Light From Heaven Read online

  “I guess we shouldn’t call Dooley ...”

  “Heavens, no!”

  “Pray that we don’t have to.”

  “I’m praying,” she said.

  “Want another cup of coffee?”

  “It’s a long trip to the kitchen.”

  “It’ll get my heart rate up,” he said, glad for something to do.

  “Coming again soon?” he asked Del.

  “If m’ back don’t go out.” She was shifting the kitchen table away from the stove so she could open the door and clean the oven. She gave Lloyd and Buster a look they’d be grateful to have missed.

  “Know anyone who sits with the elderly, does a little cooking, that sort of thing?”

  “Th’ trouble with elderly is, you don’t sit with ’em, they keep you bobbin’ up an’ down like a jack in th’ box.”

  “But do you know anyone?”

  “Our mama’s done that ...”

  “Terrific!”

  “But now she’s elderly. So, no, sir, I don’ know n’body.”

  “I’m baking a cake today,” he said, trying to sound upbeat.

  Del had dropped to her knees and was getting on with it.

  “Know anything about cake baking?” Baking a ham was one thing, but cake was another.

  “Not a bloomin’ thing, an’ don’t want t’ learn. I knowed a woman who choked t’ death on coconut cake. That done it f‘r me right there. I only bake pie, now, an’ as little of that as I can git by with.”

  He’d get no help around here.

  He hadn’t threatened or cajoled or demanded, he’d said what had to be said, and there was no turning back. He had spoken the truth in love, and that would have to be OK.

  He prayed again for Sammy’s safekeeping, and for God to lift the heaviness from both their hearts and give them wisdom.

  Cynthia said she’d be waiting when Sammy came home, and in the meantime, Holy Trinity’s vicar was to go and do something for himself that wasn’t work related, something light and amusing and entirely brainless.

  But he didn’t know how to do that, he’d protested.

  I’m sure you can come up with something, she’d said, gazing at him as if he were a four-year-old.

  For one thing, he thought as he started the truck, he might drop in on Blake Eddistoe on his way to Mitford to get the cake ingredients. After all, they hadn’t seen Blake in weeks, except to wave whenever they glimpsed him down at the kennels.

  And then he would ...

  As he was trying to figure a further agenda, he forgot his mission and blew past the clinic and out the gate and onto the state road. The new wayside pulpit flashed by.

  IF GOD IS YOUR CO-PILOT,

  CHANGE SEATS.

  And then he would ...

  Would what? He was brainless, all right, not to mention sick at heart.

  It occurred to him that Sammy may have hitchhiked to Wesley. So maybe he should turn around and go home and call Bud Wyzer. But no, it was too early; the pool hall didn’t open ’til one o’clock.

  Out of the blue, the proverbial lightbulb switched on. He was amazed that he could come up with a sensible idea at a time like this.

  “She’s back there somewhere,” said Judd Baker. “I’ve seen her with my own eyes this morning, she bought baking soda.”

  “Don’t let me get out of here without ingredients for a cake,” said the vicar. “And before I go, I’d be grateful to use your phone, into the bargain. Local call.”

  “No problem.What kind of cake? I’ll be glad to pull your stuff together.”

  “Hadn’t thought of what kind ...” Blast. Now he had to figure what kind. “Don’t have a clue. What do you think?”

  “Can’t go wrong with chocolate.”

  “Do it, and I’ll appreciate it.”

  “Nuts in your frosting?”

  “Whatever you say. Surprise me!” He’d be surprised, all right, if he could bake a cake that anybody would eat.

  “Miss Lottie?”

  He merely tapped on the door, not wishing to startle her. When he got no answer, he knocked louder—Absaloms widowed sister may have trouble hearing.

  The door opened and a stooped, whitehaired woman peered out. “Miss Lottie! Father Tim Kavanagh, Absalom’s old friend.”

  She looked at him curiously, then smiled in recognition.

