” Beth said.

  Ross started to object, then thought better of it. “Well, I suppose we had best get started.”

  The allies of Jack Helms among the church elders sought to distance themselves by directing Kimberly and Preston to the long conference table’s far end. But their isolation was erased when Beth Helms insisted upon sitting next to Kimberly, and Carey stood with Buddy against the back wall.

  The church leaders were seated around the table’s opposite end, with a few latecomers standing behind them. The women were mostly gray-heads with appearances as shellacked and polished as their opinions. The men were well-fleshed and most wore dark suits. Kimberly was tempted to simply get up and walk away. She didn’t need this. She hated confrontation and always had. But to leave meant letting Jack Helms win. Some things were worth fighting for.

  Ross Burridge opened the conversation. “For the record we’re gathered to discuss a matter tabled by Jack Helms. He has not joined us, though he called this meeting.”

  Jack’s attorney, a pasty-faced man by the name of Grady White, cleared his throat. “Mr. Helms asked me to express his sincere regrets. But he has been called away at the last minute. Urgent business matters.”

  “Noted.” Ross Burridge wore his CEO face, somber and commanding. “So that we are all clear, Preston, why don’t you two give us a brief overview of your role and duties within the church.”

  “We’ve been through all that,” a man by the back wall protested. “Before they were hired.”

  “Some of us were not present for those discussions, Dr. Sharpe,” Ross pointed out.

  “The church voted as a whole.” He was dressed in what Kimberly considered medical casual. Very expensive clothes, with a matching attitude that suggested he was used to having the hospital staff jump at his command. “We all agreed these two in-house therapists were needed. I don’t see why we’re meeting at all.”

  “Nonetheless we are here.” Ross motioned to Preston. “Please.”

  She and Preston had agreed he would speak for them. Preston was seminary trained and had been at the church several months longer. Plus, he was better at keeping his temper. Even so, Kimberly knew he was riled at the outset. “You ran an advertisement for professional counselors who also had pastoral training. I applied. You hired me. I don’t see what else needs to be said.”

  “Just the same, let’s go into a bit more detail for the sake of those gathered here,” Ross replied. “Describe for us your role, as you see it.”

  “My job description is clearly set out in the contract you wrote. I am to give first position to all patients who are members of these four local congregations. Those who can pay will be charged the hourly fee, which you set. But my services will not be restricted by ability to pay. Beyond these patients, I am free to take others from the wider community. My contract also lays out this fee schedule, a third of which goes back to the clinic.”

  One of the gray-haired women at the table demanded, “And what is she doing here?”

  “Kimberly was hired to take over the position of your school counselor, who is retiring in May,” Preston replied. “You moved up her start date because she was available, and because there was an unexpectedly high demand for counseling services.”

  The man by the back wall demanded, “What does that mean, ‘unexpectedly high demand’?”

  “I am already overbooked.”

  Dr. Sharpe had an aggressive attitude and very little patience. “So you hired them. They know their role. The demand for their services is high. I ask again, why are we here?”

  The gray-haired matron turned to Ross. “How much is this costing us?”

  “Nothing,” Ross replied flatly. “They are taking in considerably more than their combined salaries.”

  “For the third time,” the man by the back wall said, “what are we doing here?”

  The gray-haired lady snapped, “There’s been a complaint.”

  “By a man who is not a patient,” Preston replied. “And who could not be bothered to show up.”

  “Now see here,” Grady protested, “I won’t stand for such talk.”

  “Why not?” Preston shot back. “You expect us to sit here and lap up whatever nonsense you throw our way?”

  The woman bridled. “This is not nonsense.”

  “It’s ridiculous,” Preston replied. “If you won’t back us in such a situation, why were we taken on in the first place?”

  The man by the back wall said, “That is exactly the question I’d like to hear answered.”

  Buddy chose that moment to speak. “You’re asking the wrong person.”

  Grady White pointed an indignant finger at Buddy. “That man has no right addressing these proceedings.”

  “You are not the one to decide that,” Ross replied. “I am.”

  Buddy went on, “The reason we’re here is because I’ve resigned from my father’s company and as a result he stands to lose his single greatest contract—”

  “I protest!” Grady’s annoyance was genuine now. “This meeting is about those two fakirs on your payroll.”

  Kimberly could not help it. She laughed out loud. “What century are you living in?”

