The Wedding Planners of Butternut Creek (3 page)

Catching him heading up, Gussie’s mother, Yvonne Milton, said, “We’re ready to go.” She hustled down the hall toward him with Janey in tow.

Although the Miltons rented Sam’s old house, they spent much of their time in the parsonage, Yvonne cooking and cleaning—bless her—and Henry reading and napping, watching sports and walking Chewy. Both had practically adopted the Firestones.

Carrying a tote and a picnic basket, Henry came out of the kitchen behind his wife. “Aren’t you ready for the game?”

“Let me change into my lucky shirt.” He ran up the steps.

Even as early as they arrived, Adam had to park on the far end of the lot and hike toward the gym with the pack of fans. The green and gold of the Butternut Creek faithful mixed with the blue and white worn by the Bayou City crowd.

Inside, the bottleneck caused by fans attempting to buy tickets at a small table staffed by two outnumbered and overwhelmed teachers stopped them. Not that the numbers compared to the throngs in the huge high school field houses Adam had played in when he lived in Kentucky. In that state, basketball was more than king. It was president, prime minister, and senator.

In Texas, where football came close to being a religion, governors were known to drop into small towns by helicopter to recruit top athletes for their alma maters. On the other hand, a basketball game usually served only as a place for students to meet friends, get out of the house, maybe pick up a date, and for parents to spend a winter’s evening cheering for their offspring in a mostly empty gym.

But tonight with the Butternut Creek faithful and fans from surrounding towns turning out, it would be standing room only. The noise and heat generated by all those bodies felt both suffocating and electrifying.

Once inside the gym, Adam searched the bleachers. His friend Sam Peterson stood and waved, then pointed toward the seats he and Willow had saved for them.

“Had to fight people off,” Sam said when Adam got closer.

“Yeah, like anyone would mess with a marine,” Willow said. She held her hands over her rounded stomach. Her pregnancy had begun to show more in the past month.

Adam sat next to Sam and saved a spot for Gussie on his right as Yvonne and Henry settled with Janey on a bleacher in front of them. “Where are the boys?” Adam searched the crowd for Leo and Nick until he spotted their red hair on the front row. “They don’t want to sit with the old folks?”

“No, but I’m not sure it’s wise to let them run around.” Sam grinned. He’d adopted Willow’s very active sons when they married. They would’ve driven Adam crazy but Sam loved them and they adored him. “Who knows what trouble they’ll cause? The only way to keep them close is to rope them and tie them up.” With a nod toward his wife, he added, “Their mother won’t let me do that.”

“I’m funny that way.” Willow leaned forward to peer around Sam. “Is Gussie coming?”

He nodded, then glanced toward the door and she appeared. He watched her for a second as she looked around for them, her dark curls bouncing, her face glowing with the happiness that made everyone smile back.

As he gazed at her, he realized that home wasn’t only the parsonage in Butternut Creek or the house in Kentucky where he’d grown up. Home was wherever Gussie and Hector and Janey were.

Now if he could just convince Gussie that her home was with him. He wouldn’t have believed any chance of that existed a few months ago, but lately? She was here and the odds had improved greatly.

He stood and waved and shouted.

When she spied him, Gussie’s smile widened. She loved him. He could see it on her face. Nothing in the world better than that—well, other than world peace and feeding the hungry. But knowing Gussie loved him came close to the top of his list.

She dodged other fans as she ran up the steps and slipped into the bleacher next to him. Adam put his arm around her shoulder, gave her a quick hug. “Game’s about to begin. Did you get dinner on the way?”

“Didn’t have time. Maybe we can grab something later.” She laughed. “Anyplace in Butternut Creek that’s still open after the game?”

“The parsonage. Your mother might rustle up something for you.”

Janey turned around, pointed to the ceiling of the gym, and asked something Adam couldn’t hear over all the noise.

But he didn’t have to hear her, only look up at the thing on the ceiling, which looked like a large gold ball with green streamers. Definitely BCHS colors, but he had no idea what it was.

