But Isabel was not most people.
Instead of leaping clear, she stepped directly out into his path. In a split second she watched confusion and fear flash across his face. He tried to swerve around her at the last minute, but she reached out and grabbed the hood of his sweatshirt and held on tight. The speeding board flew out from under his feet and his long, lanky body stumbled backward onto the floor.
Isabel kept her hold. She didn’t want him to fall and hit his head. She quickly managed to grab his arm and fold it behind his back, a martial arts move she once learned for self-defense.
“Not so fast,” she said quietly.
“Hey, let go! What are you, nuts, lady? You’re hurting me.”
The boy tried to squirm free, but she wouldn’t let go. She knew he would take off the second she released her grip. She was stumped. What should she do now?
“Hey . . . what’s going on?”
Isabel spun around at the sound of Tucker’s voice. He was running into the sanctuary, dressed in his uniform.
“Are you all right, Reverend?” he called out.
“I’m fine, but . . . where did you come from?”
God had sent him, of course. What a question.
Once the boy saw the police officer, his body went slack. There wasn’t any need to hold on to him. He sat down heavily in a pew, and Isabel rubbed her wrist where she’d been holding him so tightly.
Tucker came closer and looked down at her captive.
“I was driving around on patrol, and I noticed the lights on in here. Then I saw two kids run across the green. They looked like they’d been up to trouble. I thought maybe you forgot to lock up when you left.”
“I stayed to answer e-mails and lost track of time. They must have found the open door and snuck in.”
The boy she was holding on to peered up at her, and she knew she had guessed correctly.
“They were skateboarding in here. This boy and two others.”
Tucker stared down at the boy. “Do I know you?”
The boy shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, we’ll soon fix that,” Tucker promised. “Let’s start with your name . . . and don’t lie.”
“Max Ferguson.”
“How old are you?” Tucker asked.
“Fifteen.”
“Do you have some ID? A student card or something? Get it out,” Tucker told him.
The boy looked annoyed but reached into his pocket and took out a plastic identification card. Tucker looked it over.
Fifteen. Isabel felt bad for him. What was ahead for this boy if this was what he was up to right now?
“Why did you come in here tonight?” Isabel asked. “Don’t you know that this is a church, a sacred place?”
Max Ferguson met her gaze a minute, then looked away. He had thick blond hair cut close to his head on the sides and back, and long and spiky on top. A few silver studs glittered on his earlobe, and a tiny silver ring pierced his eyebrow.
“Yeah, I know it’s a church.” He laughed to himself. “That was the whole point.”
Tucker asked the next question. “Those kids running across the green, they were with you, weren’t they?”
“I want a lawyer,” he replied sullenly. “Are you going to arrest me?”
“I would it if were up to me,” Tucker said. He looked at Isabel. “What do you say, Reverend? I have to make out a report either way. You want to file a complaint against this kid?”
The boy turned and stared at her. She was dressed in her everyday clothes, so he probably hadn’t realized she was a minister. He looked surprised for a moment, then hid his reaction behind a blank expression.
Isabel paused and took a deep breath. She was a minister. She didn’t want to decide this question out of anger or even righteous indignation. She wanted to come from a place of peace, even love.
Though it was hard right now to get there.
“Where are your parents, Max?” she asked.
“My father is home, hanging out, I guess.”
“Where does he think you are?” Tucker asked pointedly.
“At a friend’s house, studying.”
“Do you have a cell phone?” Isabel asked. “I want you to call him. Tell him where you are and ask him to pick you up.”
The boy stared at her, looking suddenly scared and pale. “What if I don’t want to do that?”
“Then you can come with me, and we’ll call him from the police station,” Tucker told him.
The boy made a horrible face at both of them. Isabel wondered if she should let him take his chances with Tucker at the station.
Then he pulled a cell phone out of his sweatshirt pocket and hit an automatic dial number. It rang once or twice, and he started talking.
“Yeah, it’s me. Can you pick me up?” He paused, waiting for an answer. He fidgeted and chewed on a fingernail. “No, I’m not at his house anymore. We came into town . . . We just did, that’s all. No big deal.”
He waited again and Isabel wondered what his father was saying. “I’m in the village. At that old stone church on the green. Yeah, that’s the one . . . No, I’m inside. No, I’m not alone in here . . .”
Tucker stuck out his hand. “Let me talk now. This isn’t Twenty Questions.”
Max looked reluctant but finally gave over his phone. Tucker quickly introduced himself and explained to the boy’s father that his son had been caught trespassing in a church and had damaged property. And was in plenty of trouble.
“I could bring him down to the station right now. Yes, sir, even though he’s a minor,” Tucker said firmly. “But Reverend Lawrence doesn’t want me to handle it that way. We’d like you to come to the church and pick him up. We’ll wait ten minutes. Can you make it by then?” Tucker asked, looking at his watch.
Isabel saw Max swallow hard. It was bitter cold outside, but he wore only a black T-shirt with a ragged collar and a thin black hoodie. His baggy jeans hung loosely on his hips and covered his big orange sneakers. Not the best outfit for December, Isabel thought. She wondered if his parents looked after him at all.
