“A charlatan wouldn’t contemplate staying near the folks he snookered.”
Gregory’s fussing became more pronounced. “Well, I’d better get this little fella home so his mama can feed him.” Merit settled the baby back in the stroller, clipping a couple of the plastic locks in what he hoped were their correct connections. He stood and held a hand to Angus. “Nice running into you. Perhaps we’ll see more of each other.”
Angus offered him a return handshake and a salute. “Perhaps. I might even consider attending church if I knew you were going to be the new preacher.”
Merit bobbed his head in acknowledgement, awed that Angus seemed more impressed by his admission of defeat than by his mastery of theological rhetoric. Merit pushed Gregory back up the sidewalk, wondering if the real secret of evangelism meant taking a step back.
Cherie ushered Merit out on the deck and offered lunch. Pete sat there, watching the kids in the yard.
“You have the look of a man who’s still holding God in a headlock,” Pete said. He leaned back in his chair, turned his face to the sun, and folded his hands across his stomach.
Merit grinned. “How likely will the church consider my application, knowing that I’m single?”
“You’ll have a number of ladies setting you up with their nieces and granddaughters. You’ll be a wonderful project.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Cherie brought out a plate of sandwiches. Merit watched as she glanced at her husband, who faintly shook his head no. She bit her lips and went back inside.
Merit, in all seriousness, stared at his friend. “Could you tell me why you took the call to New Life?”
“We had three other offers from different churches to consider. We liked Fox Falls, we felt we could work with the people of the congregation to serve God in this place. We’ve established new ministries, grown a little. It’s a conservative, thoughtful congregation. I’ll be sorry to leave, actually.”
Merit swallowed and contemplated the floor of the deck. Then he looked at the sky and closed his eyes. “I don’t know if I can stay here, near…near her. I think I’d be too distracted.”
“Most often you find love to be multiplying, not divisive.”
“Maybe God’s love. But this is a hopeless love based in fantasy. I can’t allow my emotions to sway my duty, Pete.” Merit opened his eyes and studied Pete’s reaction.
Pete bit off and chewed a hunk of baloney and pickle sandwich before answering. “Emotions and duty…I used to think like that. In fact, I think we sat next to each other in class on the subject: Duty 301.”
Merit cast his friend a sidelong rueful look.
Pete grinned and wiped his mouth. “Running away from Amalia or staying here merely to be close to her aren’t your only options. The work, the church, and the people, would suffer without you if God is calling you to serve him in this place.”
Merit whispered, “I would suffer.”
“Suffering is part of life.” Pete took another bite.
“Stop offering those prosaic comments. Give me some real advice.”
“Okay, here it is. Let me show you this little-known passage in Genesis, chapter two.” Pete stuffed the rest of his lunch into his mouth before he pulled his tattered Bible from under the chair and flipped it open.
“The Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it…. The Lord God said, ‘It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him…. So the Lord God caused the man to fall into a deep sleep; and while he was sleeping—”
“I’m familiar with the passage.”
“You’ve read it,” Pete corrected quietly. “You haven’t experienced it.”
“Prudence said something like that when the mission board offered me a training position.”
“She’s a wise woman, your sister.”
“But what do I do? Nursing or ministering? I’ve only known Amalia for a few months, but I love her. She’s got a precious faith, is kind and so beautiful, but she’ll be another man’s wife. What kind of minister loves another man’s wife? Maybe I should go to Chicago.”
“Amalia isn’t married to Demarest.”
“Then what kind of minister wrecks another man’s hopes of a future with the woman he says he loves? I know how I would feel if someone else did that to me.”
“You have to trust Amalia to make her own choice.”
“She did. I heard her say that she would marry Demarest that day in the hospital.”
The sliding door screeched on its tracks. Cherie came out. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help overhearing. Merit, Hudson coerced Amalia to say that. She only told him that when his alarms went off in the hospital. She had to quiet him down somehow.”
