by Diane Moody
Her father’s flag-draped casket stood before one of the windows, behind it the stunning view of those rolling hills. And all around them, flower arrangements too numerous to count. Aubrey found it difficult to breathe as the finality of the moment began to sink deep in her heart.
Surrounded by the large crowd of friends all gathered to say their goodbyes to Jed Evans, Aubrey closed her eyes, searching for strength.
Peyton took his place at a podium beside her father’s casket and opened the service with a brief prayer. Afterward, a young woman with a guitar took a seat on a stool at the other end of the casket. Faye had specifically requested Emily Parker to sing Jed’s favorite version of an old familiar hymn. The singer’s fingers played the soulful melody on the strings, then lifted her voice to sing. The melody was different, but Aubrey recognized the words. A distant memory traipsed through her mind, that of herself as a young child sitting between her parents at church, singing these same words.
Softly and tenderly, Jesus is calling,
Calling for you and for me.
See, on the portals He’s waiting and watching,
Watching for you and for me.
“Come home, come home,
You who are weary, come home!”
Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling,
Calling, “O sinner, come home!”
“Oh, how your father loved this song,” Faye whispered, leaning toward her.
Something ached in her as the soloist sang the rest of the verses. Lyrics telling of God’s mercy and promises of love and forgiveness to all who answer the tender call of the Savior.
When the song ended, Peyton returned to the podium. Until then, she hadn’t noticed how handsome he looked in his black suit, white shirt, and gray paisley tie. He placed an open Bible on the podium, then shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks.
“I don’t know about you, but as Emily sang that sweet hymn so beautifully,” he paused, clearing his graveled voice, “I couldn’t help but feel the presence of the Lord in this place.”
Folks nodded, and a few offered a hushed amen. Aubrey glanced up at the pastor, surprised to find his eyes glistening with tears.
“Thank you, Emily,” he said eventually, nodding toward the singer.
He swiped at his eyes, then flipped a couple of pages in the large Bible before lifting it into his hands. “This morning I’m reading from Jed’s Bible. You can see it’s pretty worn around the edges, and here inside,” he said, thumbing some pages, “there are thousands of passages underlined and highlighted, and miles of notes written in the margins. Jed loved God’s Word. But we didn’t need to see his Bible to know that, did we?
“I’d like for us to begin by reading the first three verses of the first chapter of the book of Psalms, as we honor his memory.”
Aubrey watched as Peyton set the book back on the podium and read the scriptures from her father’s Bible. Something about his voice drew her in, soothing her spirit as he read verses she had memorized as a child long ago in Sunday School. She closed her eyes and listened.
“‘Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked, nor stand in the path of sinners, nor sit in the seat of scoffers. But his delight is in the law of the Lord, and in His law he meditates day and night. He will be like a tree firmly planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither; and in whatever he does, he prospers.’”
Peyton looked up at those gathered. “You also didn’t have to know Jed well to understand that he lived these verses. His delight truly was in God’s Word which he studied day and night. I was having breakfast with Jed a few weeks ago and asked him what his favorite scripture was. He didn’t hesitate and told me it was these three verses I just read to you. I asked him why these? Out of all the Bible, what was it about these particular verses that meant so much to him?
“With that big ol’ grin of his—you all know the one—he told me it was because he absolutely delighted in God’s Word, deep in his soul. He said nothing gave him greater pleasure than spending time with the Lord, meditating on His grace and love and promises day and night. And that tree the Psalmist mentions? Jed said, ‘I’m that guy. Because every single morning I get down on my knees and thank God for granting me that firm foundation. For I know that in good times and bad, I can stand like that tree, ‘firmly planted by streams of water.’ Not because of who I am, but Whose I am.’
“I told him he’d better stop preaching or I’d be out of a job. To which he roared with that contagious laughter of his.” Peyton chuckled along with everyone else. When they quieted, he added, “I have to say, apart from his friendship, it’s his laughter I may miss most of all.”
His eyes found Aubrey’s, his kind smile causing her lips to form a smile of their own. His glance held hers a moment longer before he looked away.
He told of Jed’s service as an Air Force pilot during the Vietnam War. He told of his life as a FedEx pilot. His love for the game of golf, even though he wasn’t very good at it. His love of history and his insatiable passion for reading. He told about the time Jed met Elvis, though they’d all heard the story themselves. More chuckles followed that one.
He told of Jed’s deep love for his wife of forty years and his surprise gift to Faye—a shop of her very own here in Braxton. How she’d been uncertain about the sudden move from Memphis, then grew to love it here like the rest of them who called Braxton home.
His eyes found Aubrey’s again. “And anyone who knew Jed, knew how proud he was of his daughter, Aubrey. I know you’ve heard it said before, but his face would light up when he talked about you, Aubrey. And trust me, he could not stop talking about you.”
She swallowed hard, embarrassed for all these people to hear of her father’s feelings toward her.
Peyton continued, talking of Jed’s gift of ministry and how he helped out in big ways and small at the church and beyond the church walls. How Jed was only a phone call away when emergencies popped up or someone was in need.
