Saint Maybe - Anne Tyler [108]
Ian said, “But—”
But you ARE the church, he wanted to say. Only that sounded blasphemous, and would have distressed Reverend Emmett.
“I believe you ought to start training for the ministry,” Reverend Emmett told him.
Ian wondered if he’d heard right.
“You know our congregation is fairly uneducated, by and large,” Reverend Emmett said, finally sitting in the other armchair. “I think most of them would feel the job was beyond them. And yet we do want someone who’s familiar with our ways.”
“But I’m not educated either,” Ian said. “I’ve had one semester of college.”
“Well, the good thing about this heart attack is, it serves as advance warning. It gives us a chance to get you trained. I realize you might not want to follow my own route—university and such. I was younger and had more time. You’re what, thirty-four? Still, Lawrence Bible School, down in Richmond—”
“Richmond! I can’t go to Richmond!”
“Why not?”
“I have responsibilities here!”
“But surely those are just about finished now, aren’t they?” Reverend Emmett asked. “Shouldn’t you be thinking ahead now?”
Ian sat forward, clamping his knees. “Reverend Emmett,” he said, “Daphne at sixteen is more trouble than all three of them were at any other age. Do you know her principal has me picking her up at school every day? I have to take off work and pick her up and drive her home in person. And it has to be me, not my father, because it turns out my father believes anything she tells him. Both my parents: they’re so far behind the times, they just don’t fully comprehend what modern kids can get into. You honestly suppose I could leave her with them and head off to Richmond?”
Reverend Emmett waited till Ian had wound down. Then he said, “What grade is Daphne in in school?”
“She’s a junior.”
“So two more years,” Reverend Emmett said. “Maybe less, if she straightens out before she graduates. And I’m certain that she will straighten out. Daphne’s always been a strong person. But even if she doesn’t, in two years she’ll be on her own. Meanwhile, you can start with a few courses here in Baltimore. Night school. Towson State, or maybe community college.”
Ian said, “But also …”
“Yes?”
“I mean, shouldn’t I hear a call to the ministry?”
Reverend Emmett said, “Maybe I’m the call.”
Ian blinked.
“And maybe not, of course,” Reverend Emmett told him. “But it’s always a possibility.”
Then he rose and once again shook Ian’s hand, with those long, dry fingers so bony they fairly rattled.
When Ian arrived home, Daphne was talking on the kitchen telephone and her grandmother was setting various dishes on the table. Sunday dinner would apparently be leftovers—tiny bowls of cold peas, soggy salad, and reheated stew from a tin. “Cool,” Daphne was saying. “We can get together later and study for that Spanish test.” Something artificial and showy in her tone made Ian flick a glance at Bee, but Bee missed his point and merely said, “Well? How was church?”
“It was all right.”
“Could you tell your father lunch is on?”
He called down to the basement and then beckoned Daphne from the phone. “I gotta go now,” she said into the receiver. “My folks are starting brunch.”
“Oh, is this brunch?” Ian asked his mother.
She smiled and set a loaf of bread on the table.
Once they were seated Ian said the blessing hurriedly, conscious of his father drumming his fingers on his knees. Then each of them embarked on a different meal. Doug reached for the stew, Ian put together a peanut butter sandwich, and Daphne, who was a vegetarian, dreamily plucked peas from the bowl one by one with her fingers. Bee finished anything the others wouldn’t—more a matter of housekeeping than personal taste, Ian thought.
He missed the two older children. Thomas was away at Cornell and Agatha was in her second year of medical school. Most meals now were just this makeshift, often served on only half the table because Daphne’s homework covered the other half. And most of their conversations felt disjointed, absentminded,