Irises (15 page)

Mary looked out the front window and watched Aunt Julia hurry to the cab and climb in the back. Lately, Aunt Julia seemed restless, as if she were itching to go back home as soon as possible. Mary hoped the insurance money would make Aunt Julia want to stay with her and Mother, since Kate was planning to go away.
Aunt Julia's not so bad
, she thought. But she wasn't sure she truly believed that.

Mary went into Mama's room and propped her head up with pillows. She did that a few times a day to change the position of her spine. Then she turned on the overhead light as well as the lamp next to the bed. The curtains were closed, so only the pale light from the lightbulbs fell on Mama's face. She reminded Mary of someone in a painting by El Greco, someone whose face glowed with light and shadow all at once. She wondered if she had captured that glow in the portrait of Mama she had done. At that moment, Mama had her eyes open, but they did not focus on Mary or anything else. In her portrait, Mama's eyes were focused on a distant point, as if she were contemplating angels hovering above her.

She heard a knock at the door and hurried to the front room. The front door was closed, so Kate must have gotten locked out. Mary opened the door and jumped back a step when she saw Mr. Lucas and Mr. Acevedo in their black Sunday suits. The kids at church called Mr. Lucas the Scarecrow because he looked like a brown version of the character in
The Wizard of Oz
. Mr. Acevedo was known as Humpty Dumpty behind his back on account of his round shape.

It was Mr. Lucas who spoke first. “Hello, Mary. May we come in?”

Mary looked at him and then at Mr. Acevedo. There was not even a hint of a smile on their faces. They had seemed happier at Papa's funeral than they did now.

“Sure,” Mary said, opening the door.

She pointed toward the sofa and asked if they could excuse her for a second. She went to Mama's room and removed th
e pillows
from behind her head, because there was more danger of her falling or choking when she was propped up. S
he returned
to the living room and smiled. Mr. Lucas a
nd Mr. Acevedo
smiled back with forced, tight expressions. Mary knew right then that they were coming to deliver b
ad news
.

“Is your sister here?” Mr. Acevedo asked.

“She was still at church when I left. She should be h
ere soon
.”

“Oh.” Mr. Acevedo glanced at Mr. Lucas. It was obvious that they had not anticipated Kate's absence and now they were lost. In the meantime, Mary was getting nervous that Kate had gone over to Simon's house. There was no reason for her to come home and prepare Sunday dinner the way she used to when Papa was alive.

“I guess we can wait a few minutes until she gets back,” Mr. Lucas said.

“Would you like some lemonade?” she asked. Kate had made some the day before.

“Sure, sure,” Mr. Lucas answered, apparently on behalf of both men.

She walked into the kitchen and went about preparing the drinks as slowly as she could, taking the tall plastic glasses from the pantry, cracking the ice cube containers over the counter, and filling the glasses with lemonade. The only time she had prayed that morning was in the few moments in church before Reverend Soto began to speak, but she prayed again at that moment for Kate to come home as soon as possible. She waited in the kitchen a couple more minutes, listening for the front door to open, but all she could hear was the raspy noise of Mr. Lucas's breathing.

She returned to the living room and handed them the lemonade. Mr. Lucas took a sip, smiled, and burped. Mr. Acevedo looked around for someplace to put the glass. On the wall in front of the sofa was a picture of the Last Supper. “That's a nice picture,” he said. “Is it new?”

“It's been there for many years,” she said. Mr. Lucas and Mr. Acevedo had visited Papa countless times before and had sat on the very sofa where they were now sitting, but she knew they were just trying to make conversation until Kate arrived. “Papa hung it on the wall the first day we moved to the house. Mama told me about it. She said it was a wedding gift from Grandpa, Papa's father, who was also a minister.”

Mr. Lucas and Mr. Acevedo began to squirm as if a couple of worms had crawled in their pants. Mary glanced at the door, but there was no Kate, and she resigned herself to dealing with their business. She sat down in the armchair and said with as much calm as she could muster, “I guess Kate may not be coming home straight from church. She might have gone out to lunch with Simon.”

Mr. Acevedo cupped the lemonade glass with both hands. “I s-s-see,” he stuttered. He looked at Mr. Lucas for guidance. Mr. Lucas shrugged his shoulders. Mr. Acevedo frowned, then cleared his throat and began to speak.

“We”
— he made a gesture with his hand to include both himself and Mr. Lucas
— “I mean, the church council and the deacons wanted us to talk to you and your sister.” He paused, clearly hoping that Mr. Lucas would continue, but Mr. Lucas chose that moment to gulp down half his glass of lemonade. Mr. Acevedo had no choice but to go on. “Well, I guess, first I want to tell you that the church is going to pay for your father's funeral expenses. That came to about four thousand dollars. You decided on a burial rather than cremation, but that was okay with the church.”

“Cremation is a lot cheaper,” Mr. Lucas piped in.

Mary wondered why he was bringing up the fact the church would pay for Papa's funeral. It had never occurred to her or Kate, she was sure, that they wouldn't. Maybe it was a mistake for them to think that way and they just didn't know any better. But it made her sad that the church found it necessary to tell them about it. Papa's life and death felt cheapened by talk of the cost of funerals and money.

“We have also collected a special offering for you and your sister from all the church members. The members of our church are poor, you know that, but somehow they dug deep and sacrificed, and we took money from a reserve fund, and all told we collected ten thousand dollars.” He paused for Mary to react.

“Thank you,” she said. It would take a lot of money from each of the two hundred members to make up ten thousand dollars.

