by Tamara Leigh
“Ah! Giving Gloria last-minute tips on tonight’s jamboree. That’s nice.” I park my bike alongside his motorcycle and move toward the porch with its rustic timbers and handmade, slat-seat rocking chairs. “You are still planning on coming, aren’t you?”
Helmet in hand, he meets me halfway. “I’ll be here.”
Just as it strikes me that his smile is forced, he lowers his head and touches his mouth to mine.
Rather fond of those smiles-turned-kisses, I step nearer to prolong the contact, and he deepens the kiss.
Still, it’s over too soon. “Wow.” I wrinkle my nose. “That wasn’t standard fare.”
“Couldn’t resist.”
I grin. “I do believe, Maddox McCray, that you like me more than a little.”
“You know I do. What about you? Do you like me more than a little?”
Unlike my tone, his is far from light, with an intensity that once more rouses unease. Is he considering taking our relationship to the next level? I think back to the night of the Quilt Till You Wilt/Crop Till You Drop event, when he suggested he might be the man God intended for me. Then he kissed me.
Is he the one? As much as I long to believe it, I’m not ready. And yet… “Yes.” I nod. “I like you more than a little.”
He draws a hand down the curve of my face. “And you trust me?”
“You know I do. But why—”
“Don’t stop.” He kisses me again, then fits the helmet on his head. “I’ll see you tonight.” A few moments later, he accelerates out of the parking lot at a speed that would send excitement coursing through me were my arms around his waist.
Lord, no more cigarettes, tattoos, or wild nights, but surely You don’t mind an occasional motorcycle ride?
Beginning to buzz with anticipation, I decide that, following the jamboree, I’ll ask Maddox to take me for a short spin.
Upon entering the café, I hear voices in the kitchen and head for it; however, Gloria and Ruby’s discussion ends the moment I enter, and both women turn around with wide eyes.
I frown. “What?”
Ruby bursts into a smile. “You don’t look as nervous as we feel.”
Averting her gaze, Gloria touches her brow. “This is all a bit much, isn’t it?”
I don’t know that I’ve ever seen her so frazzled. I cross to her and drop an arm across her shoulders. “I think it’ll be great, but if it isn’t a good fit, we go back to same-old, same-old. Just the way our customers like it.”
“That’s right.” Gloria bestows a quick hug. “Lots to do!” She hastens from the kitchen.
I smile at Ruby. “What do you think?”
The big woman sighs. “I’m just praying that it all turns out okay.”
Some kinks to be worked out, but the jamboree is a success. Though organized with the older folks in mind, several young and middle-aged couples are in attendance, including Chip and Vi Gairdt, and Pastor Paul and Leah. Provided the novelty doesn’t wear off, I’d be a fool not to continue what Gloria put in place at Maddox’s urging.
I sigh. He really does know what he’s all about. Now the only question is, where is he? I look over the heads of Lum and Elva, Bea and Jack, Pam and Ross, and a dozen other couples who are availing themselves of the expertise offered by the dance instructor. No Maddox, even though we’re nearly two hours into the three-hour event.
Lisa sidles alongside. “Wonder what’s keeping him?”
I shrug. “Maybe he got stuck in a vision team meeting.”
“Yeah.” She glances over her shoulder. “Do you know what’s up with Gloria? I know this is new for her, but she seems off.”
I zero in on the older woman as she heads for the kitchen. “I’ve tried to talk to her, but I can’t get her to stand still long enough.”
“Well, now’s your chance.” Lisa nudges me.
I look around the dining room. With the exception of desserts and coffee, the buffet tables have been cleared. “All right.”
But Gloria and Ruby aren’t in the kitchen. However, before I can turn back, their voices drift through the open doorway that leads out back.
“But if you’re wanting to retire, Gloria,” Harriet says, “why not sell the café to First Grace?”
I halt in the middle of the kitchen and stare at the shadows that the porch light throws across the patio. Three of them.
“Because…”
“Go on, tell her,” Ruby prompts.
Gloria sighs. “This stays between us, Harriet.”
