The Welcome Committee of Butternut Creek (29 page)

The Widows had accepted the mission.

“Heaven help me,” Adam murmured as he turned off the phone. In fact, heaven help all of them because the Widows were on the way.

Oh, he knew good and well the women were the best people to get the job done. They’d get the rooms in the parsonage fixed up in no time and do it right. But the whirlwind of the three of them—because Winnie had become an even greater force when triangulated with the other two—could rock the foundation of the house.

This was why Adam had started over to the church as soon as he called them, to get away. After a few steps, he paused beneath the huge oak tree that stood on the edge of the parking lot, midway between the parsonage and the church. He couldn’t—could not—abandon the Smiths. Deanne had been discharged and would be arriving within the next hour. He’d called Howard to collect her, her mother, and Missy, and drive them here. No matter what the preacher might tell himself about all the work that awaited him at the church, he couldn’t allow the family to walk unsuspectingly into a house filled with Widows.

Adam turned, slowly, and ambled back to the parsonage just as a pickup pulled into the parking lot and Jesse stepped out.

“Got a load of furniture from the thrift shop for you, Pastor.” Jesse went to the back of the truck and opened the tailgate. “Give me a hand?”

Within minutes, they had beds set up in the previously unused parlor on the first floor. As they finished, the Widows bustled in with armloads of linens. Within a few more minutes, the parlor had been turned into a bedroom for Missy and her mother and grandmother. After another load arrived from the thrift shop, they put a bed in each of the two empty bedrooms on the second floor. The women made all the beds, tossing a colorful quilt on each.

Finished, Jesse, the Widows and the preacher stood in the hallway and looked into the larger parlor, admiring their work. Wall-to-wall beds, but the family didn’t want to be separated.

“We fixed up the upstairs bedrooms,” Mercedes said. “Just in case Hector and his sister do need a place to stay. And who knows? Maybe others will need a temporary shelter.”

“It’s truly a service to the community, Pastor,” Winnie added.

Then Miss Birdie made a noise Adam hadn’t heard before and couldn’t describe. It suggested possible agreement and maybe a bit of pleasure in the thought.

The pillar looked around the parlor and nodded. “Nicely done.” She straightened the quilt a bit. She might have meant the remark as a compliment for her minister, but Adam wasn’t sure. It could have meant she admired the pattern of the cover.

“I’ll be back in a little bit, Pastor,” Winnie said as she hustled out. “Have a few more errands to run.”

“I have to get back to work.” Miss Birdie took off after Winnie, and Jesse followed.

The departures left Adam alone with Mercedes, with whom he always felt comfortable.

“Preacher,” she said. “I talked to my grandniece—she’s a social worker for the state—about Hector. She made three suggestions. First, he could petition to be an emancipated minor and he’d be Janey’s guardian. Second, she could be placed in foster care with you—or, third, both Firestones could be in foster care with you. If you plan to board youngsters here, you should be licensed as a provider, just to make sure it’s all legal.” She handed him some papers. “Fill these out and I’ll take care of that.”

Adam nodded. “Thanks for doing all this.”

“You know, Deanne couldn’t have taken care of herself in San Saba,” Mercedes said. “Even with her mother there, she wouldn’t have received the physical therapy and nursing care she needs. Taking care of both of them would have exhausted Mrs. Peppers. We’ve done a good thing, Preacher. I’m glad you and Winnie talked us into this.”

Once she left, Adam put the laptop on the dining room table and started to work. He finished the bulletin and sent it to Maggie, filling the service with Miss Birdie’s favorite hymns. She deserved a reward.

By noon, Winnie had returned with Sam’s father and a dozen grocery sacks. The two stocked the cabinets and refrigerator with enough food to last if nuclear war broke out.

After they left, Howard pulled into the parking lot and helped Deanne inside. Missy and Eleanor followed her. Pale and tired, Deanne fell asleep as soon as she hit the bed. Missy curled up on the toddler-size bed and slept. Adam tugged the quilt over her as Howard brought in several plastic sacks of what Deanne had accumulated in the hospital.

“I have the key to my daughter’s house,” Eleanor said. “Howard’s going to drive me to San Saba. I’ll pick up some clothing and Deanne’s car. Be back in a few hours.” She glanced at the two sleepers.

“I’ll stay here. Don’t wear yourself out.” As he watched them move down the sidewalk, Adam allowed pleasure to flood him and remembered his favorite verse from Micah: “… what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God?”

The church was doing the Lord’s work, reaching out in kindness. He was blessed to reap the bonus of having company in the huge and previously echoingly lonely parsonage.

Sam glanced at the clock. Seven thirty. In the morning.

How was he supposed to sleep with the general whistling—yes, whistling!—in the kitchen? The man had never whistled, at least not in the span of Sam’s memory. Of course, for a lot of that time, the general hadn’t been at home. He’d been overseas or transferred so Sam didn’t know that the general
never
whistled, but whistling suggested happiness. The general had seldom showed any emotion, much less happiness.

Wondering why in the world he was considering this when all he wanted to do was fall back to sleep, Sam pulled the pillow over his head. He hadn’t noticed this before, but whistling has a particular pitch that is not at all moderated by the placement of a pillow over one’s ear.

“What are you doing out there?” he shouted toward the kitchen. “Somebody’s trying to sleep in here.”

