Clock Winder - Anne Tyler [66]
“The old—?”
“The old pastor, the one before Reverend Abbott.”
“Oh, Mr. Blake,” Elizabeth said.
“That’s the one. What became of him?”
“He died.”
Mrs. Stimson made a sudden clutch in the air with both hands, as if she wanted to grab Elizabeth’s words and reel them back in, but Mr. Cunningham only went on nodding. “That’s right,” he said. “Died. Now I remember.”
“Daddy, the nicest thing—”
“Aren’t you the one got married?” Mr. Cunningham asked Elizabeth.
“That was her sister, Daddy. The other daughter.”
“Well, anyone could make that mistake.”
“Of course they could,” said Mrs. Stimson. “I’ll tell you why she’s here, Daddy—”
“I would advise you against the marriage, young lady,” Mr. Cunningham said. “Call it off. Get a divorce. I married.” He turned and looked out the window again. “She aged so,” he said finally.
“Daddy?”
But he went on staring at framed squares of blue, with his hands limp on the arms of the chair. His feet in their leather slippers hung side by side, not quite touching the floor, as neat and passive as a well-cared for child’s.
When they had tiptoed out to the hall again Mrs. Stimson said, “Oh, my, I wish you had seen him more at his best.” And then, on the stairs, “He can be so smart sometimes, you wouldn’t believe it. Please don’t judge him by this.”
“No, I won’t,” Elizabeth said.
“You mean you’ll take the job?”
“Sure.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” She beamed and squeezed Elizabeth’s arm. Her skin seemed suddenly clearer, two shades lighter. “You don’t know what this means to me,” she said. “Could you start on Monday? Eight o’clock? I’m not due for work till nine, but I’ll want to show you what he eats and all.”
“Okay,” Elizabeth said.
They carried the Kool-Aid in to the men. Mr. Stimson was still talking. He broke off to say, “I was just remarking on the bum, the atom bum. I blame it for the increase in rainfall. Ida can tell you. Used to be we could plan a Sunday drive with some hope of carrying it out. Not any more. Bum’s changed the cloud formations.”
“What does Reverend Abbott care about cloud formations?” Mrs. Stimson asked. She settled herself in her rocker with a tinkling glass. “Jerome, Elizabeth says she’ll come look after Daddy for us.”
“Is that a fact,” said Mr. Stimson. “Well, you surely will be taking a load off my wife’s mind there, young lady.”
“And they hit it off just beautifully, Jerome.”
“Is that a fact.”
“Some people,” Mrs. Stimson told Elizabeth, “seem to irritate him, like. I’ve noticed that. We had a colored girl cleaning up for me on Fridays, he didn’t take to her at all. Then people with a lot of make-up on, he don’t like that. Well, he’s just old-fashioned is all. I notice you don’t wear make-up. I expect that’s from being a preacher’s daughter.”
“Ah well,” said Elizabeth’s father, “I’m glad things worked out. Any time these little problems come up, Mrs. Stimson, that’s what I’m here for.”
“I know that,” Mrs. Stimson said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Reverend. Why, I was about to have a collapse, worrying like I did all the time I was at work. I thought, if I could find someone—but I never dreamed your Elizabeth was back in town. I must’ve missed her in church.”
“I don’t go,” Elizabeth told her.
“Oh?”
There was a silence.
“Elizabeth’s one of these modern young people,” her father said. He laughed lightly. “She’ll get straightened out. We don’t see eye to eye on—what is it this week? Reincarnation.”
“You don’t say,” said Mr. Stimson. “Why, I never knew it was in any question. Don’t you believe in the reincarnation of Christ on the third day, young lady?”
“It’s a thought,” Elizabeth said.
“What?”
“She’ll get straightened out,” said her father.
“Why, of course she will. Of course she will,” Mrs. Stimson said. She beamed at Elizabeth and rocked steadily, holding her Kool-Aid glass level on her knees. Elizabeth’s father cleared his throat.
“Well now,” he said, “I expect we better be moving on. Got a busy day tomorrow.”
“Yes indeed,” said Mr. Stimson. “We surely do look forward to those sermons of yours, Reverend.