Pete cut in. “Cherie—”
“Oh, honestly, Pete. She told me herself.” Cherie crouched beside Merit’s chair.
Pete got up. “There are other reasons for Merit to stay here, Cherie. Remember what Amalia said about her last visit to the refugees?”
Merit searched his friend’s face for a clue. “Oh?”
“You know that New Life has just started the outreach with the Nehrangese, and you should be part of that. They’re moving to another temporary site on the south side. And…” Pete looked at his wife. “Amalia told us she might have found Justice.”
“Who?”
“Your brother, Merit. Justice Campbell. The JC of the refugees on campus. A man, a young man by that name is the campus housing director. She wasn’t sure if you knew anything about it, and planned to tell you, but you’d left for Florida. And of course, yesterday I had other things on my mind and forgot to mention it.”
Merit gripped the armrests of his chair. He could not feel his numb fingers. “Did Amalia see him?” Hope made him beg an answer from his friends.
Pete shook his head. “She said no. But Marianne Friese knows him. What if that’s really your younger brother? You’ll want to check into it.”
FOURTEEN
Downtown Fox Falls swarmed with shoppers preparing for various end-of-summer rituals. Stores everywhere offered sidewalk sales. Back to school specials seemed to be the hottest venue, and the hardware store had a sale on picnic gear. Amalia clasped Hudson’s elbow as they left the funeral home for a mid-morning walk. He would soon go back to work, and he needed to build up his stamina.
She steered him across the street when they reached Jordyn’s shop. Amalia could feel her friend’s displeasure from a block away that she continued to support Hudson. Jordyn had blistered the phone lines at all hours reminding her that she owed Hudson nothing.
But Amalia’s loyalties ran deep. Hudson had always been there, the peripheral blanket she clutched whenever she felt worried or frightened.
Jordyn said Hudson held her tethered and trained, not loved and encouraged to bloom.
Amalia stopped picking up every call, hoping Jordyn would soon grow tired and move on to a new topic. Amalia would push Hudson back to independence. Gently. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that Jordyn’s intentions were good.
Maybe she had let Hudson hang on her too long.
She could try harder to convince him to travel out of the city limits, away from the comfort of the hospital close by, and walk at one of the state parks. Then she could gradually move out of his life. He needed to work on his diet by himself. She had given up trying to force the issue and now fought back by refusing to accompany him to the restaurants where he loved to dine several times a week. Upon occasion Amalia shared a homemade meal with him, but even the church ladies stopped bringing him food. Maybe they were right, and she should back off. For his own good.
Hudson indicated the dress shop as they approached. “Have you decided on your wedding gown, yet, my dearest? Charlotte had some thoughts. We could go inside the boutique, see what she had in mind.”
“I told you, we’re not getting married. If you keep on talking like this, I’m leaving you right here.” Her cur
iosity got the better of her. “Why would Charlotte Guthry care about my wedding dress anyway?’
Hudson’s normally heightened color turned an alarming plum. “She’s taken an interest in you. You should be grateful, for she has a keen fashion sense.”
“Are you trying to tell me that I don’t have any style?”
“Of course not, my dear. You are every bit tres chic. As the wife of a prominent citizen should be.”
Amalia took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She looked around almost frantically, praying for a distraction to keep from blurting something hurtful. Gently encouraging Hudson’s independence now sounded too tame. The fact that he had taken Charlotte to dinner before his heart attack still rubbed a sore spot on Amalia’s sentiments. That he claimed to have loved her his whole life, then went out with someone else before she even got home from calling off their relationship, frosted her. “Perhaps you should marry her.”
Before Hudson could reply, Angus Craig appeared half a block in front of them, obviously returning to his business after some errand. Amalia waved and Angus stopped to wait for them to catch up.
“I’ll need to discuss changes in my brochure, Angus,” Hudson said. “And I hope that after I convince this lovely woman that we are getting married, I’ll discuss invitations.”
