ROY
Roy drove to the Charleston airport the next afternoon to pick up Anne. His mama had come in to take care of Rose so he could help with whatever Anne and her family might need.
Since they had been corresponding, he’d had this whole plan of how they would meet face-to-face again, and it involved a dozen red roses and a nice night out on the town at one of the fancy restaurants on East Bay Street.
But she was coming home to help take care of a very sick sister, and he’d have to put those plans on hold. However, he did get the roses. Roses were never ill-timed, and he stood by the security check point clutching the waxy paper in which they were wrapped as the passengers on the flight from Charlotte walked down the narrow hallway toward him.
He spotted Anne right away. Her height, her narrow shoulders, her long, wavy red hair. She was just as he had remembered, and he could see her smiling as she walked toward him, pulling her suitcase along behind her.
She stopped a foot from him, and he clutched the roses tighter. Then he jumped back when he realized a thorn had pricked his index finger.
“It’s so good to see you.” He nodded and sucked his finger for a moment. “Let me take your bag.”
Then he handed her the roses and she smelled them and rested them in the crook of her arm. “Thank you.”
He wanted to hug her for a lot of different reasons. They had exchanged dozens of letters over the last six weeks, but this was only the second time they had been face-to-face in their adult lives. What was the protocol for this sort of thing?
“I want to hug you,” he blurted out as she looked up from her bouquet.
“I wish you would,” she said, and he released her bag, grabbed the roses and set them carefully on top, then opened his arms wide and stepped forward and embraced her long, delicate frame.
Did she feel good? Oh, man! She smelled like honey and she felt like life itself. He breathed in as her hair tickled his nose, and he stepped back and smiled. “Wow.”
She blushed and looked down at the ground for a moment, then back up at him and nodded with an unhindered grin.
They stood like this for whole moments until a security guard came over, pointed to the bag, and said, “Does this belong to one of you?”
“Oh, yes,” Roy said. He could feel the beads of perspiration forming on his head. He grabbed the bag and the bouquet and pointed toward the door. “I know you’re eager to see your sister.”
“I am,” she said, and she walked beside him toward the electric doors. “But I was eager to see you, too, and I have a feeling you’re going to be the joyful part of this trip.”
It was strange to feel sad for someone whose loved one was suffering and yet feel so happy at the same time to be in their presence.
“I pray that there will be joy in all the parts of this trip,” he said.
She looked at him as they stepped out into the balmy December afternoon. He watched her take in the familiar smell of low tide and salt air. “It’s good to be home,” she said.
When Roy pulled back into the St. Michael’s parking lot late that afternoon, his bookkeeper, Gretchen, was standing by the commander with a worried look on her face.
“Y’all okay?” Roy said as he ambled toward them.
“No,” the commander said. “Gretchen just brought to my attention that none of the cash from last week’s offering was deposited into the account.”
Roy shook his head. “Who is the vestry member in charge this month?”
The commander narrowed his eyes. “Heyward.”
Roy uttered a prayer for Heyward. He nodded toward the office building. “Let me try to get him on the phone, all right? I’m sure there’s an explanation. Y’all go on home and I’ll call you tonight if I find something out.”
They didn’t make a move toward their cars, but he turned away and headed toward the Broad Street building. Roy had been concerned about Heyward ever since he moved to Charleston, and he wanted to reach out to him and find out if something was wrong.
Heyward picked up his cell phone the third time Roy dialed it. “Hello?”
“Heyward,” Roy said. “Do you think you could come over to the church office this evening and meet with me?”
He heard him slowly exhale on the other end of the phone. “Now’s not a good time, Roy. Maybe sometime next week?”
“Heyward, the bookkeeper is concerned because the offering from last week has not yet been deposited. Do you know anything about that?”
There was a long pause.
“Heyward?”
“I’m on my way down there,” the man said before he hung up the phone.
An hour later Heyward showed up. His bow tie was untied and his boyish face looked worn and ashen.
Roy pointed to the couch in his office. “Let’s talk,” he said.
Heyward took a seat and buried his hands in his head. “I’m broke. I haven’t made any money in six months, and the bank is getting ready to foreclose on my home.”
“I’m so sorry,” Roy said. “What can I do to help?”
Heyward blew air out of his clenched teeth. “I borrowed the cash from the offertory so I could buy my kids something for Christmas.” He looked up at Roy. “My wife said she’d leave me if there was nothing under the tree for the kids.”
Heyward bit his lip. “I can’t believe I did it, Roy. Took from my church. I’ve been waiting on a check from a client who owes me money. He assured me he’d pay me this week, and I was going to pay back the church account last Monday, the day after I took the cash, but my client won’t answer my calls and now I’m in a heap of trouble. The commander will want to press charges. I guess I can’t blame him.”
“How much was it?” Roy sat back in his chair and rubbed his aching shoulder.
“Almost a thousand.”
Roy turned to his computer, logged on to his personal account at Bank of America, and transferred $2,000 from his savings to his checking account. Then he wrote Heyward a check for $2,000. “Cash this and put $1,000 in the church account. Use the rest for whatever you need.”
Heyward looked up and wrinkled his brow. “No, Roy. I know how much you make, and I don’t know if or when I can pay you back.”
“I’m your priest,” Roy said. “You have to do what I say, right?” He leaned in. “Take the money, then ask your wife to come in with you for some marital counseling. I want to meet and pray with the two of you on a regular basis.”
The man nodded and exhaled deeply. “Okay.”
“God’s got you,” Roy said. “Even when things look the bleakest. Especially then.”
As Heyward stood to shake Roy’s hand, the commander knocked on the glass pane of the door. “Do I need to call the authorities?” he said in his gruff voice.
“No,” Roy said. “It’s all taken care of. Now go home like I asked you to and be at peace.”
The man scowled at Heyward and turned and headed down the steps, then Roy walked Heyward to his car and watched him pull out onto Meeting Street.
When Roy looked up at the picturesque steeple trimmed in garland for the Advent season, he thought of the couple lying still in the dream he had last summer. Could it have been Heyward and his wife? He didn’t know the answer to that question, but he did know that whoever the couple represented, the Lord had a plan to breathe life into their stone-like bodies.