The Godsend of River Grove

by Rob Summers

Chapter 3 Skits

  Hila began with the computer files, since she could search them without being obvious about it if anyone came in. She turned on the PC and began to open files with names such as Board and Correspondence. It was Monday morning, Pastor Wurz had not arrived yet, and she wanted to find something fast before her real work would begin. The files from October of 1998 contained very little, and no minutes at all. She turned to the diskettes and began reading their supposed contents, written on their stickered sides in Mary Kirtle’s small, looping hand.

  Before long Pastor Wurz came in, smiling, wearing no tie. “Good morning, Hila. Finding everything?”

  “Just starting to sort things out, Steve. I want to know where everything’s at. I have the diskettes here, and I’ll be looking through the paper files in the cabinet. Are there other files I should be aware of in your office or the rest of the building?”

  “Nowhere else in the building. And as for my office, no church business. No, you’ll find everything you need out here. I just keep—you know—sermon materials in there, in my office—and a big mess on my desk.” While they had been speaking, Steve had crossed and uncrossed his arms, leaned on the desk a bit, and straightened up. Now his eyes widened artificially. “So what can I do to make things easier for you? Any questions yet?”

  Hila beamed with genuine happiness. Steven Wurz, despite his nervousness, was able to talk to her. She divided the world of males into those who could hold something resembling a natural conversation with her and those who could or would not. Since Pastor Wurz was passing the test immediately, she need not dread the experience she had sometimes had of pretending that a man was speaking sense to her when he was babbling.

  “I’m sure I’ll have plenty of questions, but none for the moment,” she said.

  “I’ll just go in my office, then, and don’t hesitate to ask me anything today. Uh, forward all calls to me when I’m in, and otherwise take messages for me. I might hear from By Hoplinger this morning, or from Evan Pebble of Oblong, and possibly from Jill Montcrieff.” He paused in the doorway. “I noticed you were talking to her daughter Elly after Sunday school yesterday.”

  “I helped with her class, and Jane Burson talked to me about Elly.”

  Steve winced. “We don’t want her to be talked about a lot. I mean, this church can be a rumor mill and….”

  “And there’s nothing wrong with Elly?”

  He grinned. “I really don’t think so. I’ve talked with her parents and with Elly herself. She’s a good girl.”

  “Then I will dampen all rumors, Pastor.”

  “Right, good.”

  Steve passed into his office, and Hila continued her inspection of the disks. While doing this, she reflected that Pastor Wurz’s sensible handling of Elly’s situation was not the sort of thing that might be expected if Oliver Fulborne were to return to power. Ollie loved rumors and was ready to believe any dark thing. Furthermore, though he had never been a pastor, his personality and reputation had, before his downfall, made him dominant over every pastor of River Grove. Many had come, usually by his decision, and gone, also by his decision; but none had ever won a battle of wills with him. Steve would be no different.

  After losing his eldership, Ollie had stopped attending River Grove for almost a year. He, his wife, and their married daughter and her family had attended the First Baptist Church. But in early November of the previous year they had returned quietly and resumed membership. To be voted in as an elder at River Grove, one must have attended for at least a year previously. It would not be long before Ollie was eligible.

  During Ollie’s two years out of power, much of the congregation had come to view Pastor Steve Wurz as a pleasant weakling. A charismatic congregation had erected an impressive building just down the highway and had drawn away from River Grove some of those sort of church goers who like best whatever is close by and currently popular. Then a local plant had closed and some families had moved away. At least a few others had left because of the change to an offering box. All in all, the congregation had shrunk dramatically. In the face of this, Wurz had declared no emergency, had inaugurated no new programs, had made no inspiring speeches. He continued to preach soundly, visit members regularly, and make optimistic predictions of a recovery of numbers in attendance. Yet rumor had it that he was looking for a position at another church.

  Hila came to a diskette on which was written, ‘Board Minutes 1996-2000,’ and snapped it into the A drive. After a few clicks file icons appeared in a box on the screen. She clicked on ‘Oct 98.’ The minutes which appeared were for the twelfth, but she seemed to recall that the controversy over Fulborne had erupted later that month. Yes, she saw that these minutes reflected the scandal of Mark Lambert’s death on October fourth (there was discussion of how the press was handling the story) but contained nothing of any note about Fulborne. The next file was for early November—too late. By that time Fulborne had left; his name was no longer on the list of those present for the meeting. Scanning these November minutes, she found that they said nothing more about Lambert’s death, nor did they contain any account of actions and discussions from the previous meeting.

