“It’s the police on the phone.” Gandy pronounced the word so it sounded like po-leece.

“I was hoping they wouldn’t call.” Reluctantly Alex picked up the phone. “Reverend Armstrong here.”

“This is Chet Ralston of the Grassy Valley Police. We picked up a young man at your church yesterday.”

“Yes, Bucky Chadwick.”

“Mr. Daniels said he wouldn’t press charges, but that means we have to let him go. I was wondering if you had any complaint…trespassing…you know.”

“I don’t want to start a habit of kicking people off church property if I can help it,” Alex admitted, “but Bucky is trouble, there’s no doubt about that.”

“That was Mr. Dixon’s reasoning too. Since Chadwick got caught before he actually stole something, there aren’t a lot of charges that will stick.”

“He needs to be watched.”

“I agree, but there are only two of us in Grassy Valley, so watching someone like Bucky is going to take more eyes than ours. We’d like to catch him red-handed at something, but he’s sneaky. Guys like him, bullies, seem to have eyes in the back of their heads.”

“I promised his mother I’d watch out too.” Alex didn’t feel very heartened by the conversation. Was Bucky going to slip through their fingers so easily? “But I do think he could seriously hurt someone.” He told him about the incidents Will had experienced with Bucky.

“I think our best bet is at Red’s place.” The policeman sounded troubled. “Those vending machines are about ready to be emptied again. If we could catch Bucky…”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks, sir. And let us know if you see something.”

Gandy was looking at him expectantly when he hung up the phone. “Well?”

“Nothing, really.”

“You mean that good-for-nothing lowlife is just going to walk around like nothing happened?” Gandy bristled.

“I suppose so, unless someone catches him at something. Bucky didn’t have time to actually put Dixon’s stuff in his truck.”

“It should be easy enough to watch him.”

Alex looked at Gandy sharply. “What do you mean?”

“He wanders around the church a lot. He’s probably casing the joint.”

“You watch too much television, Gandy. What do you mean, ‘casing the joint’?”

“He always shows up when you aren’t here. He never comes inside. He’s always hauling himself over here with a scraggly bunch of wildflowers. He goes out and visits his daddy’s grave. You can see if you want. He’s got a quart jar out there and he changes the flowers. I’ve even seen him there in the evening. He parks so you can’t see him from the parsonage because my husband and I checked. It gives me the creeps having that boy around, but he’s never come into the church and bothered me.” She shivered a little. “A psychopath, that’s what he is, I’ll bet. I saw it in a movie. Crazy as a loon, that guy was…”

Alex interrupted her before she could go into a movie review. “Bucky visits the graveyard?”

“Even more than his mother, and she’s there often. She and her husband had a good marriage. It had to have been strong to stay together even after all the heartache that boy of theirs gave them.”

It didn’t fit. Bucky, the bully, the killer of small animals and verbal and emotional abuser of children, was constantly putting fresh flowers on his father’s grave? Alex got up and walked outside. Sure enough, there in the graveyard was a measly—but fresh—bunch of wildflowers in the vase on the Chadwick grave plot.

Stymied, he walked back to the church, his mind racing. Something was up, but he didn’t know what. Deep inside, he felt like he should be able to figure it out.

When he got back into the church, all thoughts of Bucky left him. Belle Wells was visiting with Gandy and she looked upset. She was fluttering her hands in the air as she talked to Gandy, and her usually pleasant demeanor was gone. Gandy picked herself up and went to the file cabinet in Alex’s room.

“Hi, Belle, are you here to pick up your Sunday school supplies? The books look very good this year. I think you and your class will enjoy them.”

“About that…” Belle was so nervous she actually began wringing her hands. “I don’t think I’ll be able to teach after all. I’m so sorry but I just can’t.”

“Is something wrong?” Alex’s mind immediately jumped to Belle’s health or that of her husband.

“Not in the way you think, Pastor. I’m a coward, that’s all.” Belle chewed on her lip.

