Page 15 of The Fragile Truth
She rolled her eyes. “You can ignore me all you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that you have a girlfriend,” she chimed, jabbing him in the arm with her elbow and causing him to spill coffee on his uniform.
“Hey,” he protested as he wiped off the liquid, but she just laughed. A second later, she took in a breath. “Okay, break time’s over. I don’t know what’s in the water, but it’s been a crazy morning. Poor Shirley over in dispatch has been about ready to pull her hair out.”
Concern streaked through Ian. “What’s going on?”
Words spewed out of Callie’s mouth. “Ruthie Canter’s cat is stuck up a tree again. Grady and several of the guys from the fire department went over to help.”
Ian nodded. Grady Langford was one of his deputies.
“Quinton and Brandie Fricks have been at it again. They were in their front yard, screaming and causing a ruckus. Quinton got his paycheck and spent it all on booze. Brandie went haywire. Troy went over to calm ‘em down. Then, he was heading to the roadside motel over on Clover Highway. A fight broke out amongst a couple of the guests over a parking space.”
He let out a low whistle. “It has been a busy morning.”
“There’s more. Pastor Charles called. Vandals broke into the church. They took crayons from the nursery and scribbled on the walls and songbooks. Also, they broke a stained-glass window.”
“Send Grady over after he gets the cat out of the tree.”
She perched a hand on her hip. “No can do.”
“What do you mean?” Ian grumbled. Sometimes Callie needed to be reminded who was boss.
“The Pastor wants you to go.”
Ian grunted. “That’s not gonna happen.” Pastor Davis Charles was his mother’s brother. He’d been riding Ian’s case ever since he stopped going to church. He wouldn’t put it past Davis to vandalize the church just so that he would have an excuse for Ian to go out there. Not really. But Ian figured his uncle had something up his sleeve. “Send Grady,” he demanded.
Fire flashed in Callie’s hazel eyes. “I’ve got enough trouble without offending a man of God. If you want Grady to go in your stead, then I suggest you call him,” she harrumphed as she turned on her heel. She got a couple of steps away before she spun back around, giving him a reproving look. “You know I love you like my own son. Don’t you?” she growled when he remained silent.
“Yes,” he admitted.
She lifted her chin. “Alrighty then. I’ll tell it to you like I tell my boys.” She wagged a finger, her slate-gray hair bobbing in sync. “The smart thing to do here would be to get your cute batooty over to check on your uncle and the church. Seems to me that you could use all the blessings you can get.”
Ian couldn’t help but chuckle nervously. Callie calling his batooty cute was not something he wanted to hear. It wigged him out. Callie reminded him of the actress Holly Hunter with her spunk and grit. The heat of her laser eyes scorched a trail through him. Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore. “Yes, ma’am,” he relented. “But just because I’m agreeing to talk to him doesn’t mean I’m going back to church.”
“That’s between you and the man upstairs,” Callie sassed as she traipsed back to her desk.
Ian stopped attending church when Lina dumped him. He was ticked at the world and mad at God that his life fell apart. Yeah, he knew on an intellectual level that no good could come from railing at God, but the thought of going back to church—seeing all the happy couples cozied up together on the pews—and hearing all about touchy-feely religious topics was too much to take. So, he’d avoided it like the plague. While he’d never verbalized this to his uncle, Ian had a sneaking suspicion that Davis knew the reason Ian wasn’t coming. He took several more swallows of his coffee. He’d been on such a high after seeing Sadie this morning. This was the third time he’d been to The Sea Salt Grill this week. Maybe he’d better tone it down a bit, especially since Callie had gotten wind of it. The whole town was probably blabbing about it.Land sakes!Didn’t people have anything better to do than jabber about his love life?
Love life? Seriously? It’s a good thing his deputies couldn’t read his mind, or they’d laugh him to scorn for being such a sap. He wasn’t sure what this thing with Sadie was, exactly. All he knew was that it felt good and helped keep his mind off Lina. After much persuasion on Ian’s part, Mike agreed to give Sadie tomorrow night off. Instead of going to the restaurant at The Oliver Hotel, she was making him dinner. Sadie didn’t know this, but afterward, Ian planned for the two of them to take the ferry over to Honeysuckle Island. They could get an ice cream at one of the cafés at Harbor Village and then take an evening stroll on the beach. The ferry ran until midnight, so they would have plenty of time. As promised, he was getting her a big bouquet of flowers and a deluxe box of chocolates.
He went back to his office and piddled around, getting caught up on emails and reading the paper as he drank the rest of his coffee. Mostly, he wanted Callie to get the message that he would go see Davis when he was good and ready, not a moment sooner. Forty-five minutes later, he drove to the church and ambled up the front entrance. Situated prominently on a grassy hill that overlooked the historic section of town, the venerable, milky-white church with its tall steeple boasting a massive cross at the top had been around since the early 1900s. The name had been changed a slew of times since the building’s inception. It was now called The First Community Church. In his growing-up years, Ian had attended church here with his mother. He never imagined that his uncle would end up becoming the pastor. Davis was a good guy—the type whose hair was always parted razor straight. He meant well, but he’d been married to Rita, the love of his life, for the past forty-something years. What did Davis know of betrayal? He lived in the comfortable bubble of his congregation.
Ian pushed open the heavy wooden doors and stepped inside. He’d forgotten how impressive the chapel was with its rows of colorful, detailed stained-glass windows, sturdy wood pews, and the high arched ceiling with the open beams and hanging chandeliers. This was the first time Ian had been in the chapel when it was devoid of people. His rubber-soled shoes made a soft cadence against the wooden floor as he strode down the aisle. He approached the pulpit, his gaze taking in the mosaic of Christ that was built into the wall. Christ was reaching down to heal the lame man at the pool of Bethesda. The compassion on the face of Jesus Christ, coupled with the desperation and despair of the man stirred something within Ian, evoking a sense of reverence. He was unprepared for the lump of emotion that rose in his throat.
“It’s one of my favorites.”
Startled, he turned to find Davis standing beside him. In his mid-seventies, Davis was medium height and build with a shock of white hair and a ruddy complexion. His eyes were porcelain blue and clear as Cold Water Springs in June.
Davis remained focused on the mosaic, his voice going recollective. “Thirty-eight years. That’s how long the man suffered from his infirmity. Jesus asked him, ‘Wilt thou be made whole?’ The man explained that when the waters grew troubled, he had no one to help him into the pool.” He paused, stroking his chin. “Jesus then told him to take up his bed and walk. The man was instantly healed.”
Ian knew his uncle well enough to know that this was a teaching moment. Not knowing how to answer, Ian let silence settle between them until Davis turned to him and smiled. “Thanks for coming today, son,” he said in a deep, booming voice as he embraced Ian in a tight hug. “I’ve missed you.” For his age, Davis was surprisingly strong. With his forthright manner, barrel chest, and sturdy frame, he reminded Ian more of a sea captain than a pastor.
“I’ve missed you too.” It was true. Ian had missed his uncle but was just now realizing it. Truth be told, Ian was surprised by the sense of peace that he’d felt since stepping into the chapel.
Davis looked him over with keen eyes. “How’ve ya been?”
“Okay,” Ian answered casually. “I hear you had a break-in.” Better to stay on topic.
“Yep, I’m afraid so. I assume it was some kids who broke into the nursery.” The wrinkles around the edges of his eyes folded on top of themselves as he compressed his lips, shaking his head. “They made a mess of things.”