Plain City Bridesmaids

by Dianne Christner

  He carried the pet carrier over and stashed it neatly beneath the library table. “Good fit. There’s your bed. And when you aren’t sleeping, you can sit up here and look out the window.” He cleared a space by moving the books to the dresser closest to the desk. Looking out the window was Miss Purrty’s favorite pastime.

  On either side of her new nest were mismatched, upholstered wing chairs. The more comfortable-looking one had a matching footstool. A floor lamp stood between the comfortable chair and the door. That would be the light he used when he entered the cottage. He couldn’t think of a thing that was missing. Unless … His eyes scanned the room again, and he found what he was looking for on the dresser with the mirror. Five o’clock already. He needed to quit dawdling.

  Grabbing a stack of clothing and heading for the closet, he said, “We can be comfortable here, missy, so don’t get your dander up and get us in any trouble.”

  The cat walked over to her crate, poked her head beneath the table, and sniffed. Then she lifted her queenly head and jumped up onto the chair without the stool. She curled into a ball and started her motor.

  “Well, at least you didn’t pick the chair I wanted,” Micah said, knowing from experience that aside from the weekly bath, that cat always got her way.

  CHAPTER 16

  After dressing in a pink shirtdress with tiny pale flowers and donning a new pair of black stockings and her Sunday shoes, Megan took pains with her hair, making sure it was smooth and tidy. She got a freshly ironed covering that she hadn’t worn before, even on Sundays. She wasn’t doing it for Micah, exactly. But she knew that people would be paying more attention to her family just because the preacher was staying at their place. This wouldn’t be one of those Sundays when you slipped in and out without any notice. The congregation would be expecting the Weavers to make a good representation of the entire body of worshippers. Everybody would probably try to put their best foot forward.

  She hadn’t seen anything more of Micah since their quick supper. He’d been in a hurry to get back to his room, settle in, and work on his sermon. Mom had sent him a plate of leftover pastries that she’d frozen after the workday, and his Honda was already gone by the time the Weavers left for church.

  Inside the Big Darby church, Megan stepped into the lobby, jammed full because Micah stood at the entrance to the auditorium. The line to greet him moved slowly, backing up into the lobby. She wondered if church would even start on time. Their congregation was used to Brother Troyer’s ability to watch the clock and keep to the required schedule. Running overtime could burn roasts and cut into afternoon naps.

  Inez Beachy placed a hand on Megan’s shoulder. “Good morning. I hear the preacher’s apartment turned out real good.”

  “Yes, and your husband’s paint sure brightened up the place.”

  Inez chuckled. “He said it was awful—not befitting a preacher—but that it would have to do.”

  “Brother Micah didn’t mind. He said it would keep him awake while he worked on his sermons.”

  Laughing, Inez replied, “Sounds like he’s a man with a thankful heart.” Megan took a few steps forward. “I would have come to help, but my arthritis rears up when it rains.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. My mom’s does that, too.”

  “She’s too young to suffer like that, poor dear.”

  Megan found herself suddenly facing Micah. She placed her hand in his, and he gave it a firm but clammy handshake, then released it and ran a finger along the inside of his white shirt collar which stood above his dark collarless suit coat. “Megan. Nice to see a familiar face.”

  Noticing the red welts on his neck, she whispered, “You all right?”

  He leaned close, “Just a little itchy.”

  “You ever get an EpiPen?”

  “No. And don’t get any ideas. Those things cause a terrible headache.”

  “All right. But just say the word.”

  “Now don’t go telling this good man how to preach his sermons,” Inez chided good-naturedly. “And move along, dear. You’re holding up the line.”

  Megan buttoned her lips and stepped into the main auditorium. As she moved down the center aisle, Joy Ann waved. Cringing, Megan didn’t like that Joy Ann was sitting fourth row from the front, up several rows from their normal pew. Instinctively, she shied away from the front pew; being toward the back of a line was the neighborly thing to do. But if Megan didn’t go and sit with her, Joy Ann would keep waving and draw everybody’s attention. Megan saw her life transitioning in ways she didn’t like. She didn’t want Micah to think she was a permanent member of the singles’ group.

