As I had promised myself, I didn’t bother with ‘Old Man Jackson’ taking me home. I also didn’t count on a happy reunion dinner at Dairy Queen with the Andersons and all the important people at Riverstone. I quickly and quietly stepped out a side door and walked back to the Sunset alone. Nobody noticed. Surprisingly, Mom wasn’t drunk as she usually is when I got back home. She was watching a movie and I made some sandwiches for the both of us. Later I asked if I could spend my usual time at Goldstein’s and she waved at me without saying anything. That meant ‘yes’.
“Mom?” I asked without her even looking up. “I might go on over to the school playground for a while and then back to Riverstone. Is that Ok?” Again, she waved and I knew I was fine until late tonight.
I grabbed a book I knew I wouldn’t get around to reading. With all that went on this morning, the talk ought to be wild and long at Goldstein’s. There probably wouldn’t be a free minute to read. Don’t get me wrong. I love to read. But ‘gossip listening’ is so much more fun.
I beat the afternoon crowd there and was able to read a little bit before the first ‘gaggle’ of four women came in. Two of them were from Riverstone, the other two I didn’t know.
“Mom?” I asked without her even looking up. “I might go on over to the school playground for a while and then back to Riverstone. Is that Ok?” Again, she waved and I knew I was fine until late tonight.
I grabbed a book I knew I wouldn’t get around to reading. With all that went on this morning, the talk ought to be wild and long at Goldstein’s. There probably wouldn’t be a free minute to read. Don’t get me wrong. I love to read. But ‘gossip listening’ is so much more fun.
I beat the afternoon crowd there and was able to read a little bit before the first ‘gaggle’ of four women came in. Two of them were from Riverstone, the other two I didn’t know.
“I’m surprised Willard didn’t just up and fire him on the spot. Hang the business meeting. Who needs a vote?”
“You can’t do that. It would be against ‘Robert’s Rules of Order”.
“What are the two of you talking about?” the real tall lady with the ‘cat-like’ glasses asked.
“Willard James called for a business meeting Wednesday night to see if we ought to fire our new pastor or not.”
‘Funny glasses’ dropped her mouth open in shock. “Didn’t he move here last week. This is his second week, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and this isn’t much Inez’s doing either. Seems the pastor is responsible for most of all the problems. Don’t get me wrong. Inez weighed in on the subject with a few smart comments to that ‘hippie biker guy’.
“What in the world did he do, the pastor I mean?” asked the other lady who wasn’t a Riverstone lady.
The other Riverstone lady, not ‘funny glasses’, explained. “Well, before he ever preached his first sermon, he gets involved with this seedy couple living over at the Sunset. He’s got tattoos all over his body, except the top of that ugly bald head.” I found myself giggling a little as I thought of the man at the cotton gin who the other guys asked if he had looked at the tattoos himself. I had to laugh at the thought of this old lady personally knowing if Jake actually did have ‘head to toe’ tattoos. I don’t think anybody but Jake really knows.
“She,” the old lady continued, “I think, is a ‘lady of the evening’, if you know what I mean. She was dressed like one when she came to church last Sunday. I’m not sure where Brother Anderson met them, but he invited them both to church and they sat right up front close to Inez. She had a few choice words to say. He ‘amened’ everything the pastor said. Made a fool out of himself. I thought Inez was going to slap his hand once when he raised it up like one of those ‘carryzmatics’.” I must have missed that. I’m not even sure what that last word is she said.
“Then, when a group went over to eat at Dairy Queen after church, guess who had the seats of honor next to the pastor? Not Willard James and the ‘misses’. That couple on one side and one of those bus kids that Mr. Jackson brings.”
“That kid from the motel,” added the other Riverstone lady. “You know his mom, she’s a drunk and runs the Sunset.”
I then heard a loud ‘sshhh’ and the talk stopped. I could tell they were looking my way, so I pulled my book a little closer to make it more believable that I was really reading. The conversation started up again, about half as loud as before. I could still hear everything they said, though.
“He claims he is here for a few weeks working as a welder and she just moved here looking for a job. I still think they are living together, no matter what anybody says. Well, back to the pastor. They gave her some money because the lady said she was robbed last Saturday night, and then the pastor’s wife actually went to visit the lady at the motel and gave her some clothes to wear. I wouldn’t show up dead at that place.”
