Just Past Oysterville: Shoalwater Book One

by Perry P. Perkins

  His voice a low growl, "I want--"

  Karl stepped into the doorway, his bulk effectively blocking any hope of entrance, and placed a meaty hand in the middle of the younger man's chest, easing him back onto the porch.

  "I didn't ask you what you wanted, son."

  Karl Ferguson's voice was hard as nails; unlike anything Jack had ever heard from him before. "What you're going to get," he continued, backing Bill up another step, "is a night in jail, if you try to walk into thishouse uninvited…and drunk."

  Bill stopped, blinking owlishly in confusion as the portly man took instant and unquestionable control of the moment. Thinking hard, swaying and covering Karl in bourbon fumes, Bill decided to try another tact. "Katie...honey, you in there?"

  Karl snorted. "C'mon Bill," he said, "of course she's in here, you just saw her walk through the door two minutes ago, didn't you? If you'd ask politely, you could be in here too."

  Bill thought about this, and then muttered, "'Kay, so can I come in?"

  "Are you going to be nice?"

  Another pause, "Yeah."

  “Okay," Karl stepped back out of the doorway, "but no trouble Bill, I mean it! I'll toss your rear right back out in the street and call Sheriff Bradley to haul you off, understood?"

  "Yeah."

  He stumbled through the door and, for an awful moment, Jack was sure that Bill was going face down onto the hardwood. The unsteady eyes caught Kathy's and seemed to soften a bit, as he glanced shamefully around the room. Then he saw Jack.

  Bill's face froze into a hard iron mask at the sight of his former friend. A hooded, dangerous look that Jack had never seen before fell over Bill's eyes as his lip curled into a snarl.

  "So," he slurred, taking a lurching step in Jack's direction, only to have Karl's fist clamp firmly onto his narrow bicep, "You like to buy fancy presents for my wife, huh?"

  "Be nice…" Karl murmured, his face impassive and unreadable.

  But, Bill was mad and here at last was the object of his anger, at least in his own besotted mind.

  "I'm being nice, lemme go!" he cried, never looking away from Jack. "I can buy my own wife presents, buddy boy!” He turned back toward Karl, his voice rising, "Maybe you should tell your youth pastor there to be nice! Tell him to keep his lousy hands to hisself, and off my wife! I seen 'em together…"

  Jack rose from the couch, his face flushing.

  "Now hang on!"

  Bill twisted, trying to free himself and lunge at Jack, his features contorted in a mask of drunken fury, "You tell 'em Jack, you just tell 'em what I saw!"

  Karl's free hand dropped to Bill's other bicep and, and he stood, an unmovable mountain of calm and, as he looked up at Jack, his voice was flat and emotionless.

  "Jack, I want you to go into the kitchen."

  Jack hesitated.

  "Right now, I mean it."

  Jack, stiff with anger, walked across the room and through the swinging wooden door, where he found both daughters’ husbands standing, waiting to burst into the living room if Bill got out of hand. Wordlessly they pushed him to the end of the line, making it clear that both agreed with Karl; Jack wasn't welcome or needed in this confrontation.

  From the living room, they heard a few more murmured words from both Bill and Karl, and then Jan went back to the table to reassure the children that everything was all right. After several moments, the front door opened and closed and they heard Karl flop into his chair with a heavy sigh.

  “Okay," he called wearily, "the show's over, you can all come in now."

  The three men hurried into the living room. Jack looked around quickly, realizing that Kathy was nowhere to be seen.

  "You didn't let her leave with him, did you?" he asked, aghast, not meaning to shout but doing so anyway.

  Karl stood up, frowning, and crossed the floor to face his assistant.

  "With her husband, you mean? Of course I did. I asked her if she wanted to stay and she said no. What did you want me to do, Jack, kidnap her?"

  The younger man said nothing, but stood fuming, knowing that Karl was right, but hating it all the same.