Amalia, livid, opened her mouth and closed it twice before she choked out the words. “Hudson. Angus, we’re not getting married. Pay him no mind.”
If Hudson planned to simply wear her down, he’d be singing a windy song for a long time. She thought better of the next thing she planned to say when she saw the speculation on Angus’s face and the high color still on Hudson’s. The more she protested, the more she fueled gossip. And perhaps hurt their businesses. Nor could she justify the words in keeping with Christian charity. Angus needed all the good role-modeling he could get.
Angus raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” He looked at Amalia. “I stopped to talk to Merit Campbell earlier,” Angus said.
Amalia swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. She shook her head, glancing at Hudson. A vein had popped along his temple, not a good sign, on top of the dangerously abnormal skin color.
“Did the man not raise enough funds to return to the mission?” Hudson asked. “Because I’d be willing to make a generous donation.”
Amalia stared at him, floored by his decision now to support the Nehrangesi. Then her eyes narrowed. Not a change in attitude. Hudson wanted to buy Merit out and send him packing out of the country. As if Hudson thought Merit competed against him. One look at Angus’s calculating expression confirmed he thought the same thing. Amalia’s throat closed up altogether, and she coughed.
Angus kept his eyes focused on her, his scraggly grayed eyebrows waggling in sympathy. When the silence stretched, he replied to Hudson, “Mr. Campbell told me he couldn’t get permission to return to that country because of the fighting in the area.”
Hudson waved a hand. “How dangerous could it be? Rebels without a cause, probably use knives and machetes. They wouldn’t make any problems at a hospital, now, would they?”
Angus shook his head and yanked open the door of his shop. “You have no idea,” he said over his shoulder as he stepped over the threshold.
Hudson patted Amalia’s arm. “Are you all right now? Come, my dear. Let’s move on.”
Amalia took a few trembling steps, willing her legs to move. She really needed to carry through on her threat to leave him in the middle of the sidewalk when he persisted in spreading the rumor that they were engaged.
But where would she go? Hudson couldn’t hold a candle to Merit. She let her mind wrap up in thoughts of Merit to escape Hudson’s badgering. Would Merit still want her help to renovate the house? The one project that seemed to be the way God wanted to work in her life? They hadn’t spoken for several days, and Amalia did not feel comfortable enough to approach him.
But she so wanted to get her hands on that house. It had so much lively potential. She could see a fire crackling, couches and tables with games and books in the living room, a kitchen with a bottomless pot of soup on the stove, the smell of bread baking.
Hudson rudely interrupted her reverie. “You did not seem very surprised about Mr. Craig’s news, dearest.”
“Stop calling me that. No. Merit told me about it the day of your heart attack.”
“That’s right. I believe you were with him when I fell ill?”
“He saved your life, Hudson.”
“What were you doing? I don’t believe you ever explained why you were with him.”
As if it’s any of your business. “We were discussing a business arrangement. About his house.”
“You mean his uncle’s house.”
“No. I mean, his house. He took it over from his uncle’s estate. He’s planning—he wanted to, that is—to use it for a training facility for the mission.”
“I doubt that the city would allow a conditional use permit for that kind of activity. Not in such a genteel part of the city, anyway.”
“We’ll see. Merit is aware of the complications.”
“Do you think that’s such a good idea, my dear?
“You know that I’ve branched out with The Last Detail to include other services than end-of-life arrangements. This is another perfect opportunity for me.”
“But you should not continue working with him.”
“Why not?”
“As my wife, it wouldn’t be seemly.”
Amalia stopped in the middle of sidewalk, shaking with her attempt to control her temper. She unclasped her hand from his arm. “Excuse me. I have to be somewhere else.”
Maybe she should be more worried about Hudson’s delusional state of mind, but right now her anger overrode any other way of thinking. Instead of pushing Hudson into the path of poor old Sam, whose taxi bore down the street, she bit the inside of her cheek to replace the impulse with a measure of dignity. The ploy had always worked for her mother. Amalia needed to start practicing it on a regular basis if she wanted to retain her clientele.