The whistling stopped abruptly, a realization that bothered Sam. The general had finally showed a positive emotion and Sam had told him to shut up. Amazingly, he had. Now Sam felt guilty.

He rolled to the edge of the bed, attached the prosthesis, and pushed himself up. By the time he reached the kitchen and could see the general standing at the stove with that stupid pink towel protecting his camo shorts, Sam regretted his outburst. He’d acted like a grunt.

“Sorry I woke you up, son.”

“Sorry, Dad.” The word and the apology slipped from his mouth without passing through the censor he usually kept on his statements to the general. Sam hoped maybe he wouldn’t notice.

He noticed. His smile reached his eyes. “Oo-rah,” he said.

Who says “Oo-rah” at seven thirty in the morning while preparing breakfast?

The general put the eggs and bacon on a plate and set it on the table. “Sit down, son. Have some breakfast.”

“You didn’t know I’d be up now.” Sam scrutinized him. The general was smart, always prepared, but, “This is your breakfast, right?”

“Hey.” He held his hand up. “I can always fix more. Why don’t you sit down and enjoy?”

Rude to refuse. Besides, the stubborn man wouldn’t eat the food after he’d offered it to Sam. It’d be stupid to turn it down. If he did, no one would eat it. Sam sat, pulled the plate and fork in front of him, and dug in while the general put bread in the toaster and tossed a couple more slices of bacon in the pan.

“Winnie says I should cut down on bacon.” The general looked into the skillet longingly before picking up the slices with a spatula and wrapping them back in the package, uncooked.

How serious was this relationship? The general had known her for only a few weeks and was giving up his beloved bacon? Sounded very serious.

“So,” Sam said casually. “Are you going out with Miss Jenkins again?”

The general grabbed the toast when it popped up, smeared margarine and jelly on it, and brought it to the table. He placed one slice on Sam’s plate, then sat down and tore the other piece in half. After he’d taken several bites, he swallowed and looked at Sam.

“You know how much I loved your mother.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know, I know. Maureen was very special. After she died, I never found another woman I liked to be with, one who was interesting and attractive. I enjoy being with Winnie.”

Sam had always suspected the general had mourned his wife’s death as much as Sam had grieved for his mother, but he’d never showed it. He’d stood stiff and emotionless at the cemetery during the interment. Sam had done exactly the same, a perfect little image of his father but feeling like a scared little boy inside. Not that he’d ever told the general that.

In fact, much of the problem was that neither of them knew how to share his feelings. He’d believed they still didn’t, but the general sure seemed bent on trying.

“I didn’t date much, even years after Maureen died. After all, I was trying to bring up a young son…”

“I was ten,” Sam corrected.

“Yes, but that seemed really young to me. I had no experience with any kids but recruits.” He shook his head. “Son, I apologize for my failures. I had no idea what to do with you.”

So you sent me to stay with relatives or to boarding school during the academic year and to Texas or Ohio in the summer
, Sam wanted to say, but he held the words back. For years he and the general had argued about the man’s lack of interest and what Sam considered to be abandonment, but they’d never discussed emotion. Maybe Sam had grown and changed a little, because he didn’t want to cover the same ground again.

Or maybe his tours of duty had made him realize how hard it would be for an officer to raise a child by himself.

“You and my career were my only priorities for years. You don’t have any idea how much I regret not getting to see you grow up.”

“You never told me.” Sam attempted to control his reaction and not sound judgmental.

The general shook his head again. “Really messed up with you, son. Don’t ever think I’ll forgive myself for that but…” He caught Sam’s eyes. “But I’d like to make up for it. I tried to be a good father but had no idea what to do. I treated you like a recruit because I didn’t know how else to relate to a kid. It’s what my father did.”

“Hereditary?” Sam couldn’t resist getting that dig in.

“Hope not. Hope you’ll treat your sons differently. You’ve done well with Willow’s boys. They respect and love you. Wish I’d done that well.”

Hadn’t he treated Nick and Leo like marines? Maybe it was a congenital problem. Not that they were his sons.

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. After all, I don’t see them every day…” The general hadn’t seen him every day, either, but Sam had to let go of that offense for now. “I’m not the one who has to take care of them or build their character. Being their friend is a lot easier.”

“Maybe, but, son…” The general paused and seemed to search for words. “Son, please give me another chance. You’re my only child. I miss you. I know your mother would’ve wanted us to get along, to be family.”

“Hard for me to guess what a woman who’s been dead nearly twenty years wants.”

The old man’s face hardened as if he were hurt that his son had rejected him. But what was Sam supposed to say? Or do? A lifetime of disappointment and anger, and the walls he’d built to contain it, would not evaporate because the general called him “son” and said “please.” Even if Sam wanted to just let it all go, he still felt it, all of it. And he didn’t know if he could survive without that core of fury.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, pretty sure the general would pick up on the sarcasm. “Maybe we could go fishing sometime. Isn’t that what fathers and sons do?”

“I’m not giving up,” the general said.

Sam knew he wouldn’t. The man never did. Unfortunately the general sounded wistful, an emotion much harder to ignore than his command voice.

“Changing the subject a little.” The general stood and poured himself and Sam each a cup of hot coffee. “About Winnie. I think she’s an attractive and intelligent woman. I enjoy being with her and see no reason to be alone the rest of my life.”

Sam almost spilled his coffee on his lap. “Are you getting married?”