Preacher Wore A Gun

by Joyce Livingston

  “Dad! I don’t want—”

  He raised his hand to stop her. “Come on, Delana, you might actually like it. You and Tony had better set your alarms before you go to bed tonight. Church starts at eleven and I want us to be there on time.” He paused, then gestured in the direction of the kitchen. “I’m sure Tassie has supper ready. Let’s all go eat. I’m starving.”

  Seven

  Tassie wakened even before her alarm went off the next morning, surprised she had slept so soundly. No wonder I slept, she told herself as she stepped into the shower and let the delicious, warm water sweep over her face. I put in a pretty grueling day yesterday. Today has got to be better. I just hope the kids don’t throw a fit about having to go to church.

  She hurriedly toweled off and dressed, making sure to add a bit of lipstick and mascara, then headed down the stairs and into the kitchen to fix her specialty—eggs in a basket. She had gotten the recipe from a romance novel she had read, titled With a Mother’s Heart, where the heroine fixed eggs in a basket for the hero and his invalid daughter. She was certain the Drummond family would love them as much as she did.

  The house was eerily quiet when she entered, so quiet she found herself tiptoeing around as she put the coffee on to perk and loaded the grill with long strips of bacon. Soon the aromas of both hot coffee and sizzling bacon filled the house. Hopefully, the enticing aroma would make it easier for the Drummond children to crawl out of bed and the day wouldn’t start with another scene. She had no more than had the thought when, to her surprise, an alarm sounded in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Good. I was dreading having to wake them up!

  But the ringing alarm was soon followed by the solid beat of some rock and roll tune, a beat so heavy and pronounced it vibrated through the walls. Tassie’s hands instinctively went to her ears. Then from somewhere else upstairs a second rock and roll number began to play, even louder than the first. The sound of a door banging against the wall and a few unsavory words from both Delana and Tony as they confronted each other in the hallway, with each screaming at the other to turn down their respective radios, and the war between the Drummond children was on.

  What a way to start our Sunday! Tassie bolted up the stairs and stepped in between them. “Enough! If you want to play that ridiculous music in your rooms, that’s your privilege, but you simply cannot play it loud enough to intrude on the privacy of others.”

  Almost instantly, she felt a sharp sting on her cheek as Delana slapped her. Caught off guard, Tassie spun around and connected with Tony who immediately pushed her back toward his sister.

  When Delana grabbed onto Tassie’s arms she found herself staring at the girl, nose to nose.

  “Don’t you ever tell me what I can and cannot do! You’re nothing but a maid in this house and don’t you forget it!” Turning her loose, the girl whirled quickly around and disappeared into her room, banging the door behind her. A second later, her radio blared even louder—so loud it nearly drowned out Tony’s music that was still booming in the background.

  Tony, obviously surprised by what had happened to Tassie, stared at her for a moment then went back into his room, leaving her standing alone in the hallway. With her heart pounding in her chest and not sure what to do next, she simply cradled her throbbing cheek with her palm and walked back downstairs and into the kitchen. She turned the strips of bacon over and then, almost robotically, began cutting big circles out of bread slices, neatly stacking them beside the grill. In all her life, no one had ever slapped her. Should she go downstairs to the lower level, knock on Mitch’s door, and tell him so he could deal with his daughter? He’d said he would back her up.

  She pulled the egg carton from the refrigerator then stood staring at it as it lay on the counter. No, that would make her look weak, like a tattletale who couldn’t handle the situation and had to run for help. Running to Mitch will never do.

  It seemed she had only two choices. Turn tail and run, get out of the Drummond home, and never look back, or take charge herself, handling things the way she felt the Lord would have her do it. After lowering the setting on the grill, Tassie bowed her head in a quick prayer then lifted her head high and marched up the stairs directly to Delana’s room. After a quick rap on the door, she pushed it open and faced the girl head-on, gently taking hold of her arm. “Delana, I know you have had a hard time of it since losing your mother and I am so sorry you had to go through that, but you need to understand something. I am not your servant. In some ways, I am now a part of this family. So for the next three months we will all be living under the same roof. You can accept the fact that I am here to stay until then and work with me, or you can continue to make things miserable for all of us.”

