The Wedding Planners of Butternut Creek (25 page)

“Still holding on, Preacher, but I can move now.”

“Keep holding, Charley.” Adam jumped off the ladder. “Can you reach the ladder?”

Charley kicked his legs, searching for the top of the ladder.

Adam still worried. He had no idea how Charley could let go with his hands, balance on the top platform, and climb down. Charley was a great plumber, a nice guy, but not nimble.

“Okay, the rest of my plan is to get all the cushions from the sanctuary and the sofa in the parlor and put them all around the tables.”

He ran off to do that and ignored Charley’s shouts of “What? Why? What?” and “My arms are getting tired,” which echoed through the building.

Adam gathered up as many cushions as he could fit beneath his arms, ran into the fellowship hall, and dropped them before he headed back for more. Satisfied with the amount, he spread them around the ladder and on the floor around the tables. “Finished,” he said. “I put the cushions all around in case you fall.”

Silence followed by a long sigh came from the ceiling. “Okay. Let’s try it.”

“Charley, I don’t want you to get hurt. Are you sure about this? Maybe we should call EMS.”

“I don’t want to get hurt, either. Then I’d have to explain to Rita Mae, and confessing what happened would be worse than breaking a leg.”

“You’d still have to explain…”

“Please, Preacher.”

Adam heard terror in Charley’s voice, so he held the ladder. “We’ll try this once. Put your feet down so I can see if the ladder’s in the right place.”

Charley swung his feet down, but they dangled a little in front of the ladder.

“Off a few inches,” Adam said. He got off the tables and shoved the stack—pretty heavy by now—under Charley. Then he stepped back on the pile and steadied the ladder. “Try it now.”

Charley dropped his feet slowly until they hit the ladder, but he put no weight on them.

“Lower yourself about a foot more. I’ll guide you.”

Charley let his body down, inch by inch, until his feet touched the next-to-the-top step.

“Good, Charley. Keep coming.”

“I’m going to have to let go.”

“Okay. I’ve got a good hold on the ladder.” Adam could only hope he did.

Little by little, Charley descended until he let go of the vertical support and dangled by the diagonal one with his left hand.

“Almost there,” Adam encouraged. “Keep coming.”

At exactly the second Charley’s feet landed solidly on the next-to-the-top step, a voice from the hall screeched, “What’s going on here?”

Charley attempted to balance himself but the ladder swayed and he fell, knocking over Adam, who ended up with the ladder and most of the plumber on top of him. As he lay there, unable to breathe and fearing a quick death, Adam looked into the shocked eyes of the church secretary standing over him.

“Maggie,” he croaked.

“Get off.” She flapped her hands at Charley. “You’re killing him.”

Immediately, most of the weight was lifted from Adam’s chest. He took in a deep gasp of air.

“What’s going on here?” Maggie demanded again.

“Sorry, Preacher.” Charley stood and tugged the ladder off Adam. But when he reached out his hand, Charley disappeared before Adam could grasp it.

“Oh, dear.” Maggie put her hands over her mouth.

Adam considered his body for a moment. Nothing seemed broken. He’d probably have a few bruises but, all in all, everything seemed intact.

“Pastor Adam, I think Charley’s had a heart attack.”

Adam leaped from the stack of tables and immediately fell over the large lump that was Charley and the lesser lumps of the pew cushions, ending up on his hands and knees on the fake-brick floor. Loud gurgles and wheezes came from the plumber.

“He’s not dying. He’s laughing.” Adam reached out a hand before he immediately pulled it back. No way he could pull the big man up alone.

“Just a minute.” Charley grunted as he attempted to push himself up. “If you could move some of the cushions, that would help.”

When they’d cleared the pew pillows out of the way, Charley struggled like a Weeble to get up but he kept falling back.

“Come on, Pastor Adam.” Maggie pulled him toward Charley. “If both of us try, we can pull him up.”

In a scene reminiscent of a Three Stooges film, they tugged and Charley fell back. They tugged and Charley got to one foot and fell back.

“I have a suggestion,” Charley said from where he lay. “Once you two get me to my feet, Maggie, you grab a cushion and stick it under me while Adam keeps me standing.”

On the third try, the plumber finally came to both feet, steadied himself on the stack of tables, then grinned in the sweet way he had.

“Maggie, please don’t tell Rita Mae. If you tell my wife, she’ll put me on celery and water for the rest of my life.”

“Charley, she loves you. She worries about you,” Maggie said.

