23
It took five blocks for Sam to cool down. He rounded the corner to home and saw a police car parked in his driveway, its red light revolving. Bernie Rogers, the town’s policeman since Sam’s childhood, had retired. The town’s new police officer, whom Sam hadn’t met, was standing at Sam’s front door. He was young and bald, wearing a bulletproof vest, and appeared itching to arrest someone. Sam immediately thought of his sons. Lord, let them be safe, he prayed.
“Are you Sam Gardner?” the officer asked as Sam approached.
“Yes,” Sam said. “What’s wrong? Are my sons okay?”
The officer pulled a notebook from his shirt pocket, flipped it open, then said, “A Mr. Dale Hinshaw has filed a complaint against you. He says you have church property you’ve not returned. A key. Is that right?”
“You’re kidding me, right? Is this a joke?”
“Theft is never a joke, sir. Do you have the key?”
“Somewhere, I suppose. I can’t find it. I haven’t used it in years. We don’t even lock the church door.”
“Sir, I’ll need you to give it to me.”
“I just told you I don’t know where it is.”
“Are you refusing to return the key to its rightful owners?”
“No, I’m not refusing. Didn’t you hear me? I don’t know where it is. I’ve lost it. It’s gone. If I had it, I would be happy to return it.”
The top of the officer’s head was turning red, the veins in his neck throbbing. Sam wondered why so many police officers shaved their heads.
“Don’t you worry about sunburn with a head like that?” he asked the officer. “I’d wear a hat if I were you, or grow some hair. One or the other.”
“Sir, I’m going to take you in. Please step over to my car.”
“Take me in?” Sam screeched. “Take me in where? We don’t even have a jail. What are you going to do? Lock me in the trunk of your car? Now you listen here, young man: I’ve lived in this town my entire life. I’m old enough to be your father. I’m not going anywhere but inside my house. Now step aside.”
He was in the county jail in Cartersburg until the next morning. Barbara had phoned Owen Stout, who’d phoned the sheriff, who had called the state office of homeland security, who reduced the charges from terrorism to resisting arrest. Barbara found the meetinghouse key on top of the clothes dryer, where she had put it the year before after removing it from Sam’s pants pocket. She had been after him forever to empty his pockets before tossing his dirty clothes in the hamper, but he never did, so she let him stew in jail overnight to contemplate his bad habits.
Barbara picked him up and took him to breakfast at the Cracker Barrel, though they couldn’t afford it.
They sat drinking coffee, waiting for their food.
“So, jailbird, what time tonight is our interview at Hope Friends?” she asked.
“Well, yes, I’m going. If you want us to pack up and move halfway across the state, you better believe I’m going.”
“What about Addison’s schooling?” Sam asked.
“I’ve never in all my life known Quakers to make a quick decision. I figure it will take them three months to decide whether or not to hire you, in which case Addison will only have two months left at school. I’ll stay behind with him, get things packed up, sell the house, then come be with you after he graduates.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. I don’t like the idea of us being separated. If they can’t wait until Addison is done with school, then I’ll know it’s not where I’m supposed to be. Besides, if he’s going off to the army, I don’t want to be gone from him, or you,” Sam said. “I had a lot of time to think while I was in jail, and from now on my family comes first.”
Barbara leaned across the table and kissed him.
“It feels great to be a free man again,” Sam said, stretching his arms and inhaling deeply. “Though I must say, prison turned out to be a good thing for me. I learned a lot about myself.”
“Then it was fifteen hours well spent,” Barbara said.
“Seemed longer than that somehow.”
“Did you meet anybody interesting?”
“Yeah, they put me in the same cell with a serial killer,” Sam said. “You busted me out just in time.”
“It was the least I could do. I’m sorry about yesterday. I should have been more understanding. I know you’ve been worried about finding work. Forgive me?”
“Nothing to forgive,” Sam said. “I’m the one who should apologize for storming off like that. I shouldn’t have just sprung this on you and expect you to drop everything and move.”
“Well, unless someone dies and leaves us a lot of money, we’re going to have to work. If Hope Meeting calls you to be their pastor, then that’s where we’ll go. Besides, I’ll have a better chance of getting another job in the city.”
“You’re the best,” Sam said. “Did I tell you I kept your picture next to my cot the whole time I was in jail? You were all I thought of.”
“That’s sweet.”
Fifteen hours in jail had done Sam a world of good. Barbara made a mental note to have him arrested more often.