Chapter Eighteen

Hector tossed Adam the basketball. With a fake to the right, Adam drove toward the basket, leaped, and slammed the ball down for the last play in a close victory.

“Hey, Pops,” shouted one of his teammates. “You’ve got hop.”

Adam grinned. He had hop. What a great compliment.

“Pretty good for an old guy,” Hector said.

Pops shook his head. He’d gone from a baller with hop to an old guy.

As the players began to pack up their belongings, Adam grabbed the ball and shrugged into his sweatshirt. The temperature in September fell once the sun disappeared.

“Hey, Pops.” Hector ambled toward him. “Can we talk?”

“Sure. What’s happening?”

The two never talked much, other than basketball. Adam knew Hector had a younger sister and life wasn’t easy for them. He’d kept the door closed tightly on his life off the court, and Adam hadn’t pried.

“It’s about my sister… I wonder if…” He searched for words. “I wouldn’t ask if I could handle the situation myself, but I can’t.” He swallowed. “I’ve tried.”

“Go ahead.”

“Umm… my mother died five years ago and my dad… he isn’t much of a father. He aims to be, but…” Hector shrugged.

Adam didn’t say anything, afraid he’d cut off the words.

“He’s an addict. Lost his job about a year ago. Got arrested two weeks ago. Possession with intent. Can’t make bail.”

Adam had read that in the “Arrests” column of the weekly newspaper. He hadn’t been sure that Harold Firestone was Hector’s father. He should have asked. His excuse? That hadn’t been their relationship. Wrong decision for a minister—and yet it was because he was a minister that Adam had been careful not to push Hector away by intruding in his life.

“We don’t have money to pay the rent next month. Do you know anyplace we could get assistance with some bills or a place we could live? Not for me.” He pointed his thumb toward himself. “I can get along on my own, but I need a safe place for my sister.”

Adam studied the kid who attempted to look cool and manly, to show no emotion, but he could see how tightly he clenched his jaw and looked away.

“You don’t have money to pay the rent for October? Why didn’t you talk to me about this?” Why hadn’t Adam approached him? “Why didn’t you ask earlier?”

Hector shrugged. “Not your problem, Pops.”

“I’m a minister. I’m supposed to help people.”

He bristled. “Don’t need charity, Pops. Not for myself.” He glared. “But I need help for Janey.”

“Where are you living now?”

“We still have the apartment for a while.”

Adam didn’t push about how much longer they could live there, especially without an adult. The whole situation seemed hard enough for Hector to bring up. The last thing Adam wanted was for him to pull away.

“How old is your sister?”

“She’s eight.” He glared at Adam. “I can take care of her in a lot of ways, just not this one.” He shook his head. “She needs a place to sleep until I get things back together.”

“You can’t quit school.”

Adam hadn’t thought Hector could look more menacing, but his expression hardened.

“Don’t lecture me, Pops.”

“What about family? Can they pitch in?”

“After Mom died, we lost touch with her side. My father’s family—I don’t want Janey near any of them.”

“Teachers or coaches?”

Hector stood. “If you don’t want to help…”

Adam held up his hand. “I need to know the facts, Hector. That’s it. Sit down and talk to me.”

Slowly, he did.

“Why did you come to me?”

Hector took a deep breath and looked straight ahead. “It’s not easy for me to talk about problems, but I need to, for my little sister.” He turned to study Adam. “I trust you, Pops. You’ve always been straight, never cheated in basketball, and I like that. Yeah, I trust you and you’ve got that church with lots of people that might could help.”

Adam nodded. “Okay, I’ll check, see what I can find for Janey, but you stay in school, for now. All right? Until we—you and I—work this out. Then we can decide.”

“Then I’ll decide.”

Adam watched as Hector turned and loped away. What in the world would he come up with? Not one seminary class had either covered the problem Hector faced or suggested a solution.

But that idea about the parsonage kept niggling at the back of his mind, a solution to two problems. That big old house with all those rooms and one man banging around in it, and those two bedrooms on the second floor with a bathroom between them and the double parlors on the first floor that stood empty except for the dining room furniture.

Adam’s concern wasn’t only Janey. He had to get Hector a place to stay as well, to make sure he got to school and had what he needed.

But what did that entail? Were there permits? Insurance? Should Adam look into being licensed as a foster parent? No doubt about it, he needed help.