“It holds confetti,” Willow shouted. “When I went to school here, we hung a huge bag of confetti up there to drop when we won a big game.”

Cheers and clapping interrupted their speculation as the teams came onto the court, Bobby and Hector, the two seniors, leading the Lions across the floor toward the home team’s bench as the band played the school fight song. He could see Mac with her trumpet and knew Miss Birdie had to be here somewhere.

Adam had known the game would be tough because the Bayou City Billy Goats had won the state 3A championship the last two years. The lead seesawed back and forth with the Lions leading by two at the half. After exciting third and fourth quarters, the game ended in a tie. Overtime.

Five more minutes and still a tie. By this time, both Bobby and the Lions’ sophomore center had four fouls; the Billy Goats’ big forward had fouled out.

At the end of the second overtime with two seconds left and the game knotted at seventy-two, Bobby stole the ball and passed it down the floor to Hector, who turned and tossed up a shot from the free-throw line.

The crowd erupted when the ball swished through the net. The band struck up again as the huge ball on the ceiling opened to dump an explosion of confetti. Within seconds, leaping athletes, screaming fans, and a layer of confetti scattered across the court.

Adam felt his hand being squeezed and looked down to see that Janey had moved next to him and was jumping up and down. “My brother won!”

Before he could respond, Adam noticed the refs standing in the middle of the floor. Although it looked as if they were blowing their whistles, the noise covered that, but they waved their hands wildly over their heads, looking like windmills caught in a tornado. Barely, through the noise of the crowd, he heard the insistent drone of the buzzer from the scorers’ table.

He watched as Coach Borden stopped pounding his players on the back and turned toward the ref who’d put his hand on Gabe’s shoulder. The official spoke directly into Gabe’s ear. Coach’s expression changed, first blank followed by disbelief. He pulled the players he could reach toward him, pointed at the clock, and said something. Confused, the athletes looked up. The eyes of all the fans followed their gaze. The scoreboard still showed a seventy-two to seventy-two tie with no time left. The celebration stopped. The teams headed toward the bench and sat: the Lions stunned and the Billy Goats elated.

“What happened?” Janey asked.

“I think Hector’s shot didn’t count,” Adam answered. “Time ran out.”

As the officials attempted to move the fans toward the seats, the announcer said, “Folks, that last shot came after time ran out. We have another overtime.”

Moans came from the Lion fans while the Billy Goat faithful celebrated. Both teams headed back to the locker rooms.

With the departure of the teams, everyone looked at the court. The closest fans had a few scraps of paper in their hair—more covered the scorers’ table—but the floor was heaped with drifts of multicolored paper scraps. It looked like a fanciful winter scene, the Hill Country covered with pink and blue and mint-green snow. Then two janitors stepped on the court, each with a trash barrel on wheels, push broom, and enormous dustpan.

“Folks, it’s going to take a little while,” the announcer said. “Just relax.”

It might have, except the citizens of Butternut Creek surrounded the court, undaunted by the task ahead and the possible collateral damage to their clothing. With precision, they moved inward, picking up handfuls and armloads of paper and dumping them into the barrels. Wastebaskets and plastic bags were brought to the court. Others took the filled bags and containers outside and returned to pick up more.

In only minutes the fans had nearly cleared the floor; the custodians made quick work of sweeping up the last bit. With the court clear, both teams returned to cheers and hoopla.

Sadly, during that last overtime, both Bobby and the sophomore center fouled out. Bayou City won by five. While the Billy Goats celebrated the victory, the Lion players sat on the bench with towels over their heads until Coach Borden reminded them to congratulate the other team.

It’s only a game played by high school kids
, Adam told himself, but the words didn’t make him feel any better and he knew how disappointed Hector would be.

Not that he had to worry about what to say to him right away. Bree and Hector and Bobby and whatever girl Bobby was dating would go someplace after they cleaned up. No reason to wait around.

Janey watched her brother, her chin quivering. He and Gussie held Janey’s hands between them as they slowly made their way out of the stands, through the gym, and out to the parking lot. They walked Gussie to her car, which she’d had to park on the street about a block away.

