by Lyn Cote
“I’ve been busy with my sermon notes and the next Bible study lesson. I wasn’t in the mood to eat.”
Lucie opened his refrigerator door and glimpsed a package of hot dogs, a half loaf of bread and a jar of pickles. He’d been eating with her family so much, he’d probably let his supplies dwindle. “Pretty slim pickings in here. Come on. We’re going to the café and you can buy me a piece of pie.”
“Pie? I don’t want pie.”
“You—” she pointed at him “—will be eating one of the daily specials. No argument. Mom always says a man with an empty stomach can’t think. Or was that my sister, Anna?”
She ushered him out the door and hurried down the steps beside him. They crossed the town square and walked into the Pleasant Prairie Café. Only one table in the middle of the room was vacant. They sank into two of its chairs and picked up daily paper menus. Lucie looked behind the counter to the glass pie display and made her choice. She tapped his paper menu. “What looks good?”
He grimaced. “I just don’t have much of an appetite.”
“Too bad. You’re eating and that’s that.”
The gray-haired, comfortably padded waitress stopped and delivered glasses of water. “Hi, there, Pastor. What can we do for you tonight?”
“Hi, Joan,” Tanner said, perusing the menu.
Joan eyed Lucie. “You’re Nate’s cousin-in-law, right?”
Lucie thought over this designation. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“Well, we’re just so glad you could come and help Sophie and Nate out.”
“It was my pleasure. I’ve enjoyed my summer here.” Lucie’s chest tightened for a moment. She realized Pleasant Prairie had found a spot in her heart. Leaving it wouldn’t be easy. Did Tanner’s kiss have anything to do with that?
“I’ve seen you over at the park on Thursday evenings with those kids. That’s been wonderful and you didn’t even charge the parents or town nothing. That’s real Christian of you.”
“It’s been fun.” Lucie blushed at the woman’s praise. “I was here to help with the boys anyway.”
The waitress nodded and took Lucie’s order for a cup of coffee and blueberry pie à la mode. “Are you ready to order, Pastor, or do you need more time?”
“Bring me a cup of coffee, Joan, and I’ll be ready when you come back,” he promised.
“Well, if you want the fried chicken, you better put your order in now. It’s just about gone.”
Tanner paused.
“Go ahead, Joan,” Lucie said. “Put an order in for the chicken. He had roast beef last night at Sophie’s table.”
Tanner opened his mouth, closed it and then nodded. “She’s right.”
Joan chuckled and walked away. “I’ve heard about you two.”
“What did she mean by that?” Tanner’s brow crinkled.
Lucie smiled at him. “We’ve had enough conflicts of opinion across the street in that park—in front of God and everyone—that I’m sure a few stories have made the rounds about us.” For some reason, Joan’s comment hadn’t bothered her. She’d been honored to hear her name and Tanner’s connected. They’d argued, but they’d done some good together.
“Oh.” He didn’t look pleased.
Amused, Lucie watched Joan put in the order and swing behind the counter to snag cups for their coffee and the pot.
“I guess you two have heard about the layoff at the packing plant,” Joan said as she poured two cups of coffee for them.
Lucie nodded.
“It seems a real shame. We were just getting to know some of the new people and now they’ll all be leaving. Do you want your pie now or when I serve the preacher?”
“When you serve him,” Lucie replied.
A retired farmer in overalls and a feed cap, sitting next to them, leaned over. “I think the town council ought to do something about it. I think I’ll go on Wednesday evening and ask them what they intend to do about this.”
“What do you mean, Henry?” Joan asked. “They can’t keep the plant open.”
“I know, but something should be done.” The wrinkles on the man’s leathery face pulled together as he stressed his point. “The new people are here and we should try to keep them here. If this town keeps shrinking, pretty soon there won’t be any town here.”
“That’s right.” Henry’s companion joined in, his yellow-and-green feed cap bill bobbing in agreement. “If those new people hadn’t come, JC over at the grocery would have had to shut down last year. Least, that’s what he told me.”
