by Rob Summers
Hila clicked on ‘Send’ and shut down Cora’s computer. She had not tried to tell her cousin about her case of spiritual blahs. Other than Bill, only Evan Marklestan had heard from her about that, and not much. As a good, perceptive pastor, he had asked about her spiritual condition. She was of course unable to explain and had said that she was depressed by the lack of enthusiasm for the Lord at River Grove, thus successfully turning the discussion away from herself and into the lines described in her e-mail. But Evan was perceptive, and they were getting closer. It was getting difficult not to appear secretive.
She had also avoided in her e-mail the subject of the extent of her attachment to Evan. He was a good man and attractive to her. He understood her jokes, liked much the same movies and music she liked, and was consistently thoughtful and considerate. He was also a committed Christian whose relationship with Christ did not end when he left the church building. Yes, he was a nice guy, a very nice guy. Furthermore, he might be in love with her; men she dated usually were. Yes, this was difficult.
She went into the TV room where Bill was watching the Olympics and eating some of her Doritos. He had brought his own beer, a single can. She picked up the remote, muted the sound, and sat down.
“I went to the women’s Prayer Breakfast this morning.”
“Did you?” His eyes did not leave the screen, but she could tell that he was listening.
“Yes, it’s every Monday morning, and I haven’t gone before, but Pastor Steve told me I should go and I’d still get paid for my time. So I went. Mom was there.”
“At some restaurant?”
“At Denny’s, yes. Light emphasis on prayer, heavy emphasis on breakfast.” They laughed. “But really, Bill, out of fourteen women there, Helen Wurz and I were the only ones not overweight, and several of them are absolute porkers.” She demonstrated, holding her hands out to imaginary expanded sides and puffing her cheeks. “Week after week they meet to stuff themselves, and no one apparently is the least bit concerned.”
“And they’ll know we are Christians by our lard,” Bill said, parodying a campfire song.
“Yucch—yeah. But I mean, is gluttony no longer a sin?”
“I don’t believe in sins; and I’m overweight myself.”
“But not much. Someone—one of the overweight ones, I mean—should raise the issue. Or is that impossibly touchy?”
“It’s impossibly touchy.”
“Oh.”
On the TV screen the spectators at a foot race rose in silent applause as someone won a gold medal.
“Who was that guy?” Bill said. “Turn the sound on, huh?”
“Not yet, please. There’s something else.”
“Um.”
“After the prayers—oh, and nine out of ten prayer requests are about physical ailments, their own or someone else’s. If I were God, I would never want to hear the word ‘heal’ again.”
“Well, what do you expect them to pray for?”
“Souls. Anyway, after the prayers Dana Pulver came up to me—Jane Burson’s married friend.”
“It was the Kenyan guy. See it’s on the screen now.”
Hila looked. “He looks happy.”
“But they’ll never put him on a Wheaties box.”
“I don’t think they have Wheaties in Kenya.”
“Um. So what about Dana? Her husband left her and came back, didn’t he?”
“That was years ago. They’re fine now. Dana wanted to know if I was going to the Missionary Speakers’ banquet Thursday, and of course I said no. She asked why not, and I told her I go to Indianapolis every Thursday, and no, I didn’t care to explain what for. Then—I don’t know who’s been talking to her—she gives me this sharp look and says that if I was seeing another man there that she thought Evan should know about it.”
Bill raised an eyebrow. “Ah, the church ladies’ patrol has caught up with you.”
“Ah, but that’s not all,” Hila said, raising a slender forefinger. “She also said that I had no right to lay blame if someone else went with Evan to the banquet.”
“Meaning Jane.”
“I guess so.”
“So what does Evan think about this?” Bill took a drink of his beer.
“Oh, he asked me to go, but I said I didn’t want to, which is the truth. He doesn’t know about my Thursday nights.”
Bill sighed. “Why don’t you just tell people what you’re doing? Either that or stop doing it.”
“Let’s talk about that some other time. The sooner I get to the point, the sooner you get the sound back, yes? OK, I told her I didn’t mind if Evan went with someone else and that he and I are not ‘steadies.’”
