A Knight to Remember

by Yvonne Lehman

  “The church has offered to help me stay in the apartment until we see how things go with Caleb. But. . .” Heather hesitated. “That’s charity.”

  Gloria didn’t know how she could say things to others that she didn’t apply to her own life. But she knew the right words. “That’s faith, hope, and charity, Heather. Charity is love.” She felt very much like a hypocrite.

  Gloria didn’t know enough about Caleb or the situation. Even if she did, only Heather should make such life-changing decisions. Gloria’s own decisions obviously hadn’t been too sound at times. Fortunately, she had the presence of mind to say, “Let me get back to you. I will pray and think about it.”

  “Thanks.” Heather breathed a sigh of relief and some of the distress left her face. “I admire the way you just pitch in and help at the shelter. Caleb thought the world of you. And you have a lot of faith.”

  Gloria tried not to act surprised. Heather was seeking her advice. She didn’t want to mess this up, too. “Well, sometimes it’s the grain-of-mustard-seed kind.”

  Heather nodded as if she understood that perfectly. “Well, you know a lot about the Bible.” She looked down at her hands on her lap. “I wasn’t raised in the church.”

  “You’re doing the right things in attending Bible studies and coming to the single’s class. By the way,” she said as a thought flew into her mind, “why do you come to the single’s class?”

  Heather returned her hands to the chain holding the swing and used her feet to sway gently back and forth. “When Caleb was away, I didn’t feel comfortable in the couples’ class. I’d see the husbands and wives together, and I’d start missing Caleb instead of keeping my mind on the lesson. My thoughts were negative, and I’d get scared, too, wondering if he’d make it back to us.” She sighed and stopped her movement. “A couple of the women and I exchanged babysitting, but their reason was usually so the couples could go out together. I couldn’t tag along with a couple to go see a movie, but had to find a single girl.”

  A sound, as if she were embarrassed, slipped from her throat as she rubbed her hands together. “I’ve even gone to a movie with—with Marge.”

  Gloria couldn’t help but emit a small laugh. “Now that sounds like a great idea. If anyone is young inside, it’s Marge.”

  Heather laughed. “You’re right. Hey, maybe the three of us could go to a movie together.”

  “Sure, why not?” Gloria pasted on a smile. What was she getting herself into? She needed to find a job. Then she had another idea. “Aunt Clara has been wanting another volunteer to help in Vacation Bible School, teaching the ten- to twelve-year-olds. Now that’s where you can learn a lot about the Bible. I learned more from the lessons planned for that age than any other time. Help me teach.”

  “I always wanted to teach.” She sighed into the night that had grown darker. Shadows crept across the playground. A dog barked. One car drove into the neighborhood beyond them. There was the sound of distant traffic, but for the most part it was a quiet, peaceful evening. “But I left college after two years to get married before Caleb went off to boot camp. Later on, I was pregnant. Even later, he was sent to the Middle East. . . .” She lifted her hands as if that were an end to everything.

  “There’s still time. You’re younger than I am.”

  She shrugged. “Not by much. And like you indicated, Marge might be younger than either of us.”

  Gloria agreed, and a gust of wind sent a shiver through her body.

  Heather stood. “We’d better get back. That video has probably been played several times by now.” She looked down at Gloria. “Thank you for taking time to talk to me. That helps so much. And I think you gave me the answer.”

  “I did?” Gloria stood and flexed her fingers, which she’d wrapped too tightly around the chain. “What was it?”

  Heather laughed lightly. “Well, if you’re serious about me helping in Bible school, I can’t very well go to my parents. They live in another state.”

  “Oh well. I meant if you stay here.”

  Heather nodded. “I know. And I know you’re right in saying you need to pray and think. I guess I do, too. Your listening to me means so much. There aren’t many people I can open up to.”

  Later that night, Gloria lay in bed thinking about Heather’s words. How could she have given the impression she knew anything when her own life was such a mess? She would pray, for all of them. But her prayers seemed to have become more a pleading, or a hope instead of anticipation of a good response.

