Saint Maybe - Anne Tyler [107]
One vacation when they were little he took a swim in the ocean and told them to wait on the shore. He swam out beyond the breakers, so far he was only a dot, and the three of them sat down very suddenly on the sand and Daphne started crying. He was leaving them forever and never coming back, it looked like. A man standing ankle-deep told his wife, “That fellow’s gone,” and Daphne cried harder and the other two grew teary as well. But then Ian turned and swam in again. Soon he was striding out of the surf hitching up his trunks and streaming water and shining in the sun, safely theirs after all, solid and reliable and dear.
He lowered a serving bowl into the sink. He swished it back and forth. Daphne said, “Ian? Want for us to take over now?” but he said, “No, thanks.” The others sent her sympathetic looks. Never mind. He wasn’t the type to carry a grudge. Tomorrow he would view this in a whole new light; he would realize they hadn’t meant to cause any harm.
All they had wanted, he would see, was somebody wonderful enough to deserve him.
8
I Should Never Tell You Anything
When Reverend Emmett had his heart attack, the Church of the Second Chance was forced to manage without him for most of the month of October. The first Sunday a retired Baptist minister, Dr. Benning, gave the sermon, but Dr. Benning had to leave immediately afterward for a bus tour of the Sun Belt and so the second Sunday Sister Nell’s uncle filled in—a nondenominationalist named Reverend Lewis who kept mixing up his “Thy” and his “Thou.” “We beseech Thee to flood Thou blessings upon this Thou congregation,” he intoned, and Ian was reminded of the substitute teachers he’d had in grade school who had always seemed just the slightest bit lacking. The sermon was based on Paul’s first letter to Timothy. Many might not realize, Reverend Lewis said, that it was love of money, and not money alone, that was held to be the root of all evil. Ian, who had never had much money or much love of money either, held back a yawn. All evil? Wasn’t that the phrase to examine?
On the third Sunday not even Reverend Lewis was available and they skipped the sermon altogether. They sang a few hymns and then bowed their heads for a closing prayer delivered in an uncertain voice by Brother Simon. “Dear God,” Brother Simon said, “please give Reverend Emmett back to us as soon as possible.” The fourth Sunday Reverend Emmett returned, gaunter and paler than ever, and preached a message of reassurance. Afterward, while shaking Ian’s hand at the door, he asked if they might have a little talk.
So Ian sent Daphne on home without him and waited at one side, listening to each member inquire after Reverend Emmett’s health. When the last of the congregation had departed he followed Reverend Emmett through the door behind the counter, into what passed for an office. Tangled pipes ran overhead and giant bolt holes marred the floor. In the center of the room stood an antique desk and swivel chair that must have come down from Reverend Emmett’s family, with two blue velvet armchairs facing them. Reverend Emmett gestured Ian into one armchair but he himself remained on his feet, distractedly running a hand through his hair. As usual, he wore a white shirt without a tie and skinny black trousers. Ian guessed he must be in his mid-forties by now or maybe even older, but he still had that awkward, amateurish air about him, and his Adam’s apple jutted above his collar like a half-grown boy’s.
“Brother Ian,” he said, “while I was in the hospital I did some serious thinking. It’s unusual to have a heart attack at my age. It doesn’t bode well for the future. I’ve been thinking I should face the fact that I’m not going to live forever.”
Ian opened his mouth to protest, but Reverend Emmett raised a palm. “Oh,” he said, “I don’t plan on dying tomorrow or anything like that. Still, this kind of thing makes you realize. It’s time we discussed my replacement.”
“Replacement?” Ian asked.
“Someone who’ll take over the