  “You know my father,” Buddy raised his voice. “You know his favorite tactic is attack. He despises anyone who sees the world through a different lens than his own. He views Kimberly and Preston as a threat.”

  The oldest lady declared, “The whole concept of church-sponsored therapy is vile.” Two of the others seated around the table nodded.

  A gentleman seated at the far end glanced nervously at Beth, cleared his throat, and said, “With respect I disagree.”

  Ross inspected the opponents. “Why didn’t any of you
raise your objections before now?”

  “The church wanted them. I knew it was a mistake. We all did. But these young people . . . It’s creeping liberalism, that’s what it is.”

  The effort Preston needed to keep a lid on his anger showed in bright spots on his cheeks. “Do you feel the same way about medical treatment?”

  “Of course not. They’re hardly the same.”

  “So let me get this straight. You consider any form of counseling, be it for grief or loss or past wounds, to be something akin to witchcraft?”

  She reddened. “I am not the one on trial here, you are!”

  “There’s no trial,” Ross corrected.

  “I want them out of here!”

  “Well, I don’t,” the man by the back wall replied. “I want to hear what is going on inside Jack Helms’s family.”

  Grady protested, “How can you besmirch my client’s good name when he’s not here to defend himself?”

  The man would not back down. “Because he called this meeting. And I, for one, want answers.”

  Beth sat up straighter. “Might I have a word?”

  “Go ahead, Beth,” Ross said.

  Beth said, “I left my husband this week.”

  One of the elders moaned, “Oh, Beth.”

  “I hope and pray this separation is temporary. I took this step because Jack needs to change course. I have spent years being the peacemaker, a task I actually enjoyed in some respects. But it has allowed Jack to move farther down a road that I want him to turn away from.” Beth paused and took a long breath. She then spoke to her hands folded upon the table. “I love my husband dearly. Despite all his faults. And foremost among them is, Jack Helms has become a bully.”

  When Grady started to object, Ross halted him with a warning finger. “You will let her speak and you will not interrupt.”

  “Jack has forced all of his children to leave him. Sylvie is in Vancouver and hasn’t been home in eight years,” Beth went on. “Carey, well, I’ll let her speak for herself if she wants.”

  “I don’t,” Carey said. “Except to say that it’s true.”

  “Buddy is the last to leave. He clung on longer than I thought possible, given the way Jack has treated him. But he left, and as he said, his departure threatens the company’s future.”

  “That is not true,” Grady protested.

  “Quiet, you. Go on, Beth.”

  “No, wait a moment, please.” The man by the back wall stepped to where he dominated that side of the table. “I’m still not clear on why Jack went after the church’s new therapists.”

  “Because we have entered counseling,” Beth replied.

  “What, all of you?”

  “That is correct. Carey and I are seeing Kimberly. Buddy is meeting with Preston. It is something I would rather not discuss, but the simple fact is, we are all carrying our burdens from life with Jack Helms, and we need help. And these two fine people are giving us what we need. And Jack is going after them for the simple reason that he can. Because you are allowing it.”

  The woman protested, “I, for one, am most certainly not here because of Jack!”

  “No. And you have every right to disapprove. But you would not be going against a majority of the church membership if it were not for my husband. And if you let him win here today, two innocent people, who are already a vital component of this community, will suffer. Undeservedly so.”

  Ross called for a vote, and by a slim majority the two of them kept their jobs. Preston clearly found no satisfaction in the result. He was the first to depart, trailing smoke and cinders behind him. Kimberly held back because she intended to thank Buddy and his mother. Which meant she was there to see Buddy walk over to Grady and say, “I want you to pass on something to my father.”

  Grady blustered, “My duties hardly include playing messenger boy. Tell him yourself.”

  “Jack’s gone too far this time. It’s one thing for him to attack me. He’s been doing it for years. But this time he’s stepped over the boundary. He’s trying to harm two people who made the mistake of doing the right thing by me and my family. He won’t get away with it.”

  The two men were locked in a generational struggle, which meant they missed how the entire room held its breath. Even the conservative guard remained seated at the table’s other end. They all realized something major was taking place.

  Beth said softly, “Buddy . . .”