  One of the options Heather spoke about was taking Bobby and living in a homeless shelter. Gloria could identify with Heather’s situation. Of course Gloria could be glad she didn’t have a child to take care of. But she knew the embarrassment of being a grown woman yet having to depend on someone else for your basic needs. Heather must feel abandoned, after having waited all those months for her husband to return.

  Gloria had felt homeless many times through the years when separated from her parents. No matter how much you loved them or how grateful you were to be living with your relatives, it didn’t mean you weren’t. . .homeless.

  She wished that mystery man she’d found down by the creek, whoever he was, hadn’t asked if she were homeless.

  seven

  “Could you give me a little information about the center?” Thomas asked.

  Jim obliged. “It’s for men only, and they live here until they find a job or leave by their own volition, or need a different kind of facility. This is a permanent home for a few of them. It’s sponsored mainly by this church. But other churches, individuals, and businesses donate.”

  “If you allow me to use that empty bed, I’ll be glad to work for it.”

  Jim’s smile dented his cheeks with character lines. “You don’t have to work to stay in the shelter. It’s free. But we expect a man who is able to go out and try to find work. Or to take classes that give them a skill.” He paused, and his intense eyes studied Thomas for a long moment. “First the interrogation.”

  Thomas tried to control the grin that threatened to come onto his face. This would be Jim’s way of discovering by a man’s reaction if he’d recently walked out of jail or prison. The center was a home as well as a shelter, not just a place where one came for a meal or one night’s lodging.

  Thomas nodded, as if to say go ahead.

  After Jim’s intense look, he smiled. “Normally, there’s a questionnaire to fill out at the center. Nothing too personal. We don’t ask a lot of questions here, but I do ask if you want to tell me anything about your situation, other than just facts. We know the basic physical needs.”

  “I understand. I’ve stayed in shelters before. I’ve been away for three years. But I grew up around here. And I’ve come back. I hope to stay.”

  “So you need a place to stay while you’re looking for a job,” Jim said instead of asking.

  Thomas thought he could tell this man more than he could tell James, but was there really a reason? Maybe later on. But he didn’t want to lie. And he didn’t really need anything this man had to offer. He just wanted it.

  “Like I said, I’ve returned after being away for a while. I’m strong, healthy, and willing to do any job that needs doing for a bed in the shelter.”

  “You’re a handyman?”

  Thomas grimaced. Might as well be honest right up front about something that could easily turn obvious. “Probably not as handy as most of the residents. But I know how to ask others to give me a hand when something is broken or stops up or drips. In college I was good with computers, but I’m sure technology has changed a lot in three years. I can’t do intricate things. Never put a roof on but could if someone showed me how. I’ve taken a few culinary courses, got lessons from the best cook anywhere. Have a degree in business ed but haven’t used it.” He didn’t think it would mean anything to say he’d minored in art and spent a summer in Paris. “I can sing a little.”

  Jim laughed. “Now the singing we could use. Most of the time, the men
have to put up with mine.”

  That intrigued Thomas. He nodded. “You sound like you’d be a baritone.”

  Jim shrugged. “Whatever the note requires and a few not required. Maybe some that should be banned.”

  Thomas liked the way the man’s eyes danced. Since he admitted to music he’d probably be receptive to other arts. He could share a little with this man. “I’m basically a painter—”

  He stopped when Jim started laughing. Jim apologized. “Sorry.”

  Thomas felt heat in his face. “That’s okay. I know I sound boastful or delusional.”

  “To say the least.”

  Thomas grinned. “I could take that broom and sweep out the rest of this room.”

  “Just this section here, near the kitchen.” Jim kept his hand on the broom handle as he glanced around the walls. “The church is sponsoring a job fair later this summer. This room we call a fellowship hall and basketball court could use a touch-up in spots. Spruce it up a little. Our kitchen at the shelter could use a fresh coat of paint, too. You did say you paint?”

