The Warning (10 page)

“I remind you, Korda, that your loyalty should be to the bank and its policies. You—” He stopped at the sound of someone knocking on the door.

Lorraine poked her head inside, then said, “I'm sorry, Mr. Dorsett. But Mrs. Agatha Richards is here.”

“Tell her I'll be right with her,” Thaddeus Dorsett said. At the death of her husband, Agatha Richards had inherited three large companies and was now one of the bank's wealthiest customers.

“Mrs. Richards,” Lorraine replied, “wants to see Mr. Korda.”

Buddy felt as though he was propelled from his seat. “I'm going to write all my customers,” he announced grimly, “explaining to them what's behind this scheme. I'll instruct them to destroy the cards and refuse to pay the increased minimum payment.”

“Do that,” Thad snarled. “Be sure to send me a copy. I'd be delighted to show our central office what sort of assistant manager I'm saddled with here.”

“Can I get you a cup of coffee, Mrs. Richards?”

“No thank you, Lorraine.” Agatha followed Buddy into his office.

“Mr. Korda?”

Hearing Lorraine call him by his last name was so surprising he turned back. “What?”

“Coffee?”

“No, no, I'm fine, thanks.” He watched her softly shut the door, and wondered what had Lorraine acting so demure. “Why don't we sit over here by the window. What can I do for you, Agatha?”

“I just wanted to tell you how thrilled and moved I was last night.”

“Oh.” Buddy slid into the settee facing Agatha.

Agatha was not a gushy sort of woman. She stood an inch higher than Buddy but looked even taller, as she held herself rigidly erect. She gripped her purse in her lap and kneaded the top clasp with beringed hands. “I feel so
honored
to have been there at the outset. I've never been one to go in for gifts of the Spirit, but—”

“Agatha, please stop.”

“I just can't tell you . . .” Her mind finally registered Buddy's quiet words. “I beg your pardon?”

“Stop. I don't know how to make it any plainer than that.” He knew he was being too harsh, but he could not seem to help himself. “This is hard enough already without your gushing all over me.”

“Why, Buddy Korda.” His words caught her totally off guard. “I thought you'd be delighted.”

“Well, I'm not.” He could not bear to have her finish. “The last thing I want is for people I've known all my life to start treating me like I was some kind of—” He started to say, some kind of prophet, but stopped himself just in time. He finished lamely, “holy man.”

Before Agatha could collect herself, there was a knock on his door. Lorraine timidly stuck her head inside and said, “Please excuse me, Mr. Korda—”

“Not you, too, Lorraine.”

“I'm sorry, what?”

“Never mind. Never mind.”

“Reverend Owen and Reverend Allen are out here.”

“Well, show them in.” Buddy rose to his feet. Agatha remained planted where she was, giving him an odd look. Buddy looked at her and said, “I suppose you told Lorraine all about it.”

“I didn't have to.” Her gaze did not waver. “The whole town is talking about you.”

“Great. Just great.” He walked over as the pair entered, and offered them his hand. “Gentlemen. Come on in and have a seat.” He stopped Lorraine's question before it was spoken. “That will be all, thank you.”

He waved them into seats and sighed as he sat back down himself. “What can I do for you?”

“Be careful what you say,” Agatha said. “Buddy is in one of his moods.”

“I do not have moods,” he snapped.

Agatha Richards harrumphed. “Buddy Korda, I've known you all my life. And I know you can be the most quietly contrary man I have ever laid eyes on.”

Buddy turned to the pastors. “Don't pay her any mind. She's the one who's being contrary.”

“Now that is just not true. I simply wanted to offer you my help.”

“No, you didn't.” Buddy knew he should stop, but he did not feel able. “You came in here to sit at the feet of the wise man. Well, I'm sure not wise. And I'm not interested in your getting down on my carpet, no matter what the reason.”

Clarke Owen halted Agatha's reaction with, “Actually, we came by for the same reason.”

“If you really want to help me,” Buddy snapped, angry despite himself, “you'd make this whole mess up and vanish.”

Agatha was horrified. “You don't mean that.”

