NaMoWriMo 2022
Tending Roses
American Kingdom: Day 5.2
Previous scene:
My church is nothing much, really. Nothing like the tourist churches with their lofty spires. Old and beautiful on the inside, and outside just a square brick building with a cross on top.
You might think it was the parish hall, at least until you entered the doors to see a beautiful airy space with tall white interior columns, skylights and a grand stained glass window behind the altar.
Built before the Civil War, my church catered to every Christian and its message was simple: believe in the Lord and love thy neighbour.
We did a lot of charity and community work. For me, the work of the church was not done in the pews on Sunday mornings but in the church hall and garden where we welcomed newcomers, held outreach groups and bake sales, and planned how to fill up our free time.
I gave as much as I could without becoming one of those ladies always arranging the flowers and never a spare moment for living.
Besides, here I could find comfort and company, and Lord knows I needed a shoulder or two to cry on right now!
Pastor Adams, if he were around, would have a moment to listen.
I led Brian and Marion in through the garden.
“Oh, hi Kenzie!” I said to a lady on her knees amongst the flowers, her old jeans and apron faded.
“Hey, Molly! How you doin’?”
“Good, good,” I said with a straight face. “Some friends of mine from out of town; I wanted them to see my church.”
And, to be honest, I was feeling good. Just seeing Kenzie, her honest face smudged with some garden soil, was a tonic.
She got to her feet and held out a hand to my guests.
“Whoopsie! Just let me take my glove off here.”
Brian had nearly shaken her gloved hand; he would have had his own covered in Charleston’s rich, fragrant, earth.
“Brian, and my wife Marion. Glad to meet you, Kenzie! What a beautiful city you have here.”
“There’s a reason they call it the Holy City. Good to meet friends of Molly’s. She’s very well regarded here.”
“Oh hush, you! I do less than anyone else here. I’m not fertilising the roses, now am I?”
“That’s true,” Kenzie said, showing her teeth in a wide grin, “but what little you do you do with a smile and a willing heart. Can’t ask for more.”
“Is Pastor Adams in?” I asked, looking toward the church office.
“Yes, I think so. Are you looking for your partner? Tim, Tom, what’s his name again?”
“Ted. Is he here?”
“He was earlier. I didn’t see him leave. They may still be talking.”
“Oh, thanks, Kenzie. See you later, hey?”
“Bye, Molly. Take care.”
We headed off to the church office, Marion close beside me.
“Play it cool, Molly. I’ll be with you.”
The door to the office was open and Pastor Adams was alone inside. He looked up, puzzled, when I knocked.
“Oh, morning, Molly!”
I smiled at him. “Good morning, Pastor, I just wanted to show a couple of friends from Texas around. I said I’d show them who puts the Holy into Holy City.”
He grinned back. “People like you, honey. All I’m doing is leading the cheer squad.”
He really was a sweetie.
I introduced Marion and Brian to him, they asked a few questions about the church history — one of Pastor Adams’ hot buttons, hard to get him to stop once he got going and to be fair we really had a long and deep heritage in the church — and about twenty minutes later he let us go, a free copy of the church history brochure in Marion’s hand.
“Oh, your partner was here earlier,” he said as he rose to see us off.
Ex-partner, I almost said, but held my tongue. I didn’t want the whole world knowing my business.
“So I heard. Did he say what he wanted?”
“Yes, you. He said you hadn’t come home last night.”
“I sent him a couple of texts,” — and that was honest enough — “I had an accident and stayed with friends last night. Didn’t want to ride home after a couple of glasses of wine and a stiff elbow.”
I patted the fresh bandage on my arm. “I’ll catch up with him later.”
We walked around the church interior. I showed them some of the original features: the plaques, the gas lantern fittings, the scrapers at the door so worshippers could remove the filth of the streets from their shoes, and they made all the right noises.
It wasn’t a grand church but it suited the congregation and I wasn’t the only one who gained a quiet joy out of a simple task such as polishing up some of the old wood.
We said goodbye again to Pastor Adams and Kenzie, who were sipping coffee together under a tree, and left.
“Matthew,” Brian said to Marion, who nodded.
“Right up there over the door.”
“Matthew?” I asked.
“Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me,” Brian said. “Matthew 25:40, in the parable of the sheep and the goats. Jesus is saying that to enter Heaven, all you need is to be kind to others.”
“Works for me,” I said.
“Oh, it’s very good advice,” Marion said. “Right from the heart. But I’ll bet that this church doesn’t earn a profit because it gives back everything to the community.”
“Minus expenses,” Brian added.
“Uh, not that there’s anything wrong with that,” Marion said and they both laughed.
“Seriously, though,” Brian said, “I could demolish a nice hot mug of coffee and something full of sugar and butter.”
“So could I,” I said, “and I know just the place.”
“No,” Marion said. “Let’s go somewhere else. Ted’s looking for you, and unless you want to be found — you don’t do you? — it’s best if you don’t go to Kudu Coffee or any of your regular places.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s over.”
I’d been thinking about this in the church. I no longer had any rosy dreams of parading down the aisle in a white gown but never once in the five years we’d been together had Ted even hinted at a proposal. How could I stand before Pastor Adams and tell him that my partner had cheated? If we weren’t married then it was all on very shaky moral ground.
No, Ted was not my lifelong partner. One day we’d have split up, and that day had come. Why spin my wheels — and his — any longer?
“What about somewhere right out of Charleston?” suggested Marion.
“Twenty minutes drive? We can walk along the beach, get our toes wet in the Atlantic.”
“I’m up for that,” Brian said. “We’ve got enough time before lunch?”
“Oh yes. One o’clock at the Marina was the earliest I could get.”
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