Tucker finished the call and handed the boy his phone. “Your father is on his way.”
Max met Tucker’s stern gaze, then turned away and stared at the floor. He was scared, Isabel realized. Well, that took a while, didn’t it?
“I hope he shows,” Tucker said.
“You think the boy’s father might not come?”
Tucker shrugged. “You never know with kids like this. I mean, there’s a reason a boy his age isn’t home doing his homework.”
Isabel knew that was true. Many children in Haiti, where she had been working, lacked consistent, reliable parenting. But that was usually for different reasons. She just didn’t expect it in such a stable, middle-class community.
“Let’s figure out the damage,” Tucker said. He turned to the boy. “You just sit here a minute. Don’t get yourself into any more trouble,” he warned.
Max looked up but didn’t say anything. Isabel didn’t think he would try to run away from them. It was too late for that.
Tucker walked around the sanctuary, following the deep scratches in the wooden floor made by the skateboards.
“Can those scratches come out?” Isabel asked.
“With some sanding and elbow grease. But it won’t be easy. Carl’s going to love working on this floor,” he added, talking about the church sexton who was also his brother. “And right before Christmas.”
“That is bad timing,” Isabel agreed. Though was there a good time for vandalism?
“And this vase and candleholder are broken,” Tucker added, kneeling down near the altar table. “This vase was an antique. We’ve had it since the church was founded.”
The boys had also knocked over a pedestal table in the altar area that held a flower arrangement and some candles.
“Good thing the candles weren’t lit,” Isabel said.
“I guess so.” Tucker sounded upset. He had started
picking up the bits of broken vase, carefully collecting them in a small box he found under the altar table.
“Can it be glued together again?” Isabel asked.
Tucker didn’t answer, just glared at the boy. “Was it worth it? Did you have a good time, wrecking other people’s things? You kids could have set this place on fire. Is that your idea of a good time?”
Isabel understood his anger, but there was nothing to be solved by it. She could see the boy withdrawing, curling into himself. It was just what he had expected, maybe even wanted, someone getting angry at him. Did he feel he’d somehow won?
She moved toward Tucker and gently touched his shoulder.
“I know you’re upset, Tucker. But let’s remember where we are. And who we are.”
Tucker let out a long breath. “I know. I just don’t understand why people . . . even kids . . . do stuff like this. This is someone else’s property. Not just property . . . it’s a church, for goodness’ sake.”
Isabel nodded but couldn’t answer. The question was complicated. There could be a million reasons why this boy and his friends snuck in here and broke whatever they could get their hands on.
She looked at Max; she could tell he was scared and confused. Riding a skateboard through the sanctuary didn’t seem shocking to him the way it did to her and Tucker. To Max, it was just a building filled with stuff, not a sacred space where people came together to build community and open their hearts to God. He had no idea of how precious the church and its contents were to the congregation. She wondered if she could possibly make him understand, and then, if that was even her job.
A knock sounded on the sanctuary doors, and Tucker went to answer it. “That must be your father,” Isabel said to Max.
“Either him or God. Coming to ground me and take away my cell phone for the rest of my life. And the hereafter.”
The image was amusing. Isabel had to smile. It sounded as if the boy’s parents at least tried to rein him in.
Tucker soon entered the sanctuary followed by a tall man with fair hair, like his son. He wore a dark blue down jacket and jeans and an irritated expression.
“I’m Jacob Ferguson, Max’s father.”
“I’m Reverend Lawrence,” Isabel said easily. He looked surprised but quickly covered his reaction. “I found your son in the sanctuary tonight with two other boys. They got away, but I got hold of Max and then Officer Tulley arrived,” she explained. “The boys did a lot of damage. You can see for yourself.”
“Here, let me show you, sir,” Tucker said. He took Max’s father for a quick tour of the mess the boys had made.
When they returned, Jacob Ferguson stared down at his son. “I can’t believe this. Why did you do this?”
The boy shrugged. “It wasn’t my idea. We just thought it would be cool to ride our boards in here.”
“Who were you with? The officer said there were two other kids. Was it Zack? Was this his idea? I told you I didn’t want you hanging out with that kid anymore.”
Max shook his head. “It wasn’t Zack. I’m not saying who, either. You can ask me all night.”
Isabel shook her head wearily. She’d seen this before. Max was being loyal, even though he was stuck taking the entire blame. But desecrating a religious sanctuary was a serious offense, and the other boys should be found and punished, too. Not just this one, she reflected. She hoped that Tucker could pursue this somehow. She would talk to him about it later.
Max’s father looked frustrated and even angrier. Isabel didn’t think they were getting anywhere.
“It’s very late,” she said. “You and Max need to talk more at home. I’m very interested to know why he did this. I’d like to meet with both of you sometime to discuss it.”
“Who knows why he did it. He doesn’t even know himself,” Jacob said angrily.
“I asked you here because we need to figure out a way for Max to fully understand that what he did was wrong—and figure out a way for him to make up for it.”
“Pay for the damage, you mean? I guess I should have brought my checkbook,” Jacob said.