“Hope you’re still coming to the parsonage,” Adam said.

“With all the overtime, it’s late.” Gussie glanced at Adam.

“I’d like to see you and you’re hungry.”

“Which one’s more important?” She waved her hand. “You convinced me. Meet you there.”

Janey dropped Adam’s hand but kept hers in Gussie’s. “Can I ride with Gussie?”

Good idea for them to go together, just the two of them. “I’ll see you there.” He watched two of the people he loved most get in the car and take off. Then he headed back to the parking lot to find the Miltons.

“Where to?” he asked Yvonne, who sat in the passenger seat.

“Let us off at our place,” she said. “We old folks need our rest, and you need time alone with Gussie. If Hector hasn’t polished them all off, there are plenty of leftovers in the fridge.”

An hour later, after they’d eaten a few pieces of cold chicken and some biscuits and Janey had headed up to bed, Gussie leaned across the table. “Janey told me about her dyslexia.”

“Oh? What did she say? She’s very private.”

“I know. That’s why I felt honored. We just discussed what was going on. Was this the reason for the conference at school last week?”

“Sorry I couldn’t tell you. Janey worried everyone would look down on her.”

“She said it felt good to know what was wrong and that she wasn’t alone or stupid.” Gussie stood and began to clear the table. “My friend Clare is dyslexic so I know some of the issues.”

“I wish I’d noticed earlier.” Adam rinsed the plates and began to load the dishwasher.

“How would you have noticed? She’s in third grade. Many trained professionals and teachers missed it.”

“I know, but I should have known she had a problem. She always studied. I’ve never seen anyone study so hard except my sister.” He shook his head. “But my sister got great grades and loved to study. Janey’s grades are average, and I know she’d rather play than work so hard. I should have done better.”

“Adam, give yourself a break. You found two kids sleeping in the park because their father had gone to prison and the landlord kicked them out. You took them home. You’ve given them security.”

“But I always acted like a big brother not a father.”

“Well, you weren’t.”

“I should have done more…”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “You’ve been great with them. You drive Hector to visit his father in prison. You’ve loved them and supported them and…”

“But if I’d…”

Before he could say more, Gussie took a few steps toward him, put her hands on his shoulders, and kissed him. A very nice, very unexpected action. After that, she leaned against Adam and put her arms around his waist.

“A great way to end an argument.” He dropped his cheek onto the top of her head. “What do you want to fight about next?”

“Let’s just finish up in the kitchen, then we’d better go outside. Preacher, being here alone with me is going to ruin your reputation.”

“Okay, let’s go on out. I’ll finish up here later.”

As they settled on the swing, Gussie took Adam’s hand. “What’s happening with Hannah? Where is she now? Is she still in London with your folks?”

“Haven’t heard from my sister lately. I usually call on Sunday.”

“Usually?”

“I’m not sure where she is. She hasn’t answered an email for weeks.”

“Do you worry?”

“No, Mom will tell me if I should worry. Hannah’s not a touchy-feely stay-in-touch kind of person. I call her Gypsy because she’s always wandering around and because she looks like a gypsy.”

“When you were talking about Janey, you said Hannah studied a lot and liked it.”

“Always. Never saw her without a book. Has an amazing brain, soaks up everything, always determined to know more, to do better than anyone, and to finish med school as soon as possible. She knew what she wanted to do, go to Africa and heal the entire continent.”

They swung for a few minutes in contented silence. “I love this,” he said. “I love everything about Butternut Creek. The people, the trees and houses, the church.”

They waved as Tasha Ferguson, who lived across the street, headed out on her evening walk.

“But you and I are the very best part of Butternut Creek.” It didn’t make much sense but seemed to please Gussie.

She lifted her head and Adam placed his hand against her cheek.

“Definitely the best part,” Gussie agreed.

A
few minutes later, Gussie reluctantly stood and got in her car to drive to Sam’s old house. Adam waved, then went inside. He sat at the counter between the kitchen and family room where he often worked on a sermon or a Sunday school lesson. He could spread his books and notes out, and the hard stools kept him awake. For an hour, he turned the page of a Bible commentary and made notes on his tablet. The only sound came from Chewy, who snored on the dog bed next to the sofa.

