Boo (25 page)

He went to his living room as fast as he could, pulled on his warmest winter coat, and while still in his slippers and pajamas, went outside and scooted along the little pebble path that led from his humble cottage right up to the back steps of the church. His heart pounded with anticipation, for tomorrow would be perhaps the most extraordinary day of his ministry.

Wolfe rose early Sunday morning, earlier than normal. He wanted to beat the sun and watch it rise through the east window of his home. There was something spiritual about watching the sun rise while he held
warm coffee in his favorite mug, and because he didn’t yet have a good sense of how to talk to God, he figured starting the day out by watching the sun illuminate all of His creation would prepare him for his first day of church.

The early rays of light spread over the distant Indiana hills while Bunny and Goose, frisky in the cold morning air, trotted playfully in the nascent haze. Wolfe sipped his coffee and thought about how in all his years of writing, he’d never been able to capture the glory of creation. One could nitpick a descriptive paragraph to death and still not reflect what he could see with his own eyes. The glow of the earth in the early morning seemed like the perfect introduction to God.

Goose and Bunny scratched at the back door. Wolfe finished off his coffee, then went to let them in. They shook the morning dew off their coats before going to look for breakfast. Wolfe wasn’t interested in breakfast, and as he headed upstairs to his bedroom, his mind turned to Ainsley. He’d slept decently last night, but his unconscious thoughts had been filled with her face, and even this morning her beautiful voice seemed to fill his head. It was hard to believe that after all these years his dream had become a reality, yet that reality was still fragile. He swallowed the fear away and went to his closet to try to pick out something to wear.

He didn’t own a tie, and the best he could hope for was a nicely pressed cotton dress shirt. He found one near the back and shook it while still on the hanger to loosen the dust. He hadn’t used an iron in years, and it took him twenty-five minutes to find the one he owned. When he finally did, he still couldn’t locate the board, so he used the kitchen counter.

Goose and Bunny whined about their empty food dishes, but Wolfe didn’t pay much attention. He tried as carefully as he could to remember how his mother had taught him to iron, and though he missed some creases and the collar ended up a little crooked, he thought overall it didn’t look bad. There weren’t any noticeable wrinkles anyway.

Back upstairs, he found a pair of dark trousers, slipped them on, and decided he’d better run a comb through his hair. He ran it through
twice, once more than normal, and splashed a little cologne on, the same cologne his father used to wear. It always brought back good memories.

He picked up his shoes and sighed at the thought of how many times he’d told himself he needed to go get new ones. He stared down at the tattered leather and scuffed heel of his left shoe, shook his head, and decided there wasn’t too much he could do about it today.

Bunny and Goose eagerly circled him when he landed on the last stair step. In the kitchen, he lifted the heavy bag of dog food out of the pantry and poured it. They wagged their tails in thanks and began to eat.

Wolfe still wasn’t hungry but decided to scramble himself a couple of eggs, just for something to do. He glanced at the kitchen clock. Only one and a half more hours before church started. Time was flying by.

Wolfe dusted off his grandfather’s Bible, the one he had given to twelve-year-old Wolfe just before passing away. Wolfe used it now and then, mostly when he needed a reference for one of his books. Even before his “conversion” he had understood it to be a book full of wisdom. Now he knew the words were alive. How alive he wasn’t sure. But when he picked the heavy book off the table, he held it with a certain reverence that just seemed to come naturally.

The clock told him it was time to leave. He allowed himself a couple of minutes to walk down the hill, five minutes to find Ainsley and get settled, and three to four minutes of buffer time, just in case one or the other took longer. He settled Goose and Bunny, who couldn’t imagine where he might be going this time of morning. Noses down, they approached with worried brows and soft whines.

“It’s okay, guys,” he said to them, patting their heads and rubbing their necks. “I’m going to church. Get used to this.” Goose’s ears perked up as he looked curiously at his master. “It’s a good thing,” Wolfe said in honor of his new friend. He stood and took his jacket out of the coat
closet. It would be chilly this morning, but he wouldn’t be outside long. No use getting out his wool coat. It was itchy and looked worse than his shoes.

Wolfe opened the front door, filled his lungs with the crisp fall air, and looked at the little church’s steeple, steady and tall as it had been every day. This day, though, it symbolized something more than a quaint romantic notion.

He walked down the gravel path with his Bible under one arm, hands deep in his pockets, finding himself whistling an unknown tune, observing the birds, and thinking how wonderful Thanksgiving was going to be. The chill in the air couldn’t penetrate the warmth he felt inside. For the first time in his life, he felt he was on track. Even with all the success he’d had as a novelist, the solitary life he led as a writer only exacerbated his inner void, and he had experienced days when he thought life was most definitely not worth living. Only his poetry, his dogs, and perhaps even God Himself, though unknown to Wolfe at the time, had retained some significance in his life.

A swarm of people mingled outside the front doors, and at first Wolfe thought that was where they gathered before church started. But it was awfully cold for that. No one seemed to notice his approach, and by the low murmur of the crowd, it dawned on him that something unusual was happening.

He looked around for Ainsley, but couldn’t see her. His eyes darted through the crowd for Reverend Peck. He wasn’t around either. What was going on? Wolfe felt he might just turn around and leave, when a hand touched his shoulder.