  “Is this a good time?”

  “You’ll have to speak up!” called Judd.

  “Is this a good time, Miss Lottie?”

  “Oh, yes, anytime is a good time for a friend of Absalom’s.” She stepped aside for him to pass into the sitting room.

  He felt a stab of nostalgia. The room was more beautiful than he remembered, with a clematis vine grown over the small window like crochet work. The minuscule fireplace with its rock surround sat beneath a shelf of smoke-blackened cherry that displayed faded photographs of Greer’s Store in its heyday, and a hand-colored portrait of Absalom as a young evangelist.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your cat, Miss Lottie.”

  “Thomas gave me eighteen years of mousing and companionship.That should be enough for anybody, but I miss him, nonetheless.”

  Her hand trembled as she indicated Absalom’s chair. Then she took the chair across from him, where she’d stationed herself for so many years as her brother’s companion, confidante, nursemaid, and housekeeper.

  “I’ve been hoping you would come,” she said, lowering her eyes to her lap. “Absalom thought the world of you. You were always so kind to us, and thoughtful.”

  “Thank you, ma’am, but it was you and your brother who were kind to me. I did stop by recently; but I’m ashamed I haven’t been here more often.”

  “Everyone’s so busy,” she said, as if bewildered by this truth.

  “I hear you get out and about.”

  She nodded, smiling. “When I can.”

  “I miss Absalom. He was the best of the lot.”

  “Yes. He was.” Always shy, she seemed shyer still. “I wanted to tell you how it grieves me to know I failed him.”

  “Good heavens! In what way, may I ask?”

  “You know I was against his love for Sadie Baxter. All those years, I conspired against Sadie, and spoke meanly of her, for I didn’t wish to lose my brother.”

  She raised her head and looked at him with frank, brown eyes. “As children, Absalom and I were as thick as thieves, as Mother used to say, and he was always tender to his little sister. Each summer, he climbed the cherry tree and brought me down a hatful of cherries.”

  “I always wanted a brother or sister,” he said, as if thinking aloud.

  “When my husband died after such a brief marriage, Absalom took me in. I didn’t have to worry about anything at all. He depended on the Lord and I depended on Absalom.” She pressed her hand to her forehead. “He was everything to me, and now it’s too late.”

  “Too late for what, Miss Lottie?”

  “To late to ask forgiveness of them both. I so regret not asking their forgiveness.”

  “I’m sure you’ve asked God’s forgiveness.”

  “No,” she said. “I never have. God was Absalom’s territory. I let him handle such things for us both.”

  “Ah.”

  “I never understood God in the way Absalom did.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “God seemed so near to Absalom, and so distant to me. I would go to my brother and say, ‘Brother, will you pray for a good crop of potatoes this year?’ And he would pray and the Lord would faithfully provide. When I prayed, it didn’t seem to ... work. So I quit. Long years ago.”

  She sounded wistful.

  “It’s never too late, Miss Lottie.”

  “For what, Father?”

  “For the peace of His forgiveness.”

  A breeze stirred the clematis vine at the window, rearranging the pattern of light on the hearth rug.

  “When we ask God to forgive us—and we must ask—the peace floods in. By emptying ourselves of the
guilt and regret, we make room for His grace.”

  She sat looking at her hands, which were clasped tightly in her lap.

  “Absalom was a man after God’s own heart, and I have no doubt that He loved your brother mightily. But He loves you, too. Do you know that?”

  “I don’t know that ... like I should. I never thought it important for me to know all those things about the Lord, if Absalom knew them. I believed my only task was to serve my brother, so he could serve the Almighty.”

  “Serving your brother was a great service to God. Look how fit you helped keep Absalom as he preached all those years to his little handfuls. Think of the souls that were saved in his long years of ministry, and the lives that were changed forever.You had something to do with that, Miss Lottie, something important.”

  Tears shone in her eyes.

