A Treasure of the Heart

“Unfortunately.” His eyebrows arched and Lillie noticed that there was a little gray in them, the same as that peppering his dark hair at the temples.

“I take it she’s another senior citizen?”

“Um, no. I think Gloria’s about forty, forty-five.”

Lillie gasped. “Whew!”

“My sentiments exactly,” James said. “It’s a touchy situation.”

“I suppose I should ask if you know if Max is okay but I can’t say he and I bonded the way Gram and I did. He never liked me much and he didn’t bother to hide his feelings.”

“That’s too bad,” James said.

“Yes, it is. No matter how hard I tried I don’t think I ever managed to please him.” She decided to change the subject rather than dwell on past unpleasantness. “So, how’s the pie?”

“Great. Did you bake it?”

Lillie gave a nervous laugh. “Me? Not hardly. You’ve seen the full extent of my talent in the kitchen. I can scoop ice cream and cut pie. Period.”

“You’re not a practicing Southern Christian like your grandmother?”

The question was delivered so deadpan Lillie almost missed the inside joke. The twinkle in his eye gave him away and she chuckled. “Oh, I get it. You mean, because of all the social eating they do. I used to go to church with Gram when I was younger but I haven’t attended services in a long time. Guess none of the dinner-on-the-ground genes were passed on to me. I don’t even own a casserole dish or a Crock-Pot.”

“You’re a lost soul, aren’t you?”

“Not literally, if that’s what you’re fishing for. I went forward at a revival when I was thirteen.” She decided not to expound on her lack of recent churchgoing.

“Glad to hear it.” James continued to enjoy his pie. “So, what can I do for you? Is your grandmother grieving? I haven’t been able to convince her to talk to me since Max left. I’ve stopped by several times in the past few weeks but she won’t even let me in the house.”

“Actually, she seems more upbeat than she has for years. What I’m worried about is her mind. I think she’s out of touch with reality.”

“In what way?”

“Well, for starters, she’s letting a bad hair day keep her from coming to work and that’s not at all like her.”

“I see. Will you be staying long? If so, you might want to take her to the doctor for a checkup. You know, make sure she’s mentally and physically sound.”

Lillie nodded. “I’d thought of that. Actually, I was planning to move back to Gumption for good.”

His head snapped up and his eyes seemed to brighten.

“Wonderful! Darla Sue will be thrilled. What did she say when you told her?”

“I haven’t told her. Not yet.” Lillie made a dour face in spite of the smile the preacher was beaming at her. “I quit my job when I left Chicago. Gram isn’t going to like hearing that. She’s always had a really strong work ethic.”

“Except lately,” James observed with a nod toward the kitchen. “I know she’s playing hooky. That was one of the reasons I stopped by this evening. I’d heard you were back in town and I thought…”

“You didn’t come here to eat? You took free pie under false pretenses? What kind of preacher are you?”

“Oh, I’m a hungry one,” he answered with a grin. “But I could have grabbed a quick meal at the sandwich shop. I came here to see if I could find out how Darla Sue was really doing. I was afraid she might be putting on a brave front for my benefit.”

“I don’t think so. Except for her hair, she seemed fine when I showed up on her doorstep this afternoon.”

“Then we can probably stop worrying about her and concentrate on praying for your grandfather.”

Lillie made another face. “You can pray for Max if you want to but not me. And while you’re at it, you might as well say a few words for my father. Turns out he was just as big a skunk as my granddad is.”

Chapter Three

James wondered what he should have said to Lillie after her telling outburst. There were few instances since his ordination when he’d felt so unable to offer words of wisdom. Then again, he hadn’t been a member of the clergy for nearly as long as his age would indicate.

Walking down Third Street toward the church parking lot where he’d left his motorcycle, he studied the old buildings on the square. Glow from the streetlights muted their flaws and made them seem sturdier, but they were still clearly antiquated.

Sadly, that was true of his church, too. Gumption Front Porch Christian was so small it was a wonder the congregation hadn’t sold that sanctuary and moved on long ago. Yes, it had its namesake front porch and a quaintly charming stone facade but it lacked many necessary elements, not the least of which was adequate on-site parking.

Inside, wooden pews that bore the patina of age barely provided enough room for the regulars to squeeze in. Add a few visitors and they had to pull folding chairs out of the Sunday-school rooms and place them in the aisle to accommodate everyone.

Not only was that solution awkward, it was unsafe. If folks got up before the end of the service, there was a good chance they’d trip and fall before they reached the exits. Heaven forbid, literally, they ever had an emergency that required quick evacuation. Something had to be done, and soon.

He gave a tuneless whistle. Sudden rustling in a nearby tree led his gaze upward even though it was almost too dark to see. By approaching the tree trunk and leaning left, he was able to peer through the clusters of tiny white blossoms and catch a glimpse of what had drawn his attention. Two bright eyes reflected the dim light enough for him to tell that the creature definitely wasn’t a squirrel. Judging by the pansylike face and pitiful mewing, it was a kitten. A very young kitten.

James wasn’t particularly fond of cats. As far as he was concerned their place was in a barn, catching mice, not underfoot in a house. It was, however, one of God’s creatures. And he was a servant of the Lord. Therefore, he assumed it was his duty to either affect a rescue or find someone who would.

Craning his neck to watch the kitten, he tried to recall how long it had been since he’d shinnied up a tree. Twenty years? Probably. Except for his motorcycle riding he’d never been as athletic as most boys. While they’d been out playing baseball and football, he’d been doing his homework or reading his dad’s copy of the Wall Street Journal.

That had prepared him for his initially successful foray into the business world but it hadn’t satisfied his soul or equipped him to deal with the perfidy of his partners or the infidelity of his late wife, which was why he’d eventually chucked his old life and escaped to the Ozarks.

He smiled. He could identify with Lillie Delaney’s decision to quit her job and head for the hills. Although Gumption hadn’t been his point of origin, it had served the same purpose. He, too, had come here to the South to start over. Perhaps he should have told her so. Then again, it was his job to listen and offer wise counsel, not spout off about his own life history the first chance he got.

Approaching the base of the tree, he reached up as far as he could. The frightened kitten hissed and backed away, trembling so badly that some of the tiny flower petals around it shook loose and drifted down.

“Come on, cat,” he cajoled, wiggling his fingers. “Don’t you know a friend when you see one?”

Obviously, the answer was no.

James withdrew, planning his next move as he brushed the shed blossoms off his jacket. He looked around. Few good citizens of Gumption were on the street at this time of night and those who were were judiciously avoiding eye contact. Either they knew there was a cat stuck in the tree or they still considered him an outsider, even after nearly a year. Either was possible. Both were likely.

If he were a hungry, scared animal, what would bring him to his rescuer? Food. He needed a big handful of something cats found irresistible.

It was quicker and easier to backtrack to DD’s than to fire up his bike, ride home and raid his refrigerator.

Lillie had locked the front door when she’d let him out of the café so he circled around back. That door, too, was locked, but at least there was a porch light to see by.

Unwilling to give up so easily, James took off his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, then cautiously lifted the top of the battered green Dumpster that sat against the brick wall. The fumes that instantly filled his nostrils were so strong, so disgusting, he dropped the lid with a bang.

Gasping, he turned away, grabbed a deep breath, held it and tried again. Judging by the smell, there were fish scraps in this garbage bin old enough to vote!

He was gingerly lifting aside a crumpled cardboard box when someone directly behind him said, “I don’t believe it,” and startled him so much he lost his hold on the lid once again. It thwacked him on the forearm before he could jump clear.