From the Heart

by Eva Shaw

  “But the youth pastor is having a baby,” I said.

  “Yes, that’s true. I just came from her home. She was concerned about the stress of working with the pastor in her very early pregnancy since she’d been in fear of having another miscarriage. The council is aware of your skills in handling touchy situations. Hence, my visit.”

  She studied the lines on the tablet resting in her lap, or maybe she was waiting for me to say something. But what? Bob’s debts? Bob stealing the church funds? Bob’s attempt at murder? I didn’t know I had so much to say, and without coffee, either. We talked till my bum was numb.

  “Still, you did not contact the District Council, Pastor?” asked Louisa. This time I swear there was a sparkle in her navy blue eyes.

  Phew. I spilled that, too. “I was afraid all this was somehow my fault. Like before . . . ”

  “Yours?” Louisa smiled, displaying a ring of tiny teeth, like a child’s. “I do not know what happened to you when you were a pastor before, my dear, but historically our senior pastors, unlike Bob Normal, do not gamble away funds and threaten God only knows what when the staff doesn’t cooperate with rants or depraved requests.”

  I sighed and rested my head against the chair’s back. But then she said something that nearly gave me whiplash as I snapped to attention. “You’ll help us, dear?”

  “Me? Help? Headquarters? Before you say anything, please know I’m sorry for any negative publicity I gave the church. I have never, ever meant to hurt anyone with anything I’ve done, and I’m really glad I only talked with CNN a few times.” I sounded like a kid in the principal’s office or Beaver Cleaver talking to Ward, but that’s how I felt. “I’m sorry.”

  “Tut, tut, child,” said Louisa, and while I doubted she was ten years older than me, I lapped it up like a puppy. It was sick, but I’d been the ugly, sinister minister so long this was glorious. “Don’t tell anyone else, but I have kicked some butt in my day.” She tut-tutted again.

  I believed her. She might be as round as she was tall, but the woman had moxie. I wondered if she was Polish.

  “I am here today not to speak with Pastor Bob, but to you,” Louisa added. “For your help. But first, I must know you’ll be discreet.”

  “Anything,” I said.

  “We, the members of the District Council, would like you to find out Pastor Bob’s connection with PSA. Just to clarify, Ms. Delta Cheney attends the church, but she’s not a member, is that correct?”

  I nodded yes.

  “Good. Can you find out how deeply Pastor Bob is entangled in the PSA schemes?”

  “You want to know if he’s getting a kickback for the babies?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Louisa said. “We know your pastor is connected with Ms. Cheney. For goodness’ sake, his face is on their web site. He counsels couples before and after adoptions, especially those that don’t work out.” She added a note to the folder she’d extracted from her baby-sized briefcase. “It could be that wire fraud is involved.” She looked at a previous page of notes and said, “We’d like to know before others do. You understand. We know about the gambling, but until you explained about those debts, headquarters had no idea how much money was involved. Where is it coming from? Where is it going?”

  It seemed a trifle strange that she didn’t ask about the building funds or to see the accounts, but the District Council works in mysterious ways. Besides, she wasn’t in the office to chew me out, but rather to ask little old yours truly for help. Amen and hallelujah, and I said, “What can I do? I’ll do anything.”

  “You have helped already, dear. You’re on our side now. I’ll be in touch. Just be yourself, your curious self. I’ll call you soon.” She checked her watch and heaved her backside forward until her tiny tootsies, clad in tan Oxfords with laces, touched the floor. “Oh, of course, you could record conversations, take notes, snap pictures, little things like that.”

  And she was gone, without a final prayer. I fingered her card. There was no doubt that she was from the District Council. She had even given me her private phone number to call day or night. As for finding me? The church directory had me listed under 1-800-buttinski. I rubbed my hands together. The feelings of revenge might not be pretty, but they felt like a million bucks. Now that I had a license to snoop, it was pushing a billion.

  • • •

  I flitted and floated through the day repeating, “They like me,” until I got a call making me regret I’d inhaled three dark chocolate Mars bars. In celebration for not getting canned, mind you.

