скачать книгу бесплатно
Helen laughed. “That’s a new one.”
“It’s her hair,” Lillie said with a smile. “One of her friends teased her about letting the gray grow out and she refuses to let anyone else see it till it’s long enough to have all the dyed parts cut off. That’s why she’s been staying home.”
“Makes perfect sense to me. I used to be a redhead, back when I thought it mattered. Now, who cares? Plain brown is fine at my age. Besides, all the good men are taken.”
“I think you look nice.”
“Thanks. Speaking of good men, how’s your love life? Didn’t I hear you were thinkin’ of gettin’ married a while back?”
“That’s old news,” Lillie said flatly. “It didn’t work out.”
“Well, you always have your career,” Helen offered.
That smarted. “Not exactly. I quit my job.”
“Uh-oh. Does Darla Sue know?”
“No. I didn’t see any reason to mention it right away, considering all the other problems she’s facing. I’ll find work locally before I tell her.”
From the kitchen came a shouted “You can have my job!”
Lillie laughed. “Sorry, Rosie, I’m a terrible cook. You’re stuck, at least till I can convince Gram her hair doesn’t look funny.”
She made another trip to the dirty-dish cart. It had been years since she’d helped out in the café like this and she wasn’t as adroit as she’d once been. When she finished scooping refuse and turned, she realized she was sporting a smear of the restaurant’s trademark red-eye gravy across the front of her formerly pristine pink blouse.
“Oh, yuck.” She grabbed a napkin and started dabbing at the stain, knowing the grease mark was probably already permanent.
The bell over the front door tinkled. She looked up from her cleaning project and saw a man entering. His leather jacket made him look like a cross between a member of a biker gang and a handsome, intriguing World War II fighter pilot. She’d opened her mouth to tell him politely that they were about to close when Helen elbowed her.
“That’s him,” the waitress hissed. “The preacher I told you about. His name’s James something-or-other.” She paused and sighed. “Poor man. He looks really beat.”
“And hungry,” Lillie added, noting the little lines of stress creasing his forehead above dark eyebrows and warm brown eyes. “I suppose it would be neighborly to feed him, even this late.”
“Not unless you want Rosie to pitch a fit,” Helen gibed. “She’s more than ready to go home.”
Lillie figured it was probably better to avoid conflict so she stuck out her right hand and went to head off the hungry preacher before he could sit down.
“Hello. I’m really sorry but we’re about to close,” she said, hoping the wash rag she was holding in front of her hid the soiled spot on her blouse.
“The way my day’s been going, that figures.” He shook her hand, then glanced at his fingers, which caused her to do the same. In her haste to stop him she’d inadvertently offered a hand that still had gravy on it.
Her cheeks warmed. “Oops. Sorry. We were cleaning up.”
“That’s okay. If I was really hungry I suppose I could just lick my fingers.”
In the background, Helen giggled. The dirty look Lillie gave her only made her laugh more.
“I’m James Warner,” the man said as he wiped his hands on a paper napkin he’d snagged from one of the tables.
“Lillie Delaney.” She was about to explain her relationship to Darla Sue when he grabbed her hand a second time and pumped it eagerly, gravy and all. “So, you’re Lillie. I am glad to finally meet you. Your grandmother has nothing but good things to say about you.”
“She’s prejudiced,” Lillie said, feeling her cheeks reddening more. She wished Gram had talked about the new preacher so she’d know more about him than Helen’s notion that some folks seemed to be out to get him.
“And rightly so. Imagine! Running your own company at such a young age.”
Lillie almost choked. She pulled her hand away. “What?”
He looked puzzled. “Maybe I misunderstood.”
“I doubt it. Gram tends to adopt any version of reality that makes her happy, whether it bears close resemblance to the truth or not.”
Seeing him start to scowl she quickly added, “She doesn’t mean to lie. She just puts a spin on things. By the time she’s told a story over and over, I doubt she has a clue what the real truth of the matter is. Actually, I worked for a large insurance company.”
“I see.”
Sensing a possible ally in her quest to help her grandmother, Lillie glanced at the glass cabinet behind the counter where they kept the desserts. “Look, Pastor Warner, I see we have scads of cherry pie left. How would you like a big piece of that, with ice cream, on the house?”
“I’d love it.”
He smiled and Lillie’s blush deepened. No wonder the church was running out of room. The Front Porch Christian congregation had to be overflowing with eligible women now that James was its pastor. That thought made her cringe. The last thing she wanted was to give the impression she was making a play for him, too.
Considering the lousy marriage record of the last two generations of her family, she figured she was better off getting a dog or a cat. Matter of fact, if her apartment building in Chicago hadn’t had rules against pets, she’d have had a sweet little dog to keep her company long ago.