Jordyn was right. Amalia would go and apologize to her right away. She practically ran up the block, only to stop, breathless in front of the door, to read the sign. Closed for the afternoon. See you tomorrow!
That’s right. Amalia remembered that Jordyn’s brother had come home on leave from the army, and they planned a party at her mother’s house. Amalia would call later.
A haven…a haven…Cherie would soon be gone. Amalia wanted to spend as much time with her as she could. She somehow managed to get across town without an accident.
* * *
Cherie plunked Gregory into Amalia’s arms as soon as she stepped into the chaos of the Thompson house. Packing boxes were scattered over most of the living room. Amalia heard Joey giggling somewhere close by.
“I thought we’d have another month before you had to leave,” Amalia said, a slight waver to her voice. She clasped the baby tighter to hide her shakiness.
“We might as well pack away and ship some of this stuff. If I do a little at a time, I won’t be so overwhelmed. My parents will store things for us until we can get out there. We’ve already had an offer on the house. We bought this one, you know, when we first came.” Cherie’s voice sounded muffled from inside the hall closet where she had plunged her head to start pulling out coats. “Parsonages are so out of style anymore.”
“Oh, that will be wonderful, having…having your…parents…nearby.” Tears splashed on Gregory’s head. Amalia smoothed them away with a trembling hand.
Cherie dropped the pile of coats on the floor and led her to the couch. “Oh, honey, what’s the matter?” Pressing the remote to quiet the children’s program playing in the background, she drew Amalia to her side. “We’ll keep in touch. There, now. I know all this can’t be for me. You came here to talk to me, didn’t you?”
Amalia gave a quivery laugh. “I am sad that you’ll be leaving. And so suddenly. I don’t know what I’ll do without you.” Gregory
waved his arms at his mother, and his mouth opened to wail. Cherie took him back on her lap from where he regarded Amalia with his big teary blue eyes. Amalia held out a hand to the baby. “A breath of reality hit me full in the face this afternoon with Hudson. He’s still telling everyone we’re engaged. As if saying it enough times will make it true, or something. What can I do?”
Cherie leaned back against the sofa to nurse her son. “People will figure it out when the wedding doesn’t happen.”
Amalia quenched the little spark of jealousy over Cherie’s children. “Oh, Cherie, you can’t be serious.”
“On the other hand, if you were involved with someone else, that would put the matter to rest.”
“Or ruin my reputation for good. Someone else?” Amalia shook her head. “Maybe I should marry Hudson. No one else wants me.”
Smoothing Gregory’s head and kissing him, Cherie’s low voice mumbled so that Amalia had to lean close to hear her.
“I shouldn’t tell you this,” Cherie said. “But we’ve asked the church council to consider hiring Merit to take Pete’s place.”
“Is that legal? Don’t they have to advertise, or get permission, or something?” Delicious excitement mingled with trepidation. Amalia closed her eyes and pressed them with her fingertips. Merit—as her pastor? “Do you think he’d do it?”
“He would be good for New Life. Pete and I both prayed it over and got the same answer. Merit has made an impression on the people here in town, and at New Life this summer. And he can’t return to Nehrangestan at this time.”
“Angus Craig mentioned that.”
“Angus? How did he know?”
Amalia shook her head. “He said he had spoken to Merit today.”
“Merit stopped in earlier. In fact, he took Gregory out for a stroll. That must be when Angus saw him. You know how Angus likes to get out and wander around town, soak up the gossip. As if he doesn’t get enough when people walk into the shop. Then Merit came back here and talked to Pete at lunchtime.”
“Merit took Gregory?”
Cherie shrugged one shoulder. “I didn’t have the heart to say no. Merit said he needed someone to talk to.”
The Last Detail Page 14