He wished he had a computer in the parsonage. Why hadn’t he bought a laptop back when he had the money? Didn’t make much difference. He hadn’t because the PC had cost almost nothing. He kept the computer at the office and toted it home when he needed it. Not the handiest plan.

For only a second, he dropped his head on his arms to think about finances. As well as a computer, he needed a new car. He trusted the old one around town, as long as he kept Rex the mechanic on speed dial. And, he hoped, a wedding was coming up.

How could he possibly afford all that?

“Pops!”

Adam blinked. Hector stood next to him, a hand grasping Adam’s elbow.

“You don’t have to wait up for me,” Hector said. “How many times do I have to tell you? You were asleep and almost fell off your stool. Could’ve hurt yourself.”

“Not asleep, meditating.”

Hector snorted. “Guess the sound of snoring I heard came from Chewy.”

“Probably. And I wasn’t waiting up for you.” Adam stretched. “Outlining sermons for the next few weeks. I’m doing a series based on the Psalms…”

“Uh-huh,” Hector responded, then yawned so huge he nearly swallowed his hand.

Of course the kid wasn’t all that interested in the series of sermons, so he said, “You have fun with Bree and Bobby and his date?”

“Didn’t feel like having fun.” Hector closed his eyes and shook his head, but he didn’t say anything more, at least not with words.

Adam knew how he felt. He’d been through those big games and had come out on the losing end more often than winning, but he’d never had a college scholarship on the line. His parents paid for everything. He hadn’t had to worry about the scouts in the stands—not that they’d ever been interested in him. Tall but way too skinny.

“Want to talk?”

Hector shook his head again. “No, I’ll be okay. I know we did everything we could. I know it was only a game. I know”—he pointed at his head—“a lot of stuff but it still hurts to lose.”

The kid walked into the kitchen, took down a glass, and opened the refrigerator to pour himself a glass of milk. Once he’d put the carton back and closed the fridge, he turned toward Adam. “We had fun in the other regional games. We played well and felt great when we won. But…” He paused to search for words. “That loss felt horrible, wiped out the good memories. The bad feels a lot worse than the good felt good.”

Adam nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“I mean, it’s not like when Mom passed or when our father went to prison. Not like that and I know it’s not the end of the world but…”

Adam nodded again.

“Coach called a team meeting for tomorrow. We’ll talk about it.” Hector chugged his milk, then rinsed out the glass.

“Janey talked to Gussie about her dyslexia.” Adam watched Hector place the glass in the dishwasher.

“She did?” Hector considered that. “Well, that’s good. Pops, I think you’d better go ahead and marry Gussie. My sister needs a mother.”

Adam laughed. “You sound just like Miss Birdie.”

Hector looked embarrassed but the expression flickered past quickly. Adam would’ve missed it if he weren’t familiar with Miss Birdie’s tactic of bringing as many people as possible to her side and pushing them very hard to take action. He’d heard that Janey-needs-a-mother argument straight from the pillar’s mouth.

Did he mind that the Widows had captured Hector and he’d become an additional nagging unit?

Not a bit. He remembered Sam’s complete capitulation to the pillar and her cadre. In fact, Sam had welcomed anyone’s efforts or input on his behalf to win Willow, even the Widows at their most officious and interfering. Like Sam, Adam would take any available help, but he felt maybe he could handle courting Gussie by himself from now on.

“Night. You need to go to bed, too. It’s nearly one o’clock.” Hector tiptoed up the back steps so he wouldn’t awaken his sister. At least, he did what he thought was tiptoeing, but going up stairs quietly with feet as big as Hector’s was impossible.

After the sermon and the offering Sunday morning, Adam gave the call to communion. “We meet here not because we are worthy but because we are called here,” he said. “All believers are invited to gather around this table by our Savior. This is His table, not ours.”

He loved to look out over the congregation when they celebrated communion every week. Gussie and Janey sat together with Yvonne, then Hector, Bobby, and Henry nearly filling the third pew.