  Between these meetings of which she had found record had been another, she knew, an emergency meeting of the board, called on a Sunday and in session both before and after the evening service. Why no minutes? She looked over at the filing cabinets. Was there a hard copy in there? Perhaps handwritten?

  The phone rang. “River Grove Community Church. How may I help you?” She was used to adopting a professional voice on the phone.

  “Hi there, young lady. This is Evan Pebble of the Shiloh Baptist Church of Oblong. Is your pastor there?”

  “Yes, Mr. Pebble. I’ll forward the call to his office. Just a moment.”

  She pressed the button. “Steve, I have Mr. Pebble on the phone.”

  “Yes, put him through,” he said.

  She connected them, waiting a moment because of the unfamiliar phone system, to make sure that they could hear one another.

  “Steve, old boy,” said Evan Pebble, “can you get over here to candidate this Sunday? Is that too soon?”

  “Uh.” Steve seemed to sense that Hila was listening. After she replaced the receiver, she could hear through the open doorway as he murmured into the phone but could not make out what he was saying.

  When in a few minutes Steve came out from his office, Hila explained that she had not been intentionally eavesdropping and promised to keep his secret.

  “OK, I understand what happened,” he said.

  Hila felt like talking about this. “Why is it, Steve, that when a pastor is looking for another church, he can’t just tell his congregation?”

  “Because it harms trust,” Steve said. “A pastor-congregation relationship is like a marriage. If the congregation knows he’s candidating elsewhere, they lose heart, lose—you know—a feeling of security.”

  Hila laughed gently. “I would rather just be told. But please don’t say it’s like a marriage, Steve. It conjures up images of unfaithfulness.”

  The pastor did not smile. “That goes both ways. A congregation can be faithless to its pastor.”

  She looked at him questioningly. “But in neither case is there actually any sin. Marriage is just a metaphor, hum?”

  He looked at her sharply. “You don’t think there’s any sin involved when a congregation goes elsewhere for its spiritual leadership?”

  This was getting too murky for her. Was he referring to Fulborne, or Pastor Delmar of the big charismatic church, or what? Nevertheless, she had seldom withdrawn from a debate simply because she did not understand what was being discussed.

  “No,” she said firmly. “No more sin than when a pastor leaves his congregation. Unless—” for she thought of Fulborne again “—unless the congregation deserts to someone immoral or heretical.”

  Though she watched him closely, Ste
ve did not seem to react to this. Perhaps he too felt this conversation was becoming murky. “Of course,” he said blankly. “Of course. I want you to call By Hoplinger and ask him if he could preach Sunday. Tell him I’m called out of town for family reasons.” He turned back toward his office.

  “Excuse me—Steve? Tell him what? I won’t tell him that.”

  He looked surprised. “It is family reasons. It very much concerns my family.”

  Hila gave him her most withering look. She had known that look to melt prospective suitors down to gum on the sidewalk, and it had its effect on Steve. His look of authority softened and he waved a deprecating hand.

  “Look, that’s just until I get together with him and some of the other elders and explain things. I’m not keeping any secrets from them.”

  “So it’s just a temporary lie?” Hila pressed.

  Steve took a deep breath and set his mouth. “Never mind, I’ll call him myself.”

  Hila had no time to search through the office’s paper files before her workday was over at noon. She walked the eleven blocks to Cora’s house, now her home, and began preparing some sandwiches for herself and Eddie. Because it was a Teachers’ Inservice day, he had by then arrived home from school. Judging from a sound of loud talking, he was with someone in the backyard. Presently, he came in followed by a girl about his own age and, surprisingly, by Hila’s brother Bill. Hila reached for two more plates.

  Eddie introduced his friend as Crystal Beikreider.

  “Yes, Cora has mentioned you,” Hila said. “You’re the one who says she can’t even ride a bike.”

  “That’s an old joke of hers,” Eddie said. “Actually she can.”

