Paul had prepared two maps, with the shortest route between two points marked on both. The mileage was divided by three, and each overnight stop circled in red. Late arrival reservations had been made, confirmation numbers recorded. Paul and Eunice wanted to waste no time in getting to California and beginning their new life.
When word spread through the church that Hank and Susanna Porter were leaving for Oregon, the entire congregation showed up to bless them, hug and kiss them, and promise to stay in touch. Even Mabel came, dragging her portable oxygen tank behind her, Otis beside her with a picnic basket of goodies his wife had cooked up for the trip north.
Tears flowed freely. Hank reminded everyone to love the Lord and love one another. He told them to embrace the young pastor coming, for Paul Hudson was the answer to many prayers. Hank told his friends to keep the faith, and then could say no more. He shook hands with some, hugged others. He finally gave in to his son’s urgings and was helped into the Suburban, where a bed had been prepared in the back.
Abby embraced Susanna again before she got into the car. “We’ll miss you, Susie,” she said through tears.
“I’m so sorry to leave the house in such a mess, Abby.” She pressed the key into Abby’s hand. Leaning close again, she whispered, “I’ve put names on a few things in the house. Whatever’s left can go to the Salvation Army.”
Abby hugged her dear friend again. “Write as soon as you and Hank are settled. Tell us how you’re doing.”
“We’d better go, Mom,” Robert Porter said.
Abby stepped back as Susanna’s son helped his mother into the car and closed the door firmly. Samuel stood beside Abby and put his arm around her shoulders as the Suburban and trailer pulled away from the curb. No one moved until the trailer disappeared around the turn onto the main street. No one said a word as they walked away. Some were close enough to walk home. Several came together. One was wheeled back inside the courtesy van from a residential-care facility.
“The only one who didn’t make it was Fergus Oslander,” Abby said sadly.
Samuel smiled. “They said their good-byes at the hospital. Hank told me the nurse caught Fergus trying to put his pants on and ordered him back to bed.”
She gave a teary laugh and blew her nose. “Well, I guess we’d better get started.”
They spent the rest of the day washing out cabinets, scrubbing floors and bathrooms, and vacuuming the worn rugs. The Salvation Army truck came and took what furniture was left. Samuel and Abby loaded the few things marked for friends into the old DeSoto and dropped them off on the way home, keeping the two small boxes marked for themselves unopened until the following morning.
Abby cried as she lifted a Blue Willow teapot out of its nest of tissue paper. “She loved this set.” Susanna had also given her the matching creamer, sugar bowl, and two cups and saucers.
Hank had given Samuel an olivewood carving of St. George and the dragon.
Paul called Samuel Mason from a motel in Lovelock, Nevada, to let him know they would be arriving in Centerville by mid-afternoon the following day. “It’s been a good trip. No problems.”
“We’ll be ready for you.”
Paul hit traffic coming through the Sacramento area, but after nine years in the Chicago area was not undone by it. He kept a watchful eye on Eunice in the side mirrors so he would not lose her. Once through the jam of cars, it was easy going down Highway 99 to the Centerville turnoff.
There were only two main streets in town. Paul spotted the landmarks Samuel Mason had given him: an old courthouse that had been turned into the town library, four palm trees in front of a Mexican restaurant, and a big hardware store. Two blocks down, he turned right and drove three blocks east. The steeple towered above a line of maple trees. Paul drove slowly past the quaint New England–style church, made a U-turn at the residential intersection, pulled up behind an old DeSoto parked in front of the small corner house, and got out of the truck. Eunice drove by, made a U-turn at the corner, and pulled up behind the U-Haul.
Standing arms akimbo, Paul looked up at the church and felt joy flood him. This was his church.
Eunice came to stand beside him as Timmy headed for the courtyard. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Like something you’d see on a New England postcard.”
“Yes, it’s beautiful.” He looked up. “It needs a lot of work.”
“Pastor Hudson?”