“All right.”
“I can’t sell the café to First Grace because I’ve agreed to sell it to Harri.”
A long silence descends that I feel like a cold wind.
Harriet’s shadow shakes its head. “Sell the café to Harri? Since when?”
“We’ve been talking about it for years, and she’s been saving her money. She didn’t want anyone to know. Afraid it wouldn’t happen, I suppose—that she’d fail. But she didn’t, and so at the beginning of the year, the café is hers.”
Harriet’s shadow drops its head into a hand. “Lord, what are we to do? First Grace needs this land or…”
Or what? And what does First Grace need the land for? But that’s a foolish question. They want it for expansion.
“But surely they won’t do away with the mobile home park,” Gloria implores.
I grasp the nearest counter. Gloria’s wrong. If not the café’s land, then the park’s, which was originally purchased with expansion in mind. Were it not for the near split years ago, which caused membership to fall off, the eyesore would have been mowed down. Instead, it was transformed into a senior community that has not only been the home of many of our older folks, but also generated a decent income for the church. But if Pastor Paul has his way—and Maddox—that’s about to change.
My breath catches at the realization that this is the reason Maddox was interested in Gloria’s retirement. And it explains his strange behavior this afternoon when he asked that I not stop trusting him, as well as Gloria and Ruby’s behavior.
Voice warbling, Harriet says, “I don’t see that they have any choice, Gloria. If you have an agreement with Harri, there’s nowhere else to go but the park.”
“Oh dear.” Gloria’s voice is tense. “Harri’s going to take this hard.”
Yes, she is. Or, more accurately, she isn’t going to take it. This time, they’ve gone too far. The cutback from weekly communion to monthly. Very well. The shift from traditional to contemporary service. If they must. The addition of a second service. All right. The expansion into the mobile home park. Not all right.
“Yes, she is.” Harriet’s shadow is still. “Especially under the circumstances.”
I hear someone enter the kitchen. Guessing it’s Lisa, I don’t move. Not that I could if I wanted to.
Ruby’s hulking shadow presses its shoulders back. “How soon before they close down the park, Harriet?”
The smaller shadow turns its palms up. “A year, perhaps longer. Before they can break ground, they’ll want to have the building campaign up and running.”
“What about the residents?” Gloria asks. “Where will you all go?”
Harriet clears her throat. “First Grace will make arrangements.”
“Harri?”
I don’t jump when Maddox’s soft, rumbly voice invades my personal space. I’m perfectly still—at least until his hand touches my shoulder. I spin around. “Trust? You?!”
He lowers his arm. “I was going to tell you.”
“Harri!” Gloria shrills. “What are you doing in here? And Maddox?”
I look over my shoulder at where she stands with a hand on the door frame, her face pale beneath the fringe of silver hair. Behind her are Harriet and Ruby, eyes wide.
“What am I doing here? Witnessing the beginning of the end of First Grace as we know it.” I swing back to Maddox, whose nose is longer than I remember, eyes so dark as to appear sinister, and that hair… It would be forgivable to mistake the two cur
ls on his brow for horns.
“Harri—”
“No, Maddox. I don’t need you to explain. I know what’s going on.”
“You don’t.” He lays a hand on my arm, but I pull free.
“Oh dear.” The Katharine Hepburn warble is even more pronounced.
I remove my apron, drop it to the counter, and sidestep Maddox. I long for him to allow me to escape someplace where I can think this through, but he follows.
As I walk from the kitchen into the dining room, I feel the interest stirred by my appearance and Maddox’s. I don’t stop, even though I know I should attempt a smile for the older folks. But then I might cry and make things worse. If that’s possible.
I slap a hand to the front door and march out into the warm night that lingers over the last weeks of August. As I step from the porch, Maddox’s hand closes around my arm.
“We need to talk, Harri.”
Think Scripture! What does the Bible say about anger? “Be slow to—”
No. Too late.
How about, “A fool is hotheaded and reckless. A quick-tempered man… woman… whatever!… does foolish things.”
