EXCERPT
Copyright 2015© Carlene Havel
Ellen
Youngblood kicked off her shoes and nestled into a corner of the sofa.
With her husband at a meeting and her daughters doing their lessons, she
looked forward to a rare evening of leisure time. She opened a squeaky
end table drawer to retrieve a well-worn fashion magazine. Oh, to have the First Lady’s cool, elegant looks! Ellen absently touched her light brown tresses, neatly pulled into a bun. No, a pillbox hat needs a bouffant hairdo to look right. Ellen sighed. A
new hairstyle wouldn’t give me Jackie Kennedy’s height. Or sense of
style. And I’ll never be that slender. A pastor’s wife ought not to be
so absorbed in fashion trends, anyway. The unexpected sound of footsteps on the porch interrupted Ellen’s thoughts.
She threw open the front door. “You’re home early. What happened?”
“The
deacons voted down the land deal.” Henry Youngblood came inside and sat
hunched forward on the sofa. His handsome face was devoid of all
expression.
Ellen
closed the door, but continued to stand at the threshold. “I thought
they were all in favor.” She crossed the room and sat next to her
husband. Putting an arm around him, she asked, “How could this happen?”
Henry
exhaled and rubbed his face with both hands. “I don’t know. Brad
Roberts did most of the talking.” He loosened his tie and rested his
elbows on his knees, chin in hand. “Obviously there was another
meeting—one I wasn’t invited to—before we got together tonight.”
Ellen
listened to the sounds of pencils scratching in the dining room, hoping
her teenaged daughters missed their father’s abrupt announcement. She
rubbed Henry’s back, struggling to understand the situation. “What do
the deacons want to do? Shop around for another piece of land?”
“They
don’t want to do anything,” he said. “Sit tight. Take a wait and see
attitude. Die on the vine.” Henry shrugged Ellen’s arm away and removed
his suit coat. “I’m so sure it’s God’s will for us to build our new
building in Buffalo Creek.” He turned to face his wife. “Where have I
gone wrong?”
“Oh, honey. This isn’t your fault.” She picked up his jacket. “Do you want me to fix you something to eat?”
“No. I’m too upset to think about food right now.”
“Let
me hang up your coat,” Ellen said. Henry followed her to their bedroom,
where she put his jacket on a hanger and smoothed out the wrinkles.
Henry never stayed long at the churches he pastored. The usual end of
his employment came when conservative church leaders opposed her
husband’s big plans. By now, the pattern was familiar. Henry would take
on some small, half-dead church and double or triple the attendance
within a year. With an overflowing sanctuary, he would begin to push for
expansion or replacement of church facilities. The cost of Henry’s
recommendations would spark heated controversy, and soon the Youngbloods
packed up and moved on.
“Did the deacons ask for your resignation?” Ellen asked.
“They didn’t have to. I gave them notice on the spot.”
She patted his shoulder. “Maybe you should pray about this.”
“I have prayed,”
Henry said. “There won’t be anything left of this neighborhood when
that interstate highway cuts through here. God is leading us out to the
suburbs, to Buffalo Creek. Where there’s no vision, the people perish,
Ellen.”
“Did
you ask how long we can stay in the parsonage?” She swept her eyes
around the room. She would miss her latest home. It was their nicest
house since Henry started preaching nine years and four churches ago. A
spacious place with three big bedrooms didn’t come along every day.
“We
didn’t talk about anything but the land,” Henry replied. “I gave them
three months to call a new pastor. If they find someone sooner, that’s
fine with me.”
“Maybe this will all work out after everyone has a chance to cool off,” Ellen said.
Henry
drew his wife into an embrace and kissed her. “No. I’ve had it with
these people. Tomorrow morning, we’ll start packing and get ready to
move. Somewhere.”
“What do we tell the girls?” Ellen asked, turning her face to nestle a cheek against Henry’s chest.
“There’s nothing to tell until we figure out what I’m supposed to do next.”
Ellen
sighed. “We can’t wait too long. People will ask questions Sunday, and
the kids have to be prepared.” The church would probably not offer to
pay Henry any kind of bonus or severance, and he would be too stubborn
to ask. Thankful she had a little money put aside, Ellen hugged her
husband tightly. This is obviously not the right evening to break the news I’m pregnant. There’s still time before I start to show.
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