“Oh, dear,” Joan worried aloud, “I wouldn’t want us to lose the grocery. I don’t want to have to drive all the way to Ames to buy groceries.”
“Well, when those people out at the Shangri-La leave, that’s what’s going to happen,” Henry said. Then both he and his companion rose to pay their bills.
Lucie considered Henry’s comments.
One by one, the other diners finished eating, paid and left. The little café quieted. Joan delivered the fried chicken and the pie to their table and left them alone while she sat in the back to take her break. Tanner said a brief, quiet grace and picked up his fork.
“Well?” Lucie propped her hands under her chin. “What are we going to do about this?”
He stared at her. “What can we do? I can’t afford to buy the factory and keep it open.”
“I know you can’t. What can we do to keep the newcomers here?”
He buttered his large homemade biscuit. “You don’t understand. They need jobs to stay. And there aren’t any jobs here.”
“Well, I found that out myself. Replacing me as church secretary when I finally leave won’t add much to the job pool here.” Saying that she was leaving made her heart give a little jerk.
Tanner began eating his golden chicken, mashed potatoes and homemade gravy.
Lucie forked up a bite of juicy pie and vanilla ice cream. She let her mind go free, thinking, considering, letting ideas float in and out of her mind freely. Finally, she asked a question, “How far is Des Moines from here?”
“About twenty miles.”
She took another bite and savored the creamy sweetness. “That’s not far to drive for a job. Do some people live here and work in Des Moines?”
“A few, but we can’t compete with the more fashionable subdivision communities closer to Des Moines that are bedroom communities.”
She didn’t think Maria could afford to live in one of those, anyway. Why was he bringing that up? “What about Ames?”
“About a fifteen-minute drive.”
Lucie felt a smile curve her lips. “That sounds promising.”
Tanner eyed her. “Where is this going?”
She leaned forward about to speak and then she paused. It was time to get him to contribute ideas. I can’t hold your hand forever, Tanner. I won’t be here forever. That tight feeling squeezed her heart again. “You tell me, padre,” she asked with bravado.
Tanner’s face was a sight to behold. As he chewed, he screwed his face up as though he was in pain. Finally, he said, “Do you mean the folks at Shangri-La might stay here and commute to Des Moines or Ames?”
She nodded. “Why not?”
He stirred his fork in his mashed potatoes. “Because most of them have older vehicles that aren’t reliable in the winter.”
“Okay, and?”
“Most of them work for around twice the minimum wage. That’s enough to make it cost-effective to drive to the packing plant outside of town and live at the trailer court here. Gas is high. If they decide to stay in Iowa, it would be more cost-effective for them to move to Des Moines, where there is public transportation and jobs.”
She scooped up another purpley blueberry-ice cream bite, letting it melt on her tongue. “Good points, every one of them. Now how can we turn those around so that the newcomers and the other people around here who still worked at the packing plant can stay in Pleasant Prairie?”
“What?”
She gave him an exaggerated
sigh. “Bond, think out of the box for once. We want to keep people here, so how do we do it? You and I need a brainstorming session and come up with some ideas.”
“But…what…can…we…do…with…just ideas?” he asked, venting his frustration with each word.
She punched his biceps. “You heard Henry. There’s a town council meeting in two days.”
“And you expect us—in just two days—to come up with ideas, a plan that the town council will act on?”
“Of course I do. Now finish that supper and we’ve got a lot of thinking and talking to do—”
“That’s not enough time! We need time to pray—”
“Didn’t we already have this discussion?” She put her hands on her hips, daring him. “These layoffs didn’t take God by surprise. We’ll pray and let God lead us.”
“In just two days?” His eyebrows nearly lifted to his hairline.
She grinned at him and took a big bite of pie and ice cream. “That’s the plan, man.”
