Alex wasn’t in the mood for any more eccentricity and fled for home soon after Gandy left the church. He was ready to sit on the porch with a glass of lemonade, put his feet up and ponder the sermon ideas that had come to him today. Several themes kept cropping up—those of servanthood, reconciliation, and a third that really prodded at him today. “It is not good that the man should be alone” (Genesis 2:18). But at least for now he wasn’t ready to speak of that.

He sat back, closed his eyes and thought of his favorite stained-glass window at Hilltop Church, that of Jesus washing His disciples’ feet. In that simple act, Jesus had demonstrated the depth of His love, His humility and His willingness to serve. The gospel, it said, is something to be lived, not just pondered from an ivory tower. It demands action as well as contemplation. There were people like Tillie Tanner, Bessie Bruun and Lila Mason desperate for that kind of love.

His stomach growled ferociously. Unfortunately, the meals that the church and community ladies had delivered during the first months he had been at Hilltop were long gone. New items arrived infrequently, except for those of Lolly Roscoe. Lolly’s persistent campaign to find her way to his heart through his stomach caused him no end of embarrassment and indigestion. This was particularly so since he knew that there was no connection between his heart and stomach where Lolly was concerned. He could never reciprocate with what she expected—romance. She was an attractive woman and would make someone a good wife. Someone, Alex mused, but not him. It was ironic, considering that he couldn’t get Natalie out of his mind today. He hoped another single man would move to Hilltop and divert her attention from him, and the sooner the better.

Then he glanced out the window to see Will Packard’s battered, hand-me-down bike parked by the shed. Will spent much of his time out there cuddling and playing with the critters he dragged home. Sometimes Alex questioned whether or not he should have given Will permission to house his personal humane society in the parsonage shed. Then he thought about belligerent, bad-tempered Bucky Chadwick, who tormented everything he came across, and knew he’d done the right thing. It was not only the creatures’ sanctuary but Will’s as well. Bucky wouldn’t dare to track Will down here. A second, smaller bike painted a fading pink was there as well. It belonged to Katie Packard, Will’s little sister.

Alex left the parsonage and walked across the yard to the shed where Will had posted a succinct hand-lettered sign on the wall by the door.

Hoomain Society

ADOPT OR GET OUT

In the dim coolness of the earthen-floored building, Alex found Will and his sister Katie each holding one of the geese that had so rudely awakened him that morning. The geese, which usually ran amok in the yard, were sitting contentedly in the children’s laps. One was eating out of Will’s hand. The other was simply resting on the little girl’s outstretched legs, enjoying her soft words and gentle petting.

Perhaps all the Packard children were animal whisperers. It wouldn’t have surprised Alex to find a deer dozing outside Will’s hoomain society or a wild turkey roosting next to a domestic chicken. Even now, Rose, Will’s pet skunk, was sleeping in her cage, and a stray barn cat atop the enclosure was soaking up light from a small window.

The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.

But until that day came, Tripod knew enough to stay outside the little hoomain society building. He’d dropped onto the grass by the south wall and lazed happily in the sun.

Alex didn’t realize he’d said the Scripture aloud until Will added, “And these geese will eat with the foxes, not be eaten by them.” He looked up, the cowlick at the crown of his head reminding Alex of a rooster’s comb. “Geese can lay a hundred and sixty eggs a year, did you know that?”

“I had no idea.”

“And they are ma-nog-a-mouse too, whatever that means. I saw it in a book Randy checked out of the library in Grassy Valley.”

“Ma-nog-a-mouse?” The light came on. “You mean monogamous. That means having only one partner, one spouse—like your mom and dad.”

“Oh, I get that. It means mate for life, right?”

“Correct.”

“It’s kinda nice, isn’t it? Knowing your mom and dad will be together forever?” Will’s expression grew serious. “Then even if your mom and dad fight, you’d know they aren’t going to leave you.” He patted the goose fondly. “That’s something really good about geese.”

Alex filed away Will’s comment as he sat down on a small stool. “Everything is so calm.” He couldn’t always say that when the Packards were around.

“Animals don’t like a lot of humans fussing around,” Will said sagely. “It scares ’em. They need to know we’ll take care of them before they can relax.”

“Even people can be like that.”

Will nodded. “But people have meaner ideas than critters. You can trust a critter to act like a critter, but you can’t trust a person to always act human.”

Profound, Alex mused, and right on the money.

“Trouble is, I think every animal in Hilltop Township has been scared out of its wits by Bucky at one time or another.” Will’s freckled features crumpled into a mask of concern. “I’ve got my work cut out for me.

“I heard from Bucky’s mother, Myrtle, that they have a barn cat about to have kittens. She’s gonna try to get it off the farm for me. I think I can keep it in the barn at my place. My dad doesn’t usually count the cats and I don’t think he’ll notice.” Will stopped feeding the goose and began to pet its feathers. Amazingly, the creature tucked its beak under its wing and went to sleep.

