The announcement from Pastor Cobbs recommending the Douglasses as interim pastors took Kat by surprise. Man, that was fast. The memorial service for Pastor Clark was just yesterday—and he wasn’t even buried yet. Well, she didn’t know about that, but they were saying the brother was flying the body to Washington State, and they’d probably have a service there before the burial. All that rigmarole would surely take a couple more days.
On the other hand, she shouldn’t be surprised. The Douglasses were a mature couple, very involved at the church. She knew them as well as she knew anybody at SouledOut—which wasn’t very well, but they were living in the same building. Mr. D was one of the elders—she was pretty sure about that—and Mrs. D was one of the worship leaders, of course. So why shouldn’t the pastor tap them for the job?
Except . . .
She poked Nick as Justin Barnes came back to the mike to read that morning’s scripture. “Psst, Nick. Don’t you need to graduate from seminary to be a pastor?”
He grunted and whispered back, “Usually.”
“Do you think either of the Douglasses have an M-Div?”
Nick sighed. “Don’t know. But my guess is no.”
Olivia frowned at them both. “Shh!”
Kat glared right back at her, let half a minute go by, and then poked Nick again. “You’ll have your M-Div in January. Why don’t you—”
“Stop,” he hissed at her. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Whoa. What got his goat?
The rest of the worship service seemed more subdued than usual. Or was it just her? Her mind kept replaying everything that had happened the past week. Including Pastor Cobbs’s challenge at the end of the memorial service. “If today was your last day to live, are you ready to die?” Three teenagers and a woman with a toddler on her hip had gone up to the front to be prayed for afterward. Were they afraid of dying and going to hell? Funny. That wasn’t why she’d decided to become a Christian. She’d been drawn by the desire to live, to believe in something—Someone—significant. Following this radical Jesus was a lifestyle choice. She hadn’t really thought about heaven or hell.
But Pastor Clark’s death had shaken her, made her think about the people in her life who didn’t believe in Jesus—like her parents. She’d kind of dismissed their life choices as “their thing.” Let them live their lives, let her live hers.
But she was realizing it was more than that.
Kat was glad when Pastor Cobbs gave the benediction and people began migrating to the coffee table, gathering their kids, or forming little huddles to talk. She didn’t want to think about her parents anymore. What could she do about it, anyway? They’d made it clear they thought she’d gone off the deep end with this “religious stuff.”
She made her way over to the Douglasses, who were being greeted by a small procession of different folks. She stepped in close. “Mr. D, Mrs. D . . . just wanted to congratulate you on being recommended as interim pastors.”
Mrs. Douglass gave her a weary smile. “Thank you. Still needs to be approved by the congregation. Whatever happens, we’re going to need a lot of prayer.” She hesitated a moment and glanced at her husband. Then, “Are you all right, Kathryn? You seemed very upset yesterday.”
“Oh.” Kat was caught off guard. “Yeah, I’ll be all right.” She hadn’t told anyone what she’d been crying about yesterday. Nick, Livie, and Bree all thought it had to do with Pastor Clark dying in spite of her giving CPR. The thing with her parents was hard to explain . . . but Mrs. D was asking. Maybe she could—
“I’m glad, Kathryn. Will you excuse us? I need to ask Florida how her husband is doing before she leaves. Coming, Peter?” Mrs. Douglass gave her another smile and slipped away.
“In a moment,” he called after her. Mr. Douglass laid a fatherly hand on Kat’s shoulder. “Kathryn. If you’re worried about what happened last Sunday, I want you to know you did a brave thing, stepping in like that and doing CPR. Showed a lot of spunk, a lot of courage. You did good.”
“Thanks.” His encouraging comment did mean a lot. “But actually,” she blurted, “I was upset because of my family. My parents. We’re kind of estranged. I mean, they don’t get the fact that I’ve become a Christian.”
“I see.”
Did he? Kat didn’t know how to explain, standing there in the middle of a milling crowd. But a crazy thought popped into her head. The subject of family had come up naturally. Now was her chance. “You and your wife are lucky, you know. To have family right here in the city—you know, your daughter and grandson. What’s her name again?”
“Daughter?” Mr. Douglass seemed momentarily flustered. “Oh, you mean Rochelle. Um, yes. It’s nice to have some of the family close by . . . Uh, where do your parents live? Do you have siblings?”
“Phoenix. And no, I’m an only. Well, don’t mean to keep you. Congrats again, Mr. D.” Kat gave a friendly nod and moved away. Was it her imagination, or had Mr. D not wanted to talk about their daughter? Well, didn’t matter. She’d gotten what she wanted.
