Mammoth Secrets (6 page)

“Mm. Time, and a toll.” Nana nodded, sharp. “On all of us.”

“Thank you for thinking of me, ma'am.” He crunched the fried potato chip, hoping for a change of subject.

“They say you've got some plans for this ol' place.” She waved toward the faded white structure.

“We've gotta keep moving forward, don't we?”

Her thin-set lips showed Naomi Dale obviously didn't agree. “I was married in this church. Baptized here, same as Earl and the girls. Been to countless funerals here, too.” She turned on her heel, heading to the little rose garden and plucked a few curled brown, fading leaves. “It'd be a shame to change much when this here's the glue that holds Mammoth together.”

“I'll try and remember that.”

With a curt nod, she headed home, up the hill.

Lilah had been right. Folks in town didn't want change, her grandmother most of all.

Lord, tell me what to do.
He stared at the white, ivy-covered steeple against the bright, spring sky, heart full of ideas and longing.
I didn't come here to do what they wanted, but to give them what they need.

Is that why you came, Jake? Really?

Thoughts speared back to the day he left, the way his father squeezed his shoulder, told him they'd take him back in a heartbeat, get him on target for a larger, growing church, should he change his mind. If all else failed, his dad would fix things for him. Again. The knowledge was oil in his gut as a greedy vine of wonder grew in his thoughts. Would he want to go back?

His gaze took in the trees, their new, bright green leaves rustled in a slight spring breeze against a vivid, cloudless sky. The roses announced blooms would soon return with tight buds and purple leaves. From the dry and the dead, new leaf buds transformed the thorn-covered stalks into something beautiful. In the back meeting area, a large plot of grass sat, poised and ready to be covered by Revival tents and chairs.

Revival. What were they reviving exactly? Would the existing parish sing, pray, and congratulate themselves on their piety while true revelry went on as always over at the fairgrounds? Carnival folk hawked rides, ring tosses, and feats of strength, and in turn hosted an array of clandestine activities in the tents and trailers.

Both Tom and Naomi said the church and town needed a change of spirit and funding. He'd been fishing for ideas with Lilah on how to involve the younger set. Maybe this was a good time to see how the next generation of his congregation could set things in motion.

An idea seeded in his gut. Jake checked his sign. It looked firm, but he knew from construction that it would continue to set for days, if not weeks. Just because it looked strong on the outside didn't mean it was finished. And neither was this little church. He trotted up the trio of steps, inside the unadorned sanctuary. At first sight? It looked naked. But now? Maybe that was just as it should be. Plastered white walls, save for handmade quilts—each a work of art in its own right, centered with a verse from scripture–made by the women of the Quilting Guild, of which he'd read Naomi Dale was in charge.

In the back, light streamed through the cracked stained glass.

The image startled him in its clarity and unique style. Jesus as a shepherd, a lamb cradled in his arms, stood before the rest of the sheep on a distant Ozark hill. In between the thoughtful shepherd and his flock, the river flowed around black rocks; a lake bloomed out from the spring, the message of the parable clear in the stylized face. The artisan set the scene at the heart of Mammoth, at Cherokee Springs Park.

“I asked for it, didn't I, Father?” Jake stood in wonder, bathed in the warm, vibrant rainbow of color streaming through that window. “Just go easy on me until I get my footing.”

A floor-to-ceiling crack in the panes that split the hillside flock in two. The breeze sailed through. That'd have to be fixed, for sure, somehow.

Someday.

If he stayed.

Decide.

With the boxed lunch out on his desk, he rattled ice in the cup and sipped. Jake dragged out a phone book, note pad, and pen and set to work.

 

 

 

 

8

 

By the time the deacons arrived for their weekly meeting, Jake had more questions for them than answers. How did anyone get anything done here in this trough of a valley? Businesses didn't answer their phones, and the ones that did weren't interested. As far as he could tell, Tom's assessment that he was the only contractor within two hundred miles wasn't far from the truth.

Another car parked. Out the window, a trio of “Hey” and “How do” in that Ozarkian twang had him smiling. The slow speech matched the snail's pace lifestyle he wasn't sure he'd ever get used to. He stepped out of the office and into the main meeting room.