  “And your family goes to River Grove?”

  “Sure do.” Crystal dropped into a chair and helped herself to a carrot stick. “We have a youth meeting there tonight and I want Eddie to go with me. Will you let Eddie go?”

  “Eddie doesn’t—” Hila paused because Eddie was giving her a pleading look. “Uh, he and his mother don’t usually go to River Grove, not anymore.

  “Not usually,” said Eddie, stressing the second word. Actually, they had not attended in nearly a year.

  “But sometimes?” said Crystal brightly. “We’re going to work on our skits for next Sunday night, and Ollie Fulborne will be there to show some slides. He and Betty got back last week from their vacation in Mexico, but the slides weren’t ready yet last Monday. Somebody said he and Betty were sick when they first got back, anyway. Must have been something they ate, but they missed church which they never do. I like him, he’s nice to me, but she has those tiny, little piggy eyes—” Crystal squinched her eyes “—and she’s always huffing and puffing about something. You know, she doesn’t say anything but you know she disapproves because she huffs. Maybe she won’t be able to come. It’ll be fun.” Crystal put another carrot stick in her mouth.

  “How late will you be?” Hila said.

  “I don’t know. We usually finish up around nine or nine-thirty. Then I have to get a ride home because Mom and Dad are at the Lion’s Club tonight for the banquet. Could you give me a ride home?”

  Hila agreed. It was not without an inward shudder that she had heard Crystal describe Ollie Fulborne as having been nice to her. How in the world was he being allowed near the teen group? At any rate, she would arrive well before nine and see to it that Crystal was protected.

  The kids now headed for Eddie’s room to play a video game during the few minutes before lunch. Hila turned to Bill, who was settled in a chair at the table, his light hair sticking out almost horizontally over the tops of his ears, his glasses slightly askew.

  “Let me give you a haircut?”

  He made a questioning sound and put a hand to his head. “No, it just needs combing. Say, I don’t need to eat here, I just walked over to see if you had time for a little Baffling maybe this afternoon.” (To Baffle was to continue expanding their world of Bafilia.)

  “I can do that.”

  “You want to take a little trip there yourself, like we talked about?”

  “I haven’t had time to give it much thought. It’s not what I’m really concerned about now.”

  “So let’s send Ollie in. We’ve got the power, and not a thing he could do about it.”

  Hila was used to this sort of mental gymnastics coming from Bill. He knew she was upset by Fulborne’s bid to return to the elder board and so brought him into the conversation in a humorous and dimly connected way.

  “That would be cruel to Lady Amelia, I mean if he appeared by her as we said I might. Doesn’t she have enough on her paws from trying to deal with Gorbnal? Here, take this bread and lunchmeat and make some sandwiches.”

  Bill did as he was told. “Just a regular session then,” he concluded evenly. “But I’d still like to try it sometime. It’s the sort of idea that, once you have it, you just can’t let it go. Maybe we could both go in.”

  “If so, I’ll let you do the talking,” said Hila, who had no intention of going to Bafilia. “It’s all very well to write about Amelia, but to actually stand and talk to a three foot tall mouse with great, big non-human eyes staring at you, or rather just one—they’re on the side of a mouse’s head, aren’t they? So you could probably just see one at a time. Well, uck, I think it would give me the creeps.”

  “I’ll make a note about that, about the side of the head. Nice touch of realism. Where’s the mayo? Never mind, I’ve got it. I hope you don’t care whether these are done neatly.” He placed a sandwich on a plate and reached for more materials.

  She placed a gallon milk jug on the table. “Bill, how come Fulborne is showing slides to the teens tonight? Why is he allowed near the girls? And please, a serious answer. You know this is nothing to laugh about.”

  “Serious, OK. I’d say he’s doing it because Evan Marklestan said he could.”

  “The youth pastor?”

  “Yeah, they’re calling him that already, but he has to finish up his last Seminary course by correspondence and then he’s official and can be on the elder board.”

  “Speaking of which, did Evan let Ollie in without consulting the board?”

  “Maybe. Evan’s like that. I remember he was kind of independent in high school. But besides, he was gone to Seminary when the Fulborne thing blew up. Don’t be too hard on him. Maybe Ollie just talked all plausible with him, buddied up to him. They’re two of a kind.”