  It was late in the afternoon when a call from one of the moms whose daughter was a best friend of a kid that someone knew who had overheard Harmony talking about a problem when some girl thought it was Harmony talking in the girls’ bathroom. You won’t be tested on that.

  Since Harmony grunted in response to all of my questions, we hadn’t bonded in any old way. I punched Gramps’ number into the phone. From the music, he was doing the two-step at the rec center. “Hold the phone, Jane. Okay, I’m walking outside.” The music quieted. “Okay, let her rip, baby. What’s up?”

  “I heard a rumor, and you don’t have tell me not to listen to gossip.”

  “You’ve already found the problem,” he replied.

  “At least you admit it, but big fat good that is going to do. Besides, as a pastor, I know some gossip is based on truth. What have you to tell me?”

  Gramps yelled something to someone then came back on the phone. “I wasn’t going to tell you anything. Didn’t think you’d hear so fast.”

  “What. You knew about this all the time, and just when were you going to bother to tell me? I cannot believe this of you, you of all people.” Steam surged from my ears. “You are a bona fide lunatic.” I turned off my laptop, grabbed my purse, tucked the phone under my chin, and walked from the church building. I had to get home. The SUV was blistering, but I slipped in, turned on the engine and fired up the A/C as Gramps said, “Jane, get a grip, and for God’s sake switch to decaf. Why should you get your britches in a bunch about this?”

  “Oh, that is rich, Grandfather. Why in heaven’s name would you think I wouldn’t want to know? I’m way too young for hot flashes, but I am flaming, white-hot mad.”

  “Didn’t think you’d care, being all busy and that stuff.”

  I counted to fifty before I could squeak, “Care? Care.”

  “Jane, they’re kids. They do this.”

  “Yes, they’ve been doing ‘this’ since Adam and Eve, but it’s still dangerous, and the consequences are plots used for movies on the Hallmark channel.” I huffed and puffed. The man was deranged; that was the only answer.

  “The kids deserve a chance at this, don’t you think? Besides, they could be good. Hey, stop that heavy breathing, Jane, they’re all kids, college kids, and renting here like you are. I can get them some gigs and maybe play with them. Why are you so steamed?”

  I barely was able to squeak, forget speak. “Wait. What about Harmony? What of her future?”

  “Hey, if that’s all you want. We’ll include Harmony if you like, but don’t go ballistic, kid. It’s just a band. She’s a beginner, but I guess she could play.”

  “Hold that, mister. Whatever are you yammering about?” The A/C droned on, the engine purred, and I sat there in the parking lot. Stunned.

  “Listen closely. Jane, take some breaths and think back about what I’ve been saying.”

  “Listen. I’m making breathing sounds. You’d better talk quickly. Why, if you knew for a long time that Harmony was pregnant, didn’t you tell me?”

  “Harmony and pregnant? What? Whatever are you talking about? No, this is about the young men who live in the house next door. I’m going to help them, with a condition. If I play with them and manage the band, they’re going to have to stop singing smut and stay in school.”


  “A band?”

  “ You see, granddaughter, I’ve been watching you with all that’s on your shoulders, with Harmony and the mooching pooch, the love you show without asking what you’re doing or going to get from it, and I looked at how you’ve handled yourself with that nut-nick pastor. Yes, I’ve heard some gossip around. You’ve stepped up to the plate time and again, Janey. You’re my role model, kiddo. Now, honey, if Harmony is pregnant and that’s a supersized if, you need to click it down a notch. You come at her like this and the kid’ll spook. Hear me on this?”

  “Ah, jeepers. Okay, after I talk to Harmony, and if I can take some breaths and lower my voice, let’s celebrate. What time is your class finished?”

  “About six. Janey, one more thing. I’ve been thinking of my gal friend Gerry, too, and how wrong I’ve been to string her along. Do you think she might want to go steady with an old geezer like me?”

  “Steady?” I shook my head. “Why are you asking me? And why now?”

  “See you later? How about that big seafood buffet? It’s at the MGM, I think, and then we can take the monorail and pretend we’re at Disneyland. Check with Harmony, will you? She was looking a bit green today when I left.”