  Although surprised when the girl remained silent she continued on. “Every home has to have rules. This one is no exception.”

  When Delana rolled her eyes and tried to yank her arm away, Tassie slightly tightened her hold. “My rules are few but each one is important if we are all to dwell together in harmony. Number one. Don’t ever hit or even think about hitting me again! And no swear words are to be uttered in this house at any time. No TV, music, Internet, or phone calls until your homework is done, and absolutely no music played loud enough to disturb others. Your room must have a semblance of order at all times. I don’t expect it to look perfect, but no more clothes on the floor or draped on furniture, and your shoes at least should be tossed onto your closet floor. If you need help organizing your drawers or closets I’ll be happy to assist. I’d love to be able to spend some time with you and get to know you better. I’d like us to be friends.”

  Delana responded with, “In your dreams.”

  Choosing to ignore her remark, Tassie continued. “The rest of my rules are quite simple but equally important. Curfew times will be met exactly, unless later times are preapproved before you leave for the evening. No boys in your room—ever. And don’t even think about crawling out your window and shinnying down that tree again because if I find you even trying to get out that way, I’ll have to have someone come and cut down the tree. And lastly, breakfast will be at seven each morning, at least until school is out for the summer, and dinner at six each night. I am counting on you to be there on time both times, even if your father isn’t.”

  “But—”

  Tassie lifted her free hand. “Hold it a minute. In addition to helping around the house with a few tasks now and then, you will be expected to babysit your little sister occasionally, when needed. And you may be asked to help in the kitchen and with other things from time to time, like helping me plan the menu, which I hope you will do cheerfully.”

  Delana glared at her for a moment then spit in her face. “Forget it, lady. No one tells me what to do!”

  Stunned when the spittle hit her cheek, Tassie released her hold on the girl just long enough to allow Delana a chance to give her a hard shove, sending her flying through the doorway and into the hall. Before she had time to regain her balance, the door slammed and the click of the lock sounded. Heartbroken and discouraged, Tassie leaned against the wall and, using the tip of her shirttail, wiped at her cheek. Well, that didn’t go as I’d hoped. Now what do I do, Lord?

  “Tassie?” Although she could barely hear with Delana’s music blaring from her room, she turned at the sound of Mitch’s voice.

  “I—I’m upstairs!”

  “Did you know the bacon is burning?”

  She rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen to find him pulling slightly burned bacon strips from the grill and placing them on the platter she had set on the counter earlier. “I’m so sorry. I—I got sidetracked upstairs.”

  He grinned. “No problem. I like my bacon well done.”

  She glanced at the deeply browned strips on the platter. “I’ll do better next time.”

  His grin broadened as he moved toward the coffeepot and poured himself a cup. “Mmm, nothing like a good hot cup of coffee to start a guy’s day. From the sound of that loud music I guess the kids are up
.”

  “Yes, they are.” She busied herself by adding the bread slices to the grill then breaking an egg into each of the holes she had cut, watching intently as the clear whites of the eggs began to cook.

  Mitch walked up close behind her and peered over her shoulder. “Ah, now I see. I wondered why you had cut the centers out of that stack of bread slices. I’ve never seen eggs cooked that way before. Looks good! I’ll bet the kids will love them. And I like the way you’re browning the cut-out bread circles on the grill. Those will be great with jam.”

  Tassie nervously nibbled on her lower lip. If they’ll even come down to breakfast. And if they do, they’ll probably complain to him how I got after them, especially Delana. By the time she tells the story her way, I’ll probably end up looking like a monster and he’ll fire me on the spot. He said he’d back me up, but blood is thicker than water, especially when it comes to one’s own children. “I—I hope they’ll love them.”