“There's also a pension plan that the church contributed to,” Mr. Lucas said. “It had built up to about sixty thousand dollars before the market came crashing down, and now it's about a third less than that, but it will help.”

“The church also paid for seventy-five percent of your father's health insurance,” Mr. Acevedo added, “and correct me if I'm wrong”
— here he turned to Mr. Lucas
— “but you two girls should be covered perhaps until you graduate from college. Coverage for your mother, of course, ran out a long time ago.”

“That's correct,” said Mr. Lucas. “But you'll need to check up on the coverage because the law has changed.”

Mary nodded that she understood, but she was beginning to lose grasp of what they were saying. She wished with all he
r heart
for Kate to be sitting next to her. Kate would bring a chair from the dining room, place it in front of the two m
en,
and pepper them with questions. Mary took a deep breath, because from the look on their faces, it appeared as i
f Mr
. Acevedo and Mr. Lucas were about to deliver the ba
d news
.

Mr. Acevedo spoke. “You know that the church misses your father very much. We appreciate all that he did for it.” He swallowed. “But
.
.
. we need to move on. The church council and the deacons have a responsibility to find a new minister.
I mean
, it will be hard to fill your father's shoes, but we n
eed to
.”

“We have to do it as soon as possible, otherwise we're goi
ng to
lose members. They'll go to another church.” Mr. Lucas moved to the edge of the sofa. His right eye began to twitch.

“The Protestant churches here in El Paso are so small. You know, everyone is Catholic. We're very, very fortunate to have as many members as we have. But we've been losing them by the dozen. In the past two years alone, we've lost over fifty people.”

They seemed to be attributing the loss to Papa, and Mary prepared herself to defend him, the way Kate would if she were there.

“We set up a search committee right away,” Mr. A
cevedo said
.

“But then an opportunity came up that we're all excited about.” Mr. Lucas finished Mr. Acevedo's sentence. Mr. Acevedo glanced at him, annoyed.

“Reverend Soto, you know, you saw him today. He's agreed to be with us until we find a permanent minister. Many members are already saying that even though he's young, he'd be the perfect replacement. They want someone more vibrant like him, who will attract young families with children. Young families are what keep churches going.”

“More vibrant?” Mary said. How could these people possibly think that Papa was not vibrant? Papa was dynamic in the way that mattered most. His sermons made souls vibrate with warmth and praise and, yes, sometimes, sorrow and shame. How could they think that the preaching of Reverend Soto was better?

“We don't mean any disrespect to your father,” Mr. Acevedo said apologetically. “What we mean to say is that the direction of the church is different from when your father was leading it. Actually, the direction has been different for quite a while.”

She looked at them, perplexed. Father was leading people to God. What other direction was there?

“You saw how people were this morning at church. They were inspired. The Holy Spirit filled them up and they expressed that. There was so much emotion. That's what people are looking for in a church these days.”

It almost seemed as if they had fired Papa a long time before and now they were telling her why they had done it. Okay, maybe Papa wasn't giving the church what the church was looking for, and maybe the Reverend Soto was God's special gift come to save it, but Papa was dead now. Why tell her all of this? “So?” She sounded rude, but she didn't care.

“We're very lucky to have Reverend Soto,” Mr. Lucas said. “There are churches all over that are eager to get him. And if we grab him now, we might be able to keep him permanently. He's indicated his willingness to be our permanent minister. It's such a blessing for a church to find someone so young who is willing to stay with us forever.”

“Good,” she said. It was as cold and distant as she could be.

“But
.
.
.” Mr. Lucas started to say. He turned to Mr. Acevedo.

“There's a
.
.
. I guess you can say a small problem.”

“Reverend Soto already has an offer from a church in Lubbock as an assistant pastor,” Mr. Lucas said. “A church offering him better pay, better living expenses.” He looked around the room, and Mary followed his eyes. Their living room suddenly felt very shabby to her. “He has to let them know yes or no on the offer by next week.”

She was feeling dizzy. They were trying to tell her something, but she wasn't catching on. “So?” she repeated.

“The problem is that we need the parsonage right away.” Mr. Acevedo seemed relieved to finally get the words out, the same words that had probably been stuck in his throat since he came in.

Mary breathed in. Mr. Acevedo's announcement was harsh, but its harshness did not affect her. Instead she felt strong, the kind of strength she had always admired in Kate. “What is ‘right away'?” she asked.

“The thing is,” Mr. Acevedo said. He was looking at his brown, pointed shoes. “Reverend Soto needs to have a place for the summer
.
.
. say, by the first day of June.”

Mary laughed. She couldn't help herself. “It's the beginning of April. That's not possible.”

“I know it's short notice,” Mr. Acevedo began to say.

“There's nothing we can do about it. If we don't agree, we'll lose him,” Mr. Lucas added.

“Does he know it's just Kate and me and Mama? Can't he at least wait until the end of summer? Can't he find a place to live for a few months? Where are we going to go?”

“It's not that he doesn't understand your plight,” Mr. Acevedo said. “He's a very kind man. But he's not from El Paso, as you know. He needs a permanent place to live. He's made having the parsonage by June first a condition of staying with us. He knows your circumstances, and he thinks it's best for you if you don't stay in this house past June.”

“Best for us?” She felt disgusted. “But where will we go?”

“We heard you have an aunt,” Mr. Lucas said tentatively.

“Aunt Julia.” She was beginning to look more and more like their best hope. Mary took another deep breath. There was no reason why she should be upset. It was something everyone knew was coming. But June first? She looked at them. “Papa served in your church for twenty years and you want us to move out in two months?”