  “Gramps, wait,” I screamed, but he was gone.

  “Terrible things can happen when girls are on the street,” I said out loud as I drove to the condo. I had been one thing to talking with teenagers about the consequences of sex, but this time, and with Harmony, I just prayed I was ready with the right words. A knock on the window, and ready or not, the decision was made. “Harmony.” I unlocked the door, and she and Tuffy crawled in to settle in the passenger seat.

  “Pastor, can we talk?” She looked straight ahead; we both did.

  “Talk is good. I’ve been wanting to talk, but this has been a frenetic week.” And then I gulped. “I’m sorry. It’s me. I’ve been too busy to notice you needed to talk.”

  “Did you get into a fight at church?” she asked, and I looked down at my stained, ripped and sweaty blouse and would have guessed the same. Then she added, “I’m in trouble.”

  While Tuffy licked my face, smashed between us, we hugged. She was rail thin from the worry over the unplanned pregnancy. “Harmony, tell me what happened. Remember, I’m a good listener and no stranger to big problems. You know there are people who love you and will help you, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she said in a childlike voice because she was a child and now with child.

  “The first thing we do is go to the doctor for a checkup.”

  “That’s a good idea.” She put her head against Tuffy’s back and nuzzled the pooch. “Will that help?”

  I took a breath. When I’d signed on to be a foster mom, I didn’t expect to be a foster grandmother in the same week. “Why ask that?”

  “Well, couldn’t going to a nutritionist help?”

  “Good eating is important for pregnant women,” I responded.

  “Who’s pregnant?” She and Tuffy had the same questioning eyes, except Tuffy’s were brown.

  “You.” I blinked.

  “Pastor Jane, you’ve learned lots of stuff in seminary, but didn’t they tell you a girl can’t get pregnant unless she has sex? I haven’t done that.” Her face got the color of my favorite petal-pink blouse.

  Mine had egg on it. The face, not the blouse, which was neck to belly with a tea stain. “Isn’t that what we’re talking about, about your period and not having it?”

  “I’m anorexic. I think. The Internet has lots of stuff on it, and that’s how I’ve come to figured it out. That’s why I don’t have periods. Maybe it’s stress about Dad. I thought I’d be okay here, but I’m not. Help me, please. I’m afraid. Terrible things happen with this disease. I’m dying of not eating.” Tears dripped on Tuffy’s furry snout, and he cleaned her face like his life depended on it.

  I grabbed her. “I owe you a bundle of big fat apologies, sweetheart. You’re right. What did they teach me? Maybe it was how to be an expert on jumping to asinine conclusions.”

  “You’ll help me?” She pulled back slightly, but didn’t shrug from my embrace.

  “Right now, I can. Let’s go inside. I’ve got a list of counselors. One helps girls with eating disorders.” I squeezed her hand. “I’m proud of you for talking with me. You’re brave.” I started to get out of the car, and she placed a hand on my shoulder.

  “You might want to hear the rest,” she said. “There’s also a part about me being a total jerk. I didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to think about it because he’s going to go right back to prison for this. Stupid runs in my family.”

  “Your dad’s gambling again?”

  “You saw him, too? Me, too. I was at the shelter helping to serve lunch. Lots of ladies were there and they didn’t need me, so I played with the kids. I saw my father drive a gray Lexus to the parking lot across from the shelter, and don’t laugh now, but the other man looked almost like Pastor Bob. Does he have a twin? They walked inside that casino with the neon flamingos. That was a few days ago, and then today, they were there. I followed him.”

  “In a casino?”

  Harmony nodded. “I watched them. For a long time.”

  “Did your father see you?”

  “Not at first, then yes.” She smoothed shaky fingers over Tuffy’s rough-coated back and looked out the window.

  What wasn’t she telling me? “Did you talk with him? What did he say?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Maybe didn’t recognize you.”

  “Oh, he knew me.”