  Karl turned to the rest of his family, "You guys go ahead and finish dinner; Jack and I will be in the study.” With that, he turned and walked down the hallway, neither glancing back nor gesturing for Jack to follow.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Pastor Ferguson's study was the last small room at the end of the hall, chosen for the large picture window looking out onto the backyard, where Karl could watch his grandchildren at play while he worked. A floor-to-ceiling bookcase dominated the wall opposite the door, and a heavy oak desk sat in front of this, where the light of the morning sun would fall across his study area.

  The narrow strips of exposed shelves in front of each row of books were taken up with all types of knickknacks and mementoes from a lifetime of ministry. Mostly these were figurines of preachers, ranging from an exquisitely painted porcelain Dutch minister in wooden shoes, to an African pastor forged in bronze. The three remaining walls were covered with pictures of Karl's children, grandchildren, and members of the congregation. Jack noticed little of this as his employer eased his girth behind the desk and gestured for Jack to close the door and sit, which he did.

  Karl removed his glasses with a sigh, wiping them with a tissue and rubbing the bridge of his nose. He looked up at Jack with an expression of mixed sadness and resolve. A much-used study Bible lay on the desk before him and he flipped though this until he found the page he was looking for, and then spoke.

  “Okay Jack," he said, "I'm only going to ask this once, and I'm not going to apologize for it, because it's my job. Have you had any inappropriate contact or conversation with Kathy Beckman?"

  Jack felt his entire frame shaking, and struggled to steady his voice as he answered. "No, never."

  Karl sighed again. "If it makes you feel any better, I was pretty certain of that, but the Word is clear on how this type of thing is handled, and I won’t make any exceptions, not even for you, Jack."

  "I know."

  "Good," he said, "and I believe you, but I'm still going to read this passage so we're completely clear on the subject." Karl slipped his glasses back on and peered at the page before him, finding the verse.

  "Those who sin are to be rebuked publicly," he quoted, "so that the others may take warning. I charge you, in the sight of God and Christ Jesus and the elect angels, to keep these instructions without partiality, and to do nothing out of favoritism. That’s First Timothy chapter five, verse twenty-one." Pastor Ferguson finished.

  "I'm familiar with it," Jack said. "It was a popular verse in Bible College."

  Pastor Ferguson’s lip quirked upward. "I would imagine so," he said, "now, let's figure this mess out. Tell me why youthink that Bill said what he said? Besides the fact that he was about three sheets to the wind."

  Jack took a deep breath and told Karl exactly what had happened the night of the youth group meeting, in the hallway of the church. Karl nodded and then shook his head.

  "I'm not going to coddle you Jack,” he warned, “I hope that you don't expect me to. If you want to be a pastor, this is the type of lesson you have to learn the first time because you might not survive it a second."

  "So," he continued, "can you tell me why this situation is as much your fault as anyone else's, maybe more?"

  That hit Jack hard, like a fist in the belly, and he nodded miserably, refusing to look down. "Because I didn't make sure there was someone else there with us. I allowed an opportunity for the appearance of wrong."

  “Exactly,” Karl nodded, “and now?”

  “Now I’m stuck trying to prove myself innocent.” He answered, miserably.

  Karl nodded again.

  “So,” Jack sighed, “what can I do about it now?”

  Karl leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on the worn leather arms.

  “Well," he said, "the first thing that we’ll need to do is explain to Kathy why she needs to step dow
n, at least temporarily, from the youth ministry.”

  “What?” Jack cried, astonished, “Why should she have to quit the youth group? Isn’t that just punishing Kathy for her husband's sin?”

  Karl’s hand went to the Bible once again, leafing through the thin, translucent pages.

  “It's got nothing to do with punishment, Jack; it’s about Kathy being a stepping-stone and not a stumbling block to her unbelieving husband. If Bill doesn’t want her involved in youth ministry, even if it’s only because he doesn’t like you, then she needs to step down, immediately.”

  Jack shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

  Pastor Ferguson found the verse he was looking for and read it aloud. “For the unbelieving husband has been sanctified through his believing wife, and the unbelieving wife has been sanctified through her believing husband.”

