Nothing Sacred

“I don’t know, Mom,” Ellen said, wrinkling her forehead under the cropped and sprayed blond bangs. “Sure doesn’t sound like the kind of thing Pastor Edwards would say.”

A compliment, indeed. David smiled at the slim teenager.

Tim, once again engrossed in his handheld electronic game, was making noises to emulate the crashes and high-speed chases he was attempting to control.

“Pastor Marks.” Martha frowned at her son but said nothing to him. “Please tell my daughter that you get paid to say these things.”

Okay, he had his work cut out there. “I get paid to preach,” he said. “I don’t get paid to believe.”

Even Shelley was listening to the exchange.

Martha sat back, arms crossed over her chest, and such a clear I-told-you-so expression on her face that he couldn’t bite back his next words, in spite of his better judgment.

“And I do believe.”

“Point to the pastor,” Shelley said under her breath.

Martha sat forward. “So what about before you joined the ministry?” she asked.

He’d left that part of his life behind. Forgiven himself. Forgotten.

“I graduated from high school,” he said, repeating the story by rote. “I went to college, got an undergraduate degree in social work, took a job with a private corporation, trying to figure out what I wanted to do. A friend of mine jokingly suggested one night that if I was so filled with lofty ideas, I should have studied theology. His words struck a chord that wouldn’t be silent.”

“Cool,” Tim said. “So you became a minister then?”

David grinned at the boy. “After three years of intense study, yes.”

Martha stood. “Yes, well, it’s been nice—”

The phone on the end table beside Rebecca rang. The skinny young teen with the pitch-black hair in a ponytail handed the mobile receiver up to her mother.

With scarce intimate knowledge of this family, there was no way for David to guess who was on the other end of the line, receiving Martha’s pleasantly delivered message that her children were busy and couldn’t come to the phone. But if he were a betting man, he’d bet last week’s entire paycheck that the caller was not in her favor, despite her friendly tone. Before the phone had rung, Martha had been concluding David’s visit.

The sudden whiteness of her cheeks only heightened his curiosity.

“Oh,” she said, turning her back on the curious eyes of her children. Seconds later, she admitted, “Yes, they’re here, but—”

“It’s Dad,” Tim said quietly, head lowered as he glanced up at his three sisters.

“I know—” Martha began again. She was obviously cut off a second time by the persistent caller.

Ellen nodded. Rebecca draped her leg over the end of the couch and swung it back and forth. Motionless, Shelley sat there with no expression whatsoever. All three girls were watching their mother.

“I’m not—”

None of the kids seemed particularly worried—other than perhaps Ellen. As she looked at her mother, her eyes filled with a warm compassion. David was beginning to associate that quality with Martha’s eldest. None of the children seemed particularly eager to connect with the voice at the other end of the line, either.

Most interesting to David was the complete change that had come over the woman who’d topped the list months ago as his hardest sell in his new job. She was assertive, at least on the surface, but there was a vulnerability, a lack of self-confidence he didn’t recognize at all.

He’d felt drawn—no, guided—to her from the beginning. Compelled by the sense that she needed help she would never ask for. Her current reaction strengthened the inner resolve that had kept him trying, in spite of no success, for months.

“Fine. You’re right.” David was surprised to hear the words. And even more startled when Martha turned and, without another word, passed the phone to Ellen.

“It was good of you to come by.” She spoke to David immediately, loudly enough to camouflage at least part of her daughter’s telephone conversation.

He stood, taking the hand she offered. But he wasn’t ready to be dismissed so easily.

Or to leave when there might be a crisis unfolding. “You’ve got your hands full here,” he said. “I’ve got two very able ones—and some free time.”

Her expression distracted, Martha shook her head. Pulled back her hand. “I’ve been managing this brood just fine for more than four years, Pastor Marks. But thanks.”

Behind her, Ellen, lips pinched, gave the phone to Shelley, whose dark spiked hair was a sharp contrast to her timidly offered hello.

“I don’t mean to imply that you aren’t doing a terrific job,” David said, returning his gaze to the woman trying to get rid of him. He refrained from reminding her that he’d asked them all to call him David. “Just that I’m here and I’ve found that almost everyone can benefit from a lightening of the load sometimes. I’m quite proficient at mowing grass, fixing cars or even seeing that there’s dinner on the table if you ever have to be too many places at once. And I can help out on very short notice.”

Head turned slightly to the side, Martha was obviously attempting to hear both conversations at once—the one in which she was engaged and the one going on behind her. Shelley’s voice had grown even softer than Ellen’s. Mostly she appeared to be listening without saying much at all.

“Not usual duties for a preacher,” Martha remarked, although rather than sounding impressed by his efforts she seemed annoyed.

Or maybe it was just her daughter’s conversation that was having that effect on her.

“I’m also fairly adept at just listening without offering advice, if that’s what’s needed.”

Behind her, Rebecca flopped over to the middle couch seat to take the phone from her sister. “Hi, Daddy, how are you?”

The start Martha gave was almost indiscernible.

So it was her ex-husband, just as Tim had predicted.

“I have lots of friends,” Martha told him now. “But if there’s ever a time when I can’t reach one of them when I need help, I’ll be sure to keep your offer in mind.”

She was wearing a smile that looked painfully forced.

Rebecca had grown silent behind her. The ponytail that was almost constantly bobbing was oddly still now.

“I’d love to see Tim play ball sometime,” David said, before the boy’s mother could order him out of her house—which, he suspected, was coming next. He didn’t want to leave while the family was so obviously upset. There must be something he could do. Some counsel he could offer. “I used to be a little leaguer myself.”

Pushing buttons on his video device and biting his lower lip, the boy didn’t seem to hear.

“Half the town comes to see the games,” Martha said. “There are usually teams playing every night of the week during the season. There’s only one lighted field in town so you can’t miss it, and the games always start at seven.” She barely took a breath. David had the impression that she was trying to prevent a moment’s silence during which he’d be able to hear Rebecca’s conversation with her father.

Not that she was having much of one. Like her two older sisters, the girl had grown very quiet. But while Ellen and Shelley were staring at their laps, Rebecca kept glancing nervously at the back of her mother’s head.

“I haven’t seen you at Bible study once since I’ve been here,” he said then, realizing the inanity of the comment as he spoke the words. He was really grasping.

And more determined than ever not to leave until he knew that this single-parent family was going to be okay.

“I quit going almost a year ago.”