“Please. I promise I’ll lose weight but I can’t face forty years of salads and nutritious stuff. It would take the joy from my life.”

She nodded. “All right. But I’m going to keep an eye on you.” She shook her finger in front of him. “And I will tell her if I don’t see a few pounds coming off.”

“Thank you.” Charley saluted her. “I’ll be back tomorrow with my helpers to finish up but I have to call Rita Mae, tell her I’m fine.” He pulled out his cell and hurried out.

“What happened?” Maggie asked.

After Adam told her, they both laughed so hard they had to sit on the cushions. Maggie said, “He could have called her from up there. He had his phone.”

“No, if he’d tried to get the phone out, he would have fallen. Besides, if you were Charley, would you call Rita Mae and tell her you were stuck in the ceiling?”

“No, she’s a sweet lady but she can get riled up with Charley and his weight. Let’s get these cushions back to the sanctuary, Adam. Then I’m going home and have another good laugh. Wish I could share it with someone.”

G
abe had worked all day and into the evening closing up the beds in the gym and moving some patients to the hospital. Others he drove home because they had no other transportation.

Not heavy work, but twelve hours of it wore him out. When had he become such a wimp? He’d have to start playing basketball with Adam more, maybe run with Hannah every morning.

He stepped out of the shower, pulled a towel around him, and glanced up at the clock. Nearly eight. He’d missed dinner and had no idea where to find Hannah. Finding her was his first priority.

After dressing, he wandered into the library. The food line was dark. But Hannah sat there, her head on the table, probably taking one of her speed naps. To her left sat a plate and drink. She’d thought of him. She’d saved him dinner. Hannah liked him—at least, she didn’t want him to starve, which seemed like great progress.

“Hey.” He put his hand on her shoulder.

She looked up at him, blinked, then smiled. Her expression showed every thought and emotion. She did like him.

“I saved you dinner.” She stretched and pointed toward the plate. “Probably cold by now. Where’ve you been? Working?”

“Had to take a couple home way up north.” He sat next to her and took a long drink. “Then helped them with the livestock for about an hour.”

She tilted her head. “You know how to take care of livestock?”

“No.” He picked up a limp french fry. “But the man was really good at telling me what to do.”

“You know, you are a nice guy.”

He looked down at the cold fish sticks, sawed off a piece with his fork, drenched it in ketchup, and ate it before he said, “You sound surprised.”

“Guys like you…” She stopped and snapped her mouth shut. She watched him chew for a few minutes. “When are we leaving in the morning? I’m on call until eight.”

“What do you mean, ‘guys like me’?”

“You know, good-looking, athletic. I mean that in the best possible way. So, when are we leaving tomorrow?”

“Do you really believe I’m going to let you get away with telling me I’m good-looking but shallow?”

“I’m sorry. It didn’t come out the way I meant.”

“I see. You meant shallow in only the nicest way.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, it came out the way I meant but I didn’t really mean that.” She paused. “But there is a reason I said that. I…well…I’ve heard you were dating someone in Butternut Creek. Are you?”

“You think I’m a two-timing jerk as well? Wow!” He grinned. “But you meant that in only the nicest possible way, too.”

“No, it’s not that.” She held her hand up. “Please help me. I’m not good at this men/women thing. I want to understand.”

He shrugged. “All right. The Widows set Mattie and me up for breakfast. We went out once after that.”

“Then what?”

“We didn’t go out again.”

“Why not?”

“You can’t leave this alone? Allow me to retain a little self-esteem?”

She leaned forward. “I just want to understand.”

“Yes, I know. Because you’re a scientist.” He took a deep breath. “She told me she didn’t feel any attraction for me, no chemistry.”

“She didn’t feel a spark? No electricity?” She leaned back and considered his words. “How could she not feel attracted to you? I do and I usually don’t even notice men.”

“I know. Go figure.” Gabe rubbed his neck. “Now that I’ve clarified that, I need you to do something for me. I worked hard today, I have a headache, and my neck hurts, too. Could you give me a massage?”

She looked at the palms of her hands, then turned them over before she glanced up at him. “I’m not good at this. I tried it with the children and they all screamed and told me to stop. One said I have hands of stone.”

He placed a hand on the back of his neck and grimaced. Must have twisted it a little when he tossed that last bale of hay.

“Okay, I’ll try. Lean forward and try to unwind. Yell if I hurt you and I’ll stop.”