  “I miss him most after supper,” she said, “when he’d tell me about his day out in the world.”

  “He sat right here, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, right there, for all those years. That was his spot to study the Word, and think on his sermons, and read. He wasn’t school educated, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “He educated himself.”

  “That may be best, in the end.” He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “If you ask, you still have a companion you can talk with every evening after supper.”

  She leaned her head to one side, pondering his meaning.

  “The Spirit of God Himself, made known through Jesus Christ, will sit here with you. If that’s something you might want.”

  She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, my gracious.”

  “What is it?”

  “I can’t even think such a thing.Why would He want to ... to sit with me?” She looked at him, aghast.

  “Miss Lottie, if you had a child, wouldn’t you like to spend time with her in the evenings and go over the affairs of the day? Enjoy being together?”

  “Oh, yes!” she said.

  “You’re God’s child.You can tell Him everything, and ask Him anything. And think how grateful He’d be for your company.”

  She shook her head, dumbstruck.

  “In the book of Revelation, we learn why He created us—it was for His pleasure. Indeed, He made us for Himself.”

  “Absalom used to say that—that He made us for Himself.” A certain wonder softened her features.

  “It isn’t too late, Miss Lottie.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. It’s time.”

  He left the sitting room with a feeling of elation.

  “Chocolate cake mix, frosting in a can, walnuts,” said Judd. “You got eggs?”

  “I’ll say!”

  “You got sugar?”

  “The whole nine yards, except for the basics here.”

  “There you go, then. Done deal.”

  “Many thanks.” He dug in his pocket for his billfold. “May as well give me two of everything; we have a new Sunday School under way and the children are fond of cake.” And wasn’t Dooley coming home in no time flat? “Then again, make that three of everything. Are Miss Lottie’s needs taken care of?”

  “They are. Her brother left her in good shape.”

  “I’ll be back now and then,” he said. “May I use your phone?”

  “On th’ wall over there.”

  No, Cynthia told him, Sammy hadn’t come home. He heard the anxiety in her voice.

  He left Greer’s Store with a sense of dread.

  Cynthia was beaming as she handed him the manila envelope he’d waited for.

  “Congratulations, darling.”

  They hugged, wordless.

  They were the proud new parents of a hundred-and-sixty-pound boy.

  Dear Father Tim,

  The Mitford Muse kindly shared your address.

  You won’t remember me, but Frank and I attended the nine o’clock at Lord’s Chapel when we came up from Fort Lauderdale each summer.

  Frank has passed on, and I am emptying our honse, Overlook, just two doors from poor Edith Mallory’s Clear Day. You would be so welcome to our piano! Frank played it at every single one of our parties for thirty years! Gershwin was his favorite, esp. “I’ve Got Rhythm!”

  And while we’re at it, could you use a nice card table and four chairs, a hall runner, an umbrella stand (very nice, only one dent), and a lamp made from the horns of a rinoscerous (sp?)?

  I am downsizing.

  Yours sincerely,

  Marsha Ford

  P.S. I hope all this would be tax deductible. One must think of these things. Anytime Tuesday would be convenient for you to pick everything up.

  Dear Mrs. Ford,

  Of course I remember you. You enjoyed wearing hats, a fashion which clergy are known to appreciate! And Frank was fond of giving out round tuits; I believe I still have mine.

  We would be delighted to take the whole kit and caboodle and yes, indeed, all should be tax deductible. I will supply something on paper four your records.

  I know precisely where you are and shall be there on Tuesday at eleven.

  My sincerest condolences; Frank was a very cheerful and upbeat fellow who made a difference in our midst.

  Yours in Him Who loved us first,

  Fr Timothy Kavanagh †

  The letter written, and his wife painting like a maniac, he preheated their fastidiously clean oven to 375, according to instructions.

  There was a sense of waiting in the air, something palpable; he was listening for a step on the porch, a knock on the door, the ringing of the phone; his shoulders were hitched up around his ears.