  He nodded his head toward the stairs. “I think I’ll go and hurry them up. We don’t want to be late for church, and we sure don’t want those—what do you call them?”

  “Eggs in a basket.”

  “Oh, yeah, eggs in a basket. We don’t want them getting cold.”

  She watched as he left the kitchen then waited with bated breath for the explosion she was certain would come as Delana and Tony gave their father their version of the fracas that had gone on earlier. But it didn’t happen. Instead, the foursome entered and sat down at the table as casually as if the whole incident hadn’t even occurred.

  Still shaking from her bout with the girl, Tassie removed the cooked egg concoctions from the grill, placed them on the platter with the bacon, and carried them to the table.

  Mitch looked up, brows raised. “You’ve only set the table for four. You are going to eat with us, aren’t you? You’re a part of this family now, at least until September.” He grabbed hold of the empty chair beside him. “Please, Tassie, get yourself a plate and sit down.”

  “But I need to get the juice and the milk from the refrigerator.”

  He gestured toward Delana. “She can get it. You sit down.”

  Prepared for an angry reaction, yelling out how Tassie was nothing more than a servant and had no business joining the family at the table, she shot a glance toward the girl. But instead of responding in a negative, hateful way, Delana simply walked to the refrigerator, took out the juice and milk, and placed them on the table.

  “You kids have to try these,” Mitch told his children while using the spatula to place bread slices on each plate.

  Delana wrinkled her nose and stared at her plate. “What are those things?”

  “Eggs in a basket.” Mitch smiled as he answered. “That’s what Tassie called them. Now let’s ask her to pray.”

  Grateful for being asked but deciding the fewer words the better at this point, Tassie bowed her head and said a simple prayer.

  Mitch added a quick “Amen,” then sliced off a big bite with his fork and popped it into his mouth. “Mmm, delicious. From now on, I want all my eggs fixed this way.” He waved his empty fork toward his oldest daughter. “Taste it, Delana. Go on, take a bite.”

  He waited until she had placed a tiny bite in her mouth and began to chew. “Okay, what’s the verdict? Thumbs-up or thumbs-down?”

  The girl lifted a feeble thumb. “They’re okay, I guess.”

  Tassie felt relief. She had expected a thumbs-down just for spite.

  “I like them. They’re good.” Tony pushed his plate toward his father. “Can I have another one? Give me a couple of those bread things, too, and some more bacon.”

  Tassie couldn’t believe it when not one person complained about the bacon being too done, but she had noticed Mitch had taken the worst ones and placed them on his own plate before giving the least burned ones to his children.

  After filling his son’s dish, he reached the platter toward the sleepy little girl sitting in the junior chair, her chin braced against her palm as her elbow leaned on the table. “What about you, my baby girl? Aren’t you going to try Tassie’s eggs in a basket? They’re good.”

  Without lifting her face, she sighed. “I’m too sleepy. I wanna go back to bed.”

  “Sorry, you can’t go back to bed. Remember? We’re all going to church together this morning! Now eat your breakfast, pumpkin. You need to eat it while it is hot.” Using his knife, he cut a small portion from her egg, forked it, then held it close to her mouth. “Come on, take a bite for Daddy.” She slowly opened her mouth and unenthusiastically allowed him to slip it between her lips. “Now isn’t that good?”

  The child’s eyes grew wider as she chewed. “Can I have one of those bread things like Tony has?”

  “With jam on it?”

  “Uh-huh.” Without using her fork, the little girl picked up the slice of bread circling the egg and began nibbling on it, her eyes brightening and widening a bit more with each bite.

  Tassie hurriedly pulled two bread circles from the platter and slathered them with the delicious peach jam then handed them to her. Babette took one small bite from each of them then placed them on her plate before taking up a piece of bacon. She didn’t say thank you, Tassie noted, but at least she was pleasant. That was good.

  Soon they had finished their breakfast and the platter lay empty in the middle of the table. As everyone rose, Mitch suggested they each carry their dishes to the sink before going to their rooms. Although his suggestion was met with narrowed eyes and a shrug on Delana’s part, each person complied without a word.