Paul turned and faced a tall, thin, whited-haired, bespectacled gentleman walking toward him. The man was neatly dressed in tan slacks, a white button-down shirt open at the collar, and a brown alpaca cardigan sweater. “I’m Samuel Mason.” He had a firm grip for an old man.
Paul introduced Eunice and Timmy. “Could we look around, Samuel?”
“Oh, there’s plenty of time for that later.” He extended his arm toward the small house on the corner. “My wife has dinner ready for us.”
Paul was too excited to be hungry, but Eunice was quick to thank Samuel, call Timmy, and fall into step beside the elder as they walked along the unkempt hedge to the narrow cement walkway leading to the parsonage. The house was a simple rectangle without any adornment, probably a prefab added to the property.
Paul smelled the tantalizing aroma of beef stew as soon as he walked in the door. Samuel Mason ushered them through the empty, dingy living room into a lighted kitchen, where Mason introduced his wife, Abigail.
“Please, sit down.” She gestured to the small table with five place settings. “Make yourselves comfortable.” She ladled stew into bowls. “We found that booster seat in the fellowship hall storage room.”
“It hasn’t been used in years,” Samuel said ruefully.
Abigail put a pitcher of milk and a basket of French bread seasoned with garlic and cheese on the table. When everyone had a bowl of stew, Abigail took her seat and took her husband’s right hand. When the circle was formed, it was Samuel who thanked God for traveling mercies and for sending a new pastor to the church. He asked the Lord’s blessing on the food, conversation, and Paul’s ministry. “Amen,” said Timmy and they all laughed.
Paul was eager to ask questions about the congregation, but Abigail was quicker with questions about their cross-country journey. Eunice talked about the beautiful spaces and historical places they had seen. Paul was thankful she didn’t mention they had merely driven by them all due to his eagerness to reach California.
Samuel apologized for the condition of the parsonage. “Every room could use a fresh coat of paint, but we didn’t have time.”
“Or the money,” his wife added apologetically.
“We have some money set by,” Paul said. “And Eunice is a terrific decorator.” He took her hand and squeezed it.
Abigail told them how hard the Porters had worked for the church. “His health has been failing for a number of years.” She told them about his collapse. “We were so sorry to see them go.” She blinked, blushed, and quickly added, “Not that we aren’t delighted to have you three come to us.”
Eunice put her hand over the older woman’s. “We understand.” She told them how she had grown up in a small coal-mining town, where her father was a miner and pastor. He had served his congregation until he died of black lung disease. “The congregation never really recovered.”
Paul was taken aback by Euny’s comment, and prayed the same wouldn’t happen here. “That was a different situation, Eunice. The mines were closing, the town dying. Centerville is small, but it’s going to grow. God willing. It’s within commuting distance of Sacramento.”
While decaf coffee burbled in the percolator, Abigail served warm peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream. Timmy finished and fussed. “He’s been a good traveler,” Eunice said. “But I think he’s had enough of sitting.” She excused herself and went out to the car to get his box of toys.
Paul helped clear the dishes.
Samuel pushed his chair in. “Would you like to take a look at the sanctuary and fellowship hall?”
“Very much.”
r /> The church had been built in 1858 and was considered a Centerville historical landmark. “The citizens built the church before they built the court-house you passed on Main Street,” Samuel said. Over the years, the church had housed several denominations, the last of which had been Baptist. “That was in the early fifties.” When word spread that the church was going to be sold, a group of ten families bought it.
“We hired Henry Porter and built the fellowship hall and the parsonage on the corner.” The church enjoyed growth for two decades and then began a slow decline in membership. Children grew up and moved away. The town fell on hard times when the highway bypassed it. Local farms were purchased by corporations, almond orchards pulled out in favor of the more lucrative vineyards.
Samuel Mason unlocked the front door of the church and gave Paul a set of keys. The responsibility they represented weighed heavily in Paul’s hand. Was he up to the job of reviving this church? Paul looked around the narthex, seeing the dust and cobwebs. Samuel opened a door into a small office off the narthex. There was an old oak desk, shelves still lined with books, some so worn Paul couldn’t read the titles, and a large, black, rotary dial telephone. Euny would love that antique! “Hank left the books for you,” Samuel said.