They finished their drinks and left. Right after they did, in walked pastor Wiggins and his wife from the Methodist church. They each ordered a drink and sat quietly reading the newspaper.
‘OH, NO, I thought.’ In walked Willard James and two other men who I think are deacons.
“You’re da…darned right I’m going ahead with that business meeting Wednesday. It’s either the pastor or me. As I heard one lady has already put it this week, we hired him, we pay him, we give him a free house, and if he cares more about some ‘drug smokin’ hippie and his ‘hoochi-coochie’ girl than he does about us, then it’s time to admit we goofed hiring this pastor and start looking for another one.”
“I’m with you, Willard. He can’t even take care of his own flock.” I’m not sure who was talking. “What’s one of the main duties of a pastor? To visit the sick of his church when they are in the hospital. Last Thursday I took my Flo over to the hospital in Barton. She nearly cut off her little finger with a butcher knife and had to have six stitches. It was busy there and we stayed nearly eight hours and did ‘he’ show up? No! He never even called.”
“But Mrs. Anderson did bring over a meal, didn’t she?” the third man asked.
“That’s not the point. It’s the pastor’s duty, and he didn’t do it.”
“Maybe he didn’t even hear about Flo until it was too late to come.”
“Not when we live in a small town like this.”
Willard continued, “I’m contacting some people at his old church up there in Michigan and see why he left such a big church after ten long years. There must be more of a reason than ‘I think God was leading us here’ kind of baloney.”
The three left the bar and walked past me. Just as they did, they stopped.
“Pastor Wiggins, how are you doing today? How’s things over at the Methodist church?” asked Willard.
“I’m…We are doing fine. Thank you for asking. And the three of you?”
“Well, Pastor,” started Willard. “I’m sure you’ve probably heard of the catastrophe we are having over at Riverstone.”
“I’m not aware of any, Mr. James. Has there been a death in your church?”
“Don’t be coy with me, Mr. Wiggins. I’m sure you have at least heard of , if you have not met our new pastor, Ron Anderson.”
“Yes. Yes. I certainly have met Ron. Several times this week. Is he sick or something?”
“Of course he’s not sick. He’s a total sham. Cares more about a bunch of hoodlum outsiders than his own church. Didn’t even come to visit his wife when she cut her finger last week.”
“Boy, was my wife disappointed.”
“Gentlemen, if I were guessing right, if I could add up all the years the three of you have attended church, it would be a very great number of years, correct?” asked Mr. Wiggins.
“Yes,” they all said in unison.
“And have you never heard of the time Jesus asked the crowd ‘Who needs a physician more, the sick or the well?’”
“That’s obvious. The sick. And my wife was in the hospital and he never came.”
“What,” the Methodist continued, “do you think Jesus was more concerned about? Someone being physically sick, or spiritually sick?”
“Spiritually, of course, I guess. What are you getting at, pastor?”
“From what I understand, the young lady at the motel is wandering and searching for a new life, and really needs some guidance.”
“Then why don’t you go give her some guidance, pastor?”
“Maybe because God led her to visit your church, Mr.James?”
At that, the three stomped out the front door in a huff.
“Honey!” I heard the Methodist pastor’s wife say when the three had gone out the door. “Weren’t you a little harsh with them?”
“Willard James doesn’t have a nurturing or spiritual bone in his body. How he ever got to be a deacon in a Baptist church, I’ll never know. A deacon is supposed to be a servant, not a tyrant leader. He should have, or in this case, he and his wife, should have been one of the first to knock on that poor lady’s door to lend a hand.”
They got up and left a minute or two later. I then read about ten pages of my mystery before I heard anyone say anything more about Riverstone or Jake or Collette. I had gotten thirsty and went to the bar and was paying for a Dr Pepper. Up walked three guys I knew from school.
“Hey. There’s Randy. He lives at the Sunset. I’m sure he can answer our question.” The three walked up and Billy Baldwin sat on my left and John Fellows and Tony San…I never can pronounce his last name. They sat to my right.
“Randy!” said John. “Our parents have been arguing about those people who are staying over at the Sunset and are causing so many problems over at Riverstone Baptist.”
“Do you mean, Jake and Collette?”
“Yeah, them. They are living together, right? I mean they aren’t married, right?”asked Tony.
“Who wants to know?” I got bold enough to ask. “You or your parents?”
“Everybody!”