Saturday morning during football season wasn’t a good time to meet, and this morning was worse than most. The football game Friday night had gone into triple overtime and the Lions had lost. Still, he had to call the Widows together for an emergency session.

He gazed around the circle: the pillar, Mercedes, and Winnie. “You may wonder why I’ve asked you to come,” he began. Bad opening. Those stilted words showed a pretentiousness he disliked. Also, he could see that Miss Birdie’s feathers had been ruffled, so to speak, by his tone or hint of condescension. “I have a problem. I’m asking you ladies to help with…” He stopped and considered his words. “To come up with a solution.”

Feathers nicely arranged and unruffled after his retreat, the pillar nodded. Taking their cue from her, the other two Widows agreed.

First, he talked about Missy and her mother; then he explained Hector’s situation. “If Mrs. Smith goes back to San Saba, she might not get the care she needs. I don’t know about that for certain, but I do know taking care of Missy and Deanne would be hard on Deanne’s mother, who’s in poor health herself.”

“I do worry about that,” Miss Birdie said.

“With Hector and Janey,” Adam continued, “there’s no one, no family to watch over them.”

All three women nodded in sympathy. Then he laid out the plan to have them all move into the parsonage. Looks of horror crossed the faces of the two original members of the group, but the provisional member smiled.

“How many people is that, Preacher?” Mercedes asked in a steady but unenthusiastic voice.

“Five.” He counted them on his fingers. “Missy, her mother and grandmother, Hector, and Janey.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea.” Winnie looked toward the others and interpreted their glares. “Why not?” she asked, her voice filled with conviction.

“The parsonage is a home.” The pillar nodded, only once but with so much emphasis Adam feared for the muscles of her neck. “For the preacher.”

“And for his family,” Mercedes added with a matching nod with even more conviction.

“Not,” said Miss Birdie, emphasizing each word with a waggle of her index finger. “Not a boardinghouse.”

“Not a bed-and-breakfast,” Mercedes agreed.

With that, the two original Widows sat back, folded their arms, and glared at Adam.

“I like the idea,” Winnie said. The other two turned toward her and glowered. Bless her, Winnie didn’t back down. She looked back at them and nodded, then turned toward the minister. “I like the idea,” she repeated. “It’s what Christians do, provide for others in need.”

Adam studied all three Widows for a few seconds, remembering the points he’d considered last night and this morning. At that time, he’d had them firmly in mind, but he should’ve written them on index cards. At the time, he’d forgotten how a glare from Miss Birdie could paralyze his thought process.

“The parsonage is for the minister and his family,” the pillar stated.

“I’m not married,” he said. “No family. You know that.”

“Of course we do, Pastor.” Mercedes’s voice dripped with compassion. “We’re doing our best to take care of that situation.”

“Although you’ve done nothing to help us,” the pillar added.

Inside Adam smiled. Yes, bless their hearts, they were. Despite the embarrassment it caused everyone involved, they wanted to find him a soul mate in a town not blessed with a surfeit of single women. If they couldn’t find a soul mate for him, they’d settle for a woman he could live with in harmony, if not with passion, for fifty years; together, they’d raise a big family.

“Although I do appreciate your efforts”—Adam chose his words carefully—“I am still a bachelor. Even if I were somehow to stumble upon a charming young woman…”

Their expressions showed such obvious doubt this would happen that he forgot where his line of reasoning was heading.

Finally, nearly ten seconds into the silence, Winnie prompted, “Even if you did find a young woman yourself…”

“Even if I found a young woman to marry, it would take me a few months to court her…”

“Not if you got busy,” Miss Birdie stated.

He ignored the words and pressed on. “It would take me a few months to court her…”

The three nodded, as if encouraging him—whether to finish his sentence or start courting, he didn’t know.

“Then let’s say an engagement period of six months or a year,” he said.

“Six months,” the pillar said as if this had been a multiple-choice quiz. “Plenty of time. You need to get the process moving. No namby-pambying.”

“I don’t think that’s the word you want,” Mercedes interrupted. “Dilly-dallying is what you’re looking for.”

“Or shilly-shallying,” Winnie suggested.

“I don’t care.” The pillar glared at the two other Widows, then turned back to the minister.

“After the wedding,” Adam said before any of the Widows could take a breath. “We’d need some time to get used to marriage…”

“Three months,” Winnie recommended.

“You’re not getting any younger,” Mercedes said gently.