  Karl’s eyes rose to meet Jack’s again.

  “You and I,” he said, “despite how much we may care for Katherine Beckman, or want her involved in ministry, can’t be the reason that she refuses to submit to her husband. If she does that," Karl closed his Bible, "she steps out from under the authority that God has placed over her and then, no matter how noble her intentions may be, she’s in rebellion. Her personal relationship with Christ, as well as Bill’s, comes first before anyministry.”

  Jack’s head was spinning. On one hand, he knew that Karl was right; Kathy would never help her husband come under the submission of Christ if she didn’t stay in submission to him. Still, it seemed so unfair! Jack also knew how much Kathy loved working with the girls; loved being involved with all the youth. His frustration must have been obvious on his face, as Karl smiled.

  “Try looking at it this way," he said, "Kathy’s not being asked to step down from ministry, but to focus on her most important ministry, to her husband. That has to take priority over my wishes and yours, and hers.”

  Jack slumped in his chair. It made sense. He didn’t like it, he probably never would, but then, it wasn’t his place to pass judgment on God’s design, was it? How often had they hammered thatinto his head at Clear Creek?

  Knowing the answer and liking the answer were two very different things, and one wasn’t nearly as important as the other.

  He knew, like it or not, that he must do his part in allowing Kathy to minister to Bill.

  “Look,” Karl said, “I know it’s a tough pill to swallow, but welcome to being a Pastor. Much of what you’re going to face in a lifetime of ministry is going to be like this. God hasn’t called you to spread the gospel as yousee fit, but as He's ordained it. If you don’t like that, you’ll have to take it up with God. You’ll be wrong, of course, but He’s always willing to listen.”

  There was a long pause and, finally, Jack smiled, realizing that Karl was teasing him…sort of. And suddenly he knew that he couldn’t leave this room without telling his mentor the whole truth. Jack felt his stomach constrict and his mouth go dry as he spoke.

  “Karl…uh…there’s something more I need to tell you.”

  Karl nodded.

  “I thought there might be.” He sighed, “Do you have feelings, romantic feelings, for this woman?”

  “Yes, I do.” Jack said, “But I swear Karl, I’ve never--”

  “Don’t!’ Karl interrupted sternly, “I’m not interested in a confession of your innocence. This is about a confession of your sin.”

  “Sin?”

  Karl nodded, tapping the Bible with his finger. “Christ said it in the book of Matthew, and I’m sure that you’re familiar with verse as well; I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully…”

  “…has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”Jack finished.

  He felt tears stinging the back of his eyes, as he looked at his pastor and friend. This was the guilt that had been eating away at him for the past months...the conviction that made him flinch away whenever his hand had brushed hers. For the first time in Jack’s short career, he felt like an absolute failure.

  “Good,” Karl said, as Jack looked at him through swimming eyes. “Now we’re looking at it from the right direction. Now something can be done about it.”

  “What can I do?” Jack asked, his voice cracking.

  Karl’s instructions were hard, and there were times over the next months that Jack chafed beneath them, but he knew it was for the best.

  First, the two men took hands, across the weathered desktop, and they prayed. Jack had wept, praying a prayer of confession and repentance and Karl followed that by asking for strength and healing for his young friend. Second, Pastor Ferguson had told him there would be no more contact, even socially, between Jack and Kathy; no further opportunities for the appearance of wrong. Karl made it clear that if Kathy had a heart for ministry, he could find her a place where she could do so.

  Under no circumstances, however, was Jack to seek her out for help with any of his work.

  “Don’t tell her about our conversation,” Karl warned, “knowing your feelings can only hurt her, as there’s nothing she can do about them, so there’s no point. I’ll talk to Bill sometime soon and see if I can get them to come in together for counseling. I’ll explain to her about stepping down from the youth ministry and keeping distance from you, for the sake of her husband.”