“And as much as he loved running the shop with you, Faye, he loved the freedom retirement gave him to take those calls and help out however and whenever he could. We shall all miss his generous heart and spirit more than words can express.”
About half an hour later, once Jed’s casket had been moved to the grave site, the crowd gathered one last time. Two soldiers removed the flag from his casket and folded it with military precision before presenting it to Faye “on behalf of a grateful nation.”
At a distance beyond them, a company of soldiers fired off a twenty-one gun salute, each report of their rifles causing Aubrey to flinch. When the last shot was fired, the peace which followed seemed almost palpable. A breeze blew over the valley, and for just a moment she imagined the stirring to be caused by all those buried here welcoming her father to rest with them.
Aubrey drew her mother to nestle beside her.
This was it.
A moment later, a young woman in uniform raised a trumpet to her lips and played “Taps,” the somber melody lingering as a final tribute to the life of Jed Evans.
Chapter 5
Most of those who attended Jed’s funeral joined Aubrey and her mother afterward at Braxton House for a small reception. The stunning home previously owned by the late Peter Lanham—founder of the Lanham Grocery Store chain—now belonged to the community as the cultural center of Braxton. Aubrey was blown away by its stately elegance, both inside and out.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she said as she and Peyton joined the others in the Grand Room, its beamed ceiling reaching two stories high. “Especially considering how small Braxton is.”
“No kidding,” Peyton said. “When I moved here five months ago, I couldn’t believe it either and how busy it stays. They have everything from cooking lessons in a beautiful state-of-the-art kitchen, to all kinds of music lessons and choir rehearsals, to painting and sculpture instruction in the studios upstairs. I can take you on a tour late
r, if you’d like.”
He cringed and added, “Sorry. I suppose another time would be more appropriate.”
“That might be best.”
“I wish our curator was here. Kathleen is away at a conference and won’t be back until Monday. She’s done a fabulous job, in spite of some recent problems.”
“What kind of problems?”
Peyton scratched behind his ear. “That’s a long story for another time. But most of it involved a priceless historical artifact that was stolen only days after it was bequeathed to Braxton House.”
“What kind of artifact?”
“The Braxton Sword. It’s a family heirloom belonging to the Braxton family dating back to the American Revolution. The good news is, it was later found and returned. It’s back where it belongs, in a locked display case guarded by security cameras. I’ll show it to you whenever we take that tour.”
They turned as Faye joined them with another couple.
“Aubrey, have you met the Parkers?”
“No, I don’t believe I have.”
“This is Henry and Susannah Parker. Good friends of ours.”
Aubrey extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you so much for coming.”
“Jed was a good friend,” Henry said, as he shook her hand. “He and I spent many happy hours on the golf course.”
“Was he as bad as they say?”
Henry laughed heartily. “Probably much, much worse, but he sure loved the game.”
“We got to know your parents when they first moved here,” his wife added, “and immediately loved them both.”
“Aubrey, Susannah is the realtor who helped Jed buy the store and our house,” Faye said. “And Henry is an architect. He helped us redesign the interior and even did some carpentry work with your father to help us get all set up.”
“It was my pleasure, Faye,” Henry said. “We’re sure going to miss him.”
“He was always such a joy to be around,” Susannah added. “Our little town won’t be the same without him.”
Faye’s chin quivered as a tear slipped from her eye.
“We’re here for you, Faye.” Susannah gave her another hug. “I know how wonderful it is for you to have Aubrey home with you, but when she leaves, we’ll step in to help however we can. And you know us well enough to know those aren’t empty promises, okay?”
“Thank you,” Faye answered softly.
“How long will you be able to stay, Aubrey?” Henry asked.
“I’m not quite sure. I’ve notified my office that I’m taking an extended leave of absence until we can tie up loose ends here.”
“Good,” he said. “And please don’t hesitate to call if there’s anything you need.”
“I will. Thank you.”
When a young couple approached, joining their circle, Susannah said, “Aubrey, this is our son Gevin and his wife Emily.”
“It’s nice to meet you. And Emily, thank you for singing this morning. It was lovely.”
“You’re welcome. I was so pleased your mother asked me to sing. I just moved here, so I didn’t know Jed well, but it’s obvious how much he was loved by everyone here.”
“Aubrey, Emily and Gevin were just married a few weeks ago,” Faye added. “In fact, the wedding and reception were held here on the grounds of Braxton House.”
“Congratulations,” Aubrey said. “What a beautiful setting for a wedding.”
“It was just about perfect,” Gevin said with a wide grin, his arm settling around his bride’s waist.
“And Gevin’s sister Julie was also married here,” Faye added, pointing to another couple. “That’s Julie over there in the navy dress with her husband Matt talking to the mayor. Matt works for the TBI. That’s the Tennessee branch of the FBI.”
Aubrey watched the other couple, the pretty blonde quite animated when she spoke; her husband standing quietly beside her.
“Julie is an aspiring actress,” Faye continued. “She’s played in all sorts of theater productions in Nashville. And Gevin is a professional photographer. He has a studio on the square just around the corner from our shop.”