“I wouldn’t even be close to thirty by that time,” Adam objected. They didn’t notice.

“As I add all those numbers up, there won’t be a baby in the nursery until—best-case scenario—two years from now,” Winnie said. “Only one baby, and that’s only if the preacher moves fast. And at that rate”—Winnie showed the math abilities she’d used to run the asphalt company—“it would be four or five more years before that parsonage would be filled with children, assuming they popped out every year or two.”

The prospect of his imaginary wife popping out children at that rate rendered Adam speechless. Even more stunning was their discussion of their imaginary sex life. Solely for the purpose of procreation, of course. He felt an incredible constriction in his chest as these three discussed the begetting process as calmly as they figured the proceeds from the spring bazaar.

“All of which means there’s no reason to keep those rooms unused now,” Winnie concluded. “It will be years before a family fills them. Even”—she turned to face Adam—“if you get busy this year. Right?”

Mercedes and the pillar watched the new Widow, their expressions softening little by little until they turned toward the minister.

He was so dumbfounded by what they might be thinking or what they might say next, his throat closed up.

“Guess she’s right,” the pillar mumbled.

“This would be a Christian way to use the space,” Mercedes said.

Winnie asked, “How well do you know this Hector? Is he an honest young man? Does he attend church?”

“We play basketball together.”

“Oh, yes. Basketball,” the pillar said. “Odd activity for a minister.”

“I’ve always heard Hector’s a nice young man. Honest and hardworking,” Mercedes said.

“Mercedes knows everyone,” Miss Birdie told Winnie before she said to Adam, “From what my contacts in San Saba say, Mrs. Smith is a good, honest woman.”

“Would they pay rent?” Mercedes tilted her head to consider that.

“I wouldn’t think so,” Winnie stated. “That would probably change our tax-free status.”

“And we do want to help a young man and his sister in trouble,” Mercedes added firmly. “Perhaps we could hire him to do some jobs, so he’d have some spending money.”

Stepping back into the discussion, Adam asked, “What do we have to do to make this happen?”

Winnie pulled out her notepad and flipped it open. Pen in hand, she said, “I’ll check about the insurance.”

The Widows took over. Within fifteen minutes, they had considered all the tasks and assigned who would be in charge. Within a week, they’d have beds and curtains and other furnishings donated and the necessary paperwork taken care of. His only job was to call the plumber to check the leak he’d noted in that Jack-and-Jill bathroom.

That evening, when Miss Birdie and Adam took Missy to see her mother, Mrs. Smith was again sitting up. Her face had lost the gray cast and her eyes held a hint of sparkle. Next to her sat an older but frailer version of Deanne.

“Grandma,” Missy shouted and ran to the woman.

“This is my mother, Eleanor Peppers,” Deanne said. “If you couldn’t guess that.”

He watched Mrs. Peppers cuddle Missy, then glanced over at Miss Birdie, who smiled broadly.

“We weren’t expecting you for a few days,” Adam said.

“My other daughter and the baby are doing fine, and I was so worried about Deanne and Missy that I jumped on an earlier plane.” She turned to smile at her daughter. “She’s doing well.”

Yes, she was, but even with as much improvement as she showed, Deanne had a lot of recuperating ahead.

“I’ve been walking in the hallway to build up strength, but I’m still weak,” Deanne said. “They say I may be able to go home soon, after a little more PT.”

“Perhaps to a nursing facility,” Mrs. Peppers said. “We don’t know what’s available in San Saba or what her insurance will cover.”

“Where are you staying, Mrs. Peppers? Do you have a car?”

“I flew in this morning and grabbed a cab here. I’ll be staying at the hotel next door.” She glanced at her granddaughter. “I’ll keep Missy with me at least overnight.” Eleanor rubbed her granddaughter’s back. “We’ll go shopping this afternoon and to the park. We have a conference with Deanne’s doctor tomorrow to work out a time line.”

“If you need us to pitch in,” Miss Birdie said, “let us know.”

Deanne held out her hand and took Miss Birdie’s. “Thank you so much. I’ll never be able to repay you for your kindness.”

After a few more minutes, Miss Birdie and Adam walked out. Odd to have only the two of them.

“I’m going to miss her,” the pillar said. “But I’m so glad she has family.” She sighed. “I’m even happier that I can get a good night’s sleep.”