Leading the way between the tables, Lillie ducked behind the counter, washed her hands, then concentrated on dishing up the cherry pie, topping it with enough ice cream to nearly hide the crust.
“Whoa,” James said, unzipping his jacket and settling himself on a stool. “That’s plenty.” When she put the dish in front of him he asked, “Aren’t you going to join me?”
“Yes, but not to eat.” Lillie leaned a hip against the opposite side of the counter and struck a nonchalant pose. “Gram made fried pies and insisted I eat a whole one this afternoon. That is seriously heavy food. I may never be hungry again.”
James laughed. “Okay. But you look like a lady with something on your mind. Why don’t you sit down and we’ll talk while I eat?”
“I’ll stand, thanks. But I would like to ask you about my grandmother.”
“Sure. Just a sec.” He bowed his head and murmured a blessing on his food.
Lillie felt more ill at ease than she had since puberty. How could she have forgotten the practice of saying grace? Darla Sue always used to insist upon it at mealtime when she was little, even though Grandpa Max refused to participate. She supposed, given their strained home life, Darla Sue had considered herself lucky that Max was there at all. What a sad existence.
Looking at James, Lillie was struck by the openness of his expression, the kindness in his dark eyes as he said, “Okay. Shoot. What’s bothering you? I’ll be glad to help if I can.”
“Do you know about my grandfather?” Lillie asked.
“In what regard?” He forked a large bite of pie into his mouth and waited for her to answer.
Good. The man wasn’t the kind to carry tales. That made Lillie more inclined to confide in him. “According to Gram, Max has run off with a floozy. Is that true?”
To James’s credit he didn’t strangle. He did, however, cough into his napkin. “I wouldn’t put it quite that way. Since Miss Darla obviously told you about her problems, I won’t be breaking a confidence if I answer. Yes, he did leave. And with a woman.”
“A member of your congregation?”
“Unfortunately.” His eyebrows arched and Lillie noticed that there was a little gray in them, the same as that peppering his dark hair at the temples.
“I take it she’s another senior citizen?”
“Um, no. I think Gloria’s about forty, forty-five.”
Lillie gasped. “Whew!”
“My sentiments exactly,” James said. “It’s a touchy situation.”
“I suppose I should ask if you know if Max is okay but I can’t say he and I bonded the way Gram and I did. He never liked me much and he didn’t bother to hide his feelings.”
“That’s too bad,” James said.
“Yes, it is. No matter how hard I tried I don’t think I ever managed to please him.” She decided to change the subject rather than dwell on past unpleasantness. “So, how’s the pie?”
“Great. Did you bake it?”
Lillie gave a nervous laugh. “Me? Not hardly. You’ve seen the full extent of my talent in the kitchen. I can scoop ice cream and cut pie. Period.”
“You’re not a practicing Southern Christian like your grandmother?”
The question was delivered so deadpan Lillie almost missed the inside joke. The twinkle in his eye gave him away and she chuckled. “Oh, I get it. You mean, because of all the social eating they do. I used to go to church with Gram when I was younger but I haven’t attended services in a long time. Guess none of the dinner-on-the-ground genes were passed on to me. I don’t even own a casserole dish or a Crock-Pot.”
“You’re a lost soul, aren’t you?”
“Not literally, if that’s what you’re fishing for. I went forward at a revival when I was thirteen.” She decided not to expound on her lack of recent churchgoing.
“Glad to hear it.” James continued to enjoy his pie. “So, what can I do for you? Is your grandmother grieving? I haven’t been able to convince her to talk to me since Max left. I’ve stopped by several times in the past few weeks but she won’t even let me in the house.”
“Actually, she seems more upbeat than she has for years. What I’m worried about is her mind. I think she’s out of touch with reality.”
“In what way?”
“Well, for starters, she’s letting a bad hair day keep her from coming to work and that’s not at all like her.”
“I see. Will you be staying long? If so, you might want to take her to the doctor for a checkup. You know, make sure she’s mentally and physically sound.”
Lillie nodded. “I’d thought of that. Actually, I was planning to move back to Gumption for good.”
His head snapped up and his eyes seemed to brighten.
“Wonderful! Darla Sue will be thrilled. What did she say when you told her?”
“I haven’t told her. Not yet.” Lillie made a dour face in spite of the smile the preacher was beaming at her. “I quit my job when I left Chicago. Gram isn’t going to like hearing that. She’s always had a really strong work ethic.”
“Except lately,” James observed with a nod toward the kitchen. “I know she’s playing hooky. That was one of the reasons I stopped by this evening. I’d heard you were back in town and I thought…”
“You didn’t come here to eat? You took free pie under false pretenses? What kind of preacher are you?”