“Garth,” Wolfe said.

Garth was smiling at him. “You’re at church.”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s one way to get the girl.” Wolfe was about to protest when Garth continued. “So I heard about your incident Friday.”

“Incident?”

“Passing out. At the theater.” Garth chuckled. “What happened?”

Wolfe was about to tell Garth to mind his own business, when Ainsley appeared.

“Ainsley!”

“Hi.” She smiled. “I’m so glad you came.” She eyed Garth, who managed to get the hint and walk off.

“What’s going on?” Wolfe asked.

Ainsley took him by the arm and led him to the front of the church steps. “That’s what’s going on.”

A heavy chain encircled the handles of the front door, and over the chain was a sign taped to the door. It read: G
O AND DO WHAT I’VE TAUGHT YOU TO DO
.

“Where’s the reverend?”

Ainsley shrugged. “No idea. He’s not at his house either. We already checked.” She glanced at the sign. “Kind of weird, huh?”

“Your attention
please!”
a loud, scratchy voice rang out. Ainsley and Wolfe turned to see a woman standing on the sidewalk, waving her cane at the crowd.

“That’s Missy Peeple,” Ainsley said. They went to join the crowd.

“Your attention PLEASE!”

The lady stood there with an aggravated expression that begged attention, and the crowd hushed. Wolfe wondered why everyone was so quick to listen. Perhaps she had some high position in the church.

“Now,” she said, her voice carried by the morning breeze, “in all my years of going to church—and that, mind you, has been since I was birthed on the fifth pew in the middle section—I have never come on a Sunday morning to see the doors locked, the lights off, and the church closed. Never!”

The crowd mumbled agreement.

“The sign and what it says,” she said, pointing dramatically behind her at the church doors, “indicate one thing, and one thing only!”

Suggestions followed without pause.

“We need to pray for the reverend!”

“We need to
find the
reverend!”

“I say we stand out here and wait for him to come back!”

“Let’s go have breakfast!”

“I think we oughta march around the building seven times!”

“No, no, no.
No
, NO!” Missy Peeple waved her hands wildly, a painful wince pinching her face as if each suggestion was more insulting than the first. “No! You people, you must listen. Be attentive! Think it through!”

The crowd hushed again, and from the back someone shouted, “What
are
we supposed to do then?”

Missy Peeple’s sagging skin tightened into what Wolfe thought was a smile, but he wasn’t sure. The lips were turned up, but she didn’t look happy. She leaned on her cane and eyed the crowd.

“Well, isn’t it obvious? We will hold a
meeting!
”

I
T TOOK ONLY
fifteen minutes for the entire church crowd to move to the community center for the meeting. Wolfe and Ainsley stood at the back of the auditorium, watching the crowd speculate.

“I can’t imagine why Reverend Peck wouldn’t be at church,” Ainsley said. “It’s not like him at all. He never misses church. I can’t even remember the last time he took a vacation.”

She felt Wolfe’s strong hand on her shoulder, and her anxiety melted beneath it. It felt good to lean on someone. She’d been the one people leaned on for so long. Now maybe it was time to give up control. The concept was good. Doing it was going to be a whole other story, though.

She was about to look up and smile at him when she caught her father staring at them from across the room. She gave him a quick wave, but he only looked away. She glanced up at Wolfe, but fortunately he hadn’t seen the exchange. He was busy watching Missy Peeple.

“She’s an odd one,” Wolfe said, still watching up front.

“Miss Peeple?”

“I haven’t figured her out yet.”

Ainsley smiled, glad his hand was still on her shoulder. “Well, don’t try too hard. She’s not easy. She’s been around for ages, and when her sister was alive, they were quite the pair. These days she spends her time meddling in other people’s business. She’s a good source of information for my dad and his job, but I’d steer clear if I were you.”

“Thanks for the advice,” he said with a wink. A look of concern suddenly replaced his curiosity. “What in the world …?”

Ainsley followed his glance to a man she didn’t recognize. In his expensive coat and shoes, the man seemed out of place in her small town.

“Wolfe, what is it?”

He glanced down at her. “Nothing.”

The microphone screeched, and Missy Peeple raised her hands for silence from behind the podium, where she stood barely visible behind its dark wood. She was talking, but you couldn’t even see her mouth move. Her eyes, lacking expression and brightness, stared down the crowd.

“… and I don’t think I have to say that we’ve got a problem on our hands. Now folks, as long as I’ve been a Christian, I have
never
, and I mean not once, missed a Sunday service. When I was nearly on my deathbed with some crazy strain of botulism, I
still
made it to church. Now look, I’m not accusing here, and I’m the first one to stand here and say we must get to the bottom of this, but I think it’s awfully strange that our dear and beloved pastor would just not show up on a Sunday morning …”

Missy Peeple droned on, and Ainsley found herself becoming more and more worried about what might have happened to Reverend Peck. Part of her wanted to run up to the podium and tell everyone she was
sure
the reverend had his reasons. The other part wanted to grab her father and go look for him. Had something dreadful happened? Just as she was about to decide to do something, she felt a tug on her elbow.

“Ainsley,” Wolfe whispered. “Come with me.”

Ainsley followed Wolfe out of the auditorium and then to the sidewalk on the north side of the building, away from the wind.