“Let us prepare ourselves for this meal by singing hymn number one fifteen.” The elders and deacons came down the center aisle as the congregation sang.

In January, the worship committee—which was made up of the Widows and a few others who knew better than to oppose them—had decided to try a new method to celebrate the Eucharist. Though
Eucharist
was not the word they used because they considered that a high-church concept. They preferred the more informal terms of
Lord’s Suppe
r
and
Communion
.

With the old method, after the elders prayed, the deacons had one tray with wafers with the taste and consistency of Styrofoam in the middle and tiny, individual disposable plastic cups filled with grape juice in circles around them. However, the women had been to a retreat where the deacons used two trays and people broke off a piece of bread. Seemed a little unwieldy at first, but everyone had adjusted.

While they sang, Adam glanced down at the covered trays of bread in front of Ralph and the trays with juice in front of Pansy, the woman who did everything in the church that the Widows couldn’t handle. She’d be a Widow, too, Miss Birdie had told Adam, if her husband would just go ahead and die.

For a second, Adam thought he saw something move, just a tiny jerk beneath the lid over one of the cups. He told himself not to allow his mind to wander and looked down at the hymnal.

When the congregation finished the hymn, Adam began the words of institution from First Corinthians, “‘For I received from the Lord…’” The scripture completed, Pansy said a prayer for the bread and wine.

As she said, “Amen,” Pansy grasped the top of the communion cover and lifted it. Immediately a cloud of something leaped into the air from the tray. Although Ralph would always deny it later, both elders screamed, ran up the stairs to the chancel, and hid behind the organ.

Adam blinked several times. Not that he was made of stouter stuff than the elders, but he didn’t run because he had no idea what made up this cloud. The deacons, two flanking each now-absent elder, hadn’t immediately taken in either what had happened or why the elders had fled. When they did, they all leaped backward and began swatting at the cloud of what Adam suddenly recognized as crickets.

Crickets? Yes, masses of them, hordes leaping from the tray, across the table, and every which way. Mrs. Wade, one of the deacons, screamed and fell over a step as she attempted to escape while the other three ran toward the narthex and left her to fend for herself.

Before Adam could act, the throng of insects headed toward the front of the sanctuary. Many in the congregation who sat in the front rows leaped on their pews. That change of location didn’t help much, because the crickets could hop farther and higher than Adam had realized. Finally he made the ineffectual response of slapping the cover back on the communion tray, then turning to help poor Mrs. Wade.

Fortunately, Mac, Bree, Bobby, and Hector ran forward. Bree opened the side door. They used that exit only in emergencies but if this didn’t count as an emergency, Adam didn’t know what did. Mac and Bobby attempted to herd the insects out that door by stomping and waving bulletins while Hector knelt next to the deacon who’d nearly passed out. He took her hand and said, “There, there, Mrs. Wade. You’re going to be fine. You just take my hand and we’ll get out of here.”

Mrs. Wade grabbed his arm as if it were Moses’s staff saving her from the plague of…well, crickets. Hector pulled her to her feet and out of the sanctuary into the office hallway.

Within a few minutes, the cricket population had been thinned and a tenuous order returned. Nearly immediately, all eyes turned to stare at Leo and Nick, easily located due to their red hair that shone like burning bushes in the light from the stained-glass windows.

Leo blurted out, “Don’t look at me. I didn’t do it. I don’t know a thing about this.”

Like the rest of the congregation, he looked at his brother.

Nick sat in the pew and lifted his eyes toward the stained-glass window of St. Cecilia over the organ, looking as innocent as a martyr.

As Sam fell back against the pew laughing so hard he couldn’t sit up, Willow stood faster than Adam had thought a woman as pregnant as she could, glared at her husband, took Nick’s hand, and dragged him down the aisle, around the side of the chancel, and toward the communion room.