“You have quite a talented family,” Aubrey said. “You must be very proud.”
“We are, and I know your mother is proud of you too,” Henry said. “And Peyton was right when he said Jed loved to talk about you.”
“He was a wonderful father,” she said, bracing herself once more against the tug on her heart.
Peyton returned to introduce more of Faye and Jed’s friends to Aubrey. The hour sped by, but Aubrey could feel the fatigue creeping in as names and faces blurred in the myriad of condolences offered. She could tell her mother was getting tired, her smile beginning to droop a little more with each conversation.
Later, as she gathered her purse and her mother’s shawl in a small room off the main foyer, another guest she hadn’t met entered the room carrying a large arrangement of red roses. At five-foot-ten, Aubrey was usually one of the tallest in a crowd, but this woman towered over her by at least another two or three inches.
She balanced the flower vase on her ample hip and stuck out her other hand. “Sugar Simpson. Church secretary. Awful sorry about your pop. We all loved the stuffin’ out of him.”
“Thank you … Sugar.” Aubrey smiled. “That’s a pretty name. I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone named Sugar.”
“Thanks, honey. Most folks just call me Sug, though sometimes around the office, Peyton calls me Sweet ’n Low,” she added with a giggle and a wink. “He’s funny like that. Listen, I was thinkin’ I’d take these flowers over to the church for tomorrow’s service unless you and your mama want to take ’em home?”
“No, please. Take as many as you need. We have plenty at the house.”
“They’re all from Lanham’s, y’know,” she said, lifting the arrangement between them. “Y’know, all the Lanham Grocery Stores sell fresh flowers. Pretty enough, but I sure miss Harley’s flowers. That man worked magic with flowers like nothin’ you ever saw. Honey, you should’ve seen him do his thing.” She shook her head with a couple of tsks. “No one will ever take his place. That’s for sure.”
“What happened to him?”
Sugar blinked twice. “Hasn’t anyone told you?”
“No. Why would they?”
Her brows arched high as her brown eyes rolled. “Biggest scandal to hit Braxton since Mr. Lanham dove headfirst off the town’s water tower. Turns out Harley got himself in hot water with some loan sharks out in Vegas. Not a one of us knew he had a gambling problem. Rumor is, he was hundreds of thousands in debt, right up to his eyeballs.
“But that’s not the worst of it.” She paused, glancing over her shoulder then leaning closer to Aubrey, lowering her voice. “Rumor also has it that Harley was behind the disappearance of the Braxton Sword.”
Sugar stepped back and straightened, tilting her head just so. Aubrey had the distinct impression a response was expected.
“Goodness, that’s so sad. Was he arrested?”
“Oh, he would be if they could find him. He’s been on the lam ever since. No one’s seen him. Not even his sister Kathleen.”
“Kathleen, the curator here?”
She nodded. “One and the same. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
Aubrey had no words.
“Well, sweetie, I’m gonna grab a couple more arrangements then run them over to the church. It was real nice meeting you. If you and Faye come to church tomorrow, be sure and say hey, okay?”
Chapter 6
The next morning, Peyton put the final touches on his sermon notes and tucked them in his Bible. Then, taking a knee beside his desk, he offered the Lord a prayer of thanks for the privilege of serving his congregation, and asked God to use him to speak to the hearts of those who would be attending. As he did every Sunday morning, he finished by praying from II Timothy 2:21.
“Father, use me as ‘an instrument for special purposes, made holy and useful to the Master, prepared
to do any good work.’ To You alone I give the glory and honor, in Your name I pray. Amen.”
Grabbing his Bible, he headed down the hall to pop in for a quick visit with the regulars in the Coffee Corner, a re-purposed storage area recently transformed into a coffee bar where folks could meet before services or on their way to Sunday School.
“Good mornin’, ladies and gentlemen!” Peyton announced, greeting them as he always did.
“Mornin’, Pastor!” they said, returning his contagious enthusiasm.
“Here, Pastor, have a cup on me,” Buster Suggs offered, reaching for a mug.
“Thanks, Mr. Mayor, but I’m already well-caffeinated. Two cups and I’m good to go. But tell me, what’s the latest on the water tower controversy?”
“Not good, I’m afraid. The divide seems to grow wider every day. I don’t mind telling you it’s a real burr in my saddle trying to keep the peace between the ‘Save the Tower’ brigade and the ‘Raze the Tower’ bunch.”
“It’s about time for that eyesore to come down,” Frank Gowden growled, a habitually outspoken critic of the mayor. “It’s nothing but a constant reminder of Peter Lanham’s suicide. Seems to me you’d be just as anxious to get rid of it as the rest of us.”
“Now, come on, guys,” Peyton said, patting Frank on the back. “Play nice. We’re in church, remember? Speaking of which, we’ve got a service to attend. Shall we?”
He left their grumbles behind, took a quick detour to the men’s room, then entered the side door into the front of the sanctuary.
“Good morning, Jeff,” Peyton said, shaking hands with Braxton’s sheriff. “How’s the family today?”