  “No, don’t say that. I hope not. Are they?”

  “They both believe in—” and Bill adopted his most ‘churchy’ tone “—the organized Church as the very kingdom of God on earth.”

  “Oh.” Hila did not like the sound of this. She had heard plenty of such phrases since childhood, and they seemed to her to be designed to do little but swell the egos of those using them and manipulate the doings and dollars of those listening.

  “He gave me an earful about it one time when I ran into him over at Osco’s. Evan, I mean.”

  “And he told you this knowing that you don’t believe there is a kingdom of God?”

  “Sure, that never stops people like him. It was on his mind, so he talked about it. I asked him which church organization he was talking about, and he showed me the book he’d been reading by someone named Thompson, where it said that it was ‘whatever local body has revealed itself to be divinely authorized by its doctrine, its tradition, and its evident empowerment.’ So I—”

  “Wait a minute,” Hila said smiling. She had never quite gotten used to her brother’s phenomenal ability to remember conversations and quotations. Bill had no pride in it, perhaps because he did it with very little effort. “How long ago was this?”

  “I don’t know. I think a little over a year.”

  “OK, go ahead.”

  “So, anyway, it sounded like things I’d heard Ollie say when I used to attend.”

  “Its doctrine, its tradition, and its—?
”

  “And its evident empowerment.”

  “So,” she said sadly, “Marklestan likes books of religious babble.”

  Bill’s eyes lit up. “Well, that’s what I say, but I didn’t think you’d see it.”

  “Of course I do. It’s simple. A church is people, individual persons that you can meet and shake hands with, not its organization. Whatever you say about the organization is not said, not truly said, about the church.”

  “Oh, blah, that’s not what I meant.” Bill half turned away with arms crossed.

  “I know. You think it’s not enough that I see through the vague illogicalities of this Thompson,” she said gently. “You want me to be a good atheist too. Well, at least we can agree that Evan Marklestan had better change his reading habits before it’s too late.”

  She stood with a hand on the table, thinking that she would call Eddie and Crystal to lunch, and found that Bill was looking up at her with a scowl.

  “What?”

  “Ah, you just can’t let it go, can you?” he said. “You’ll always say some guy like this Thompson didn’t get his damn theology straight, but your own version is OK. Or Fulborne misinterprets it, but you don’t. Fulborne—well, Fulborne is as right as you are. He teaches Christianity from the Bible, doesn’t he? You just can’t admit to yourself that the Bible is a mess of old superstitions and myths and rules, with plenty of room in it for him, for Fulborne, as well as you. The problem is in the Bible, not him.”

  She reached out and ruffled his too-long hair. “Right, and Jesus was a bitter guy who wanted to put me in a straightjacket of laws. C’mon, Bill, we said we wouldn’t argue about this.”

  “I know, but it’s hard when you seem to come so close to seeing it straight.”

  “Learn to live with disappointment,” she said airily. “I’m going to call the kids.”

  Oliver Fulborne stood stiffly with boxes under his left arm and his right thumb hooked in his belt. The young man facing him Hila vaguely recognized as the youth minister Evan Marklestan, to whom she had never been introduced. Six or seven teens were nearby, some standing and some seated on the carpet. All unnaturally silent. Everyone turned to look at her as the door of the fellowship hall closed noisily behind her.

  “Hi, I’ve come to pick up Eddie and Crystal,” she said. “I know I’m early, but I’ll just wait till they’re done.”

  “That’ll be fine,” said the young man, smiling. “I’m Evan. We should be done shortly.” He turned back to Ollie. “You see what I mean? Other rides will start arriving in less than half an hour. Even if the kids were done with skit rehearsal, we’d just barely have time for one carousel of slides.”

  “What do you mean? They are done.” Ollie gestured toward the teens.

  “One skit group is done, two aren’t. The rest of the kids are in the Sunday school rooms over here.”

  “Well, get them out of there,” Ollie said. “Why isn’t the screen set up? Mark?” He looked to one of the older boys. “Set up the screen over against that wall. The rest of you get yourselves settled to watch.”