Chapter Thirteen
Two days had passed since Lucie had convinced Tanner to try to persuade the town council to take action. The town hall wasn’t in the county courthouse where Lucie had mistakenly thought it would be. It was a small white frame building, only one room large over a basement and it stood alone on the east road out of town. Tanner drove the two of them up to join the other cars parked on the gravel lot that hugged the little building on three sides. Just beyond the parking lot, cornfields rustled in the breeze. Early crickets chanted, tuning up for the fall chorus, and a brown locust hopped around Lucie’s feet as Tanner opened the car door for her.
When she stood, she paused to smooth her skirt and then she looked up at Tanner. Was he up for this? His face was drawn, dark circles ringed the transparent skin beneath his brown eyes. “You look like you haven’t slept,” she grumbled, and with a proprietary manner, smoothed the crisp cloth of his dark suit jacket.
“With a two-day deadline, I didn’t have much time to prepare,” he grumbled back at her.
“I’m not responsible for the timing,” she said brightly, trying to edge him out of his gloom. “Now, this is important to a lot of people. We’ll get further with smiles.”
“Smile?” He looked as if he’d forgotten what the word meant, much less how to do it.
“Yes, a smile of confidence, supreme confidence. We’ve come to share ideas. We’re a team with God, remember?”
He exhaled a long-suffering gust of oxygen and looked ready to argue the point with her.
“Part of succeeding is looking like you believe you will,” she cut in before he could launch his latest lecture.
His crimped up his mouth and scowled at her.
She rose on her toes and kissed his crimped mouth.
A look of shock covered his face and then he leaned forward, kissing her in return.
She giggled against his lips, trying to ignore the warm current rippling through her veins. Breaking their connection, she stepped back and looked up. Tanner was smiling at her.
She gave him a cat-in-the-cream grin in return and thought, Later, Tanner. Her thought startled her. What am I doing kissing Tanner?
Pushing this thought from her mind, she smoothed her hands down his jacket sleeves. “Now that’s what I wanted to see.”
“Way to go, Preacher!” a voice came from behind them.
Lucie and Tanner turned as one to observe Henry, the farmer from the café, give Tanner a thumbs-up.
“Sorry,” Tanner mumbled, and closed the car door.
“Hey!” Henry crowed, “I just wish I had a pretty young thing kissing me in the parking lot. Didn’t know you had it in you.”
Lucie waved at Henry while Tanner gave the retired farmer a stiff, but friendly nod. Then she felt Tanner put his hand low against her spine and usher her across the gravel and up the four steps. His touch made her breathless.
Inside, the town hall smelled musty and felt stuffy. She let her gaze rove over the scene. Around the narrow room, men were at the old frame windows grunting as they tried to force them open—with limited success. Another two men were plugging in oscillating pole fans to circulate the air and another was propping open the doors at each end of the building for a cross breeze.
“Mosquitoes will be attending the meeting with us tonight,” she muttered to Tanner. Of course, he tried to sit in the rear, but she strode ahead and parked herself on an antique folding chair in the middle of the room. She smoothed her sleeveless cotton dress again and read the ancient black chalkboard at the front of the room on which an agenda had been scribbled in white. “Someone needs to have a few lessons in penmanship,” she murmured to Tanner as he muttered to himself beside her.
“Huh?”
She nudged him in the ribs. “Lighten up. You’ll be great.”
“I wish you’d stop poking and punching me,” he grumbled into her ear.
His warm breath tickled her ear and she rubbed it. Leaning close she whispered into his ear, “I’ll be happy to if you stop needing to be nudged. We’re here, and get that confident smile back on your face…or I’m kissing you again. You have five seconds. Now hit it!”
She glanced up at him and he suddenly smiled.
She chortled quietly to herself. Okay, Lord, I got him here and have him smiling. The rest is up to You. Please bless his words with the power of persuasion and enter the hearts here and fill them with attention and sympathy. We need You.