It felt kind of neat to be the sudden expert on something. I cocked my head back and forth to look like I was thinking about the answer. The three boys looked down at me like vultures.
“You want to know the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?”
“Yes!” they yelled .
“Jake Johnson is a welder who is working on that new rig south of town. He lives in room number two. Collette Madison lives in room number twelve and no they are not living with each other. I have never seen either one in the other’s room. They visit a little sitting on chairs in the parking lot. And do you want to know a very big, big secret?
The three leaned over close without saying anything.
“Randy Simpson and his mom live in number fifteen and she manages the Sunset.” Tony reached over and slapped me on the shoulder.
“I thought you had a real secret, stupid. Come on guys, let’s go play football at the school. There’s supposed to be a game starting at 3:00. Come and join us Randy.”
“I’ll see. Maybe. Thanks for asking.” It was only 2:30, so I watched the guys leave and I sat and read another two chapters before I left for the school ground. It was only two blocks away.
“You can’t do that. It would be against ‘Robert’s Rules of Order”.
“What are the two of you talking about?” the real tall lady with the ‘cat-like’ glasses asked.
“Willard James called for a business meeting Wednesday night to see if we ought to fire our new pastor or not.”
‘Funny glasses’ dropped her mouth open in shock. “Didn’t he move here last week. This is his second week, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and this isn’t much Inez’s doing either. Seems the pastor is responsible for most of all the problems. Don’t get me wrong. Inez weighed in on the subject with a few smart comments to that ‘hippie biker guy’.
“What in the world did he do, the pastor I mean?” asked the other lady who wasn’t a Riverstone lady.
The other Riverstone lady, not ‘funny glasses’, explained. “Well, before he ever preached his first sermon, he gets involved with this seedy couple living over at the Sunset. He’s got tattoos all over his body, except the top of that ugly bald head.” I found myself giggling a little as I thought of the man at the cotton gin who the other guys asked if he had looked at the tattoos himself. I had to laugh at the thought of this old lady personally knowing if Jake actually did have ‘head to toe’ tattoos. I don’t think anybody but Jake really knows.
“She,” the old lady continued, “I think, is a ‘lady of the evening’, if you know what I mean. She was dressed like one when she came to church last Sunday. I’m not sure where Brother Anderson met them, but he invited them both to church and they sat right up front close to Inez. She had a few choice words to say. He ‘amened’ everything the pastor said. Made a fool out of himself. I thought Inez was going to slap his hand once when he raised it up like one of those ‘carryzmatics’.” I must have missed that. I’m not even sure what that last word is she said.
“Then, when a group went over to eat at Dairy Queen after church, guess who had the seats of honor next to the pastor? Not Willard James and the ‘misses’. That couple on one side and one of those bus kids that Mr. Jackson brings.”
“That kid from the motel,” added the other Riverstone lady. “You know his mom, she’s a drunk and runs the Sunset.”
I then heard a loud ‘sshhh’ and the talk stopped. I could tell they were looking my way, so I pulled my book a little closer to make it more believable that I was really reading. The conversation started up again, about half as loud as before. I could still hear everything they said, though.
“He claims he is here for a few weeks working as a welder and she just moved here looking for a job. I still think they are living together, no matter what anybody says. Well, back to the pastor. They gave her some money because the lady said she was robbed last Saturday night, and then the pastor’s wife actually went to visit the lady at the motel and gave her some clothes to wear. I wouldn’t show up dead at that place.”
They finished their drinks and left. Right after they did, in walked pastor Wiggins and his wife from the Methodist church. They each ordered a drink and sat quietly reading the newspaper.
‘OH, NO, I thought.’ In walked Willard James and two other men who I think are deacons.
“You’re da…darned right I’m going ahead with that business meeting Wednesday. It’s either the pastor or me. As I heard one lady has already put it this week, we hired him, we pay him, we give him a free house, and if he cares more about some ‘drug smokin’ hippie and his ‘hoochi-coochie’ girl than he does about us, then it’s time to admit we goofed hiring this pastor and start looking for another one.”
“I’m with you, Willard. He can’t even take care of his own flock.” I’m not sure who was talking. “What’s one of the main duties of a pastor? To visit the sick of his church when they are in the hospital. Last Thursday I took my Flo over to the hospital in Barton. She nearly cut off her little finger with a butcher knife and had to have six stitches. It was busy there and we stayed nearly eight hours and did ‘he’ show up? No! He never even called.”