“Oh, don't I?” Distress rose in waves. “Do you know what I hear when you start talking about last night? I hear the end of a life I've loved. Everything is about ready to be turned on its head, and I'm supposed to be happy. Now tell me exactly what it is that I'm supposed to be so all-fired delighted about.”

There was a long silence, finally broken by Pastor Allen. “So you really think it's going to happen. This economic famine, I mean.”

“Yes, no, I don't know.” Buddy kneaded his forehead. “It's not only the famine I'm talking about. It's the
warning.
It's the fact that I've been chosen to go out and deliver this to people. Only I don't
want
to go. Is that so difficult to understand? I
hate
traveling. I'm scared of airplanes. I don't like trains. My car is eight years old, and it's done less than twenty thousand miles.”

He felt thoroughly unable to explain what he was feeling. His gaze landed on Pastor Allen who wore a troubled expression. Buddy said, “I sound ungrateful, don't I?”

“I should say so,” Agatha huffed.

“Well, to be honest, I don't know what I have to be grateful for.” Even so, the act of confessing was calming. He could feel the pent-up steam leaking out with his words.

“If you don't beat all.” Agatha had difficulty finding the words. “Buddy Korda, the Lord has
called
you.”

“That's right, He has. Now let's take a look at what exactly this calling is. I've been given a message of direst ruin. A seven-year famine is coming. That's my message. I'm called to go out and spread this message to anyone who will listen. I'm called to make myself a laughingstock in the business community, at least among those who won't believe me. And for those who
do
believe, I'll be bringing a warning that dashes every dream. I'll be telling them that their worst fears for the future will soon come true.”

He felt like a deflated balloon, yet he was satisfied just the same. There was a genuine fulfillment in speaking the truth. And that was what he was going to do, he decided then and there. “I don't want this job. I didn't ask for it. I'm not a talker, and I don't like being noticed. The Lord's called me, and I guess I'm going to do what He's told me to do. But that doesn't mean I have to like it. Not one bit.”

Agatha looked from one pastor to the other. “Are you just going to sit there and let him go on like this?”

Clarke Owen turned and waited for the chief pastor to speak. But Reverend Allen continued to study Buddy. Genuine uncertainty clouded his gaze.

For some reason, Pastor Allen's silence seemed to satisfy Clarke. He turned back to Buddy and said, “I have to tell you, Buddy, what I've just heard here only makes me more certain that the Lord has chosen rightly.”

Agatha's mouth worked a couple of times, but no sound came out.

“Buddy, you're not a pastor. You're not called to lead a flock. You are called to give the world a warning. A message, Buddy. That is what the Lord intends for people to focus on. Not the messenger. Never the messenger. Do you see where I'm headed with this?”

“Yes,” he reluctantly allowed. “Yes, I guess I do.”

“Someone who wants to be the center of attention could very well get in the way of what God is intending here. He wants His people to hear a message, and to have it spoken with an authority that is so solid, so
certain
, that they will do as He instructs. They might not be anywhere near that certain if the message was to come from someone else.”

Clarke paused for another glance at Pastor Allen. A knowing smile played across his features. “If the message came from someone with a talent for speaking and a heart for the stage, their attention might be on the
speaker
. But that's not what's intended here. The Lord wants people to focus on
Him
.”

There was a moment's silence before Pastor Allen shifted in his seat and said quietly, “I agree.”

The soundness of what he was hearing left Buddy locked in his unfolding destiny. “I'm so afraid.”

“Well, of course you are,” Clarke affirmed.

“Every word you say,” Buddy went on, “brings my departure one step closer.”

“Buddy, I'd like to tell you that you can go out and do your work and return home. I wish I could do that.” Clarke placed his hands on his knees and leaned through the distance separating them. “But I can't. What I can say is that I'm proud of you. And I'm certain the Lord is too.”

Pastor Allen rose slowly to his feet. “I suppose I'd better be getting on. I've got appointments back-to-back today. I just wanted you to know I'm behind you on this.” His gaze fell not on Buddy, but on his associate. As Clarke smiled up at him, Pastor Allen went on, “Buddy, there's a meeting of the Businessmen's Bible Fellowship tonight over in Wilmington. They've asked me to speak. I think you should be there in my stead.”

