6

The Monday morning after the wedding, Sam woke up early and went for a walk out in the country toward Ellis and Miriam Hodge’s farm. He arrived at their house just as they were pulling out of their driveway. Ellis rolled to a stop and lowered his window.

“Howdy, Sam. Out for a walk I see.”

“You bet. What are the Hodges up to this beautiful morning?”

“Don’t you remember, Sam?” Miriam said. “We’re going to the Smoky Mountains.”

In all the years of their marriage, Ellis and Miriam had never flown anywhere, and gave considerable thought before driving beyond the county line. Ellis didn’t trust engines. He believed all engines were as persnickety as the engine on his Farmall tractor and he’d have to climb out on the wing, thirty thousand feet in the air, and whack it with a hammer or duct tape a fuel line to keep it running. Distrusting the internal combustion engine, he seldom drove beyond walking distance from home, which gave him about a five-mile radius. But now he was throwing caution to the wind and driving four hundred miles to the Smoky Mountains. The month before he had noticed blood on his toothbrush and had convinced himself he was dying of cancer, so he was going to the Smoky Mountains, which he’d always wanted to see before he died.

“How long will you be gone?” Sam asked.

“Should be back next Sunday,” Ellis said. “Unless we have trouble with the truck, then there’s no telling.” He looked anxious, thinking about blown engines, flat tires, and fuel explosions.

“Traveling mercies,” Sam said. “Enjoy yourselves.”

It was a half-hour walk back into town, past the town garage, down Main Street to the meetinghouse. Technically, Monday was Sam’s day off, but he went in just the same and found Lindsey Hinshaw in the office, reading the church’s mail.

“Good morning, Lindsey,” he said.

“I thought today was your day off,” she said.

“It is. I just wanted to stop by and check on things. Any messages on the answering machine.”

“Pastor Matt called to thank you for helping him out this past Saturday. The superintendent called and wants you to call him back as soon as you can. And my grandpa called. He and Fern Hampton have called a special meeting of the elders tonight at seven p.m. and want you there.”

“Criminetly,” Sam said. “It’s my day off. I don’t want to go to a meeting tonight. Would you please call him back and tell him I’m not available.”

“He won’t like that.”

“This happens every week. I take a day off and someone calls me with something that just can’t wait.”

He left the meetinghouse in a sour mood, his formerly pleasant day thoroughly ruined. Barbara was in the basement doing the laundry when he got home. “Dale Hinshaw phoned,” she yelled up the stairs. “There’s a meeting tonight at seven. He wants you there. I told him it was your day off, but he said it was an emergency.”

“Everything is an emergency,” Sam muttered. “Do this, do that, be here, be there. Hurry up. I need it now. You’d think the world was ending.”

He yelled down the stairs to Barbara, “If he thinks I’m just going to drop everything because he asked me to, he’s got another think coming.”

Sam arrived at the meeting five minutes late to show Dale and Fern he couldn’t be pushed around.

Dale Hinshaw, Fern Hampton, Bea Majors, and her sister, Opal, were in the meetinghouse basement, seated around a folding table, waiting for Sam to arrive. Miriam Hodge was the other member of the elders’ committee, the only one with a functioning brain. It mystified Sam that in a congregation of reasonably bright folks, four of the dimmest people served as elders. If it weren’t for Miriam Hodge, the elders’ committee would have steered the church off the cliff years ago.

Sam greeted them, then turned to Dale and said, “So what’s the emergency?”

“With Miriam gone, we’ll need an acting clerk,” Dale said, ignoring Sam’s question. “Any suggestions?”

“I think you should be in charge, Dale,” Fern said. Bea and Opal Majors nodded their agreement.

“I thought only the clerk could call a meeting,” Sam said.

“Well, Miriam can’t very well call a meeting if she’s not in town, now can she?” Dale said.

“And you’re sure this can’t wait?” Sam asked.

“Not one more minute,” Dale said.

Sam hated it when Miriam missed a meeting.

“Okay, what’s so important it can’t wait until Miriam gets back?” Sam asked.

“I got a call from the superintendent this morning and he’s awful upset,” Dale said. “Have you talked to him yet, Sam?”