“An old-fashioned word.”
“It was the best I could come up with.”
“And she said…”
“She said that the unspoken prayer request she had made to the ladies that morning had been for me.”
“Uh-oh.”
“And she asked to pray for me then and there. She thought I was fading spiritually and needed prayer. OK, Bill, all right, I know that’s meaningless to you, but the point is I’m getting known at River Grove as a backslider.”
Bill made an orator’s gesture and in a Southern accent said, “Resist the devil, sistuh, resist tempt-tay-shun!”
“Right, brother. Ah resists him. Anyway, I think Jane has something to do with the rumors and maybe so does Todd Mankewisz. Whatever. Whoever it is, my reputation is getting shredded by people who hardly know me but ‘mean well.’” Hila paused and considered. “And what I’ve thought since is that, if the time comes for me to speak out in public against Ollie Fulborne, that my words won’t carry much weight, not if I’m perceived as a bad Christian.”
Bill took this in. “Is it sound time yet?” he asked, glancing meaningfully at the remote.
“Shut up. I want you to help me with this. How does anybody ever fight the church rumor mill? How can I get my reputation back?”
“No one does and you won’t,” he said. “Did you let her pray for you?”
“Who, Dana? Yes, I did.”
“Oh, that’s a great way to scotch the rumors!”
“No, you don’t understand. It’s the rumors I want stopped, not the prayers.” Suddenly Hila’s voice was shaky. “I’ve told you I’m not doing so well.” She brushed at her eyes. “Anyway, it was a good prayer Dana prayed. That I’ll take.”
Bill looked away at the lint-speckled carpet. “If you want to stop the rumors,” he said evenly, “just stop dating Evan. They’ll dry up right away.”
Hila looked at him with sudden appreciation. “That’s—probably true. Jane would be my friend again. A clean shot at Evan is all she wants.”
“You’re not in love with him, are you?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Fine, so I’ve solved your problem. Now you solve mine,” he said. She reached for the remote. “No, wait a minute. It’s Bafilia. I’ve been analyzing how to make them believe it’s us when we go there.” Hila nodded, trying to care. “What I think they need is a buildup, some warning, you know? You’re right, if we just popped in, they’d think we’re crazy and—what is it?”
“Nothing. Just that I’m not going to stop dating Evan. I’m helping him with the youth group tonight. I can’t just go in there and tell him I won’t see him anymore. For one thing, I couldn’t explain why.”
“OK, whatever. I was just trying to help. Anyway, what we could do is send them announcements that something big is coming. A letter magically appears on Old Ratson’s desk. No, wait a minute, he might think it was one of Sir Weezil’s practical jokes. But anyway, something like that, only something that’s an unmistakable miracle from their point of view. Maybe have the sky be green one day.”
“And frighten them out of their wits,” Hila said.
“OK, so no green sky. But you see what I mean. Another thing we could do is appear to the Gard
en Mole in a dream and let him tell the others. Or no, that’s just a dream. We could make it a vision, then, while he’s awake.”
“So now he thinks he’s gone crazy.”
“Well, I thought of him because he seems the most likely to believe. Don’t knock down everything I say, Hila. You know that something along those lines will work.”
“Perhaps.”
“Help me with it this evening, huh? Oh no, you said you’re going to the church. And Tuesday is singles night and Wednesday is midweek service and Thursday you go to Indy. So not till Friday, huh? Or is there something Friday too? Have they hooked you into the choir yet?”
“Maybe Wednesday night after the service,” she said.
“You know, this church membership stuff is like a second job for you, isn’t it? I mean all of you who get into it seriously. If you had a full time job, you’d hardly have time to blow your nose.”
“Or maybe an afternoon,” Hila said. “Just because we usually Baffle in the evenings doesn’t mean we always have to. You want the sound back now?”
He nodded and they were blasted by a Domino’s commercial.
Hila took a sip from her little handle-less cup and looked above Evan’s head at a wall hanging of a twisting Chinese dragon. Faint Oriental music. They had already ordered and Evan was ready to talk seriously.
