Gone to Green by Judy Christie Page A

congregation, although it was clear she was trying to find her way. She sprinkled her conversation with remarks about how God was blessing her on this journey, despite what she called some “dry bones” moments.
     
    “The hardest part has been being away from my husband,” she said. “Believe it or not, I’m forty-eight years old, and this is the first time I’ve ever lived alone. Married the week after I graduated from college. He's still in Baton Rouge, has a good job at a bank there, and … ” Her voice trailed off, and her eyes narrowed, as though she were looking at something in the distance.
     
    “Will your husband move here too?” The reporter in me couldn’t help but ask the obvious question.
     
    “He hasn’t been able to make it yet. Comes here when he can and keeps an eye on things there—the house, the kids. Our daughter's in college in Lafayette. Our son works in Baton Rouge and has an apartment.”
     
    For the first time, Pastor Hours seemed unsure. “That's been the straw that broke the camel's back for my new church. It was bad enough to get a woman preacher, and then she turns up without her husband.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “But I believe God has called me here. Some days I don’t quite understand it, but this is the next step on my journey. I try hard to be faithful to that call.”
     
    Clearly embarrassed at having said so much, she switched back to me. “Green is a nice place to live, Lois. You’ll settle in just fine. Just remember that people aren’t all that used to newcomers here, and they don’t much like change. But God sometimes wants people to change, you know. I see that all the time.”
     
    Feeling suddenly antsy, I needed to think about change all right—changing the tire on my car to something more dependable. I thanked her again for her help. “Guess I’d better head back to town. Good luck with your sermon.”
     
    “Come on back Sunday at eleven and see what you think,” she said.
     
    “Oh, I’m just settling in and not sure when my things are coming. Besides, I’m not much of a churchgoer. I may stop in one of these days. Thanks for asking.”
     
    I was not prepared to commit to church on my first Sunday in Green. My plans for the next year didn’t include a commitment to anything other than the paper.
     
    When I returned to the newspaper plant, reporter Alex, fresh back from his meeting, brought the news that town leader Major Wilson was peeved with me. “He thought you would show up at the police jury meeting to introduce yourself and get to know everybody.”
     
    Come to find out, the car dealer/real estate developer was also on the “po-lice” jury, as Alex called it. The young reporter apologized about mentioning my arrival to Major. “He already knew, though. Said Dub and Chuck told him weeks ago. You know, Miss Lois, he's a big cheese in town and a golfing buddy of the McCullers. You might want to give him a call.”
     
    “So any real news from the meeting?” I asked, uncomfortable with this kid giving me advice.
     
    “Well, the huge development on Bayou Lake is moving forward. The jury gave it a unanimous green light, despite complaints from the neighborhood it will affect. They’re planning to tear down about a dozen houses, mostly poor people, mostly Blacks—I mean, African Americans—on the lake-front. Build houses on stilts that sort of stick out over the water.”
     
    He paused, his investigative lightbulb switching on. “The same kind of house they turned down for Dr. Taylor a few months ago—Kevin Taylor, that is. I need to look into that a little more.” He jotted a handful of words into his notebook and stuck his pen behind his ear.
     
    I had covered enough political meetings to know anything can happen, but was puzzled at how this had gotten pushed through. “Won’t there be political fallout? What about the commissioners—or police jurors or whatever you call them— from the areas around the