  On the other hand, if he did require a shot from her EpiPen, she’d be close enough to pass it up to him. Hopefully he could administer it himself. If he didn’t allow himself to get so far gone, and surely he wouldn’t if he was standing in front of the entire congregation.

  Settling her mind, she lifted her chin to a royal position and moved quickly down the center aisle. The women had spruced up their men, and Megan caught distinct whiffs of shoe polish and discount store aftershave.

  She could understand how, as church secretary, Joy Ann would be inquisitive about the preacher. Megan certainly knew what it was like to have a new boss. She probably wouldn’t have thought twice about it if Joy Ann hadn’t asked her dad to persuade the search committee to give Micah this opportunity.

  “Hi.” Megan sat and smoothed her skirt. “Why so close to the front?”

  “Are you kidding? Without a platform, I have to sit close to see.” Joy was a short woman. Brother Troyer never wanted to elevate himself above his parishioners. It was true that sometimes it was hard for everyone to see the preacher.

  “But”—Megan caught herself almost calling Micah by his first name, a practice she would have to amend—“Brother Micah’s pretty tall. I think everybody will be able to see him.”

  Just as the minute hand reached the top of the hour, Micah strode past Megan’s left side to the front of the congregation. “Good morning,” he said and gave his collar a tug. “It’s my fault we still have people in the vestibule. Just goes to show how friendly this church is. Let’s have a song while everybody gets settled.” Micah sat down on the front pew, and a red-faced song leader hurried to the front. It was obvious he hadn’t prepared for the extra song and didn’t appreciate being put on the spot.

  They sang a hymn from memory, and then the service took the usual order of things. When Micah moved behind the pulpit again, the congregation hushed. He cleared his blotchy throat. “First, I want to thank everybody for inviting me to be your interim preacher and for allowing us time to get to know each other. I think it’s a perfect plan. And I also thank you for the little cottage at the Weavers’ place. I hear that a lot of people chipped in and made donations. It’ll make a wonderful home for me and Miss Purrty.”

  That brought a soft rumble over the people. “The cat I inherited from my grandma at her passing.”

  Smart, Megan thought. He’d just made his stance about the cat. Surely there were as many cat lovers as haters in the congregation. But his statement brought more murmurs because everyone knew about Dad’s penchant for restoring cars and understood his sacrifice.

  “This is a generous congregation. It’s been brought to my attention that July has brought Ohio and Indiana some storms, and since I know you’re going through your own storm of changes, my sermon’s entitled, ‘Weathering Unexpected Storms.’ ”

  He thumbed through his Bible and read a verse about God’s protection. “Though I’m young to some of you, I’ve experienced some storms of my own.”

  Megan noticed that everyone settled in and really listened to his story. He told them the same story he’d shared with her. As he spoke, his hands flitted occasionally to his throat or his eyes, and she could tell that he was really struggling with an allergic reaction.

  Soon, his eyes became mere slits in puffy sockets. She squirmed, wishing there was something she could do.


  “What’s wrong with him?” Joy Ann whispered.

  “Allergies.”

  “Is he going to need your shot thing again?”

  “Not as long as he can breathe.”

  “The poor man. What a hard life. And now he’s broken out in hives. How’s he going to make it through the potluck? I really wanted him to taste my lemon meringue pie. You know I have the knack for meringue. You think we need to get a list of the foods he’s allergic to?”

  It was true that if anybody could give Lil some competition in the food department, it was Joy Ann. “I don’t know,” Megan whispered, keeping a close eye on his face and breathing. Though he wasn’t struggling in that area, she knew he was terribly itchy.

  Micah, however, continued through his sermon, using his doggedness to prevail, and didn’t cut it a minute short either, from the sound of it. Her heart warmed with sympathy and admiration.

  As soon as the service ended, he strode straight to Megan.