“So I guess your Mom and Dad saw me yesterday with Jane at the Missionary banquet?”
It was more a statement than a question. In fact it had been Anna Ellen’s only topic of conversation since. ‘It was shameful!’ she had said to the Grant family. ‘A pastor dating two church girls at once! Hila you make him stop it or have nothing more to do with him. And Jane looking so smug, and caked with makeup. Laying her hand on his arm as if she was his wife.’ And much more.
Hila put the cup down. “Mom mentioned it.”
“I want to tell you what happened but I’m afraid you won’t believe me.”
“I’ll believe you.”
“Will you believe I was tricked?”
“I believe it.”
“You do? Because I don’t want you to think, just because I’ve been a little testy with you sometimes lately, that I was looking to date someone else.” She shook her head. “Not at all. Really, I can hardly believe it myself how she and Dana Pulver pulled it off. Dana stopped me Wednesday night at the service and said that Jane needed a ride to the banquet and would I give her a lift? I didn’t think anything about it, I said sure. Maybe she was having problems with her car, I thought, if I thought anything. I still didn’t know anything was happening when I picked her up from where she lives with her folks. But then when we got to the banquet the seats were assigned at the head table, and her friends had put us side by side. And when I took her home afterward, she asked me in to say hello to her parents and—well, I wasn’t mad at her yet. It still hadn’t sunk in, what was going on. I went in and they invited me to play Uno, and I did for a while and then went home. And I’ve only gradually been realizing what happened.” Evan met her eyes. “You don’t think I planned that, do you?”
“No, I don’t. Actually, if you had dated Jane intentionally, I wouldn’t be upset; but as it is,” Hila smiled, “I think it’s funny as all get out.”
He grinned with her. “Yeah, I guess it is. Quite a story. Only it makes me look bad to the church.”
“How so?”
“Well, you know, because I’ll go on dating you, and it will look like I was toying with Jane. And I can’t tell anyone the truth without exposing her to ridicule. I’ll just have to take the knocks. The prevailing opinion is going to be that I—well—”
“I’m thinking of starting a cult,” Hila said, “made up of people who don’t give a hang about the prevailing opinion at River Grove.”
He smiled weakly. “Yeah. Oh, here’s our food.”
When Hila was three bites into her Egg Foo Yung, Evan resumed. “And you were in Indianapolis on Thursday, someone said. People say you see a boyfriend there. I suppose that’s not true either.” Hila looked thoughtful and chewed. “So maybe you don’t want to talk about that.”
She looked at the dragon again. “I almost never do. It would have to be completely confidential and, even then, I’m not sure of—”
A Chinese waiter topped off their water glasses and moved on.
“OK,” Evan said, “confidential. But you mean you’re really seeing a guy?”
“Yes, a guy. Someone who was part of the crowd I used to run with in college in my B.C. days.”
“You, uh, see him every week? Wait a minute, you say you knew him from before you were a Christian?” She nodded. Evan glumly poked at his food. “He’s a Christian, isn’t he?”
“Actually, no.”
He glanced up sharply. “You’re dating a non-Christian?”
“Not dating. It’s hard to explain. He’s a—”
“Not dating! Every week for—for how long?”
“For nine years. He’s a paraplegic.”
Evan paused and blinked. “Hila, are you pulling my leg? You really just go shopping on Thursdays, right?
“Their crab rangoon is really good here,” she said while nibbling at one. “Look, I’m sorry but it’s true. Ronny was in a wreck in ninety-one, and he seldom gets out of his house, even in a wheelchair. So—” she shrugged “—I visit him.”
Evan visibly relaxed. “But why Thursdays?”
“No particular reason.”
“Oh. And why the secrecy?”
“There is no secrecy. I just don’t volunteer anything about it because—because Ronny is so sensitive. If it got back to him that I’d been talking about my visits to him, he’d be very hurt. And then it’s me too: I’m a private person. It’s no one’s business how I spend my Thursday nights.” She looked at him searchingly. “And what do we do, Ronny and I, you wonder? His mother always meets me at the door, but she doesn’t go to his room with me. I go in alone and we talk just a little. Then I help him to get his electric guitar situated so he can play it, and he plays it while I sit on the edge of the bed and he looks at me. That’s about it. After an hour or so, I go away.”