  Bill Beckman, Karl had gone on, would be assured that if he ever had any evidence that sin had been committed between Jack and Kathy, that he could come to Karl with it, who would deal with the situation without partiality.

  However, if he continued to accuse without any proof, Karl would also treat himwithout partiality, like any other gossip. Lastly, he leveled a stern eye at his assistant pastor and made it clear that if any sin were to be committed, and Karl found out about it, Jack would be fired without hesitation.

  “That’s not a threat, you understand,” Karl stressed, “I’m just making it as clear as I can, that I’m going to follow scripture, to the letter, on this. I’ll do nothing out of favoritism.”

  Jack told him that he understood, and assured him that nothing like that would become necessary.

  “It won’t happen,” he said.

  “Be careful, Jack,” Karl warned him, “Anyone can stumble and fall into sin, anyone! It’s only when we recognize that possibility that we can be watchful and guard against it.”

  Jack nodded.

  With that, Karl heaved himself from his chair with a chuckle and started for the door. Suddenly he turned and, reaching into his pocket, removed a small white envelope with a red ribbon around it.

  "I almost forgot," he said, "This is your Christmas present from the Beckman's. I'll tell her you said thank you."

  Jack, mute, could only nod again.

  “Now,” Karl said, “I don’t know about you, but I’ve got Christmas dinner waiting for me, if my grandchildren have left me any, that is!”

  Jack laughed, but it was a polite, distracted laugh, his mind still focused on Karl’s final warning. He had a feeling the things he'd been told in the last half hour might be more important than anything he had yet learned about being a pastor.

  *

  The gift from Bill and Kathy turned out to be a twenty-dollar gift certificate to the Sand Castle Bookstore in Ocean Park.

  A week later, Jack found the tiny shop just around the corner from the main thoroughfare, its display window crossed with a huge banner reading "After Christmas Sale.” A tiny brass bell jingled merrily from the lintel as he walked through the door. The shop was larger inside than it appeared, and every wall was stuffed with books. A sign, taped to the cash register, read: Specializing in Rare and Out Of Print.

  A small, thin woman, who looked to Jack to be somewhere between seventy and eighty, glanced up from the thick paperback she was reading as she sat behind the counter, and gave him a quick once-over. She wore a bright and eclectic collection of clothing, a deep purple skirt, and top with a passion-red silk scarf that matched her lurid lipstick almost perfectly. A huge silver brooch twinkled from her bl
ouse, and glittering faux diamond rings covered her gnarled fingers.

  Best of all, Jack thought, were her glasses. Deep emerald lenses, perched on the tip of her thin nose and held in place with a gleaming silver chain, the frames were classic cat's-eyes from the fifties, in an indescribableshade of pink. Jack suddenly had the strangest urge to button his collar and make sure he’d combed his hair. The old woman smiled at his obvious discomfort.

  "Welcome to the Sand Castle," she said, her voice surprisingly strong, and reminded Jack of the low, sultry voices of Hollywood starlets from the thirties and forties, and he fought back a grin.

  "Can I help you find something?" she asked.

  "No ma'am," Jack replied, "I just came in to look around; I have this gift certificate…"

  "Ah!" the woman cried, rising from her chair and coming around the counter, "a payingcustomer! Well honey, payingcustomers get to call me Dottie! Now, what is your genre préféré?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "What do you like to read, sweetheart?"

  Jack laughed at the woman's flamboyant style and, handing her the gift certificate, replied, "Well, let's talk about that…"

  *

  Months passed, and Jack found himself busy with his handful of youth as they dealt with the stresses of winter isolation, forced confinement with parents and siblings, and the rigors of their upcoming finals. Aimee Peterson wrecked her mother's Honda, missing a four-way stop in Sea View, and Trevor Rigby had been suspended from school for fighting, presumably over a girl.

  Occasionally, as the weeks flew by, Jack would see Kathy seated across the sanctuary, or talking to one of the kids in the foyer. He would smile and nod, and then find something to attend to in another direction.