Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [20]
“And you did, right? Tuesday starts the church week here, as a rule.”
“Well, I was pretty busy here all day yesterday, and then last night was the—”
“You were on your own time putzing around here yesterday, and last night was hardly working, was it?”
In fact, Thomas had met a third congregation and conducted a service the night before, but Paul had been there and knew that.
“I have a lot to finish here today, so I’ll be back in the saddle tomorrow.”
“With the week half gone and five churches to worry about?” Paul said. “Well, you’re younger’n I am, so I guess you can cram it all in. Where’s the missus?”
“A little under the weather this morning actually. I’ll pass along your greetings.”
It was as if Patricia Pierce had heard the news about Grace as a signal to rise. She began tidying the room, opening curtains, adjusting this and that.
Thomas was suddenly overcome with anger and had to bite his tongue. He imagined himself demanding that these people leave and give him and his wife room to breathe.
But he would not do that. Never had. God would give him grace, he decided, and it would all seem minor once they were gone.
“Hey!” Paul said. “Here’s the phone company now.”
Within minutes a young man was drilling and wiring and installing a phone jack near the counter that separated the tiny kitchen from the living room. Both Paul and Patricia had ideas where it should go, but Grace had lightly penciled the spot on the wall.
“I wish she was up,” Patricia said, “because I believe she’d agree that here would be less conspicuous.”
The installer said, “You’ve got plenty of wire to put the phone where you want. The jack can go anywhere.”
“Sure,” Patricia said, “if you don’t care a thing about decor.”
The installer checked his paperwork. “You also wanted an extension phone in the bedroom?”
Thomas explained that his wife was still asleep and asked if that could be installed another time.
“Probably be another week, and I’d have to charge for a separate visit.”
“He won’t bother her, Tom,” Paul said. “And you don’t want to pay twice. That would have to be a personal charge. You wouldn’t expect the church to—”
“Next week will be fine,” Thomas said. “And of course I’ll cover it. Now I should see about Grace.”
“And I’ll see you at the office later?”
“No, Paul. I’m taking today off. Next week I’ll get into the routine of taking Mondays off. I’ll be in tomorrow.”
“I’ve got a meeting with two of my sons tomorrow, Thomas.”
“Do you need to be there when I am?”
“Well, no, I guess not. But being your first week and all, and with me overseeing the other congregations for you—”
“Will you be around Thursday, Paul?”
“Sure.”
“Then let’s talk about the other congregations at that time.”
“Talk about them?” Paul said.
“Thursday.”
Addison
Brady Darby had not considered how conspicuous he’d feel with a garment bag over one shoulder and carrying a guitar case onto the school bus. At least it gave him a reason to leave his books at home.
“You in a band now?” fat Agatha whined. What had he ever seen in her? Well, he guessed he knew that well enough.
“Yeah,” he said. “The Beatles are gettin’ back together and want me to play lead. Shut up.”
Oldenburg
When Thomas again checked on Grace, he noticed that while the tea had clearly been sipped, nothing else on the tray had been touched, and she was asleep again. She was rarely ill and hardly ever lost her appetite. He was just glad she had been spared the Pierces’ drop-in. They had taken down the Careys’ new number and would likely be the first callers.
Thomas knew whom Grace would call first. He could only hope Ravinia would be encouraged by their new situation. His wife would know better than to tell her all about the Pierces.
Forest View High School
Brady ducked into Mr. Nabertowitz’s office just before first bell and asked if he could stash his stuff somewhere. “It doesn’t fit in my locker, and I don’t want to lug it around all day.”
“What in the world is it?”
“You’ll see.”
“How interesting! You have props?”
“I guess.”
“What’s with the guitar?