She began at the level of his shoulder blades and worked toward his neck with a soft mashing motion. Slowly, but with pressure, she rammed her knuckles deep into his spine.

“Ouch,” he shouted when she hit a sensitive area. “But keep going.” Agonizing, but once the pain lessened to only light torture, he could feel the headache diminishing and—racking pain by racking pain—the tension in his neck released.

She pulled his shoulders back, then let go. “Better?” she asked.

He stretched and considered the aches. “Yes, it helped.” He rotated his shoulders back. “It feels better. Thanks.”

She didn’t know how to accept gratitude. First she looked at her hands of stone, then at him before she said, “I’m glad.”

Her hair stood up in the funny curly spikes, and she’d regained the dark circles under her eyes, but that went with the hours she’d worked and the stress. All in all, though, her uncertainty made him smile because she was so cute.

“I was afraid I’d cause grave injury.”

“You really helped me. That was very nice of you. You know, as hard as you try to be tough and hard to get along with, you really are a nice person.”

“Eat.” She shoved the plate of cold food toward him. “You’ve got to fuel all those beautiful, bulging muscles.”

Cute and smart but snarky when tired. “Okay, then talk to me.”

She thought for a minute as if considering a topic. As he ate, she made a statement, then asked a question. What was his opinion? Hannah really could not be considered a chatty person. Talking with her seemed more like being interviewed on a Sunday-morning news program. Different, but he liked that. No talking about the latest music or film or gossip about movie stars; she discussed stuff that mattered.

He listened to her, nodding. When he’d finished as much of that horrible meal as he could, Gabe stood and bused the tray. “Let’s walk outside.” He took her hand. After they’d wandered across the lawn, he asked, “Do you miss Africa?”

She took a few more steps as she considered her answer. “Not when I left. I was so sick. The last month there, I felt so terrible. I only remembered the deaths. But now I can recall many of the good times, my friends and patients.”

“Tell me about them.”

She did, reminiscing about the medical volunteers from France and Sadiki and her family. “But I can’t forget everything tragic.” She paused and drew in a deep breath. “What do you know about AIDS in Africa?”

Not exactly the topic he’d have chosen for a romantic conversation under a sky sprinkled with stars and the moon shining low on the horizon. Didn’t matter. After all, he’d asked, and he knew well that this was how she conversed.

He listened because he liked to hear her opinions. She made him think. Challenged him. That was the last thing he’d thought he’d find attractive in a woman. What a surprise to discover her brain was a turn-on.

However, maybe not this particular topic.

Adam clicked the phone off and put it on the kitchen counter. “Hector,” he shouted. “Yvonne made brownies.” He poured two glasses of milk and set them on the table with the plate. Janey had eaten her brownies before bed.

Hector clattered down the stairs and threw his body onto the chair. “Hey, Pops. Thanks.” He picked up three brownies, ready to shoot the next one in his mouth when he finished the first, always willing to do his share in reducing the brownie population at the parsonage.

Adam sat across from him and put a brownie on a napkin. “We haven’t talked in a while. What are you thinking about college?”

Hector chewed his second brownie and swallowed. “I really liked the players from San Pablo. They like the coach.” He took a deep gulp of milk, then wiped his mouth. “Seems like a good fit and it’s close to home, but I’d like to go back for a real visit.”

They both chewed a few moments, silently sharing their love of basketball and dark chocolate.

“Pops, there’s another thing I want to ask you.” He took another bite and meditatively chewed. When he finally swallowed, he said, “This might not be a good subject. I don’t know. Tell me if you don’t want to talk about it.”

Those words scared Adam. What did the kid want to talk about? Dropping out of school? No, not likely. Was Bree pregnant? Also not likely. Hector had said he’d never end up like his parents, he wanted a better life for himself and his eventual children. That future included an education and not starting a family before he finished college.

“What happens to Janey when I go off to school?”

“What do the two of you want? Gussie and I love her. You know that. We’d like her to still live here but don’t want to interfere in your decision.”

He let go of his breath. “Thanks, Pops. Staying here’s best for her. I’d take her with me but, with classes and ball, I couldn’t spend much time with her.”

“You know you both always have a home here, don’t you?”

Hector nodded.

“You know when you’re married and have two or three kids, we want you and your wife to visit. Come back on Christmas and other holidays.” Adam reached out. “You and Janey are our kids, our children. We love you.”

Hector couldn’t make eye contact. “Thanks, Pops,” he said.

