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KATRINA WOKE UP LESS than half an hour later. Was that someone knocking?
She’d taken off most of her clothes and did her best to ignore the cold while she threw on a pair of leggings and one of Greg’s sweatshirts.
The pounding on the door persisted. Another disadvantage of living in the parsonage since parishioners thought they had an open invitation to swing by anytime, night or day. Oh, well. It’s not like two o’clock in the afternoon was an unreasonable time for a visit.
Certain she must look as groggy and unkempt as she felt, she ignored her reflection in the bedroom mirror and hurried to meet her visitor. Hoping it wasn’t somebody here to complain that Greg hadn’t shoveled the snow yet, she made sure to have a ready excuse just in case and opened the door.
“Mrs. Porter?”
The unexpected guest stepped through the entryway, shutting the door behind her and stamping snow off her boots. “I’m sorry to swing by unannounced,” she proclaimed as she took off her shoes and gestured to the living room. “Let’s talk on the couch.”
Katrina had never been invited to take a seat in her own home before, but she submissively followed while Mrs. Porter led the way to the living room. It wasn’t nearly as tidy as she would have made it if she’d known about this visit, but at least there was no dirty laundry strewn about. There was something to be said about small victories.
Mrs. Porter adjusted herself comfortably in Greg’s recliner, and Katrina took the loveseat.
“I just had to stop by and get a few things off my chest.”
For a violinist, it was an asset to be so connected to your emotions, to be able to experience a wide range of feelings and convey them to those around you. As a pastor’s wife, however, seated across from someone as formidable as Mrs. Porter, Katrina’s propensity to wear her heart on her sleeve was most definitely a curse. Praying she didn’t look as terrified as she felt, she waited silently.
Mrs. Porter spoke animatedly, the many jewels on her fingers casting distracting lights around the room. “I just couldn’t stop thinking about Grandma Lucy’s prayer this afternoon. You know, most of the time I think that woman’s a mile off her rocker, and I’m not ashamed to go on record saying so. She’s a believer just like you and me, and if God can use a donkey to get his messages across, I’m sure he can use a woman like that in spite of her eccentricities.”
Katrina wasn’t sure if Grandma Lucy would laugh or be offended at Mrs. Porter comparing her to a barnyard animal, but she held her peace and waited to hear what she’d come here to say.
“What I started to realize the more I thought about it,” she went on, “was that Grandma Lucy was talking to you. That mother mourning because her children were no more. She was talking about you, and I started to think about that conversation we had downstairs in the nursery last week, and there I was making assumptions about your pregnancy, and it turns out I was right, but of course I had no clue that you lost your poor baby, and so I came over here under conviction from the Holy Spirit to apologize.”
Katrina blinked, not quite certain that she could trust her ears at this moment in time.
“Here at Orchard Grove Bible,” Mrs. Porter went on, “we’re all like a big family, you know, just like the Bible says. If one part suffers, all the parts suffer with it. And I just can’t tell you how sorry I am for what you and Pastor Greg went through. A miscarriage is a sorrowful thing, especially when it’s your first. If I had known or even suspected what had happened, I wouldn’t have made such a nuisance of myself last week when we spoke. I hope you believe me, and I hope you’ll do me the honor of accepting my apology. It’s nothing too flowery, but it does come from the heart.”
“Yes, of course.” Katrina wondered if that strength and boldness she’d found in her singing would ever work its way into her speaking voice as well.
Mrs. Porter reached into her coat pocket. “Well then, with that out of the way ...”
“Mouse!” Greg’s voice was both groggy and playful as he called from down the hall. “Mouse, why’d you up and leave me all alone? It’s cold in here, and this bed’s far too big for one person all by himself. Don’t make me come out there and teach you a lesson.”
The bedroom door opened. Katrina jumped from her chair and hurried down the hall, hoping to intercept her husband in time.
No such luck. Out he came, wearing nothing but candy cane boxers and a giant grin that disappeared as soon as he noticed Mrs. Porter in the living room.
Katrina did her best to shield her husband, a difficult task seeing how much larger he was than she.
“Why didn’t you tell me someone was here?” he asked through gritted teeth and hurried back into the bedroom.
She followed him in. “I’m sorry. I’ll take care of this, you just stay in there,” Katrina told him, wondering what in the world she was supposed to say to Mrs. Porter after something like this.
“Well of course I’m staying in here.” Greg shut the door on her, and Katrina raced down the hall, a dozen apologies ready to tumble out one after the other, but she stopped when she saw Mrs. Porter’s face lit up in silent laughter.
“I’m sorry, dear.” Mrs. Proter shook her head. “I should have known. Sunday afternoon, no meetings on the schedule, a young wife as pretty and eager to please as you. It’s no wonder Pastor Greg would only have one thing on his mind on a day like this.”
This time, Katrina felt certain that not even a classically trained actress could keep herself from blushing. “It’s not like that,” she stammered.
Mrs. Porter waved her hand dismissively. “Of course it is, dear, and that’s just fine with me. You and Pastor Greg go enjoy each other. And now that I know you two are open to the idea of pregnancy, if nobody’s mentioned it yet, I may as well be the first to drop the hint that the church is known to raise the pastor’s salary if his wife delivers a healthy baby. It’s our number one plan for church growth.” She laughed coarsely.
“Well, I don’t want to make you keep your husband waiting, not if he’s anything like Mr. Porter was at that age.” Mrs. Porter stood with another loud, somewhat boorish chuckle. “Oh, before I forget.” She reached into her coat pocket. “This is my Christmas present for you. I don’t know if you’ve been to the Safe Anchorage Gift Shop yet, but they have all kinds of candles and lotions and skin products made from goat’s milk. Some handmade jewelry and cards and things too if you’re into that sort of stuff.” She handed Katrina a small envelope. “Now don’t bother seeing me out. I know where the door is.”
Katrina still hadn’t moved from her spot when Mrs. Porter looked back once and winked. “You kids have a fun afternoon. I’ll be praying for good news from the two of you before very long.”