“That was kind of him.” Paul hoped he wouldn’t be expected to keep them. Most were years behind the times, and he had been building up his own personal library.
The sanctuary was cold and smelled musty. A dozen things needed fixing, painting, replacing. Some of the work he knew he could do himself. His mother had told him long ago that a pastor had to be a jack-of-all-trades. Though his father had laughed at the idea, Paul had enrolled in carpentry and plumbing classes. His skills would come in handy here.
The high, octagon-shaped pulpit was the most impressive thing in the sanctuary. It was to the left of the altar area and high enough that his voice would carry even without a sound system. He was tempted to stand in it now and try it out. Samuel opened a door to the left and led him into a wide hallway. At the back were two single-stall bathrooms and a door that led into a room that had been added behind the church. The air was cold and still. “This was the nursery,” Mason told him. “It hasn’t been used in ten years.”
When they came back out into the corridor outside the side door of the sanctuary, Samuel opened double doors. Paul’s spirits lifted as he walked into the fellowship hall. He could see the possibilities! “We used to hold cantatas every Christmas on that stage,” Samuel said. There were three classrooms along one side of the hall, and a large kitchen with a functioning stove and refrigerator.
They exited through the kitchen and went down brick steps into a courtyard dominated by a towering evergreen. The lawn was patchy, but reseeding and some fertilizer would solve that. Six picnic tables with benches sat in no particular pattern. The handicap access ramp ran from the sidewalk along the west side of the church in through the back door to the corridor off the side of the sanctuary.
“So, there you have it,” Samuel said, the afterglow of sunset behind his back. “There’s a lot to do.”
Paul smiled broadly. “I’m eager to push up my sleeves and get busy.”
Eunice dried dishes while Abigail washed. “How long have you been a member of the church, Mrs. Mason?”
“Oh, call me Abby, dear.”
Eunice liked Abigail Mason’s warmth, and thought she was the loveliest old lady she had ever seen, with her bright, sparkling blue eyes and her white hair pulled up into a Gibson-girl bun. She wore navy blue pants and a red tunic with a wide collar. Her only jewelry was a single strand of imitation pearls and clip earrings. Some people could wear polyester and still look elegant.
“Samuel and I were young when we joined this church. Let’s see now . . .” She paused, leaving her hands in the warm, sudsy water. “Our son, Donny, was about Timmy’s age. Our daughter, Alice, was six. Forty years ago. Yes, I think it was forty years.”
“Do your children still live in the area?”
Abby retrieved some silverware from the sudsy water. “Donny was killed in Vietnam. He was a Marine, stationed outside of Da Nang.” She scrubbed the forks and put them in the rack. “And Alice moved away when she married.” She scooped up more silverware and scrubbed. “She and her husband, Jim, live in Louisville, Kentucky. We don’t see them as often as we’d like. They would love to fly out here for a visit, but, with three children, it’s far too expensive. They offered to buy us airline tickets last year, but we didn’t go.” She put the last of the silverware into the drain rack.
“Why not?” Euny picked out the knives and began rubbing them dry.
“Samuel likes to keep both feet on the ground.” She pulled the drain plug. “I’ve tried to talk him into taking a tranquilizer as soon as we get on the plane, but he won’t have it. Flying brings back memories he would rather forget. The last time we flew back east, he had nightmares for days afterward.” She dried her hands. “Samuel served in Europe during World War II. He was a belly gunner on a B-17.” She put the towel aside. “Why don’t I show you your new home?”
Seeing Timmy was content playing with his cars and trucks in the living room, Eunice followed Abby through the house. Other than the kitchen with its nook, there was a living room with a fireplace and two bedrooms with a bathroom between.