  “That was a comforting sermon.” Joy Ann stepped in, causing Megan to squirm uncomfortably.

  “Thank you.” He turned to Megan. “Could you tell your dad I have hives and ask him to go to my apartment and find my antihistamine? It’s in the medicine cabinet.”

  “Of course. I’ll go right away.”

  Joy Ann offered, “I’ll be sure to pick up an extra bottle to keep at the church. What brand do you use?”

  “That won’t be necessary….”

  Megan left them and hurried to find her dad but didn’t see him anywhere. Making a spur-of-the-moment decision, she thought it would be faster if she just went after the medicine herself. As she hurried over the gravel roads at just a few miles over the speed limit, she wondered what set off Micah’s hives, but nothing came to mind. A pothole made the car shudder.

  At home she got her dad’s shop key off the hook by the kitchen door and ran across the lawn, hurrying through the shop and into Micah’s cottage. She opened the door and let out a shriek when the forgotten cat leaped across her path. Placing her hand over her heart, she wondered where the cat had been. Miss Purrty had flown across the room airborne. Megan hurried past the animal and into the bathroom, found the right bottle, and started back out. But the cat had situated herself in front of the door and was now taking a spit bath.

  Megan hesitated, wondering if she should get the leash and put Miss Purrty in the cage lest she take another unexpected flight and escape through the open door. Since Micah had given his pet the run of the cottage, Megan opted to do that only as a last resort. Tentatively, she grabbed the door handle and tried to move the cat with her foot. The cat swatted her leg, catching a claw in Megan’s new black stockings.

  With a gasp, she tried to shake the cat off her leg. At the same time, Miss Purrty tried to back away, but her claw caught and put a run in Megan’s stocking.

  “No! Stop!” Megan squatted down and caught the cat by the collar and then tried to untangle the claw. By the time she’d finished, the cat had ruined her stocking. “Now look what you’ve done. Phooey! You naughty, naughty thing!”

  The cat hissed and backed away, whipping her tail.

  “Now I’ve got to change my stockings,” Megan huffed, as she opened the door.

  But the moment the door opened, the cat leaped past Megan into the shop. With a shriek, Megan flew after the cat. Miss Purrty disappeared under Chuck Benedict’s Nova.

  “Aye, yi, yi,” Megan bemoaned. She stomped back into the cottage after the leash, wishing she’d listened to her intuition and caged the animal from the beginning. Next time I won’t feel sorry for the dumb thing. She returned to the shop and gasped. The cat had jumped on top of the Nova’s hood, the very thing they’d all wanted to avoid. “Don’t move. Oh please, don’t move.”

  Megan tried to think what to do. What would create the fewest number of scratches on the Nova’s shiny paint? She started by lowering her voice and going for a soothing tone. “You are a nuisance. Nice kitty. Nice kitty.” She took a step closer. The cat stood, made a complete circle, and slightly arched its back.

  With each feline footstep, Megan flinched. Yet she continued to woo the cat in a singsong voice. “I can’t believe you’re doing this, Miss Purrty. Don’t you know this is the worst thing you can do for yourself. For Micah?” When Megan got close enough to touch the little imp, she warned, “I’m just going to pet you behind your ear.” She reached out slowly. The feline accepted her touch and pressed its yellow head into Megan’s hand. “You’re an unpredictable creature. Nice kitty.”

  The cat took cautious steps across the hood of the car toward Megan. “If you’re going to live here, I think you may have to get declawed. Nice kitty, kitty.” The cat reached the edge of the hood and leaned into her. Megan lifted Miss Purrty by her tummy and snapped on the leash. At the sound, the cat stiffened. Megan hurried back into Micah’s apartment.

  “Sorry, kitty.” Megan tossed the cat into its cage. When she reached inside to remove the leash, Miss Purrty bit her hand.

  “Ouch!” Megan jerked away, banging her hand on the inside of the cage. When she examined it, she saw no blood. It was more of a feline warning. “Fine. Keep it on then.”