“I didn’t mean that exactly,” Isabel replied. “The church may ask you to cover some damages, Mr. Ferguson. But writing a check doesn’t help your son. I’m talking about real consequences for his actions.”
“What kind of consequences?” Jacob asked. “He’s going to be grounded. No computer, no cell phone, no TV—”
Before he could go further, Isabel cut in. “All that sounds severe, but I have a sense you’ve done it before . . . and here he is. I think it would be more meaningful to him if he had to come here after school and fix the damage.”
“Fix the damage? How could he do that?”
“Right, like I’m a carpenter or something,” the boy said, making a goofy face.
“He can work a piece of sandpaper and a broom. You don’t have to be a carpenter to do that much,” Tucker cut in.
Jacob didn’t answer. He looked over at his son. Had he ever performed any real work? Isabel doubted it.
“You mean, come here and clean up the mess, is that it?” Jacob asked.
“Yes, and I think this week would be a good time to start. I’m sure our church sexton will get right on this. It’s a big job. The sanctuary has to be spotless for Christmas.”
Jacob nodded, suddenly looking grim. Somehow the mention of Christmas annoyed him. “All right. He can come on Wednesday after school.”
“Good. I’ll be here and I’ll introduce him to the sexton,” Isabel said patiently. “And I’d like Max to come a few days a week after school for the next few weeks. Until all the repairs are done. They certainly won’t be completed in one afternoon.”
“A few days a week in a church? No way. Are you crazy or something? I’d rather go to jail,” the boy complained.
“Max, close your mouth and keep it closed. You’ve already said enough tonight.” Jacob Ferguson’s voice was low, but he sounded as if he were about to explode. “Go to the car and wait for me. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“I’ll walk him out,” Tucker offered. “You seem to be done here, Reverend. If you need me, just give me a call.”
“I’ll be fine, Tucker. I’m leaving, too, as soon as I finish talking with Mr. Ferguson.”
Isabel sensed that Max’s father wanted to talk without his son present. At least he seemed concerned about the boy and upset by Max’s bad behavior. Isabel had actually expected someone who did not seem nearly as responsible.
Once Max and Tucker were gone, Jacob turned to her. “I know my son’s behavior is inexcusable, and he’s very lucky that you didn’t file a complaint and cause a lot of legal trouble for him. I realize that and I’m grateful,” he said sincerely.
“I’m handling this as I think best. I don’t think Max would have gotten much out of going down to the police station for a few hours. You might wind up paying some sort of fine or going to court a few months from now. And that would be that—except for bills from a lawyer.”
“That, too,” Jacob agreed, rubbing the side of his jaw. He needed a shave, Isabel noticed. Though something about his manner suggested he was a businessman or some type of white-collar professional.
“The thing is, believe it or not, my son has not always been like this. Yeah, he’s a bit unconventional and can get a little wild at times. But he’s always been a good kid. Until recently.”
He paused, and Isabel waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.
“All right, I believe you. Is there some reason for that?” she asked quietly.
“His mother died about six months ago. She had breast cancer. It moved to her lungs before anyone caught it. It’s been very hard for Max. Hard for both of us,” he admitted.
“Oh, I see. I’m very sorry for your loss,” Isabel said sincerely. “He’s so young.”
“Yes, he is,” Jacob added. “He thinks he’s old enough to understand what happened. But he really doesn’t.”
“Has he had any grief counseling?”<
br />
“Yes, he’s been to counselors. But it hasn’t helped much, has it? I think it’s just going to take time, a lot of time. Until then, I have to figure out how to get better control over him. But that’s hard, too.” Jacob Ferguson ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not trying to excuse what he did here. I just wanted you to know that there are other issues. He’s not as horrible as he seems.”
“I don’t think he’s horrible. I think he’s hurting. I could see that even before you told me about your wife, Mr. Ferguson. I do understand,” she added. “But I still think having him come here and help repair what he damaged, and get to know the place and the people in it, would be good for him.”
He didn’t answer right away. She could see him thinking over her reply. “All right. I’ll tell him he has to come. I just want to warn you, it might not go very well. He can be a tough customer. Are you going to supervise him?” He sounded skeptical.
“We have a church sexton, Carl Tulley. He’s Officer Tulley’s brother,” she added. “Carl will work with Max.” She paused. “I think Carl will know how to handle him.”
“Really? Maybe he can give me some pointers.” Jacob sounded skeptical of that possibility as well. He pulled out his wallet and gave Isabel a business card. “I’ll call the church Wednesday morning and let you know what time I can drop him off. If you need to get in touch, here’s my number.”
“Thank you. Then I’ll see Max on Wednesday.”
“You will. Thank you, Reverend.” Then he turned and left Isabel alone in the sanctuary.
Isabel looked down at the card imprinted with the insignia of a local college. Jacob Ferguson was a full professor of mathematics. Interesting, she thought.
Tomorrow morning first thing, she would have to tell the trustees and church council what had happened here. If Tucker didn’t beat her to it. She hoped they would approve of the way she handled it.
I didn’t even think of that. Isabel smiled to herself. She wasn’t used to working in a church where there was a hierarchy and governing boards. She wasn’t used to taking orders or checking in with supervisors.
She wondered now what they would say.
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