The Digger's Rest (50 page)

Mike
took
the
book
an
d
examined
i
t
closely.
He
put
his
hand
out
to
the
Revere
n
d
to
shake.
“Thank
you,
Reverend,”
he
said
smiling,
genuinely
touc
hed
by
the
old
man’s
kindness
to
him
in
so
many
w
a
ys.

“
You’ve
given
so
much
to
us
here
at
the
church,
I
wanted
to
give
you
somethin’
back
so
you
might
bette
r
understand
who
we
are
and
how
m
u
ch
your
help
has
meant
to
us,”
Josiah
Willis
said,
p
utting
his
h
a
nd
on
Mike’s
shoulder.
The
old
man
looked
into
Mike’s
sincere
blue
eyes,
the
windows
to
his
soul,
rememberi
n
g
the
first
time
they
met;
this
big,
hulking,
Aryan
Nation-looking
white
man
with
a
close
cropped
black
goatee
and shaved head coming up fast behind him.

The
Reverend
was
walking
to
his
car
after
interviewing
builders
to
renovate
his
old
187
0
c
h
urch
at
the
local
Italian
restaurant,
B
e
lla
Angelina.
He
remembered
how
frightened
he
got
thinking
,
Oh
Lord,
this
is
it.
This
m
a
n
is
goin’
to
kill
m
e
,
as
h
e
tried
to
rush
with
his
walking
stick
toward
the
s
a
fety
of
his
car but
t
h
e
man
wa
s
t
o
o
fast.
A
m
o
ment
l
a
ter
the
ma
n
was
upon
him.
The
Reverend
turned,
trapped
between
the
man and
the
car,
putting
u
p
his
hands,
instinctual
l
y
defensive,
almost
cryi
n
g
out.

“
Reverend
Willis?”
the
big
man
asked.
“I’m
Mike
Golden from
Golden
Touch
Res
t
orations
and
Renovations.
Sorry
I’m
late,
I
almost
missed
you,”
Mike
had
s
a
id,
seemingly
oblivious
to
the
fact
that
t
h
e
ol
d
Reverend
was
obviously
scared
to
death of him.

The
minute
he
heard
Mike’s
gruff
voice
with
its
gentle inflections
and
saw
the
almost
childlike
sincerity
in
his
soft
blue
eyes,
not
at
all
understanding
the
effect
his
appearance
could
have
on
an
old
black
man,
Josiah
Willis
bre
a
thed
a
sigh
of
relief.
Then
when
h
e
s
a
w
Mike’s
smile,
he
saw
what
any
o
ne
with
eyes
c
o
uld
see;
this
big
,
rough
man
had
a
kindness
about
him,
an
easy
friendliness
and
opennes
s
that
couldn’t
help
but
make
one
t
a
ke
to
him
instantly.
They
talked
outside
of
the
car
for
awhile
and
Mike
gave
the
Reverend
his
bid
numbers
and
sketches for the work.

Reverend
Willis
hired
him
three
weeks
later.
Mike
had
the
lowest
bid,
the
best
port
f
olio
and
the
Reverend
just
plain
liked
him.
And
his
choice
proved
him
right.
The
work
Mik
e
had done
to
re
s
t
ore
the
ol
d
church
was
exceptional,
giving
it
back
a
life
it
had
long
lost
and
the
fact
th
a
t
Mike
hired
some
of
the
unemploye
d
men
from
the
church
to
help
do
the
work
and teach
t
h
em
a
trade
at
the
same
time
brought
Mike
close
into
their
world.
The
ladies
of
the
church
were
alwa
ys
bringing
him
food;
Miss
Ida
Mae
Bovee’s
frie
d
chicken
and
biscuits
her
sister,
Miss
Gwynnie’
s
potat
o
sa
l
ad
an
d
ro
a
s
t
pork
a
n
d
especially
Sister
Florence’s
fri
e
d
fish,
macaroni
a
n
d
cheese
and
greens.
The
best
Mike
had
ever
taste
d
.
And
every
Thursday
as
he
knew
he
could
count
on,
Sister
Florence
would
pull
up into
the
ch
u
r
ch
parking
lot
and
sh
o
ut
from
the
car
with
a
large
voice
that
could
carry
across
acres.
“Hi,
hunee,
how’re
you?”

As
Mike
and
the
Reve
r
e
nd
walked
through
the
recently completed
work,
they
came
to
t
h
e
back
of
the
large,
white,
one-room
church,
to
the
nave
behind
where
the
altar
would
be.
The
back
wall
to
t
h
e
nave
wa
s
covered
w
i
th
a
multi-
colored,
paint-stained
ta
rp.
Mike
left
the
Rever
e
nd
in
th
e
vacant
a
l
tar
space
an
d
walked
up
to
the
tarp,
grabbing
one
end
and
with
a
swift
tug,
yanked
the
tarp
from
the
window.
Reverend
Willis
gasped
and
t
ook
a
step
back.
The
stained
glass
window
he
loved
but
couldn’t
afford
had
been
installed
while
he
was
gone.
“Oh,
Michael!”
he
sighed,
covering
his
mouth
with
his
hand
in
awe,
his
eyes
filling
to
overflowing.