Metal folding chairs were set up across the tile floor. Someone dusted off the podium. A table had cookies and brownie bars, next to a perking industrial coffee dispenser, and Emma Thompson arranged paper cups and napkins. Pregnant belly tenting the dress she wore, she nodded to her tall, lanky husband. “That'll set you up, Scottie. Evenin', Pastor Jake.”

They said how d'ya dos and nibbled her homemade cookies. He lasered attention on her sweet, twanging tone. Most certainly, she'd left one or more of those anonymous prayer requests about Lilah.

“This'n can't get here soon enough.” She rubbed a protective circle over her broad belly. “I got hands to help, with my eldest daughter, but she's got high school midterms and college scholarships to apply for. She don't need to end up mothering four kids before she's thirty. No offense, Scottie.”

“None taken, doll.” He kissed the top of her head and smiled. “Go rescue Charla before the little ones tear her project to shreds.” Love shining in his gaze, Scott watched his wife leave then turned to Jake as the door closed. “We got married right out of high school. Never had much. She worked as a grocery checker until I got my teaching degree.”

“You've got a beautiful family.”

“The Lord just gave us a hefty blessing in that area.”

That brought a handful of laughs from around the room.

Scott clapped Jake on the shoulder. “Go meet the others. This here ministry's mine and Emma's.”

Jake caught the slightest tinge of concern in Scott's eyes. The look vanished as quickly as it arrived, but no one else seemed to take note. He was quite sure no one noticed Scott at all, aside from a back slap and a ribbing on yet another Emerson family impending arrival.

The rest of the men arrived. More chairs were hauled in from the storage shed. It seemed every deacon, elder, and male parishioner had come to the weekly meeting to check out the new pastor.

Jake's hand repeatedly pumped in greeting. He memorized names, faces, and listened to veiled concerns.

The men cycled around one subject. The carnival. Each had their own thoughts of how to stop, confront, or tell folks to avoid it.

Jake did his best to listen, but he couldn't stop thinking about the previous exchange at Scott's expense, that still haunted the man's eyes. Regret, maybe? Not for his wife, or his children; his love for them shone. Something else, buried deeper and laying heavy. He'd catch up with him later and get him to talk when they didn't have an audience.

Jake went to the podium. He led them in a quick but powerful prayer, and then gazed around the room after the “Amen!”

He gave a silent plea for strength to get through what was sure to be a difficult meeting. “Thanks, everyone, for turning out tonight and for the warm welcome.”

They applauded and settled into a respectful silence as he explained the announcement from Tom about the new roof and the budgetary concerns for the renovations.

Mumbling went through the crowd, and Tom stood to explain the costs and materials, but no one seemed focused on his report. There were nervous stares and the folding and unfolding of the meeting's agenda pamphlets. Everyone, it seemed, was concentrating on the next discussion point.

“Thanks, Tom.” Jake resumed his place. “I guess you know we're here to talk about plans for the month. The Revival—”

The doors opened with a flourish and all heads turned. Naomi led Earl Dale into the room with shuffling steps. “Forgive me, everyone. Earl here's having a good night. I thought maybe he'd enjoy listening to your meeting. If you don't mind, Pastor Gibb.” Her gaze was a cold stare daring him to say no.

“Earl's always welcome, Mrs. Dale.” Jake strode across and took him by the elbow. Someone vacated chair, and Jake directed him to sit. “I'll get him home after, unless of course, you'd rather stay?”

Naomi's brows shot up.

A slight gasp went through at what was obviously an unwritten rule: Men Only.

“We'll help him get back over,” Tom spoke up. “Never you mind yourself, ma'am.”

Naomi departed.

Earl settled. “Thanks, boys. That woman hovers about me like a mother hummingbird.”

“Always has, Earl.” A portly man in a red checked shirt clapped his shoulder.

“Always will, I reckon.” Earl chuckled. He sipped coffee that someone brought. “Mmm. That's a good cup o' joe. What're we talkin' bout tonight?”