  Thomas opened his mouth to say that’s not the kind of painting he meant. But he slowly closed it. Surely he could paint walls a solid color, although he’d probably do a better job painting a mural.

  Thomas listened to Jim telling him the rules. Be in by 6:00 p.m. unless there’s a good reason documented or permission given. In rooms by ten o’clock and doors locked. “We provide three meals a day for our residents and sometimes other homeless or needy come in for a meal.”

  There were different kinds of shelters and homes with different rules. One thing remained the same. The people in charge and volunteers cared deeply about their brothers in need.

  All the while, Thomas made mental sketches. Mainly his mind took in this man, sitting in a church basement after dark in a folding chair with a broom against his leg, talking to another man about helping him out. This elderly man with thick, peppered-white hair, a large nose, rugged skin like he spent a lot of time in the sun, bushy eyebrows, a furrowed brow, creases at the corners and beneath his eyes. Kind, cool gray-blue eyes. Inquisitive eyes. Intelligent eyes. Eyelids slightly droopy with the sagging skin of old age or the fatigue of helping others all day. He knew this kind of man. He respected this kind of person.

  Thomas mentally photographed the man’s face. A face, not so much of age but of character. Some men grew old. Some revealed character. That face would end up in his sketch pad, along with a written description, before the night ended if Thomas got the chance.

  He realized Jim stopped talking and still seemed to be sizing him up. Perhaps Jim’s wisdom revealed a spiritual discernment or came from years of observing the needy. And he’d have to be alert for the mentally ill, too. If Jim knew what he was really doing, he would probably be like James and think he didn’t have all his mental marbles in place.

  Jim leaned toward him. “You mentioned culinary courses.” His eyes brightened. “We could use a cook. My niece helps since my wife broke a bone in her foot, but to tell the truth she can’t cook worth a doodle. ’Course, anybody can open up a store-bought can, and the hungry appreciate it. But my wife and me, the church members, and the community like to think a homeless down-on-his-luck kind of person deserves as good a meal as a wealthy person.”

  “My sentiments exactly,” Thomas said.

  Jim held out the broom. “Okay. You can start sweeping, then we’ll go find that bed.”

  While Thomas swept the floor, his mind focused mainly on the cooking. He’d love to get back into the kitchen. But Jim mentioned his niece. That could present a problem. A man might be king of his castle, but he had learned from his grandmother that a woman was queen of her kitchen.

  Even if it was in a homeless shelter, Jim’s niece was likely a middle-aged woman who might not take kindly to a man telling her how to run her kitchen.

  eight

  Although Gloria and Jim were running later than usual, Clara insisted they eat because she wanted their opinion on her Southern cream biscuits.

  “Sounds yummy,” Jim said. “Like everything you make.”

  Jim looked at Clara with love in his eyes that made Gloria wonder if Raymond had ever looked at her that way. No, she didn’t think so. But maybe that’s because, contrary to her expectations, she and Raymond hadn’t had a lifetime together. Anyway, she was glad Clara liked the little countertop recipe book Gloria had gotten from the bookstore where she’d worked and brought with her when she moved in. That was the least she could do, knowing Clara loved cooking.

  After the yummy breakfast, she and Jim walked the few blocks from the house, past the church parking lot, and toward the center. She wondered at his sudden faraway expression and looked ahead, following his gaze. The big cherry tree at the right side of the church had more pink blossoms than yesterday. She could readily see why anyone would be enthralled by the tree’s perfect silhouette against the clear blue sky.

  “I need a picture of that.” She took the camera from her tote, used the zoom control, and snapped several pictures, then showed them to Jim.

  “You’re amazing.”

  “The camera does it.”

  “Not without your hands and eyes, it doesn’t.”