  Evan gestured with a flat hand without taking his eyes off Ollie’s face. “Stay where you are, kids.”

  At the same moment, the boy said, “I don’t know how, Mr. Fulborne,” but neither man seemed to hear him.

  Hila was very happy. Seldom did anyone stand up to Ollie, and she was getting to see it happen.

  “Look, let’s go talk in one of the empty rooms,” Evan said evenly.

  Fulborne did not move. He blinked once behind his silver rimmed glasses. His lipless mouth was set.

  Evan sighed. “When you said ‘a few slides,’ I didn’t know you meant three carousels full, Ollie. We can make it next week.”

  “No, we can make it now. If these children’s parents are coming to pick them up, then we’ll just set up a few more chairs and they can watch too. Everybody in church should know about the Newlander Mexico Mission. There’s a great work of God going on down there. If you—”

  “The parents start arriving around nine,” Evan interrupted firmly. “It’s a school night, and they need to get back home and do things.”

  “Do things more important than learn about this mission work?”

  “Hey, I’m not staying for slides,” Hila put in, waving a slim hand at shoulder height.

  “You’ll stay and so will the others,” Ollie replied at once without looking at her. Then he shot her one furious glance and turned back to Evan. “Set up the chairs and get those kids out here. This church has got to regain some discipline.”

  Evan Marklestan’s face was red. He opened his mouth but no sounds came out, just a whoosh of exhalation.

  “Excuse me! Ollie, I need some help.” Crystal Beikreider was suddenly among them, gripping one of her hands with the other.

  Ollie looked down and his face slowly softened. “Have you hurt your hand, little lady?”

  “Nope. I’m in the second group and, you know, we’re doing the skit about peace. We’re over there in a Sunday school room, and they’ve been laughing at me because, well, we’re doing the skit about peace and we’re making a rifle out of a broomstick and I found a coffee cup handle and it was perfect for, like, a trigger, or somebody said a trigger guard, you know?” Crystal paused for breath.

  “Crystal, are you hurt?” Hila said, almost laughing.

  “No, I said I wasn’t! I just tried to glue the handle on with Super Glue and I got a little messy and before I knew it I, like, glued my fingers together.” She raised the hand she had been holding, wiggling all four fingers, which were stacked together sideways. The hand looked deformed. The tension, which had been lessening, evaporated completely as the teens and adults broke up in laughter.

  “It’s not so funny!” Crystal insisted, though she was obviously enjoying the attention. “I can’t go home like this. What am I gonna do, Ollie?”

  Fulborne put down his carousel boxes on the floor and took her hand gently.

  “How long does Super Glue last?” she asked anxiously.

  “Years, years,” Ollie kidded with a straight face. “You’ll have to learn to write left handed.”

  “Stop it!” she screamed. “You don’t mean that.”

  Ollie pried a little at the topmost finger.

  “Ouch, don’t do that,” she said. “Can’t we dissolve it with something?”

  “What dissolves Super Glue?” Evan asked no one in particular.

  “Maybe paint thinner?” Hila said. “But actually, I think it just pops loose by itself after a while when it’s skin involved.”

  “How about hot water?” Crystal said. “I could go stick it in hot water in the kitchen.”

  “You do that,” Hila said. “Go ahead.”

  Crystal ran off with the other teens following her.

  Evan looked at his watch. “Sorry, Ollie, but if you’ll go through those slides and sort out the fuzzies and duplicates and ones that are too dark and all that, and get it down to one carousel, then we’ll have the kids watch it next week.”

  “That’s not what you promised me,” Ollie said. But Crystals’ interruption had lowered his intensity. He sounded almost civil.

  “Well, you promised me ‘a few slides,’ buddy, and look what you brought. I hope you’re not like my Great Uncle Arnie who shows up with hundreds of slides that he’s never sorted and makes the family look at even the ones that are way too dark or washed out.”

  Something about Ollie’s set expression told Hila that he was exactly like Great Uncle Arnie in this respect. “I’m sure you’re not going to make yourself a liar,” he said coldly.

  “No, not to the parents I told they could pick up their kids after nine. Look, I’m going to check on the other two groups. I’ll tell them that the Mexico slides are next week.” Evan hustled off, obviously glad to get away.