  “Tell my father he is going to get the fight he’s asking for,” Buddy went on. He lowered his face, down to where the menace caused the attorney to cringe away. “And he’s going to get the results he deserves.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Buddy paced back and forth across Preston’s office because he had to. He was filled with jagged emotions that shredded each breath and kept him from sitting down. He knew he was aping his father’s actions, and knew also there was nothing he could do about it. Preston sat behind his desk, waiting. Buddy said, “I’m so sorry this happened.”

  “So am I.” A residual from the morning’s emotions still grated in Preston’s voice. “But we’re not here to talk about that. We’re here to discuss you and your situation. So apology accepted. Now let’s move on.”

  But the problem was, Buddy couldn’t. It was one thing to step away from his father’s grip. It was another thing entirely to defy him. The trail of Buddy’s years was littered with the corpses of people who had thought they could go up against Jack Helms. But it was more than simple fear. “It has to be done.”

  “What does?”

  Buddy did not respond. The words that emerged were only the trailing edge of the argument raging within.

  “Buddy. Look at me.”

  He glanced over on his next circuit of the carpet.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I need to stop him.”

  “Jack Helms. Your father.”

  “That’s right. Soon as I figure out how.”

  “Why is that, Buddy? Why do you need to defeat your father?”

  “You know why. You just saw why. He’s a menace.”

  “A menace to whom?”

  Buddy saw a hint of something behind the questions. He had no idea what it was. Even so, the hidden meaning resonated enough to slow him down.

  “Who is it that is threatened, Buddy?”

  “Me, for certain.”

  “But he’s threatened you for years. Why are you going after him now?”

  Buddy looked over a second time. “He didn’t just threaten. He attacked me.”

  “That’s right, he did.” The act of counseling returned Preston to an alert calm. “But what else is different this time?”

  Buddy decided he had to sit down for whatever came next.

  “He attacked people you care about. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “He has come after your team. Remember what we said about that last time? Who is your team, Buddy?”

  He opened his mouth, shut it, and finally came up with, “People I care about.”

  “Who else?”

  There was no reason why the realization should emerge like a confession. “People who trust me.”

  Preston smiled. Back in his element now. The piercing clarity of a man doing what he was born and trained to do. Finding wisdom in the storm of life. “People who bind themselves to you by choice. Isn’t that right?”

  No reason why it should leave him raw. No reason at all. “Yes.”

  “The last time we met, I said I thought you should hear some truths that normally require a great deal of time to emerge. I’m going to continue in that same vein. This admission of yours is important for two reasons. First, because very often in situations where young people face trauma, they carry with them a burden of guilt. As though they somehow deserved their fate.” Preston leaned his elbows on the table. “So I want you to ask yourself, how many people in Jack Helms’s orbit are there because they trust him, because they want to place their lives in his hands?”
>
  “None. Zip.”

  “Precisely. I want you to think on that between now and the next time we meet. Will you do that?”

  “All right, yes.”

  “Fine.” Preston leaned back and swiveled his chair around. Aiming his words at the sidewall. Freeing Buddy from the force of his gaze. “So let’s move on. What do you think this has to say about your five-year goals?”

  “I don’t . . .”

  “You feel so tied to people that share with you the gift of trust that you are going against a lifetime’s habit of avoiding conflict with your father. So this is important to you. Vital, even. How can you state this in terms of your goals, of where you want to be in five years?”

  The answer was there before Preston completed his sentence. He extracted the creased paper from his pocket. When he looked up, Preston still examined some point on his sidewall. Giving him space. Letting him define the moment. “I want to deserve their trust.”

  “But aren’t you already doing that? Don’t they follow you now, even when it is dangerous for them to do so?” Preston glanced over. “Go back to the original question. Who is your team?”

  “I don’t . . . You’re saying I need to expand my team.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  Buddy did not reply.

  “Right now, you’re limiting your team to people who trust you. Who come to you. What about people you need to trust? Are they included in your team?”

  It was his turn to nod slowly. “I have trouble with that. Trusting people.”

  “So now we’re talking about another five-year goal, wouldn’t you say?”

  His mind returned to the beautiful eyes that had captured him the night before. He could not remember exactly what Kimberly had said. But he could hear her voice. A hymn of hope and days yet undefined.

  Buddy bent over his page and wrote not one new goal, but two. The first, however, was the only one he said aloud. “To learn to trust, and to learn to identify those I should trust.”

  “And be willing to make mistakes in the meantime,” Preston said, just as the clock chimed. “Time’s up for today.”