“He just—looks at you?”
“Yes, like you’re looking at me right now. It means a lot to him.”
Evan was obviously having trouble taking it all in. “That’s good of you, I guess. So is he in love with you?”
“I’m sure I don’t know, I don’t want to know, and probably never will. He’s not expected to live many more years. He’s had so many operations.”
“Don’t you witness to him?”
“I talk to him about the Lord sometimes, and he doesn’t ask me to stop, but I can tell he has no interest.”
They resumed their meal. Some minutes later Hila said, “You really don’t like this, do you?”
Evan took his time answering. “You’ll have to admit that it’s a little bizarre.”
“No, getting drunk and being shattered in a car wreck is bizarre. The rest just follows. Don’t we all do the best we can with what life gives us? Sometimes—well, sometimes I think I’m keeping him alive. His mother says so.” She smiled. “When he was first hurt several of us used to visit him, but all the others got married or moved away or whatever. I continued to live nearby and had the time. After I became a Christian is when I started seeing him regularly, once a week. It’s actually good for me; it steadies me, makes me thankful for the use of my limbs. He brings me back to reality.”
“While you just sit there.”
“While I just sit there. It’s a good time to reflect or to pray silently.”
They ate quietly for a few minutes until Evan said, “Anything else I should know?”
“You didn’t need to know that. But no, I’m not dating anyone but you.”
“Yeah, I believe you. And it really matters to me. This just isn’t easy.” Evan flushed slightly. “If the rest
of the church thinks I’m being made a fool of, you see….”
“Yes?”
“Then—the elders will have Steve talk to me. I’ll have to tell him something.”
Hila suddenly felt queasy. “You mean the elders monitor even your dating? It’s that intrusive?”
He nodded. “Nothing unusual about that. I represent the church. They didn’t want a single guy for youth pastor to begin with, but By Hoplinger spoke up for me and somehow I got in.”
“Yes, and it’s your first pastorate; and if you blow it, you’ll have a hard time continuing in ministry. So it would be smartest for you to stop seeing me.”
“It would be smartest,” Evan said sarcastically, “for me to marry Jane Burson.”
“Ooh, yeah, and then the rest of your life could be one long, predictable groove.” Hila demonstrated the groove by slicing her hand through the air. “You wouldn’t need to make a move for the rest of your life that didn’t fit in with the prevailing opinion of whatever church you were at.”
“Well, there’s no need to—I mean, don’t mock me.”
“I’m sorry, but sometimes I think that will happen to you. Not marrying Jane, of course, but the general predictability.”
“I didn’t come to River Grove to be predictable but to serve people,” he said stiffly. “If that makes me predictable, then it’s all right by me.”
Hila had to force herself not to answer this. She wanted to shake him and tell him to wake up; to tell him that she wanted to be in love with him and that she could not do so unless he fought the church’s status quo; to tell him that his life was not just sinking toward predictability but toward futility as well. For what good is a pastor who cares very much about prevailing opinion? What about truth? What about God’s opinion?
She steadied herself and said, “But just looking ahead this year, I mean aside from any positioning of yourself for a lifetime of ministry, this year your being predictable may get you nothing. Some people are saying that when Ollie Fulborne comes back on the board there will be a shake up. Pastor Steve will be out. And maybe you too?”
Evan looked genuinely surprised. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve done a good job here.”
“Numbers, that’s all that matters.” Hila noted to herself that Bill would love to hear her talk like this. “The youth program hasn’t increased in numbers any more than the adults have. The board might keep you on and they might not. I hate to put it so bluntly, but remember I’ve known this church since I was a little girl.” Hila had to decide how much to say. “On the other hand, if Ollie doesn’t make it in, I’d say you’re OK.”
“Why’s that?” Evan asked.