Maddox moves in front of me.
I snap my chin up. “Do you mind? I happen to be in the middle of searching for the right Scripture to deal with all this.”
He studies my face until the door at my back whispers open. “Let’s go someplace where we can talk.”
“I don’t want to talk, and certainly not to you.” I look over my shoulder to find Pastor Paul standing behind me. “Or you.”
He pushes his hands into his pockets, obviously deferring to Maddox’s powers of persuasion.
“Harri, I need you to understand what we’re trying to do—for everyone.”
“Everyone?”
He releases my arm. “You have no idea how much time has gone into finding a way around the problem of future expansion, a way to keep the park.”
I stamp my foot. “What about dual services?”
“It’s good for a year, perhaps two if we move to three services, but eventually a new sanctuary will have to be built.”
“What happened to plans to enlarge the existing sanctuary?”
“Initially, that seemed the best solution, and it may still be. But were we simply to enlarge the sanctuary, that would not only eat up a large portion of the existing parking, but First Grace’s greater capacity would require more parking. So it was proposed that we offer on Gloria’s property and expand in this direction. Unfortunately, though you mentioned she’s talking retirement, when I approached her this afternoon, she told me she isn’t interested in selling to us. I asked her to take some time to think it over, but she said she has no intention of changing her mind.”
Confirmation that she didn’t tell him the reason—me.
“That leaves us with the mobile home park. Despite it being a less costly option, since the land was purchased when it was inexpensive, First Grace was willing to pay a premium for Gloria’s property to keep the senior citizens in their homes.”
A premium. More than what Gloria and I agreed upon? Likely, as her price to me was set years ago. And still she said no, even though it must have thrown her into turmoil knowing that, by honoring our agreement, she’d be displacing those who frequent her café.
“I’m sorry, Harri, but if our projections hold—”
“If they hold? Then you could be wrong. Maybe First Grace is fine just the way it is. Maybe dual services is enough.”
“No.”
“Then three services.”
“Not likely. Development in this area is booming, with hundreds of new families moving in every month, and a good number are looking for a church home.”
I press my shoulders back. “We’re not the only church in town. There are plenty of others.”
“Yes, but despite First Grace being at the outer fringe of the development, it’s getting more than its share of new families.”
“That could change.”
Maddox draws a sharp breath. “You’re splitting hairs, Harriet.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “At least I’m not the one splitting up the church.”
If I’d thought Maddox’s eyes couldn’t darken further, I was wrong. “There isn’t going to be a split. Sometime in the next two years, the mobile home park will be closed and arrangements made to assure that, regardless of where the residents relocate, they continue to have easy access to First Grace.”
And that’s that. I grasp at Scripture to douse my resentment.
“Be slow to become angry, for man’s anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires.”
Slow? I’m way past slow.
“A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.”
Gentle? Yeah. Right.
“A fool gives full vent to his anger, but a wise man keeps himself under control.”
I never claimed to be wise.
“Harri?”
I narrow my eyes. “You can’t do this. The park is their home. It’s where they’ve chosen to live out the rest of their lives. Now you’re going to snatch it away?”
His hands clench at his sides. “We’ll help them relocate—”
“That is not acceptable.” I whip my head around to meet Pastor Paul’s weary gaze. “Whatever it takes, I will not abandon my family as First Grace is so willing to abandon them.”
“Whatever it takes?” Maddox’s voice is rock hard.
I look back at him. “Whatever… it… takes.”
“No, Bea.” The creaky voice that drifts across the porch has us peering into the far shadows where two figures rise from rocking chairs.
Above my groan, I catch Maddox’s borderline expletive. It couldn’t have gotten worse, but it did. Within the next hour, every resident will hear of the plans to erase the park. Had I allowed Maddox to take me elsewhere, this could have been avoided. Or at least delayed.
Told you that a fool gives full vent to his anger. Fool!
“So that’s the way it is, hmm?” Bea approaches Pastor Paul with Jack on her heels. “Gonna give us old folks the boot.”