“I took my old car to Rex. He said it’ll be ready for you in a few days. Hard to get parts, and he needs to sand it down and repaint it.”

“Thanks. As ugly as the turtle is, I could use wheels.” He leaned toward Adam. “There’s one more thing. Coach and your sister.” Hector looked serious. “I saw them Tuesday evening when I went with Howard to take a load to San Pablo. They didn’t see me. What do you think about them?”

“Why? Did you notice something?”

“Man, when they were together, they…I don’t know. They seemed interested in each other. At least, she didn’t ignore him and he kind of leaned toward her.”

“Yeah.” Adam nodded. “I saw something like that, too. Something’s going on. At least she doesn’t hate him.”

“It’s okay with you?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? Do you have a problem?”

“They’re so different. Coach is great. He’s smart and a good guy, but he’s not as smart as your sister and she doesn’t like basketball.”

True, liking basketball seemed like an important consideration with Gabe. “She probably has other traits he finds attractive.”

While finishing a couple more brownies, Hector considered that. “She’s not a people person, Pops. Not like you. Not like Coach. She’s more serious and focused.”

“Maybe they complement each other.”

“Yeah, could be.” Hector nodded. “Besides, probably not important. She’ll be going back to London or Africa or somewhere and Coach, well, he’s here.”

“Different worlds but, you know, it’s not up to us. Could be a temporary attraction because they were thrown together. Maybe when they come home,” he added, shrugging, “it’ll disappear.” He hoped not. He’d seen his sister open up more to Gabe, look happy, absorbed in something other than airborne pathogens, at least for that short time he’d observed them.

“Could be. Too bad Miss Birdie’s had to cut back. With the broken bone and the wedding, I bet the Widows don’t have time for matchmaking,” Hector said. “We’ll have to wait and see if your sister and Coach can work this out without the Widows’ pushing them along.” He took another brownie, stood, and strode off, leaving a trail of crumbs behind him that Chewy quickly licked up. Not enough chocolate to hurt him.

Yeah, guess they would have to wait and see. Adam knew he didn’t have any say in the outcome. What did they say in Texas? He didn’t have a dog in the hunt or in the fight? Something like that. He’d ask Henry. He’d know.

Hannah imagined most women did not bring AIDS in Africa up when wandering alone in the moonlight with a gorgeous man toward whom she felt a mixture of positive but frightening emotions. However, she wanted to hear Gabe’s views. She liked to talk to him about serious topics because he had opinions he’d thought about, considered, even researched.

“I know it’s worse there,” he said. “It affects more people.”

“Much worse than it is here. There’s almost no education about prevention. No one talks about it. The death toll is staggering, but it’s the children…” For a moment, she couldn’t speak. “The orphans,” she said as she struggled to talk around the emotion clogging her throat.

He didn’t say anything, only took her hand as they walked toward what she’d begun to call “their bench.” She grasped his fingers tightly, using that connection to strengthen her.

A terrible idea. She’d always believed she didn’t need a man to strengthen her, but at this moment holding hands seemed acceptable. Actually, it felt nice to have the support of another person, at least for a while. Besides, oddly, she found his brain almost as attractive as his body.

“Go on,” he said when she didn’t speak.

“What do you want to know? Numbers? Facts? This could be boring.”

“Not,” he said, “if you’re the one talking.”

“Thank you.” Few people ever told her to keep talking. That was a very attractive quality in a man.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Nearly two million people live with HIV in Kenya. Over a million kids have been orphaned. The death rate has fallen because education has increased—although not nearly enough—and because so many have already died.” She sighed. “Depressing to know part of the decrease in the AIDS population isn’t because people get better but because they die.”

He slipped his arm around her. “What happens to the orphans?”

“We try to find family but so many people have died that there’s often no relative or friend to take them in. There are some orphanages, but not nearly enough for all the children.” Hannah leaned into Gabe. “I’m sorry to talk about this with you on our last evening together.”

“What do you mean, our last evening together? Are you leaving the country?” His hand tightened on her shoulder.

“Oh, no. I mean here.” She gestured around her, at the sky and the schools and then the bench. “We won’t be here, like this.”

“There’s a swing on the front porch of the parsonage. We could spend time together there.”

“Oh, sure.”

“You don’t sound convinced. Why not?”

“Oh.” She tilted her head and considered his words. Most women would know how to answer that question. Most women would know instinctively what to say, how to react, perhaps with a little toss of the hair. Her hair was way too short to toss.