  Mitch turned and gave Tassie a wink as he left the kitchen. “Great breakfast! By the way, I heard some ruckus going on upstairs a while ago, especially the yelling between you and Delana. I almost rushed to your rescue but I liked the way you managed things. You’re exactly what my children have needed. What I’ve needed. This household craves order and structure and, like I’ve already told you, I’m 100 percent behind you. Every rule you gave Delana is a rule I should have set and enforced long ago. If I had, perhaps we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  “Thank you, Mitch.” His words of support and reassurance were just what she needed to hear.

  He let out a sigh. “I know she spat on you. Most people probably would have either choked her or quit right on the spot. All I can do is apologize for her. No one should have to endure such a distasteful experience. I can’t believe how well you handled it.”

  “Handled it? She shoved me into the hall and locked her door before I could say a word. That isn’t exactly what I’d call handling it.”

  “You handled it by staying. I’m sure my daughter thought you would pack up and leave after that but you didn’t—you stayed and you even told her you wanted to be her friend. And when she saw you here in this kitchen, preparing breakfast, she must have realized you had no intention of leaving, that it was a waste of her time and energy to even try to run you off. Not that she won’t continue to try your patience—she will—so will Tony and so will Babette—but please, Tassie, don’t let them get to you. Those kids need the stability in their life that you’re bringing to them.”

  “I want so much to help them, Mitch.”

  “And you are. Up until you came the only two women they were ever around was a mother who made no pretense at caring for them, who never once told them she loved them, and their grandmother, who was not much better to them than her daughter. Please don’t give up on them. Think about where they’re coming from. I’m finally beginning to realize how much losing their mother has affected them, and I didn’t help any when I went into my own funk. Especially Delana. Being the oldest I’m sure she felt abandoned by her mother. Not once, but twice. When she left us and when she died. I know, because of their outlandish behavior toward you, they don’t deserve it, but please—when you feel like you’ve had enough and can’t stand being here one more minute, take a breath and remember what those children have gone through. You’re a Christian, Tassie. Let your light shine before t
hem. Let them see God’s love through you.”

  His words humbled her. When she had accepted this job, especially when he had asked her to take his kids to church with her, she had felt God had called her to work in the Drummond home. Yet she’d been sworn at, slapped, and spit upon. Like Mitch had said, no one deserved to be treated like that, especially if she had done nothing to deserve it. Yet, inside, deep down in the recesses of her heart, a small voice seemed to say, “Someone else was treated like that, Tassie, was sworn at, slapped, even beaten, and spat upon when He had done nothing to deserve it. Jesus, your Lord and Savior,” and she wanted to cry. What she was going through was totally insignificant compared to what He had gone through. Her misery could never even compare to His.

  Mitch walked toward her and wrapped a comforting arm about her shoulders. “Promise you won’t give up on us. I—I don’t know what we’d—what I’d do without you.”

  With the still small voice still ringing in her ears, Tassie lifted misty eyes and smiled at him. “I know God loves your children, Mitch, and He wants me to love them, too. No matter how bad things get, as long as you back me up and want me to stay, I’ll be right here, doing my best to help your family in any and every way I can. I know from experience love can speak volumes when words alone fail us. I am going to love your children, pray for them, and be there for them, no matter what.”

  Mitch gazed at her for a moment before speaking. “No one could ask for more.” Then lifting his face heavenward, he added, “Thank You, God, for sending Tassie to us. Having her here is like breath of heaven itself to this family.”

  As he removed his hand from her shoulder and headed back downstairs to take his shower, she let out a long slow breath. I, too, thank You, God. Now, please, give me the strength to face whatever this day may bring. Amen.

  She’d barely said the words when angry voices drifted down from upstairs. Tony and Delana were at it again. Yanking off her apron, she bolted up the stairs just in time to hear each one call the other by names that really upset her and made her want to wash their mouths out with soap.