After they got in the car, Miss Birdie said, “I was thinking about that parlor next to the front door. Maybe if we put a couple of beds there for Eleanor and her family. They can use the guest bathroom down there. You know, that’s what a church does.”

Then she fell asleep, her head against the headrest, soft snores escaping her mouth. Adam wouldn’t mention that to her later, of course. He didn’t dare. He’d never tease a snoring pillar.

Wednesday morning, Adam checked his calendar. Winnie, the church treasurer, wanted to meet about the stewardship drive, and Howard had left a message about the next board meeting.

As he considered those appointments, the phone rang. He fought the urge to answer, because Maggie worked until eleven. As she’d often reminded him, she answered the phone when she was in the office.

After a few seconds, she knocked on the study door and came in.

A problem with her answering the phone was that the church had no intercom. Maggie had to come into the study to give him messages or tell him to pick up. Sometimes she just shouted. However, that was the way she wanted to do this, so Adam accepted.

“That was Rita Mae Parsons. She said Charley hasn’t returned her calls.”

Charley was the town handyman, a plumber and a good one. When business was slow, he did about anything anyone needed done.

“I let him in the parsonage about eight thirty and showed him the leak in that upstairs bathroom.”

“Well, you know how Rita Mae worries,” Maggie said.

She should. Charley was a good Presbyterian and the father of three small children. An enormous, woolly mammoth of a man, he stood six-three and weighed well over three hundred pounds. Everyone in town loved him and feared he’d have a heart attack before he was forty.

“His truck’s in front of your house.”

“Still? He got there two hours ago.”

“Yes and Rita Mae wonders if you’d go over and check on him.”

“Sure.” Adam stood and headed off toward the parsonage.

Once inside the front door, he wandered through the first story, searching for a body. None there. He couldn’t have missed Charley’s body lying on the floor.

He called, “Charley?” No answer but he thought he heard a soft pounding from above. Adam moved toward the stairs, still looking around as if Charley could hide under the few furnishings gracing the house. As he climbed the steps, the pounding grew louder.

“Charley?” he shouted.

The sound increased and Adam heard a muffled “Help.” He ran into the guest bedroom, through it, and to the bathroom. Charley’s enormous denim-covered butt stuck out of the cabinet under the sink.

“I’m stuck,” he said.

That much was obvious. Less clear was how to get him out. Adam started to ask, “How did this happen?” but that, too, seemed obvious. The cabinet had a sink on the top and, beneath that, two doors separated by a vertical strip of wood. Charley must have reached in the right side to check the leaking pipe, pulled himself too far in, and now, as far as the preacher could tell, couldn’t get out.

“You’re not laughing, are you?” Charley shouted, his voice slightly muffled.

“No, Charley.” Although it was hard not to, Charley was such a nice guy that he couldn’t. “Push,” Adam suggested.

“I have been pushing.” He gave a deep sigh, which made the cabinet vibrate.

“Okay.” Adam studied the situation. “You push and I’ll pull.” The minister reached for the tool loops on Charley’s overalls and attempted to tug him straight back. The plumber didn’t move.

“Let’s try again,” Adam said. “On the count of three.” He took a firmer hold of the loops, braced his feet, and counted, “One, two, three.” Unfortunately, when he jerked back, the stitching didn’t hold. The loops ripped off in his fingers and he stumbled backward. After a clumsy attempt to catch himself, Adam landed in the bathtub, his legs straight up. His head had narrowly missed hitting the hard enamel. Wouldn’t that be great to have someone find them up there like this? Adam unconscious in the tub and Charley stuck?

By the time he figured out what had happened and got out of the tub, Adam realized Charley was laughing.

“You okay, Preacher?” he shouted between guffaws. The entire cabinet shook with his laughter.

Adam scrutinized Charley’s position and that enormous rear end again. “Have you tried pushing against the back of the cabinet to work yourself out?” he asked.

“No, I’m enjoying the peace and quiet so much I decided to stay here the rest of the day and meditate,” he said with a sarcasm Adam hadn’t heard from him before. Of course, the preacher had never seen him in this… um… position before.

“Yes, Preacher, I’ve tried pushing myself out twenty different ways,” Charley added long-sufferingly. “I’m scratched up and bruised but nothing’s worked.”

The idea of slathering the plumber with soap to pop him out didn’t seem pleasant and probably wouldn’t work because Adam couldn’t reach the stuck areas. He bet Charley wouldn’t cotton to the idea, either.