  Ever since Jim had seen her take pictures with her phone and asked about it, she admitted photography was a hobby. He said she might take pictures of those who applied at the shelter and at some of the special events. He said his hand shook a little and sometimes he left off the tops of heads and you wouldn’t know if the person was bald or had a full head of hair.

  She returned the camera to her tote. “You might not remember this, Uncle Jim, but you and Aunt Clara gave me a camera for Christmas when I was ten.” She saw a spark light up his eyes. “It’s been a hobby ever since.”

  “I do remember seeing you with a camera through the years. But frankly”—he ducked his head and looked sheepish—“I don’t remember it being a present. Clara did most of the buying for you and Jenny.”

  “Don’t feel bad,” she said, “that was the year the presents were mailed because you had the flu. I was so scared and prayed for you all the time and thought if I took pictures that would make God see I meant every prayer.”

  He nodded. “So that’s what made me better. And that’s why you’re here now taking pictures of people at the shelter.”

  Gloria laughed. “You have a way of putting things, Uncle Jim.”

  He nodded again. “I’m joking in a way. But in another way, I believe when we love the Lord and try to do His work, everything in our life happens for a reason. There are no coincidences.”

  She knew her glance at him was as skeptical as her thoughts. “So the reason Aunt Clara picked out that camera fifteen years ago is so I could take head shots of homeless people in a shelter.”

  She said it as if it were true instead of a question. She shook her head but smiled at him, not wanting him to think she was criticizing him. In the back of her mind, she doubted coincidence put her here. Losing her job and boyfriend is what did it. She’d already heard about some of the coincidences that brought men to Wildwood.

  Jim’s thumb and forefinger played with his chin in that familiar way of his, as if anticipating what went on in her mind. “People end up at shelters for many reasons, and all that can be debated and discussed,” he said. “But the important thing is whether a person lets it defeat them or looks for the blessings.”

  Blessings?

  She didn’t see how her situation could be a blessing. Oh, being with Clara and Jim was wonderful. But she was in her midtwenties, single, and unemployed. She hadn’t deliberately made a bad choice, except. . .throwing a fit and quitting her job on the spot. That wasn’t a decision, however, just an emotional reaction.

  She needed to get her focus off herself and focus on that perfect picture of an ideal little church, now a shelter, ahead of her. When she’d come here last month, snow covered the ground. Now bushes burst with new growth and flower beds shouted spring with early bl
ooms. Grass gave the yard a green blanket. The steeple still dominated the ridge of the roof, pointing to the heavens.

  Jim stood aside while she snapped pictures. He used to preach to congregations about how to live for the Lord. Now he showed others every day how to be a servant for the Lord.

  Seeing he had gone over to the wooden glider beneath a shade tree, she followed and sat beside him, making sure the tote holding her camera lay secure beside her.

  He pushed with his feet. The glider swung gently in tune with the music of the morning, his gaze taking in the beauty of the setting bathed in early morning sunshine. After a moment, he mused, “The perfect place for one to find shelter.”

  She could agree with that. “How do they know to come here?”

  When he didn’t answer immediately, she thought he was more in tune with the setting than her words. After a moment he began to sing, “Go tell it on the mountain.”

  Okaaaaay. She knew part of the answer. Some were church members who had fallen on hard times. A car wreck had left one man unable to think clearly enough to work, but he was slowly improving. Caleb had difficulty adjusting to life after war and turned to alcohol, which his wife refused to deal with. At first she’d thought all the residents were church members or local people. She later discovered they were not. Some came from DC, and some wandered there from other places.

  After a moment, Jim quit singing. “Hon,” he said, “your question gave me the theme for my next Bible class. Not just for the men here, but for the church.” He nodded. “Go tell it on the mountain.”

  Gloria spread her hands, indicating the setting. “Are you trying to say I should return to the Shenandoah Mountains and tell how pretty it is here?”

  He chuckled. “The key words are go tell it.”

  She shrugged slightly, and he grinned. “Word gets around,” Jim said. “One homeless person tells another about places where they might go. They share the information.”