“But Mrs. Anderson did bring over a meal, didn’t she?” the third man asked.
“That’s not the point. It’s the pastor’s duty, and he didn’t do it.”
“Maybe he didn’t even hear about Flo until it was too late to come.”
“Not when we live in a small town like this.”
Willard continued, “I’m contacting some people at his old church up there in Michigan and see why he left such a big church after ten long years. There must be more of a reason than ‘I think God was leading us here’ kind of baloney.”
The three left the bar and walked past me. Just as they did, they stopped.
“Pastor Wiggins, how are you doing today? How’s things over at the Methodist church?” asked Willard.
“I’m…We are doing fine. Thank you for asking. And the three of you?”
“Well, Pastor,” started Willard. “I’m sure you’ve probably heard of the catastrophe we are having over at Riverstone.”
“I’m not aware of any, Mr. James. Has there been a death in your church?”
“Don’t be coy with me, Mr. Wiggins. I’m sure you have at least heard of , if you have not met our new pastor, Ron Anderson.”
“Yes. Yes. I certainly have met Ron. Several times this week. Is he sick or something?”
“Of course he’s not sick. He’s a total sham. Cares more about a bunch of hoodlum outsiders than his own church. Didn’t even come to visit his wife when she cut her finger last week.”
“Boy, was my wife disappointed.”
“Gentlemen, if I were guessing right, if I could add up all the years the three of you have attended church, it would be a very great number of years, correct?” asked Mr. Wiggins.
“Yes,” they all said in unison.
“And have you never heard of the time Jesus asked the crowd ‘Who needs a physician more, the sick or the well?’”
“That’s obvious. The sick. And my wife was in the hospital and he never came.”
“What,” the Methodist continued, “do you think Jesus was more concerned about? Someone being physically sick, or spiritually sick?”
“Spiritually, of course, I guess. What are you getting at, pastor?”
“From what I understand, the young lady at the motel is wandering and searching for a new life, and really needs some guidance.”
“Then why don’t you go give her some guidance, pastor?”
“Maybe because God led her to visit your church, Mr.James?”
At that, the three stomped out the front door in a huff.
“Honey!” I heard the Methodist pastor’s wife say when the three had gone out the door. “Weren’t you a little harsh with them?”
“Willard James doesn’t have a nurturing or spiritual bone in his body. How he ever got to be a deacon in a Baptist church, I’ll never know. A deacon is supposed to be a servant, not a tyrant leader. He should have, or in this case, he and his wife, should have been one of the first to knock on that poor lady’s door to lend a hand.”
They got up and left a minute or two later. I then read about ten pages of my mystery before I heard anyone say anything more about Riverstone or Jake or Collette. I had gotten thirsty and went to the bar and was paying for a Dr Pepper. Up walked three guys I knew from school.
“Hey. There’s Randy. He lives at the Sunset. I’m sure he can answer our question.” The three walked up and Billy Baldwin sat on my left and John Fellows and Tony San…I never can pronounce his last name. They sat to my right.
“Randy!” said John. “Our parents have been arguing about those people who are staying over at the Sunset and are causing so many problems over at Riverstone Baptist.”
“Do you mean, Jake and Collette?”
“Yeah, them. They are living together, right? I mean they aren’t married, right?”asked Tony.
“Who wants to know?” I got bold enough to ask. “You or your parents?”
“Everybody!”
It felt kind of neat to be the sudden expert on something. I cocked my head back and forth to look like I was thinking about the answer. The three boys looked down at me like vultures.
“You want to know the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?”
“Yes!” they yelled .
“Jake Johnson is a welder who is working on that new rig south of town. He lives in room number two. Collette Madison lives in room number twelve and no they are not living with each other. I have never seen either one in the other’s room. They visit a little sitting on chairs in the parking lot. And do you want to know a very big, big secret?
The three leaned over close without saying anything.
“Randy Simpson and his mom live in number fifteen and she manages the Sunset.” Tony reached over and slapped me on the shoulder.
“I thought you had a real secret, stupid. Come on guys, let’s go play football at the school. There’s supposed to be a game starting at 3:00. Come and join us Randy.”
“I’ll see. Maybe. Thanks for asking.” It was only 2:30, so I watched the guys leave and I sat and read another two chapters before I left for the school ground. It was only two blocks away.
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