“Oh, I’m a hungry one,” he answered with a grin. “But I could have grabbed a quick meal at the sandwich shop. I came here to see if I could find out how Darla Sue was really doing. I was afraid she might be putting on a brave front for my benefit.”
“I don’t think so. Except for her hair, she seemed fine when I showed up on her doorstep this afternoon.”
“Then we can probably stop worrying about her and concentrate on praying for your grandfather.”
Lillie made another face. “You can pray for Max if you want to but not me. And while you’re at it, you might as well say a few words for my father. Turns out he was just as big a skunk as my granddad is.”
Chapter Three
James wondered what he should have said to Lillie after her telling outburst. There were few instances since his ordination when he’d felt so unable to offer words of wisdom. Then again, he hadn’t been a member of the clergy for nearly as long as his age would indicate.
Walking down Third Street toward the church parking lot where he’d left his motorcycle, he studied the old buildings on the square. Glow from the streetlights muted their flaws and made them seem sturdier, but they were still clearly antiquated.
Sadly, that was true of his church, too. Gumption Front Porch Christian was so small it was a wonder the congregation hadn’t sold that sanctuary and moved on long ago. Yes, it had its namesake front porch and a quaintly charming stone facade but it lacked many necessary elements, not the least of which was adequate on-site parking.
Inside, wooden pews that bore the patina of age barely provided enough room for the regulars to squeeze in. Add a few visitors and they had to pull folding chairs out of the Sunday-school rooms and place them in the aisle to accommodate everyone.
Not only was that solution awkward, it was unsafe. If folks got up before the end of the service, there was a good chance they’d trip and fall before they reached the exits. Heaven forbid, literally, they ever had an emergency that required quick evacuation. Something had to be done, and soon.
He gave a tuneless whistle. Sudden rustling in a nearby tree led his gaze upward even though it was almost too dark to see. By approaching the tree trunk and leaning left, he was able to peer through the clusters of tiny white blossoms and catch a glimpse of what had drawn his attention. Two bright eyes reflected the dim light enough for him to tell that the creature definitely wasn’t a squirrel. Judging by the pansylike face and pitiful mewing, it was a kitten. A very young kitten.
James wasn’t particularly fond of cats. As far as he was concerned their place was in a barn, catching mice, not underfoot in a house. It was, however, one of God’s creatures. And he was a servant of the Lord. Therefore, he assumed it was his duty to either affect a rescue or find someone who would.
Craning his neck to watch the kitten, he tried to recall how long it had been since he’d shinnied up a tree. Twenty years? Probably. Except for his motorcycle riding he’d never been as athletic as most boys. While they’d been out playing baseball and football, he’d been doing his homework or reading his dad’s copy of the Wall Street Journal.
That had prepared him for his initially successful foray into the business world but it hadn’t satisfied his soul or equipped him to deal with the perfidy of his partners or the infidelity of his late wife, which was why he’d eventually chucked his old life and escaped to the Ozarks.
He smiled. He could identify with Lillie Delaney’s decision to quit her job and head for the hills. Although Gumption hadn’t been his point of origin, it had served the same purpose. He, too, had come here to the South to start over. Perhaps he should have told her so. Then again, it was his job to listen and offer wise counsel, not spout off about his own life history the first chance he got.
Approaching the base of the tree, he reached up as far as he could. The frightened kitten hissed and backed away, trembling so badly that some of the tiny flower petals around it shook loose and drifted down.
“Come on, cat,” he cajoled, wiggling his fingers. “Don’t you know a friend when you see one?”
Obviously, the answer was no.
James withdrew, planning his next move as he brushed the shed blossoms off his jacket. He looked around. Few good citizens of Gumption were on the street at this time of night and those who were were judiciously avoiding eye contact. Either they knew there was a cat stuck in the tree or they still considered him an outsider, even after nearly a year. Either was possible. Both were likely.
If he were a hungry, scared animal, what would bring him to his rescuer? Food. He needed a big handful of something cats found irresistible.
It was quicker and easier to backtrack to DD’s than to fire up his bike, ride home and raid his refrigerator.
Lillie had locked the front door when she’d let him out of the café so he circled around back. That door, too, was locked, but at least there was a porch light to see by.
Unwilling to give up so easily, James took off his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, then cautiously lifted the top of the battered green Dumpster that sat against the brick wall. The fumes that instantly filled his nostrils were so strong, so disgusting, he dropped the lid with a bang.
Gasping, he turned away, grabbed a deep breath, held it and tried again. Judging by the smell, there were fish scraps in this garbage bin old enough to vote!
He was gingerly lifting aside a crumpled cardboard box when someone directly behind him said, “I don’t believe it,” and startled him so much he lost his hold on the lid once again. It thwacked him on the forearm before he could jump clear.