“Don’t try to lather me up with butter,” the plumber warned like a veteran of situations like this.

Adam didn’t ask for details.

“What do you suggest?” They both paused to think. “Let’s try that again, my pulling again and you pushing.” This time Adam reached for the utility belt the plumber wore, which was firmly stuck between his body and the sides of the cabinet. It had the advantage that it wouldn’t rip off. Probably.

“Okay.”

“I’ll count to three, then you push.” Adam grabbed the belt and said, “One… two… three.”

The minister could hear Charley straining inside the cabinet, using his knees—which were on the tile floor—to push against the wood surround as Adam pulled hard. For a moment, he thought they’d done it, that the plumber was free.

Instead, the shaking of the cabinet caused the toilet-paper holder on the side of the cabinet to pop off. It also made the pretty bowl of soaps the ladies had left next to the sink leap into the air. The yellow rose-shaped soaps scattered all over the room as the dish crashed to the floor and broke.

And when Adam’s hands slipped off the utility belt, he flew back into the tub, banged his right arm against the spigot, and turned the shower on. For a moment, Adam sat there, a little dazed, attempting to figure out what had happened as cold water rained down on him. By the time he turned off the faucet, he was soaked.

“Pastor, you okay?”

Dripping, he struggled from the tub and surveyed the wreckage. “Fine. A little wet.” Carefully Adam picked up the pieces of china on the floor because, the way this was going, he figured one of them would cut off an appendage if he didn’t.

“I can’t think of anything else to do.” The minister studied the situation and shook his head. “Maybe I should call someone.”

“No, Pastor, please don’t,” Charley begged. “I know I need to lose weight, but everyone will laugh if they know I got stuck here. Please keep this quiet.”

“Okay,” Adam agreed, guessing how mortified the plumber must feel. “But I can’t think of anything unless I cut you out of there.”

“Yeah, that’s what it’s going to take.”

Adam could tell from the shaking of the vanity that Charley had sighed.

“I’ve got a saw in my tool kit and I’ve got a chain saw in the truck,” he said.

“Charley, you don’t want me using a chain saw anywhere near your body. I’d probably disembowel you or cut off some really important equipment.” Adam pulled a small trimming saw from the plumber’s toolbox. “Where should I start?” He studied the situation. “I’m not very good with tools.”

“Start at the top.”

From the empty left side of the cabinet, Adam glanced inside and discovered a good amount of room in there. He probably wouldn’t take off Charley’s ears. Kneeling, he started sawing. Fortunately, the piece was narrow. Unfortunately, it was made of some kind of wood harder than steel.

“Probably white oak,” Charley mused as Adam sawed. “Used a lot in these older houses. You don’t see it today on bathroom fixtures. Usually just laminate or veneer surfaces. This piece was made to last forever. Good craftsmanship.”

Great. He was ripping up good craftsmanship with this saw. Of course if he didn’t, Charley’d be stuck in this guest bathroom until he lost enough weight to extract himself. It reminded Adam of a story from Winnie-the-Pooh, one of his childhood favorites.

When at last Adam cut through the wood, he put the saw down, pulled on the work gloves he’d found in the toolbox, grabbed the lathe of wood, and pulled. It didn’t break, but slowly the piece bent back against the nails that held it in place and came loose in his hands.

With that, Adam moved out of the way and Charley pushed himself from the opening. Once on his feet, the plumber took a deep breath and punched his body, looking for wounds. “I’ll probably have a few good bruises,” he said before scrutinizing the mangled cabinet. “I’ll fix this. I’ll use one big door so anyone can easily get in here to make repairs.”

“Sounds good,” Adam agreed.

Charley leaned down to study the plumbing inside. “The pipe’s an easy fix. I need to replace this fitting here.” He pointed. “See where that leak’s coming from?” Then he looked at Adam. “You’re not going to tell anyone, right?” Perspiration and supplication covered his round face.

“This is between a pastor and one of the flock,” Adam responded.

“You’re not going to tell Reverend Patillo, are you?”

“No, Charley—between you and me. No one else.”

“Thanks. I’ll call my wife then get right back to this. She worries.” He pulled out his cell. “I’m going to tell her it was a bigger job than I thought.” He looked at Adam, his eyes and voice filled with sincerity. “And I’ll go on a diet tonight, I promise.”