The rest of the service was lost. Knowing there was no way he could get the congregation to focus and that no one really wanted to partake of grape juice crickets had romped through, Adam raised his hand, gave the benediction, and headed toward the doors to the highway to greet people as they left. Most of the worshippers seemed to have found the experience hilarious. One or two, including poor Pansy and Mrs. Wade, didn’t. After comforting both women, Adam took off his robe, handed it to Gussie, and headed back to the communion room where the penitent and his family awaited him.

As he entered, Willow pointed at Sam, who still struggled not to laugh. “He’s worse than either of the boys. Anytime the boys do something terrible, he thinks it’s funny. It’s as if I had three little boys.”

Sam put his arm around her and hugged her. “Sorry. I love you. I love them, but they make me laugh. I’m doing the best I can.” With great effort, he assumed a somber expression and, with a ferocious and fatherly glare, he turned to Nick. “Tell us what happened.”

“Why does everyone assume I did this?” Nick asked in the quivering voice of the unjustly accused.

“Nicholas?” Sam said in that very marine voice.

“Yes, sir.” Nick looked down at the floor. “I had to feed my lizard.”

“Your what?” Willow demanded. “You have a lizard?”

Nick nodded.

“Did you know about this?” she asked Leo.

He nodded.

“Where is it?”

“Under my bed,” Nick said.

“In my house?” Willow demanded. “You have a lizard under your bed in our house?”

Adam had not realized Willow could screech. Not that he blamed her. “Let’s hear the story of the crickets, first,” Adam suggested. “Then you can talk about the lizard as a family.”

Willow nodded.

“Well,” Nick started. “I found this lizard in the backyard of Sam’s old house a few weeks ago.” He held his hands a foot or so apart. “He’s about this big and boy does he eat a lot. I gave him lettuce and even bought some lizard food but I didn’t have more money and I knew they liked crickets and I saw a bunch here last week.” After he finished that long and complicated sentence, he took a deep breath. “During Sunday school this morning, I asked to go to the bathroom. Instead I went outside with a jar I hid back there and captured a whole bunch of crickets. Then I came into the communion room to give them a little water. I took the top of the jar off and dribbled some water in but…” He dropped his head.

“But?” Sam prodded.

“The glass was slippery from the water and I dropped the jar and it broke and all these crickets came out and jumped all over the place.” He flapped his hands around to show the exodus of the insects. “Did you know crickets are really attracted to grape juice?” Nick shook his head. “I didn’t.”

“Interesting but not the reason we’re here,” Willow said. “Go on.”

“Anyway, they all headed toward the communion tray like it was steak or something.” He nodded. “Like, they attacked it. I tried to pick them off. I got a handful and took it outside, but when I came back all of them were swarming around the juice. I guess someone had forgotten to put the cover on.”

“Our elders don’t expect to have crickets in the communion room,” Adam said.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Nick looked around the group, at Sam, then Willow and Adam but skipping Leo. He was the picture of innocence, his skin pale as a martyr’s, which made his
freckle
s stand out while his eyes pled for understanding.

“You’re not fooling us,” Sam said. “Keep going.”

Nick gulped. “I tried. I really tried. I kept taking handfuls of crickets out but it was like they were multiplying. I couldn’t get them all.” He shook his head. “And I’d taken so long and my Sunday school teacher was calling me so, finally, when there weren’t as many crickets hopping around, I put the cover on the tray. I hoped they’d die before church, maybe drown or suffocate. I hoped no one would notice.”

When Sam put his hand over his mouth to hide his grin, Willow glared at him.

“They didn’t die,” Leo said with big-brother superiority. “And people did notice.”

“I know.” Nick dropped his head and looked at the floor. Every inch of him from the top of his spiky red hair to the scuffed toes of his athletic shoes drooped in agony. “I’m so sorry.”

No one could look as despondent, chastised, and thoroughly remorseful as Nick. Adam knew that because he’d been treated to the expressions of the repentant Nick on dozens of occasions. The depth of his contrition was always extraordinary. Every single time.

“Nick, communion is an important part of our service,” Adam said in the serious, ministerial tones he used to preach. “It is a holy and sacred act. People meditate and pray. Do you know that?”

Nick nodded with what Adam felt could be true repentance.