Sam had forgotten to return his phone call. “No, not lately. What did he want now?”

“He told me you married two women this past Saturday,” Dale said. “In direct violation of our beliefs.”

“I don’t think it’s accurate to speak of ‘our beliefs’ since we all don’t believe the same thing,” Sam said.

“Were you or were you not there?” Fern said.

“Yes, I was there,” Sam said. “I said a prayer of blessing. Pastor Matt at the Unitarian church was sick, so I stepped in at the last minute to help.”

“That’s it, you’re fired,” Fern snapped.

“Opal and I have a nephew who would make a fine minister,” Bea suggested. “Should we call him?”

“We’ve been through this before,” Sam said. “You can’t just fire me. That has to be decided by the congregation.”

This was the third time Dale and Fern had tried to fire Sam. Once for not wearing a suit and tie at Easter, and another time for suggesting they cancel the Chicken Noodle Dinner. Fern had spent an entire elders’ meeting complaining that none of the younger people wanted to help with the dinner and she was tired of doing all the work and if people didn’t want to work, then maybe they should just cancel the dinner, which Sam said was fine with him, that he was tired of it, too. Then Fern said it was a shame when the church’s pastor lost his passion for ministry and that Sam should quit so they could get themselves a minister with a heart for the Lord.

“The superintendent said he’s going to have to fire you,” Dale said.

“Yeah, well, he can’t fire me, either,” Sam said. At least, he didn’t think so, but maybe the rules had changed.

Their superintendent routinely confused himself with God and had gotten in the habit of handing down edicts to the pastors, most of which Sam ignored, since the superintendent lived two hours away and hadn’t darkened the door of Harmony Friends Meeting in three years.

Bea Majors chimed in. “I don’t see how you can remain our pastor after this. The congregation won’t stand for it.”

She had him there. With Miriam Hodge gone, and Asa Peacock out of commission with a bad heart, Sam was hanging on by a thread.

He sat quietly, fuming. Fern Hampton and the Major sisters had never been married. Dale Hinshaw had reduced his wife to a mindless robot. Now they wanted to fire him for praying for two people who genuinely cared for one another. He couldn’t believe he’d given up his one free evening for this.

“Well, folks, it’s my day off, so I’m going home,” Sam said.

“We’re not done here,” Dale said, his voice rising. “What are we going to tell the superintendent?”

“Tell him to mind his own business,” Sam suggested. “Or tell him to grow up. Or maybe you should tell him people won’t always do what he wants and he’d better get used to the idea. Take your pick, Dale.”

He walked by Grant’s Hardware store on the way home. He sometimes envied Uly Grant his vocation. Why couldn’t his father have owned a hardware store? Hardware stores sold nuts and bolts to anyone, straight or gay, black or white, male or female, Catholic or Protestant, Democrat or Republican; it didn’t matter. Sam had known Uly Grant since the first grade. They’d sat together for twelve years, in alphabetical order, and he’d not once known Uly Grant to be mad at anything or anyone. Sam thought there was something about hardware stores that made a man content.

Uly was locking the front door of the store as Sam went past. He fell into step beside Sam.

“Well, hello, Sam Gardner. How the heck are you?”

“Good enough, I suppose. How are the Grants?”

“We’re doing fine,” Uly said. “Hey, I heard you might be leaving us.”

“Who told you that?” Sam asked.

“Lindsey Hinshaw mentioned something about it.”

“Well, she was mistaken,” said Sam.

“I hope you don’t, Sam. I just thought maybe you’d found a church that could pay a little more. Couldn’t hardly blame you, what with your boys heading off to college.”

“Barbara’s interviewing for a job at the library. That’ll help.”

“Not that I want you to move, but if you ever do, be sure to let me know. We might be interested in buying your house. Always liked that house.”

“Don’t start packing your things just yet,” Sam said. “We’re staying put.”

Sam walked on, thinking about Lindsey Hinshaw, wishing Frank, his previous secretary, hadn’t moved to North Carolina. Frank had kept the malcontents in line. He had been in the military and understood warfare. Sam suspected Lindsey was a spy, sent by Dale to infiltrate the pastor’s office and sabotage Sam’s best efforts. She’d bear watching, that one.