“Because he has a reputation for axing pastors. I’m sure you’ve heard.”
“Well, he won’t ax me. He’d be just one member of the board.”
Hila decided to try to change the subject, and fortunately Evan cooperated. She had been dangerously close to exposing her hatred for Ollie and was not yet ready for Evan to know about it. She calculated that the day she admitted to sending the mailings would be the last day of their relationship. Love has its limits. Before the dinner date was over, she began to mentally withdraw from Evan. As he had said, this was difficult. In fact impossible.
And while Hila, in the days ahead, pondered that impossibility, and the leaves began to turn color, and the Olympics ended in American glory; for over a month nothing further happened at River Grove Community Church. All the players froze in place, waiting for the outcome of the vote on Ollie Fulborne.
Hila continued to date Evan (three days after their Chinese restaurant date he sent her flowers), and despite Evan’s anxieties Pastor Steve did not call him in for a chat. Pastor Steve just did not do that sort of thing, not even under pressure. Under that protective covering the two young people enjoyed singles meetings, movies, and long talks on pleasant subjects. Once they visited the Indianapolis Museum of Art.
Hila twice had lunch with Kathy Hofrider and found her to be a delightful friend: gabby but intelligent, gossipy without an ounce of ill will toward anyone, and explosively humorous. One evening at the singles group Kathy and Evan sang together all the words to the Gilligan’s Island song, and Hila laughed with the others and did not mind the attention these two were showing to each other.
On October twenty-first the Grant family and Evan celebrated Hila’s twenty-ninth birthday.
Dana Pulver made an attempt to persuade Evan to take out Jane, emphasizing her wonderful domestic qualities and what a good time she had had at the Missionary Speakers’ banquet; and Evan was somehow able to quietly decline, not showing any anger even after being badgered for some minutes. Jane continued to attend singles meetings and was outwardly friendly toward Evan and Hila. Todd Mankewitz continued to be absent from both singles meetings and church.
Crystal did not again kiss Eddie.
Neither in or out of church was Oliver Fulborne seen in the company of Crystal or any other young lady. Sunday after Sunday he sat bolt upright in a right front pew, his long gray jaw firm as an Old Testament prophet’s, and he sang the hymns in a cadaverous bass. Droning beside him, Betty looked every inch the deaconess, as the elder’s wives were called, though Ollie was not an elder again quite yet. Pastor Steve would look at them, inwardly shudder, and get on with his sound but uninspiring sermon.
Unaware of the complexity of her daughter’s situation, Anna Ellen suggested to Hila that Evan might soon propose. Then she suggested it a few more times. Provided with such hints, Hila relaxed in the assurance that no mental lapse on her own part would cause her to be caught by surprise, should such a proposal come about.
Nothing much happened, not even in Bafilia, although the Garden Mole was perplexed and disturbed by strange visions. Now and again a man would appear to him, as in a cloud—a strangely dressed and unkempt and blonde haired man—and would announce that he, Bill Grant, and his sister Hila, were the creators of all Bafilia and that they would come physically to the Whiskers to meet with their creatures. “Tell them that we are coming,” he said. The Garden Mole wisely said nothing to anyone about this, but he tried to get a little more rest, and of evenings, sitting in a booth at the Hawk and Handsaw, he drank more grog than was considered completely prudent by his friends Jarg and Buzzy.
Then one afternoon in Bafilia, Old Ratson, while shelling a walnut, found within it a tiny paper on which was written, ‘The creators are coming in peace.’ Old Ratson snorted through his long furry nose, muttered something about “some magician’s trick,” and threw both paper and walnut into the hearth fire by which he was sitting.
In Viola, Indiana, no one bothered little Elly Montcrief about her hesitance to recommit to Christ. In their pretend games, she and her friends sometimes wanted to take the part of Britney Spears, and sometimes of Christina Aguilera, and sometimes Hila Grant.
Hila’s prayer times continued as shallow and unfulfilling as before. She prayed a great deal that Ollie would be voted down, and often in her heart she added, “And if he isn’t, God, then what good are You anyway?”