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Sturdy wooden floors, scuffed over the years reverberated as the Gallen family trailed Mark to a pew in the center of the sanctuary. Not too close to the front, and not too near to the back where everyone knows, only the backsliders sit.
The pews in the middle were lengthy, and perhaps that is why Mark always preferred those ones for his large family to sit in for the next few hours. Shorter pews flanked them on the left and the right.
Michael and Katrina sat in the first pew on the left every Sunday, their affection encompassing the hearts of the church members.
Two pews behind them sat Jamie and Molly. They had been married for four years but nestled against each other, their arms intertwined. Sheila said they conducted themselves like newlyweds and wrapped around each other, how could they concentrate on the sermon? Although they were childless, Arlana thought the couple was so fascinating. In one service, they displayed more romance than she had witnessed between her parents in her lifetime.
Perhaps the secret was they did not have a brood of children, and as for their inability to concentrate on the sermon, Arlana was convinced it was the pews that were to blame. Painfully inflexible, straight-backed and rigid, they were the worst she had ever sat on. Worse yet, if you shifted, they creaked so loudly, the entire congregation was made aware of those who were fidgety or even so much as crossed their legs.
Behind the love birds, sat Rebecca, Molly's sister, flanked by her two daughters, Meagan & Sarah. No one really spoke with Rebecca. She would slip out during the closing hymn, disappearing into the early afternoon sun to an unsaved husband who awaited them at home. "Unequally Yoked" as the Bible said, and even at the youthful age of nine, Arlana knew what that meant. To be friends with Rebecca would be... Well, it just wouldn't happen. So no one troubled themselves to find out what their home life was like. Meagan, the younger of the daughters, was reserved. Sarah, on the other hand, was painfully introverted. Sheila whispered for Arlana's ears only, "I heard shyness is actually pride," not disclosing her source. And so, that family was easily overlooked.
Three pews behind them remained empty every Sunday and then in the last pew on the left sat the McLachlan family. Duncan, a red-headed Scotsman, his Oriental wife, and their two "halfbreed" daughters as her family referred to mixed-race people, Belinda and Sylvia. Belinda clung to her father's side, but Sylvia, the more attractive of the two girls, smiled across the aisle at Jaira. Best friends from the instant they spotted each other, they all but chomped at the bit waiting for the sermon to end when the church service hadn't even begun yet, the great outdoors calling their names.
Adelaide had made friends with Belinda, as though the children had been paired according to age. As for Arlana, well, it really didn't matter. She had better things to do than play with the McLachlan offspring, Arlana tried to convince herself.
***
THE GALLEN FAMILY CONTINUED to attend the Good Shepherd Nondenominational Church Sunday mornings, but Sunday evenings they would make the not quite hour-long drive to Westport, entering the Baptist church they now felt more at home in. It may have been Katrina's feast that had snagged them, but Mark resolved to return and no one questioned their absence at their Jamaican church although their absenteeism would have been noticed – it is not hard to miss the only Caucasian family in a small church.
Arlana savoured the drive and would confess she loved the church, but she still had not made a friend. The Baptist pastor with the whimsical English accent was just that – dreamy. Regrettably, he was married – and in his fifties. It wasn't the gaping age difference that was an obstacle to Arlana. The young girl wasn't picky - older men were just fine, but when it came to married men, that is where her pre-teen crushes drew a line.
Over the past year, Arlana was starting to notice the opposite sex in a different light, her senses highly awakened to even the slightest wafting scent of cologne, her face turning a deep crimson if any man should even unintentionally glance her way. Her mother, thankfully, was oblivious of the diaries she kept under her mattress - fantasies of escaping her life with her knight in shining armour.
No one perceived Arlana also fostered a crush on her current pastor as well. He was especially handsome, smelling of musky spice and tropical beaches - at least that is how Arlana envisioned Jamaica must smell like, having never actually travelled out of Canada. Exotic. Old Spice captured her imagination. Her pastor's son was a grown man and Kayne, although naturally her first choice between father and son, was much too preoccupied with his job at the local grocery store and wouldn't have as much time to court her as his father, who was retired from secular work.
And then there was Terrell.
Ah, just his name made her heart hammer uncontrollably in her flat, girlish chest. She beamed at the thought of Terrell as she gazed out the window, observing the traffic whizz by with unseeing eyes.
Terrell played the guitar and anyone with common sense could see he was the best catch of them all, the direct son of Brother Mosely. A marriage between them would cement everything. As Brother Mosely' daughter-in-law, things would be different... It was just a matter of time, Arlana having plans A, B, and C almost worked out.
Mark, however, had other intentions. One Sunday morning he simply stopped going to the Mosely' church. Arlana was devastated. What would Terrell and Kayne, not to mention his father, do without her? What would she do without them? Her prospects of marriage had been thwarted by a cruel stroke of bad luck.
Sheila and Mark spoke in hushed whispers. Things were awkward when Brother Mosely arrived to collect the rent from his tenants. So instead of explaining, they simply gave their notice and prayed they would find a place to live.
Michael helped. There was a small house two streets away from their new church. The rent was affordable. It was an option.
Mark glanced at Sheila and then Sheila looked at Mark before they turned to their older children and announced that they would be moving to Westport.
Arlana cringed. Move? What about Tasha? They had just recently become friends. What about her ministry reading Bible stories to the neighbourhood children
There was no one in Westport. She would surely perish, a friendless old maid.