“What is it you think you have to be brave about during Sunday school?” he asked cautiously.

“I just heard…I mean, I didn’t realize…nobody ever told me that…I just can’t handle it, don’t you see?

“Handle what, Belle?”

“Having little Packards in my class, of course! I’m not that strong a teacher. They’ll nail me to a wall!”

Alex stared at her dumbfounded. The woman was serious.

“I told you so.” Gandy’s words drifted out from the back office where she’d been eavesdropping. “I told you it would be harder to get teachers if the Packards came, but you didn’t believe me.”

Alex closed his eyes. Gandy had told him that. She was right. He hadn’t believed her.

“They might be naughty and unruly on occasion, but they aren’t dangerous. In fact, as you get to know them, they’re very sweet children. Just unsupervised.”

“What if Will brings his skunk to church? I’m terrified of skunks!”

Belle, like Alex, had grown up in the city. Skunks very seldom ventured near highly populated areas, and he’d been told all his life that they sometimes carried rabies. He, too, had been put off by Rose at first, but now he rather enjoyed watching her scamper around the yard when Will allowed her to do so. “I’ll make him promise that he can’t bring Rose or any other animal to church.”

“What about birds and reptiles?”

“Those too.”

“Anything that breathes?” Belle thought for a moment. “Or anything that breathed once but has now…quit?”

“No animals, dead or alive. I promise. Besides, Will is mostly interested in living ones.”

“And the other Packard children?”

“I’ll talk to them as well.”

“And I can quit if they don’t behave?”

Belle was driving a hard bargain.

“I’d like you to give me a chance to correct any situation that might arise before you leave, Belle. If I can’t, you are certainly free to go.”

“I don’t know…”

The poor woman looked guilty and fearful at the same time, Alex noted. “If you don’t find the children funny, charming and actually very well-versed in Scripture, I’d be surprised.”

“Versed in Scripture? How could that be?”

“Their mother.”

Light dawned in Belle’s eyes. “Minnie, of course.” She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Minnie does try with those kids. I’ll try it, Pastor, but if something goes awry…”

“Let me know immediately. I can handle the Packards.”

After Belle left, Alex wondered if he’d told the 100 percent truth. He thought he could handle the Packards, but could he? That would have to wait to be seen.

“Alex? This is Dixon. Do you want to come over for dinner tonight?”

“Who’s cooking?”

“Very funny. Emmy, of course. She wants to say good-bye.”

“She’s not leaving already, is she?” Alex was dismayed and, crazily enough, dismayed about being dismayed.

“It’s about her work. She says she’ll come back as soon as she can, but it will be a few weeks. Some juggling of administrators and no one left who knows what’s going on or something like that. She’s not happy, but she doesn’t have much choice.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Come about six.”

Alex was surprised at how hard it hit him that his newfound friend was already departing. He even answered absently when Mattie Olsen called to tell him that the annual lutefisk dinner had to be pushed back to November because there was something about not getting the “good lutefisk” until then.

Good lutefisk was, as far as Alex had determined, an oxymoron. Lutefisk was a white fish soaked in lye until it was clear and jellylike, soaked again, cooked, and then served with butter, potatoes and green peas. Whether he first sampled it in September or November was immaterial to him.

Emmy probably liked lutefisk. She liked everything else about this place.

The phone rang again. This time it was Natalie. “How are you, Alex?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“You don’t sound okay. What’s wrong?”

He wasn’t sure. He wanted to be happier to hear Natalie’s voice. He wanted to feel pleased that she’d called. What he didn’t want was the nagging doubt she unearthed in him or the lack of trust he felt toward her.

Natalie wouldn’t give up. “Something’s bothering you, Alex. Tell me what it is.”

“Nothing that needs to be discussed right now. I was just invited out for supper so I’d better get going….”

“Alex!” Her chiding tone reminded him of his fifth grade teacher. “Tell me!”