After the council was satisfied that they had enough air circulating, the meeting was gaveled to order. Lucie studied the five board members—the chairman in the middle, a gruff-sounding man in blue jeans with his shirtsleeves rolled up.
To his right, a man with a bushy mustache. Next was a man with thinning gray hair and a sour expression, and at the end was a thin man who had sharp eyes, his glance flitting restlessly around the room. On the chair’s right sat a wizened man in neatly pressed but worn overalls who looked like he had to have been over ninety. Leave it to Pleasant Prairie to have a nonagenarian on the town council!
On the scribbled agenda, “New Business” was, of course, listed last. Lucie settled back against the uncomfortable chair and looked over the people—mostly blue-jeaned farmers and some of their wives in dark cotton slacks and pastel blouses—around her. But the presence of the man beside her claimed most of her attention.
From the corner of her eye, she studied the clean line of his hair clipped neatly around his ear. Thanks to their days at the ball diamond, his neck glowed with a healthy tan. She liked the way his jaw was set so firm and determined. Tanner might be hard to get started, but when he took on a challenge, he put everything into it.
Minutes crept by, agenda point by agenda point.
Tanner tried to concentrate on the boring discussions of matters of no interest to him. Lucie, sitting so close beside him, monopolized his attention. In the drab room, occupied with mostly farmers in denim, she stood out in her tropical print dress—all turquoise, pinks, and yellow—like an exotic bird trooping with crows.
He admitted to himself that if it hadn’t been for her nudging, he wouldn’t be here tonight. And he realized that she was right; he had to be here tonight, not at next month’s meeting. A month from now would have been too late. People from Shangri-La and others in Pleasant Prairie would already have put For Sale or For Rent signs on their houses and be packing to leave with no one to take their places. No one could hang around without a job for long. A month’s unemployment was too long for most.
Lucie shifted in her seat.
Tanner had been thinking about her a lot. She was a special lady. She’d spent the summer taking care of her cousin’s family. She’d scrimped along on the few dollars a week the church had paid her to help him with clerical jobs. She’d forgone looking for a full-time job for the fall and the school year would start in barely two weeks. Pleasant Prairie wasn’t even her home, but she cared about what happened to it. Her presence here tonight proved that. He was warmed straight through jus
t thinking of her selfless giving. Did Pleasant Prairie understand how lucky they’d been to have Lucie Hansen here this summer?
I’m lucky, too.
Before he could pursue this thought, finally he heard the words he’d been waiting for, “Is there any new business to be discussed tonight?”
Lucie nudged Tanner. “Good luck.”
He rose. “I have something to discuss.”
“Okay, Pastor,” the chairman intoned, “go ahead.”
Tanner stepped into the aisle. “I’m sure you’re all aware that the packing plant has been sold.”
Murmurs rustled through the crowd. “That’s what I come to talk about,” Henry spoke up. “Something’s got to be done.”
This support heartened Tanner.
The chairman frowned at Henry. “Let’s follow proper order. The preacher has the floor.”
“Over the past few days, I’ve compiled some statistics,” Tanner continued, looking down at his notes. “Looking up census records. Starting in 1960, Pleasant Prairie’s population was 11,652. In 1970, it was 9,678. The eighties, because of the severe farm recession, the population sank to 4,871.”
“This is ancient history—” the member with the bushy mustache interrupted.
The crowd spoke up before Tanner could reply. “Let him talk!” “Shut up!” “This is important.” “Go on, Preacher! Tell them!”
“Go get ’em.” Lucie said the words just loudly enough for him to hear.
Tamping down his pleasure at this rally of support, Tanner cleared his throat. “By 1990, the population declined to 3,534. Finally, in 2000, we were down to the present number, 2,890.”
He looked to the board, praying for them to take his words seriously. “These numbers are reflected in the ever-declining attendance numbers at my church over the same years. I might add that in those forty years, Pleasant Prairie lost three churches that had been here for over a century. The schools lost students, making it necessary to close the local high school and merge with Dailey.”