of a stiff breeze. “On behalf of the board, I want to assure you that it’s our Christian duty to care for the widows and orphans, and that’s what you can count on us to do.”
Roxie snorted. “That’s the least you can do, Howard Davis. The Harpers have given you eighteen of the best years of their lives.” She nudged Leona. “Get your kids, girlfriend, and let’s do this right.”
Glancing over her shoulder, Leona shot a smug smile toward her mother. “The Lord provides.” If her arrow pierced her mother’s scaly hide, she’d seek the Lord’s pardon for her spiteful attitude at the earliest opportunity. After all, if God could forgive her banishing her mother, she didn’t see the harm in making the Almighty’s dispensation of grace worth his while.
Leona walked the sanctuary aisle supported by her children on either side, her best friend behind her, and her Lord leading the way. Tempting as it was, she mustered restraint and did not check on her mother’s negotiations of a church aisle for the first time in years.
Only a fool would press the limit of the Lord’s forgiving spirit.
* * * * *
David followed Momma, chafing with each offered condolence gushing from the teary-eyed ladies in the funeral-lunch serving line. An uncomfortable familiarity washed over him like the combined smells of brewing coffee and musty old hymnals stacked in the corner of the fellowship hall. He held out his Styrofoam plate and waited.
Maxine Davis spooned up a corner of scalloped potatoes, then plopped the skimpy helping next to a dollop of lime-green congealed salad. “Did you come all the way from London, Davy?” She stabbed a thin slice of sugar-cured ham. Using a long bony finger, she freed it from the fork and dropped the meat beside the crusty potatoes.
“Yes, ma’am.” David tugged at the knotted tie pressing against the lump in his throat.
“I told Howard we won’t have to look for a new pastor if Davy comes home.” Maxine licked ham juice from her fingers. “You’re every bit as good as your father.” A sly twinkle sparkled in her half-glasses. “Maybe even better.”
To his right, David could sense that Momma’s intense gaze did not rest on her lanky thorn in the flesh, but rather bore a hole through him, awaiting his reply. Certain his face had turned the color of the Story sisters’ tomato relish, David did not risk making eye contact with Momma. “Thank you, Mrs. Davis. But I intend to go into law.” David braced for the weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth, but Momma turned quietly and moved on to the desserts without comment. Why did he wish she had thrown a fit? He wanted to punch somebody, but what kind of a man wants to fight his recently widowed mother?
“A doctor and a lawyer in the family. Isn’t Leona Harper the luckiest woman in the world?” The elder’s wife leaned across the folding table, her voice dropping to a raspy whisper. “Well, except for her husband dying, and Leona being so young and all.”
“Except for that.” David knew his terse reply had hit its mark when Maxine clamped her thin lips, snatched up the empty casserole dish, and made for the kitchen sink. Landing the verbal blow gave him a perverse pleasure. He grabbed a roll and strode toward the head table.
Laughter echoed in the packed fellowship hall. David shifted on the metal folding chair wedging him between his mother and grandmother. His insides rumbled as if his restless soul warred against his exhausted body, looking for a way of escape. David tried to focus on the melting puddle of green Jell-O floating his ham like a raft. But despite his efforts of concentration, he felt his spirit tear free. Helplessly his weary body hemorrhaged as the traitorous phantom hovered above the sea of suits and Sunday dresses, eavesdropping on various conversations, wanting to hear none of them, sentenced to listen to every word.
From his vantage point above the crowd, it appeared the entire community of Mt.
Roxie snorted. “That’s the least you can do, Howard Davis. The Harpers have given you eighteen of the best years of their lives.” She nudged Leona. “Get your kids, girlfriend, and let’s do this right.”
Glancing over her shoulder, Leona shot a smug smile toward her mother. “The Lord provides.” If her arrow pierced her mother’s scaly hide, she’d seek the Lord’s pardon for her spiteful attitude at the earliest opportunity. After all, if God could forgive her banishing her mother, she didn’t see the harm in making the Almighty’s dispensation of grace worth his while.
Leona walked the sanctuary aisle supported by her children on either side, her best friend behind her, and her Lord leading the way. Tempting as it was, she mustered restraint and did not check on her mother’s negotiations of a church aisle for the first time in years.
Only a fool would press the limit of the Lord’s forgiving spirit.
* * * * *
David followed Momma, chafing with each offered condolence gushing from the teary-eyed ladies in the funeral-lunch serving line. An uncomfortable familiarity washed over him like the combined smells of brewing coffee and musty old hymnals stacked in the corner of the fellowship hall. He held out his Styrofoam plate and waited.
Maxine Davis spooned up a corner of scalloped potatoes, then plopped the skimpy helping next to a dollop of lime-green congealed salad. “Did you come all the way from London, Davy?” She stabbed a thin slice of sugar-cured ham. Using a long bony finger, she freed it from the fork and dropped the meat beside the crusty potatoes.
“Yes, ma’am.” David tugged at the knotted tie pressing against the lump in his throat.
“I told Howard we won’t have to look for a new pastor if Davy comes home.” Maxine licked ham juice from her fingers. “You’re every bit as good as your father.” A sly twinkle sparkled in her half-glasses. “Maybe even better.”
To his right, David could sense that Momma’s intense gaze did not rest on her lanky thorn in the flesh, but rather bore a hole through him, awaiting his reply. Certain his face had turned the color of the Story sisters’ tomato relish, David did not risk making eye contact with Momma. “Thank you, Mrs. Davis. But I intend to go into law.” David braced for the weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth, but Momma turned quietly and moved on to the desserts without comment. Why did he wish she had thrown a fit? He wanted to punch somebody, but what kind of a man wants to fight his recently widowed mother?
“A doctor and a lawyer in the family. Isn’t Leona Harper the luckiest woman in the world?” The elder’s wife leaned across the folding table, her voice dropping to a raspy whisper. “Well, except for her husband dying, and Leona being so young and all.”
“Except for that.” David knew his terse reply had hit its mark when Maxine clamped her thin lips, snatched up the empty casserole dish, and made for the kitchen sink. Landing the verbal blow gave him a perverse pleasure. He grabbed a roll and strode toward the head table.
Laughter echoed in the packed fellowship hall. David shifted on the metal folding chair wedging him between his mother and grandmother. His insides rumbled as if his restless soul warred against his exhausted body, looking for a way of escape. David tried to focus on the melting puddle of green Jell-O floating his ham like a raft. But despite his efforts of concentration, he felt his spirit tear free. Helplessly his weary body hemorrhaged as the traitorous phantom hovered above the sea of suits and Sunday dresses, eavesdropping on various conversations, wanting to hear none of them, sentenced to listen to every word.
From his vantage point above the crowd, it appeared the entire community of Mt.
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