Their daughter’s name.
Rochelle.
She found Brygitta. “I’m ready to go. Where’re Nick and Livie?”
Brygitta rolled her eyes. “Nick said he needed to leave, had a lot of homework or something. Livie wanted to go with him. I saw you talking to the Douglasses, so I told them to go on, I’d wait for you.”
“Hm. Was he acting kind of funny?”
“Yeah, kinda.” Brygitta pursed her lips. “I think I know why.”
Kat gave her a look. “O-kay, we need to talk. I have something I want to tell you about anyway. Come on.”
Twenty minutes later Kat and Brygitta had commandeered a tiny table at The Common Cup, a coffee shop they’d discovered on Morse Avenue, about halfway between the church and their three-flat.
Kat bit into her toasted whole-wheat bagel smothered with garlic-flavored cream cheese, closing her eyes in pleasure. “Mmmm, these bagels are to die for.”
Brygitta snickered. “You mean, better than the lentil-carrot-veggie-burger leftovers from last night we’d have to eat if we’d gone home?”
“Oh, come on! They were good. Admit it. And cheaper than meat—which is no small potatoes, since none of us has a job yet.”
“Yeah. And mini-term is so intense, I haven’t had time to look either.” Brygitta bit into her own toasted bagel. “But only five more days and it’ll be over. Done!”
“So.” Kat licked cream cheese off her fingers. “Tell me what’s going on with Nick.”
Brygitta shrugged. “Well, don’t know for sure. But a week ago—before all this trauma happened—he said, offhand like, that he was going to ask the pastors if he could do his pastoral internship at SouledOut. Made sense to me, since that’s where we’re attending.”
“And?”
“I’m guessing he didn’t do it, with Pastor Clark dying suddenly like that and all the shock and everything. And now . . .” Brygitta frowned as she nursed her coffee. “Maybe he’s feeling like he missed his chance. With Pastor Cobb appointing both of the Douglasses to fill in as interim pastors, there may not be room for an intern.”
Kat stared at her friend. “Yikes. You think?” She felt bad that she’d been so oblivious. Nick had once said something to her about maybe trying to get an intern position at SouledOut—but she hadn’t given it much thought since then. And he had to do an internship if he wanted to graduate next January. If not SouledOut . . . where?
Some friend she was. They hadn’t talked about it or prayed about it with him or anything.
“Now you,” Bree prompted. “You said you wanted to tell me something.”
Kat sighed. “I do. But you have to promise you’ll keep it confidential. I just . . . need to talk it over with somebody.”
“I promise! Cross my heart, Girl Scout’s honor . . . What?”
Kat filled her in on the girl she’d seen in the foyer of the three-flat the day she’d skipped graduation . . . then seeing the picture of the same girl in the Douglasses’ apartment . . . and running into her Dumpster-diving behind the Dominick’s grocery store. “It’s really weird. It’s Mr. and Mrs. Douglasses’ daughter. But she made me promise not to tell her parents I’d seen her there. She was all panicky. And Mr. and Mrs. D don’t say much about her, like they don’t really know what’s going on. I can’t figure it out. But . . . something’s not right.”
“Wow.” Brygitta’s amber eyes were big.
“What do you think I should do?”
“You can’t do anything! You promised.”
Kat fiddled with her napkin. “But I did learn her name. It’s Rochelle.”
“Mm. Pretty name.”
“Yeah. Pretty girl too. If she wasn’t so jittery.” Kat stood up. “Guess we better go. I’ve got stuff to do for class tomorrow too. Have to admit I’m pretty sick of Spanish right now!”
“Huh! Tell me about it.” Brygitta followed her to the door. “I’ve got Christian Ethics oozing out of all my pores, like locker room sweat. Ugh.”
Kat pulled open the door and stepped into the warm spring air. But a notice taped to the inside of the window of the coffee shop caught her eye. Grabbing Brygitta’s arm, she pointed. “Look!”
The two friends stared. The paper said: BARISTA WANTED. APPLY INSIDE.
Kat and Brygitta looked at each other.
“Oh my,” Kat breathed. “Except it’s just one job. And two of us. Unless—”
“Unless what?”
A slow grin spread across Kat’s face. “Unless they’d let us share it. Half-time each. Until one of us finds another job. It’d at least be something. What do you think?”
Brygitta grinned. “Why not? Wouldn’t hurt to ask.”