Simple Gifts by Lori Copeland Page A

appearance, but he left the parenting to me. I didn’t do all that badly, but I’d made mistakes. Didn’t I always?
    After services, Linda pushed a young man toward me. “Marlene, I want you to meet Johnny Weeks, our new pastor. He’s taking Joe’s place.”
    I gripped the fair-skinned-man’s hand, captivated by his shy smile, his warm blue eyes, and the golden curls tumbling over his forehead.
    He introduced me to his wife, Rachel—petite, blonde, blue-eyed, and bubbly. According to her, the congregation had been supportive and immensely helpful during their move, and Joe was a saint.
    With Joe hovering benevolently in the background, the transition would be smooth.
    In small groups and in pairs, the congregation dwindled and headed home for the evening. I said good-bye to Linda, promising to visit before I left, and then wandered down the road toward the convenience store. I wanted something cold to drink before I walked home. Overhead, the stars stretched in an awesome celestial awning. I paused in front of the gas station, transfixed by the glory of God’s handiwork.
    Out of the blue, I heard Herman’s voice in my mind. “C’mon, Marly. I got a nickel. We can buy ice cream!”
    I’d been a small girl—no more than five, but I knew Herman was just plain stupid. A nickel wouldn’t buy ice cream—maybe bubble gum, but not ice cream. Aunt Beth and Aunt Ingrid relented and decided to spend the money. They had taken us for a walk and an ice-cream cone on a hot summer night. Herman laughed all the way, that horsey sound, showing a row of buckteeth. I shied away, like always, taking Aunt Beth’s hand and walking on the opposite side of Ingrid and Herman. Later, he came up to me, wanting a lick of my chocolate cone. He offered his strawberry in exchange, and I shook my head.
    â€œGood,” he’d coaxed. He pushed the cone closer and closer until the ice cream touched my nose and I squealed.
    Ingrid jerked Herman back to her side, knocking his cone to the ground. She pulled him along, scowling at him. His mystified eyes locked with mine, and I wanted to turn and run. But I didn’t. I hated him and I pitied him. I hated Aunt Ingrid and Aunt Beth for allowing him to be my father. Other kids’ fathers were strong and handsome. They didn’t have big teeth and a loud laugh and stick ice-cream cones in their daughter’s faces.
    Other kids were proud of their daddies.
    Why couldn’t he go away and never come back? But he was always there, at the breakfast table or in the door, waving good-bye as I left for school. At school carnivals, basketball and baseball games, working in the concession stand, blowing up balloons, pinning banners to the gym wall. I could never escape him, and my resentment had grown into an ugly, festering sore…
    â€œYou’ll get a crick in your neck staring up like that.”
    My heart double-timed when I heard Vic’s tease. “Probably so.” I turned to face him. “I was looking at the stars. I’d forgotten how breathtaking they could be. I can’t see them as clearly in Glen Ellyn.”
    â€œOne of the reasons I’ve stayed in Parnass Springs.” He joined my admiration of cosmos glory. “You still like ice cream?”
    â€œLove it.”
    â€œWait here.” He entered the station while I wandered over to sit down at the outside picnic table. He returned a few minutes later carrying two ice-cream bars. One was sugar free. I could have kissed him. Noel would have bought regular and expected me to eat it since he’d gone to the trouble to buy it.
    We enjoyed the ice cream in silence, concentrating on eating the cold treat before it melted. Vic still wore work clothes: denims and a plaid shirt that smelled like a horse.
    â€œMissed you at the service tonight.”
    He glanced at me, eyes going gentle. “I intended to come, but I had a mare