“I’m so sorry we didn’t get more done,” Abby said. “We only had enough time to steam-clean the carpets and wash cabinets. The tile needs re-grouting and every room needs a fresh coat of paint and . . . ”
“It’s a wonderful house, Abby, and we’re grateful to have it. Give me a few weeks and we’ll have you and Samuel over for dinner again, and you’ll see what we do with it.” She and Paul had paid four hundred dollars a month for a two-bedroom house near Mountain High. This house was a gift from God. They would be living right next door to the church, and rent-free. Though Paul’s salary was very low, they might be able to meet expenses without her having to take a part-time job.
“Oh, dear,” Abby said in dismay. “I hadn’t even thought about what you would sleep on tonight.”
“We have sleeping bags. We can begin moving things in tomorrow.” She could go to the local hardware store to buy paint and rollers, and Wal-Mart for sheets to make curtains.
“It’s so good to have you here,” Abby said. “There are so few of us left, but what we lack in strength, we make up for in love.”
“How many do we have in our congregation?”
“Oh, not more than sixty. There are the Harrisons and Hollis Sawyer, the other two elders. And then there are the Bransons, Kings, Carlsons, Knoxes.” They returned to the kitchen and sat talking. Eunice soaked up everything she could about the families who had been faithful over the years. “Oh, and Fergus. How could I forget Fergie? Hank was visiting Fergus Oslander in the hospital when he collapsed. Poor dear. Fergus has been moved from the Community Hospital to Vine Hill Convalescent Hospital. We have several members there now.”
“If you’ll give me their names, I’ll take Timmy for a visit.”
Abby’s eyes lit up. “Of course! Let me know when, so that I can go with you and make introductions. They’ve all been told about Hank and Susanna’s retirement, but they won’t be expecting you. Oh, they will love Timmy. There’s nothing like a child to lift spirits.”
The men returned from their tour of the church and fellowship hall. “Can I help you carry in some boxes?” Samuel said.
“Oh no, sir; I’ll take care of that.”
Eunice saw the look in Samuel Mason’s eyes and wished Paul had accepted his offer of help.
Samuel slipped his hand to Abby’s elbow. “Well, I guess we’d better be going, so these young folks can get settled for the night.”
Eunice hugged Abby. “Thank you so much for your wonderful welcome.”
Paul thanked them as well and walked them to the polished DeSoto parked out front. When he came back inside, he caught Eunice up in his arms and swung her around. “What do you think?”
&
nbsp; “If everyone is as wonderful as the Masons, it couldn’t be more perfect.”
He kissed her. “My thoughts exactly.”
“I think Samuel Mason would’ve liked to carry in a box or two.”
“I know, but the last thing I want to do is give one of our elders a hernia on our first night here. He’s got to be over seventy, Euny.”
“I know you didn’t mean to do it, Paul, but I think you may have made that dear man feel useless.”
“I hope not. I just didn’t want to impose on him anymore. His wife fixed us dinner, and he gave me a full tour of the church. I wasn’t about to ask him to move us in.”
“What are we going to do about the piano and refrigerator?”
“I’ll go by the high school tomorrow and find out where the local hangout is. Then I’ll go there and hire a couple of teenagers. It would be good to find a crew of workers. There’s a lot to be done on the church and fellowship hall.” He looked around. “And this place as well.”
Eunice knew it wasn’t just moving or working on the church facility that Paul was considering. She knew how excited he could get when put in charge of a project or program. No doubt, he was already thinking of ways to attract young people into this dying church. Which was exactly what Abby had said Samuel had been praying for over the years. Still, Eunice wanted to caution her husband. “Don’t move too fast, Paul. Wait and see the flock the Lord has given you.”
Telephones were busy all over Centerville as word spread among the congregation that the new pastor and his wife and son had arrived safely. Over the next two days, half a dozen ladies came by with offerings of homemade goods to ease the Hudsons’ burdens as they moved in and settled in the parsonage. Even Mabel rallied and sent a disgruntled Otis with a tray of lasagna fit for the mayor. There was hardly room for it on the counter already laden with other welcome dishes of fruit salad, apple pie and peach cobbler, meat loaf, chili, pork and beans, and carrot-and-raisin salad.