“Now, Bea…” Jack lays a hand on her arm.
“Don’t ‘Now, Bea’ me, Jack Butterby. They’re gonna take our homes, and all so they can turn our First Grace into a mega monstrosity.”
“Bea…” Pastor Paul touches her rounded shoulder. Brave man. “When the time comes, we’ll do our best to make the transition easy for the residents and will bear the expense to move the mobile homes to other parks.”
She jerks her shoulder free. “My last years with Edward were spent in that park.”
Pastor Paul momentarily closes his eyes. “I know you’re upset. All I ask is that you and Jack and Harri not go sounding alarms before we talk some more with Gloria. She might still be convinced to sell.”
No, she won’t. Because of Harri’s dream…
“Let me drive you home, Bea,” Jack entreats.
Face brightly splotched in the light from the porch, Bea pulls shallow breaths as if about to explode. Thus, I’m surprised when her shoulders sink and chin drops. A few moments later, Jack leads her from the porch.
As they draw alongside me, she clutches my arm. “Don’t let them do it, Harri.” Her voice is hoarse, eyes large and pleading.
I fumble a hand atop hers. “I won’t.” How shallow is that? There’s only one way to stop them, and that means sacrifice. A sacrifice I can’t possibly make.
Bea releases me, and Jack urges her toward his car.
I stare at the ground. I need to be alone. Sidestepping Maddox, I cross to my bike.
“Harri?” As I throw a leg over, Maddox takes hold of the handlebars. “I know you’re upset, and I understand. However, this is not insurmountable. It’s…”
“Bad timing?” If my smile looks as bitter as it feels, he won’t be kissing me anytime soon. Which is the way I want it. And from his hardening expression, the way he wants it. But to be certain there’s no
misunderstanding, I add, “It was never bad timing, Maddox. It was…” I draw a breath. “… a bad idea all around.”
And that’s all it takes. He releases the handlebars, steps back, and lets me pedal away. Just. Like. That.
Harri’s Log: • ? days until the next The Coroner rerun? Don’t care.
• ? days until Jelly Belly replenishment? Don’t care.
• ? days until completion of Bible #8—Simply don’t care.
• 151 days until the café changes hands…
A hangover. And not just any hangover. A Jelly Belly/crying-fit hangover. Of course, the lack of oxygen is probably contributing to the throb behind my eyes. I really ought to come up for air. But I like it under here. It’s warm and dark, and the stuffing does a fairly decent job of muffling the phone’s ring. Not to mention the doorbell. Speaking of which…
I clamp the pillow tighter against my head to drown out the cheery ding-dong. After giving it a few minutes to assure that whoever’s at the door goes away, I lift the pillow to peer at the clock. Seven thirty, meaning I’m a half hour late for work, meaning even if I drag myself out of bed, I’d be an hour late, meaning I probably should stay put. But I’m conflicted. Though Thursdays are slow at the café, in typical old Harri fashion, I’m letting people down—Gloria, Lisa, and the others. Not to mention the older folks who have been calling and knocking since fifteen minutes after I got home last night.
I groan. Must find a way to get through the day. Shoving the pillow aside, I do the army-man crawl—much to Dumplin’s dismay—to the mattress edge and slide to the floor onto my knees.
I clasp my hands against my forehead. “Lord, You know what the old folks need. You know what First Grace needs. You know what I need. And we can’t all have what we think we need. Help us.” Then I’m stumbling upright to survey last night’s damage. There’s the empty tissue box, crumpled tissues, and Jelly Belly container. Notably absent are the highlighter, sticky tabs, Bible, and a God’s Promises book. I just couldn’t.
Fifteen minutes later, having dressed and applied excessive makeup to conceal puffy eyes and ruddy cheeks, I check to confirm that no one’s lurking outside my mobile home. All clear. Rather than risk being spotted on Red Sea Lane, I put my mountain bike to good use and bounce across the field that backs up to the park. As I pass behind the church, heat begins to seep through my clothing. It may still be morning, but by mid-August it’s hot 24/7.