Page 106 of Small Town Hunter

Too soon. What little time we have left is fading fast.

“Great,” I say, feeling that lump in my throat again.

He parksin the gravel lot outside the Faith Baptist Church. This is a Black Church, capital B, capital C. Crash told me with a twinkle in his eye that it might be a little different from what I’m used to. My old church was integrated but I don’t think that’s what he meant.

The cornerstone on this church dates back to 1929. I may or may not have gone to the local library and done some reading on it. The librarian, who actually attends this church, had even more information than the books did. It was built to serve the community, not the ambitions of one man. They recently got a new pastor after the old one ran off with a woman from Danville.

It’s a small, humble building that looks well cared for. Inside is quiet, the wooden benches comfortable, and thechoir practicing right now needs no booming mics or artificial projection. The music is…I can’t even describe it. I feel it tugging at my soul and I can’t wait to go in.

I thank Crash for the ride. “Do you want to come in?” I ask him. “I don’t think anybody would mind. I talked to a woman who goes here — the veterinarian lady? — and she says her husband is white and comes sometimes.”

“Not this time,” Crash smiles. “I have to see a man about a dog.” He tweaks the curl dangling from my bun. “How about lunch after?”

“Yes– of course,” I say politely, hiding my excitement. Lunch with Crash? Hours of uninterrupted time? It’s what I’ve been waiting for.

Two hourslater the service ends and I step into the crisp autumn air with a group of new friends. After about twenty minutes Crash’s truck pulls up, and I politely break off from the group of ladies and walk my little heels over to the Ranger. More than a few pairs of eyes follow me but I walk tall. The opinions of other people stopped being relevant the day I jumped in front of a train.

But I’m not trying to stunt on anybody either; the church people were all welcoming and friendly, especially older women with single sons. I got a few raised eyebrows when I said I was from California. I said I was visiting a friend of mine in town. Lots of the younger women were happy to talk to me about college.

I like it so much better than the church in Mamie’s neighborhood. Everybody just sits there and nobody talks to each other at all. Over there, people jump out of their seats as soon as the service ends and climb into their SUVs, barelytalking to each other. They make it feel like just a pointless obligation.

“That’s why I don’t bother with it,” Mamie had told me. “I talk to God right here in my garden. See? He says I’m doing a mighty fine job with these tomatoes but I’m slacking with the cucumbers.”

“That’s blasphemy, Mamie.”

“That’s thetruth,” Mamie said, getting serious. “You can talk to God anywhere. You don’t need church for that. God is in all living things.For he looks to the ends of the earth and sees everything under the heavens. He knows the secrets of our hearts. He sees the smallest sparrow fall. Remember that.”

“Make any friends?”Crash asks as I climb into the Ranger. He’s still wearing his nice clothes but I can tell by the rumpled state of his hair he’s been driving all around.

“Yes. Everybody was real nice.”

“Any marriage proposals?”

“Some,” I tease. His eyes narrow. “I’m just playing. This one lady Mrs. Mabel wanted to know all about where I’m from. She asked so many questions.”

“Naturally. Gave them something to talk about, I hope.”

“And I met some other girls that just came back from school– they go to Virginia Tech. They were telling me about an engineering program there...”

“It’s a good school,” says Crash carefully.

“Yeah. I heard. I’ll have to do my own research.”

“It’s a ways from here,” he says. “But not as far as Cali.”

“I know.” I have a crazy idea. I bite my lip.No. No way.

“What else?” Crash asks.

“Um, next week is the bake sale, so I have to remember the recipe for that cornbread Mama’s friend Mrs. Atherly used tomake. Oh, and there’s a lady there with six little girls. Two sets of twins. Can you imagine that?”

“Your dream come true,” he grins.

“I want three kids,” I tell him firmly. “Notsix.”

“Noted. Boys?”

“Girls.” I settle back in the seat and sigh. It was actually a lovely service. The theme was Love.Whoever does not love does not know God because God is love.It was hard to stay focused when I thought of Crash the entire time. Every thing about him, I love, past the point of sense.

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