“I—” Buddy stopped as he watched Clarke reach out, grip Pastor Allen's arm, and squeeze it hard. His smile was exquisite. Buddy told them, “I don't know what to say.”

Clarke dropped his hand and turned to Buddy. “Tell him yes. Let the Lord begin his work.”

–|
|
FOURTEEN
|
|–

The chairman of the Businessmen's Bible Fellowship in Wilmington, Delaware, tried hard to put a good face on it. But he was definitely unhappy with Buddy's appearance as their speaker. “We meet every Wednesday morning for a prayer breakfast. Once a month, we have these evening suppers. Usually it's on a Saturday, but we rescheduled to have our senator make the address—he could only come tonight. Then he couldn't make it, and Pastor Allen said he'd fill in. And now, well, I guess he had something come up too.”

“No,” Clarke said from Buddy's other side. “It wasn't like that at all.”

“To be honest, I wasn't clear at all on why the reverend felt that we needed to hear Mr. Korda.” He was leaning back in his chair so he could see Clarke, and paused long enough to offer Buddy an apologetic smile. “Normally we get in some big speakers for these evening functions. The wives come, and we invite other people from the community.”

“I am pretty certain,” Clarke replied, “that you won't be at all disappointed.”

The chairman looked as if he wanted to say something more, but settled on, “Maybe it'd be a good idea if you did the introduction, then.”

“I'd be honored.”

Buddy waited until the chairman had turned to speak with someone else, then muttered to Clarke, “I wish I was half as sure about all this as you are.”

The room was part of a riverside wharf restoration project, with ancient timbers holding up the high ceiling. Every sound rebounded off the red-brick walls and polished floor. By the time everyone was seated and dinner was served, over a hundred people filled the long banquet tables. Every time Buddy looked up from his place at the front table, his stomach did flip-flops. A wave of laughter swept down one side, and it seemed as though the noise beat at him. Buddy pushed his plate away untouched.

Clarke set his utensils down and slid one arm around the back of Buddy's chair. “You'll do just fine.”

“I wish it was over.”

“I know you do.”

“All of it. Not just tonight.”

“Well, it's not. It's only just started. And you might as well get used to the idea and stop bellyaching.”

The words were so surprising, coming from the quiet assistant pastor, that Buddy felt pushed an inch or two away from his anxiety. He stared at Clarke and was met by intense gray eyes. Clarke went on, “The Lord has chosen you, Buddy. You may not like it much, but it is still an honor. And more than that, what you have to say may be of vital importance.”

Buddy gave a single slight nod. “You're right.”

“Of course I am. God is not intending for you to go out and scare his church. He wants them to
prepare
.”

Strange how being scolded could force him to a new level of calm. “There's a second part of the message about how to do just that.”

“I did not doubt it for a moment.” Clarke looked beyond him. “The chairman is going to call us to order.”

Buddy sat through the opening remarks and the Bible reading and the prayer and the singing, scarcely hearing any of it at all. His heart beat a frantic pace. Finally Clarke rose at the chairman's nod and approached the podium.

“When I came to the First Christian Church in Aiden twenty-seven years ago, I did not know a soul. New assistant pastors are generally treated like a sort of third thumb at first—people don't have any idea what to do with them. Yet Buddy Korda went out of his way to make me and my wife feel welcome. In his own quiet way, he treated us like family. And that is exactly how we have considered him ever since. A member of our family.”

Buddy's attention was caught by the side door opening, and he started at the sight of two people slipping in. His brother, Alex, was in the lead. Agatha Richards came in next. He stared as they slid into two empty chairs by the side wall. A more unlikely pair Buddy could not imagine.

“Buddy is assistant branch manager of the Valenti Bank in Arden. He has helped handle the finances of our community for more than thirty-five years. People tend to overlook him unless they need his help with something, because he prefers to stay in the background. To say that Buddy would rather not be up here tonight is like calling the Atlantic a fair-size puddle. But he
is
here, and he
does
have something to tell you. There is nothing I can say that will prepare you for his message, and so I am just going to sit back down and ask him to come forward. Buddy?”