“My dad’s another one of those people you can’t always trust,” he said softly.

Katie looked at her brother but didn’t comment. Instead, she put a very dirty thumb in her mouth.

“Are your parents home today?”

“Our ma is. She’s always home. Dad had to work. He should be home tonight. Ma’s going to make a special supper…and pie.”

Katie stuck her arm in front of Will’s nose so he could see the cheap, too-big pink plastic wristwatch she was wearing.

Will bounded to his feet. “In fact, we’d better get going now. Around our house, if you don’t get there on time for meals you might not get any.”

Alex made his way back to the house, his stomach growling louder than ever. He was pleasantly surprised to see a blue and white plastic cooler sitting on the porch step. He hadn’t heard anyone drive into the yard, but he and Will had been involved in serious conversation. He studied it hopefully. Maybe he wouldn’t have to cook supper tonight after all.

He opened the container and felt the cool air waft upward. Inside, perched on ice packs, was a small bowl of potato salad, plastic-wrapped slices of ham and two homemade buns. In a separate bag was a slice of watermelon. His stomach gave a happy lurch at the sight.

Alex carried the precious parcel inside. As he was unloading the food he noticed a white envelope taped to the side of the cooler with Lydia Olson’s handwriting. She’d brought him food often enough that he was beginning to salivate at the sight of her script like one of Pavlov’s dogs.

He set the table for one, made the sandwiches and said grace. Too hungry to read Lydia’s letter first, he set it aside until all that was left was the watermelon.

Full and satisfied, he reached for the envelope.

Lydia’s handwriting, he noticed, was less precise than usual, scrawled as if she’d written it in a hurry.

Pastor Armstrong, were you serious about wanting some cooking lessons from me? If so, let me know. I’m free tomorrow—and every day after, for that matter. I will bring everything I need to your house. What shall we do first? Pulled pork sandwiches? Chocolate cake? My secret butterscotch chip cookie recipe? A pot roast? Or should I choose?

Hoping to hear from you—soon!

Lydia Olson

Odd, Alex thought as he ate the watermelon. Though the subject matter was hardly worth fretting over, the note radiated anxiety. Whether it was the nervous lurch in her penmanship or that Soon! commanding him to respond, he didn’t know. Something had upset Lydia badly. He’d call her in the morning.

Restless in the silence of the house, Alex picked up the telephone. The number of times he’d thought of Natalie unnerved him. He hoped it was someone who would distract him. He wanted to be distracted from his thoughts. After three rings he heard his sister come on the line.

“Alex?” Carol’s voice was a welcome sound.

“I really dislike caller ID, Sis. I can’t even surprise you with a phone call.”

“Get into the modern world, Alex.”

“I prefer to live in Hilltop Township where people might have caller ID but they never admit it.”

“What do they do? Cling to the past?”

“Not all the time. Though Winchester Holmquist cleaned up the old cream separator so he could show me how his grandmother separated the cream from the milk. And his wife Mildred showed me how to churn butter.”

“You’re a real Renaissance man now, Alex. Will you be demonstrating that at my house when you come for a visit?”

“Ha ha. People buy their butter at the grocery store these days, but they do know how to do things the old way out here. When everything goes off grid and we don’t have electricity anymore, I’ll be glad I’m living where I am.”

Carol burst out laughing. “I’m delighted to hear you’re enthusiastic. Every time I hear your voice, you sound happier. That place is good for you. I love it. Now tell me what’s new,” Carol ordered. She always loved to hear his account of what was going on at Hilltop.

“We’ve got a little problem to solve. One of our parishioners—her name is Tillie Tanner—doesn’t have any family. She’s turning eighty soon. We want to have a celebration for her but she won’t admit being any older than sixty-five. I’m afraid she’ll be insulted if we hang up ‘Happy Eightieth’ banners.” This was just what he needed to take his mind off himself, to focus on something other than the uncomfortable wistfulness he’d been experiencing.

“Then don’t. Just give her the party.”

“But eighty is quite a milestone…”

“Not if you don’t want to be eighty. Give the woman a break. Let her have her fantasy.”

“Perhaps you’re right.”

“Of course I am. I’m your sister. It would be a way around the awkwardness and you could still have a good time. Besides, it’s nice to be right about something for a change. In my son’s eyes I’m totally clueless.”

“How is Jared?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have let him take time off in late April to accompany you to North Dakota. He’s been surly ever since. Maybe it’s his full schedule of summer school classes. He’s a completely changed kid and I don’t understand what’s gotten into him.”

Alex got up and started pacing.

“He’s a bright boy, but you know how he struggles with his classes.”

“Is he around? Can I talk to him?”

“No, he’s off dismantling a piece of machinery somewhere. I’ll tell him to phone you.”

Alex had a hunch he’d never receive that call from his nephew.