The Trouble with Angels

Page 12

Joe frowned. He’d always known his father to be a tyrant about punctuality. This wasn’t typical of the man who’d raised him.

"That doesn’t sound like Dad.”

"I’ve known your father a good many years, Joe, and I’m telling you right now, something isn’t right. It’s like…it’s like he’s given up.”

"He misses Mom,” Joe said, more to himself than Mrs. Johnson.

"But it’s been two years now, and I’d have thought matters would get better. Instead they’ve gradually grown worse. My own Floyd’s been gone seven years. I know how difficult it is to lose one’s mate.”

"I don’t know what to tell you,” Joe admitted.

"Frankly, I’m worried. There isn’t anyone I can talk to about this. I thought to phone your sister, but this sort of thing is difficult to discuss without being able to look the person in the eye, if you know what I mean.”

Joe wasn’t sure he did, but he nodded anyway.

"With you coming home for the holidays and all, I decided to wait. I was hoping you might know something I don’t.”

"I wish there was something I could tell you,” Joe said, at a loss.

"This morning is a perfect example,” the secretary continued. "I don’t have a clue where Pastor Morris might be. He hasn’t even come into the office, and there’s a meeting of the elders at two. What am I supposed to tell them if he doesn’t show?”

Joe hadn’t a clue. Leta Johnson looked at him with wide, beseeching eyes, and he felt he had to say something. "Let me think about this, Mrs. Johnson. I’ll get back to you.”

"Thank you, Joe,” she said, and sounded relieved.

Joe left the church, his head buzzing. He returned to the house and found Annie in the kitchen, washing dishes. She’d wiped down the countertops and cleared the mess off the table. It seemed with his mother gone, his father used the tabletop and counters as a filing cabinet. Odds and ends of mail were tucked in every conceivable corner. This troubled Joe, since he’d always known his father to be neat and orderly.

"I can’t find my dad,” he told Annie.

"I heard him come back to the house early this morning. Maybe he’s still in bed.”

"No,” Joe said, growing concerned, "I already checked.”

"Just a minute,” Annie said, gazing out the kitchen window. "I think that might be your dad outside. It looks like he’s in the garage.”

"The garage?” Joe asked. He gave Annie a puzzled look and wandered outside. Annie followed.

Sure enough, his father was busy sorting through a stack of cardboard boxes that had been in precisely that spot for fifteen or more years.

"Dad?”

"Howdy, Joe,” Paul said cheerfully. "Annie.” He pushed up the sleeves of his sweater.

"What are you doing?” Joe asked, not knowing what to think.

Paul laughed and braced his hands against his hips. "What does it look like? I’m cleaning out this mess. I’ve got more junk than some of those disposal centers. It’s time to clear some of this garbage out of here.”

"Today?”

"Why not? It seemed like a perfectly good day to do a little cleaning.”

Joe looked over to where his father had set their fishing gear. "I put that aside for you,” his dad said, pointing toward the two poles. "You should take that stuff with you.”

"But why?”

His father gave him an odd look, then leaned over and sorted through another stack of boxes, lifting one and then another. "I hear there’s good fishing in Seattle.”

"Dad,” Joe said, not understanding any of this. "Mrs. Johnson said you have an elders’ meeting this afternoon.”

Paul straightened and frowned. "The meeting’s this afternoon?”

"That’s what she said. You haven’t been into the office yet.”

Paul Morris rotated his shoulders. "I meant to get over there earlier, then got sidetracked. I’ll wash up now and meet with the elders.”

He walked past Joe on his way into the house.

"Joe.” Annie pressed her hand to his forearm. "What’s wrong with your father?”

"I don’t know. But I think I’d better phone my sister. Maybe she’ll know what to do.”