He drew a deep breath. Okay, he’d tell her but she wouldn’t like it. “I don’t think that we should talk about you and me getting back together right now. I’m not sure when…or if…I’ll ever really trust you again. I need space—and time. I’m sorry, Natalie, but I’m simply being honest with you.”

There. He’d said it—the things he hadn’t even been able to admit fully to himself until now. An icy chill settled around him as he imagined what Natalie must be thinking.

“I won’t beg, plead or make a fool of myself, Alex,” she said finally. Her tone was more sad than angry. “You know how to reach me.” Quietly she hung up.

Alex stood very still, amazed at what he’d just done as he mulled over their conversation in his mind. He didn’t feel he’d made a mistake, he realized, just done the honest thing. Unexpectedly, he felt only relief.

“Meat loaf, green beans, mashed potatoes, squash and apple pie,” Emmy said after Alex had said grace and she was about to serve. “This is Dixon’s favorite fall meal. It’s not fancy but I hope you like it.”

“It’s wonderful. Lydia Olson has been giving me cooking lessons so I’m getting better in the kitchen, but I’m getting really sick of chicken potpie.”

Emmy laughed and the bright, sparkling sound made Alex smile.

“That reminds me!” Dixon put his knife down on the table so hard that it shook. “I heard some big news in town this morning.”

“I don’t think Alex likes gossip,” Emmy reminded him gently.

“I don’t think it’s gossip if everyone and their sister is talking about it, do you?”

“That’s probably one of the better descriptions of gossip,” Alex said as he mounded mashed potatoes onto his plate.

“Okay, then don’t let me tell you that Johann Paulson cooked dinner for Lydia Olson last night and that he fed her caviar, escargot and a fillet of beef that cost twenty-five bucks a pound. Don’t let me tell you it was by candlelight either, or that when he left after dinner, he kissed her.” Dixon dug into his food while he shook his head. “No sir, don’t let me tell you any of that.”

Now, of course, it was all too late. Emmy poked at his arm with a serving spoon. “Now that you’ve blabbed it all, tell us more.”

Dixon looked up, innocent as a lamb. “That would be gossiping.”

“How’d you find this out? I’ll bet your sources aren’t reliable.”

“Practically from the horse’s mouth,” Dixon retorted. “I ran into Clarence in the Cozy Corner this morning and he was fit to be tied. He reminded me of an irate father about to pull together a shotgun wedding to protect his daughter’s besmirched reputation. Of course, the last thing Clarence wants Lydia to do is move away so he’d be in a fix. He can’t chase Johann off without chasing Lydia away too. Poor guy. We men who have old, unmarried sisters certainly do have to suffer a lot.”

Emmy poked him with the spoon again. “Caviar? Really?”

“He got it in Wheatville. We might never have known, but Clarence’s friend works at the meat counter and he called and told Clarence that some fool had just spent an enormous amount of money on fillet, caviar and escargot. He also told him that the fellow who spent the money must be a friend of his sister’s because Lydia was right there with the guy when he bought the stuff. I guess Clarence nearly popped a blood vessel. They went to Ruby’s place and found Johann in the kitchen, wearing an apron and serving Lydia caviar on toast points.

“Poor old Clarence didn’t have the time to say anything before Lydia chased him out so she and her ‘friend’ could have some private time. I guess she came home late with a goofy grin on her face, and he got it out of her that Johann had kissed her. This morning he was drinking coffee, eating cinnamon rolls and crying in his java.”

“A soap opera!” Emmy said gleefully. “I wish I didn’t have to go before seeing how this all turns out.”

Alex felt as though he were swinging on the end of a bungee cord, his emotions rocketing this way and that, devoid of tempo or logic. One moment he was laughing, the next reliving his conversation with Natalie. Then he felt sad about Emmy’s departure. It was too much for the sensible, logical man that he was…or used to be.

“When are you leaving?” he asked.

“Six AM. This is probably the last time I’ll see you this visit,” Emmy said. “It’s been fun, hasn’t it?”

It had been fun, and knowing that the fun was almost over darkened Alex’s mood to indigo.