25

So when did you plan on telling me there were only twelve people in the entire congregation?” Barbara asked, as they turned left out of the meetinghouse lane.

“Is that how many people are in the meeting?” Sam asked. “I really hadn’t noticed.”

“How in the world can a meeting with only twelve people stay open?” Barbara asked. “I don’t see how they can keep it going. Are you sure we should do this?”

“They haven’t extended an offer yet,” Sam pointed out.

“They will. They want you.”

“I don’t think the Finks were all that smitten with me,” Sam said.

“Yeah, she sure was uptight. Asking me about bathtub cleaner. What a kook.”

“The pie sure was good. I’d become their pastor just for the pie.”

“That’s another thing,” Barbara said. “Don’t they seem kind of weird about pie? I mean, come on, a pie committee? I’ve never heard of a church having a pie committee.”

“That is one committee meeting I wouldn’t mind attending,” Sam said.

They arrived home a little before midnight. Addison was still awake, awaiting their return.

“Are we moving?” he asked.

“Don’t know yet,” Sam said. “They’ll probably want to think about it for a little while. Maybe have me back for some more meetings. Knowing Quakers they won’t make a decision until this time next year.”

“If you move before school is over, I want to go with you,” Addison said.

Sam and Barbara looked at him, perplexed.

“Honey, we weren’t going to move until your schooling was done,” Sam said. “We’d already made up our minds about that.”

“Besides, don’t you want to graduate with your class?” Barbara asked. “You’ve been with them since kindergarten.”

“Yeah, but some of them are jerks,” Addison said.

“Got those in every group,” Barbara said. “But it’s not like you to say that. Did something happen at school today?”

He didn’t answer at first, then said, “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“What’s going on, buddy?” Sam asked.

“Dad, why’d you have to go and marry two women? Didn’t you know it would cause us trouble?”

“Has someone been giving you grief about it?” Sam asked.

“Not at first, but now there’s some guys who won’t shut up about it.” Addison’s voice caught. “They called me a fag.” He looked away, embarrassed.

“You want me to talk to the principal?” Barbara asked him.

“God, no,” Addison said, horrified at the prospect of his mother showing up at school. “I’ll take care of it. Promise me you won’t say anything.”

Sam’s heart ached for his son. He’d always tried to protect his children from cruelty and ignorance. Now this. It always came to this. Small-minded bullies, spewing out the garbage they heard at home, making life miserable for good and decent people.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “Not sorry I did a kindness for two women who needed a kindness, but sorry the fallout spilled over onto you.”

“Can I ask who they are?” Barbara said.

“Evan Farlow, and his cousin Landon.”

“Isn’t Evan the son of Myron Farlow?” Barbara asked Sam.

“Yeah. Myron was the same way when he was a kid. Meaner than a box of snakes.”

“I know Evan,” Barbara said. “He wanted to check out the sex book from the library.” She was quickly losing all sense of confidentiality.

“Addison, no matter where you live, you’re going to meet people who aren’t kind,” Sam said. “You can’t let them wear you down. Go back to school, hold your head up, and ignore them. You have lots of friends. Stick with them.”

“Yeah, well, some of them didn’t like you marrying two women, either,” Addison said.

“That’s okay,” Sam said. “People can disagree with one another, and still be friends.”

“I’m not sure I want to be friends with them anymore.”

“Don’t be hasty. This is a new thing for some people. Give them time to sort it out,” Sam advised.

Barbara went upstairs while Sam and Addison sat at the kitchen table eating Cocoa Puffs, which made them both feel better.

“Nothing like a little partially hydrogenated vegetable oil and artificial flavoring to set things right,” Addison said, reading the box.

“They do have a way of curing what ails you,” Sam said, in happy agreement.