Suncatchers by Jamie Langston Turner Page B

“Next week we’ll start a series on the Fruits of the Spirit.” As Perry looked into Harvey’s steady gray eyes, he felt certain that the man had already gotten a good start on next week’s lesson.
    â€œI’ve got to go warm up with the choir,” Jewel told him. “You can go on to the sanctuary and sit with Mama if that’s okay,” she said. “Joe Leonard and I’ll join you later.”
    Perry was glad to see Eldeen already seated in the same pew they had sat in earlier. She patted the place next to her. “Sit on down here and tell me how you liked Harvey and the Willing Workers,” she said.
    â€œWell, it was all quite interesting,” he said. “We learned about manna.”
    â€œUh-huh, we did, too,” Eldeen said. “All the adult classes have the same lessons. But I’m sure Marvella’s lesson couldn’t hold a candle to Harvey Gill’s. She hummed and hawed the whole time.”
    The choir filed in a few minutes later as Jewel played the piano, a slower and more sedate song this time. Joe Leonard stood in the second row with the men, who were greatly outnumbered by the women. Willard was on the platform again, towering over another man in a well-tailored gray suit. Standing together, the two of them looked like a comedy duo. Compared to Willard, the other man was small and compact, built like a gymnast. He had a slightly receding hairline, but the hair he did have was riotously curly, whereas Willard’s hair was thin and straight with the beginnings of a pronounced bald spot on top.
    Eldeen leaned over and pointed. “That’s the preacher up there with Willard,” she said. “Brother Hawthorne.”
    Perry had already noticed that the paper he had been handed earlier had a list on the back called “Order of Worship,” a kind of agenda he supposed they would follow—which they did, starting with the “Welcome,” a cordial greeting from Willard, as if he hadn’t just seen all of them in these same seats an hour earlier. Then there was a song, listed as “Congregational Singing—‘At the Cross.’” Perry turned to the right page number and read the words as everybody sang. He glanced around after the phrase “For such a worm as I,” but no one else seemed to think it odd. Another song followed, one called “Only a Sinner.” During this one he saw that Eldeen had her eyes closed and was slowly wagging her head from side to side as she sang the words.
    â€œAnnouncements” followed, during which Willard asked for more nursery volunteers and someone to sign up to iron the communion cloths for next month. He reminded everybody of the Wednesday service, visitation on Thursday night—there was that word again—and repeated the list of shut-ins. The theme of the Sunday school social in March was going to be “Springtime,” he announced. Perry expected someone to snicker at the lack of originality, but no one did. They needed people to decorate Fellowship Hall, Willard said, and there was a sign-up sheet in the lobby.
    Then Brother Hawthorne took over for the next part, “Offering.” There was a sudden stirring over the entire auditorium and a great rustling of purses unzipping and unsnapping and wallets being wrestled from hip pockets. Several men holding silver plates walked down the aisle and stood in front of the pulpit. Someone behind Perry ripped out a check, and several coins rolled onto the floor and stopped at his feet.
    â€œOh, looka there, some little person’s gone and dropped their offering,” Eldeen said in a loud whisper. She craned her neck to look behind them. Perry bent down and picked up three nickels and a dime. A small child started crying several rows behind them, and someone whispered, “Shh!”
    â€œWe got your money, missy honey,” Eldeen called softly. “Pass it back,” she said to