“Revival Meeting,” they answered in a chorus.

Jake exhaled, shuffled papers. “I was about to discuss plans for location.”

“We can get two hundred souls in tents in the back,” the owl-eyed fellow offered. “If we go with that rental company from Thayer again.”

Mumbles of approval rattled through, along with budget and traffic concerns.

Jake drummed his thumbs on the table. He didn't hear one question that stemmed from the real purpose for having a revival. He held up a hand, but no one seemed to notice.

“Knock off the racket!” Earl spoke up and the room fell silent. “Our pastor's got something to say.” He frowned then turned to Jake. “Go ahead, son.”

“Thanks, Mr. Dale.” Jake held his hands out. “Now, it's all well and good to talk rental companies, tents, and traffic control. But I've got an idea that you should take under consideration.”

They sat in rapt attention.

“The Reunion Carnival's scheduled for the same weekend as the Revival. I'm sure that's not a coincidence.”

“Been that way long as I can remember,” Scott spoke up.

“Longer than that,” Earl acknowledged.

“We've got to combat the elements that those travelin' folk bring to the valley.” Tom wagged a finger.

“And how are we going to do that, exactly?” Jake's voice quelled the rabble.

The crowd sat in silence.

“How, indeed?” He continued, “Unless we host His Revival where folks happen by. Maybe they'll come in from the Reunion.”

Their instant disapproval soaked him in a wave.

“Drunken revelry” and “Heathens!” followed by “Trouble-makers, all of 'em!”

“That may be...but what good is it, re-saving ourselves every Sunday? We need to throw out life rafts to those in need. And where better, than across the fairgrounds from the carnival?”

More disapproval. Owl-eyes stood to leave, crumpling his pamphlet for effect.

Earl Dale struggled to his feet and walked up to the front in unsure steps.

The crowd hushed.

Jake grasped the elderly man's elbow, then stepped back to let Earl have his say.

“When I was a boy, I hunted those woods every day rather than go to school. That old school house is still out there, you know. It's a monument, I guess, or some crazy thing.”

“Yes.” Tom spoke up, impatient. “My company renovated it last year. They have weddings out there, family picnics.”

“I know Naomi thinks otherwise...” Earl grinned. “But I was saved out there on that plot of land, in that very school house, at the first of Cherokee Spring's revivals. Back when I was just a boy...”

Jake stared toward the back at a trio of stained glass windows. Glowing with the bright farm lights from the Dale property, he saw scenes of pastures, rolling hills, baskets of fish, and crowds on a hillside. A simpler time, maybe the one that Earl saw in his mind's eye as he stared off.

Someone cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

“All in favor of moving the Revival location to the park, above the carnival grounds?” Jake offered, and then added. “If we can make arrangements with the city?”

“Aye!” Earl shouted, and laughed until a coughing spell overtook him.

“Ayes” salted the crowd, along with slowly raised right hands.

Tom begrudgingly raised his own, his scowl showing his true heart.

“Nays?”

Silence. No one dared speak opposition.

“We'll see to permits and discuss further plans next week.” Jake adjourned the meeting, leaving the crowd to mumble at his back. He darted through milling men, their previously hopeful and expectant faces now full of doubt, concern, and worry. No doubt, he'd be getting a call tomorrow from the church elders, demanding explanation.

Fallout from this decision would be legendary. There'd be plenty of time to hear complaints after church on Sunday, for the weeks leading up to the event, and to his email, newly posted on the sign out front. He hot-footed it after Earl Dale, and placed a hand to steady his gait, to see he made it safely back home.

He'd avoided discussing the ousting of his predecessor, the prayer chain, and his own history, but the Lord worked in his own way. In Jake's experience, it was never the way anyone planned.

 

 

 

 

 

9

 

By six AM the diner's kitchen hummed with prep for Saturday's morning special. Lilah dumped the colander of washed potatoes on the cutting board already littered with onions, rosemary, and bright red, gold, and orange peppers, her knife rat-a-tatting against wood.

Raymond swept up the remnants that fell to the linoleum. “You know they're gonna complain, right?”