  Hila met Fulborne’s gaze briefly.

  “That
young man needs his rear end warmed,” he muttered. He picked up the carousel boxes, adding more loudly, “He’s going to have to come to the realization that his schedule just has to give way to God’s moving.”

  Ordinarily, Hila would have said something in opposition at a moment like this, but Ollie’s attitude was so grandiose that she was speechless.

  “And you, young lady,” he said, grinning and pointing a finger, “have to remember that the Holy Spirit doesn’t knock off work after nine. You have so many things to do, I know, but think about what you might get from Him if you give Him a chance.” He turned and walked out of the room.

  Perhaps a full minute later, she said aloud to herself. “God’s moving! Mr. Fulborne, did God move you to show us blacked out slides?” But of course, by then no one was there to hear her.

  Before long parents began to come. Then Eddie appeared, and Hila went to the kitchen with him to see about Crystal. She was seated on a central counter, like a patient on an examination couch, her feet dangling, a bucket of steaming water beside her. Most of the other teens had lost interest, but Evan was there, working on her hand.

  “Only two left!” she said to Hila and Eddie, and she held up her hand to show the little and ring fingers still glued together. “I think nobody would even notice if I went home like this.”

  “I think you’d be disappointed if no one noticed,” Hila said. “Thanks, Evan, but I think we can take her from here.”

  “Sure.” He avoided her eye. “I’m sorry you came in on that earlier. We’ve had about fifty youth meetings in a row without a blow up like this, and now it happens when you’re here.”

  “Nothing for you to apologize for.”

  She looked at him steadily. Evan Marklestan was not so very good looking, but under pressure he had behaved as a man, and how many males could she say that about? People as a rule buckled under to Ollie Fulborne. She felt an absurd impulse to love Evan.

  “I mean,” she said, “that I admired how you handled it. You were firm without being impolite.” Take me in your arms, Mr. Marklestan.

  “Uh, thanks. I wish I’d handled it better, though. I should have spelled out to him exactly what I expected when we said ‘a few slides.’”

  Hila laughed. “No, he should have spelled it out to you. I believe the standard carousel holds a hundred and forty.”

  Evan’s eyes widened. “Holy croak.”

  “Yes. Well, I expect I’ll be seeing you around.” She shook hands with him. “Come on, Crystal, we can go now.”

  The girl hopped down and turned to Evan. “Can I take along a spoon to pry my fingers with on my way home? Maybe I can get them to come apart before we get there.”

  “Sure, go ahead. Just remember to bring it back.”

  On the way home, Crystal’s fingers did pry apart, and Hila took the opportunity provided by the drive to ask some indirect questions about the girl’s friendship with Ollie. She seemed to have no consciousness of her danger. At last, as they neared Crystal’s home, Hila said something more direct.

  “Crystal, you do know that Mr. Fulborne made some moves on Pam Oker two years ago? That’s part of why he’s not an elder anymore.”

  For once Crystal did not rush to answer. “Well, maybe Pam was lying,” she said at last. “Mom and Dad say nobody proved anything. He seems like such a neat old guy, and he hasn’t ever….”

  “OK, he hasn’t. But you listen to me. You can be just as good friends with him if you see him only in public. Don’t get alone with him, all right?”

  “But I can’t be as good of friends with him if I’m thinking like that. I don’t want to think of him like that. It’s probably not true.”

  Hila parked in front of Crystal’s house. She was unsure of what to say, but Eddie rescued her. “It’s true,” he said from the back seat. “Mom cried when she came home from talking to Pam’s parents about it. Mom was sure that it was true.”

  “Oh,” Crystal said in a disappointed tone.

  Hila pressed the matter. “So if he asks you to go anywhere with him, just the two of you, even if it’s just to some room in the church, don’t do it, all right?”

  “OK.” Crystal’s pretty young face was downcast. “This is just really yucchy. He just seems like, you know, a nice old guy.”

  “He’s nice to you but not to other people,” Eddie put in bluntly. “He reams people out all the time. Corey Blaine said that Ollie told off Evan this evening.”

  “OK, I better go now.” Crystal opened the door and slid off the seat. She added wispily, “Thanks for warning me.”