  Megan secured the cage door and hurried out of the cottage, running toward the house. She ran upstairs and changed her stockings. Tried to brush cat hair off her dress, and then hurried back to the car. Inside she checked to make sure she had remembered Micah’s medicine. Thankfully she had it, so she steered the car back onto the gravel road.

  As she drove, she thought about the cat’s claws on the Nova’s hood, wondering if her dad would be able to spot any damage. If he did, she would need to take the blame.

  When she reached the church, the fellowship hall was bustling with voices and activity, and it took her awhile to spot the preacher. He was seated at a table with Jake’s sister, Erin, and her husband, David Miller. Megan greeted the younger couple and, as discreetly as possible, handed the medicine to Micah. She noticed his face was blotchy and his eyes had narrowed into even thinner slits.

  “Oh good,” Erin said. “It’s getting worse.”

  “Where’s your dad?” Micah asked, gulping down two pills and some water.

  Megan sensed a hard edge to the question. “I couldn’t find him, so I went after your medicine.”

  “You’ve been gone at least an hour.”

  She didn’t think she’d been gone that long, but it probably seemed like an eternity to Micah. She sympathized with his agony and felt some admiration that he’d been able to keep his hands away from his face.

  “I need to talk later, about your cat.”

  “Miss Purrty?” His eyes widened every so minutely.

  “She’s fine. We’ll talk later.” Megan turned away and asked Erin, “Is there any food left?” But in reality, she’d lost her appetite.

  Micah gazed around his cottage through slotted eyelids and didn’t see anything amiss. Then Miss Purrty mewed, and with surprise he saw she was inside her cage. Probably what Megan wanted to explain. He bent to let her out and was irritated to see her leash twisted around one of her legs. When the cat favored the leg, anger flared up at Megan. Why would she leave Miss Purrty unattended with a leash that could have wrapped around her neck? What sort of trouble could an old cat make, anyway?

  All he’d wanted, those agonizing hours of the potluck, was to kick off his shoes and flop onto his tiny bed. But first, he needed to take out the cat. Monday he’d get a litter box. He picked up Miss Purrty and started toward the back of the property. Irritably, he scratched at his neck and set the cat down. It walked over to a nicely turned flower bed and made itself busy.

  “Micah? You feeling better?”

  Flinching, he turned. “Nope.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “When I got home, my cat had its leash knotted around its paw. Why did you cage her? And why did you leave her leash on?”

  Megan took a deep breath, allowing for the fact that Micah wasn’t at his best.

  �
��Because your cat dashed into the shop and ran under the Nova. So I went for the leash, and when I returned, it was on top of the hood. Dad will have a fit when he finds out, especially if there are any scratches on it. He restores cars, Micah. He sees every little mark. Maybe you need to get Miss Purrty declawed.”

  “She’s too old to go through that. Why didn’t you send him after the medicine like I asked? The way he protects his cars, he wouldn’t have let the cat out.”

  “I was only trying to help.”

  “Now Erin and David Miller think that you go in and out of my cottage. I don’t know them. Will they spread gossip? As a bachelor, I can’t have you going into my room, Megan. I thought that’s what the cottage was all about.” Megan clenched her jaw. He made it sound as if she were some tramp. “I have just two things to say to you, Brother Zimmerman. First, quit expecting me to get you out of your scrapes. Secondly, Mom won’t be happy that your cat just uprooted one of her pansies.” Looking furious, Megan turned on her heels and started to the house. But then she stopped, wheeled back, and said, “Actually, there’s one more thing. You owe me a pair of stockings.”

  His gaze naturally dropped to her legs. They looked fine to him. When he raised his gaze again, her face had reddened. “Just so you know, buying women’s stockings does not come under the definition of discreet.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out his billfold. “How much do I owe you?”

  “Oh, phooey. Just forget it.” She stomped away.

  The only good that came out of it was that sometime during their heated conversation, the cat’s leash had fallen away. The feline had curled up in the pansies. It appeared Miss Purrty had no intention of running away. But Micah just might.

  CHAPTER 17