  He would try to forget what he was beginning to think, and surrender his all to this cake ...

  He plucked three brown eggs from the blue bowl and went about the exceedingly mysterious ritual that would result in laughter and happiness on Wilson’s Ridge.

  “It’s beautiful!” she said, meaning it.

  He’d gone up to heaven and beseeched his wife to come and see the common miracle he’d performed.

  It sat on a cream-ware cake stand in the center of the pine table, and he was smitten with it.

  “It worked,” he said. “I can’t believe it.”

  Even Buster and Lloyd had been impressed.

  “But it took two hours,” he lamented. “And that’s out of a box. Think what it would take from scratch.” He was mortified.

  “Two hours’ work,” she pronounced, “will last a mere fifteen minutes at Holy Trinity.”

  He could hardly wait ’til Sunday.

  “I can’t be brave any longer,” she said. The sun had just disappeared behind the mountain, and they sat, worn from waiting, in the old wicker chairs on the porch.

  “I don’t feel brave at all,” he confessed. “Worried sick is more like it.”

  “Me, too.”

  “The police, then.”

  “Yes.”

  He rose from the chair; the enormous weight of his body astonished him.

  Unconsciously, he shook his head all along the hall to the library. The prospect of a revolving blue light provoked in him a mixture of nausea and dread.

  He prayed as he dialed.

  Our Lord Emmanuel, thank You for living up to Your name and being with us ...

  He had walked out to the porch to wait for the county police when he heard the crunch of footsteps on the gravel. He knew at once ...

  Sammy ambled toward the porch, his tall, thin frame a silhouette in the dusky half-light.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself. Where have you been?”

  “Around.”

  “Around where?”

  Sammy shrugged.

  “Answer me, please.”

  Sammy sat down on the bottom step, his back to the vicar. “I spent th’ n-night in th’ b-barn.”

  “Come up to the porch. We’ll talk face-to-face.” He was giving it all he had to keep his voice calm.

  Sammy took his time rising from the step and walking up to
the porch.

  “Sit down,” said the vicar. “Tell me everything.”

  “They’s snakes in y’r barn.”

  “Not that.”

  “I hitched t’ Wesley this mornin’.”

  “Keep going.”

  “I waited ’til th’ p-pool hall opened. B-Bud wadn’t there.”

  Sammy jiggled his leg and looked at the floor.

  “I’m waiting.”

  “I lost all m’ m-money.”

  “All.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yes, sir.

  “Yes, sir. Dunn whipped my ass.”

  “You asked for it.”

  “Yeah.”

  “All your life there’s been no one to care where you are or what you’re doing. The minute you stepped foot on this place a few weeks ago, that changed. Now you have someone who cares very much where you are and what you’re doing. You also have someone to report to—and that someone is me.”

  Silence.

  “Listen carefully, and mark my words: This won’t happen again.”

  Sammy shrugged.

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yes, sir. What did I say?”

  “It w-won’t happen ag’in.”

  He heard the wheels of the county car crunching on the gravel.

  “It’s the police. Walk out with me.”

  “W-what’s happenin’?”

  “Walk out with me.”

  Father Tim went down the steps and out to the parking area. He turned around and waited for Sammy, and they walked to the car as it wheeled in. He was thankful there was no flashing blue light.

  An officer opened the driver’s door and stepped out. His partner stepped out the other side.

  “I’m Officer Justice; that’s Officer Daley. This th’ right place?”

  “Father Tim Kavanagh.” He shook hands with Justice. “It is the right place, and I owe you an apology. There’s been a mistake.”

  “We were told somethin’ about a missin’ boy.”

  “Yes, well, he isn’t missing at all. Standing right here in the flesh.”

  “Hey,” Sammy croaked.

  “You big, fat bonehead!” Cynthia punched Sammy on the arm. “Do that again and I’ll clean your clock.”