  For the millionth time in the last few days, my blood pressure went way beyond a healthful level. I gritted my teeth and said, “Harmony, trust me. I want you and Tuffy to go inside the condo. I want you to sit down and cool off. Take a shower or get something to drink, juice or bubbly water. I am going to find a nutritional counselor for you, and we’ll handle your eating disorder.”

  I rolled down the window as Harmony and Tuffy got out of the SUV. “I’m going to pay a visit to your dad and find out what’s really going on.”

  “Pastor Jane?” Her hand was at the door. “I ran after him, out the door. Dad pushed me aside, again like he didn’t want to know me. He hates me.” She rubbed her arm. “I slipped and fell against a slot machine, but he never even turned back to see if I was hurt.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t know you, honey. Maybe he’s so lost in gambling that he doesn’t know what’s right. No fretting. I’ll find out. I’ll tell you all the truth. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, barely audible above the whine of the car’s A/C.

  Back in ghastly gridlock, I drove like the devil was biting my butt. He’d lied to me. He’d thanked God and then lied to me. His own daughter saw him.

  When I reached the house, circling the block three times to finally give up for a spot hiking distance from where Harmony’s dad lived until he was officially out of the system, Albert Miller, now thought of as “that idiot,” was sprawled in the living room.

  He looked up and tossed aside the Review Journal as I stormed through the front door. He knew why I was there.

  I didn’t care if the other guys lounging heard. Maybe if they did, they’d knock some sense into the idiot. “Ignoring a child might not be abuse, but pushing one aside as you’ve done certainly won’t make getting custody back any easier. Let’s not even talk about the gambling issue. Yet. So what kind of a father are you, Albert?” I asked.

  “A degenerate one, Pastor. Walk outside with me, will you? There’s a covered patio out back. It’ll be hot, but can we talk there.” He shoved the tail of a worn golf shirt into his faded jeans and headed toward the cluttered kitchen then out the back door, walking without even seeing if I was in back of him.

  I was. Close. “I am the one who will be listening, Albert. You need to
tell me what’s happened. I know the requirements of your parole, and just keep in that thick skull that I’m the current foster parent of your daughter.”

  I stood, hands on hips and eyes on the man who was hurting “my” child. I was burning up, and it had nothing to do with the bank sign I’d seen a few minutes before flashing the temperature. It was still over one hundred.

  “You don’t understand, Pastor,” Albert said, pacing the ten-foot patio.

  “Yeah, gambling means more to you than your own child?”

  “You may not believe me, but I had to be there.”

  “Albert, this is murdering your chances of ever having a family, being a father, watching your daughter grow into a woman. What don’t you get? She knows you’d rather gamble than be with her. Can you imagine how that slices into her heart?” Was that regret, anger, or what on his face?

  He shrugged. “You don’t have a clue about the battle I’m fighting, feels like everything evil and vile that you can name.”

  “There are ways to win, such as with honesty.”

  He paced. I watched. He paced. I longed for a Starbucks iced coffee. He paced. I would have even taken a McDonald’s iced tea. Or a Coke. Or tap water. He paced.

  He stopped and turned to me. “It’s for her own good.”

  This time I could read the anger; it looked just like mine. “Her good? That’s claptrap.”

  “Just take it that there are some vicious folks in this town, and they got me. I’m in their clutches. The only way to get loose is to play along.” He began to pace.

  Drugs? Alcohol? Pornography? Something more to do with gambling than the mess he was already in? “Hold that one second, my friend. Tell the truth, or I’m calling in reinforcements.” The cops? Could I do it?

  “Truth? But at what price? I’m locked in. Give up on me, Pastor, let me sink to the bottom of the filthy sewer, and I won’t even make a whimper as the sludge drowns me.”

  “Have it your way, Albert. When you’re ready to talk to someone—me or another pastor, but not good old gambling buddy Bob Normal, that’s for sure—let me know.” I handed him my card, pointing out the cell phone number. “Reach me any time. Why? Harmony loves you.” I picked up my purse, dusted off my backside, and left without looking at the other men lounging in front of the television watching Cops or maybe the evening news blasting the details of another high-speed pursuit. I headed out through the desolate yard, past the gate that was swinging by one hinge.