Page 38 of At Her Will

Acouple days later, she acted on that decision. How much she missed him might have compelled her as much as her worry for him, but since both were true, she had no problem with that.

When she called the school, Cherry said he was working at the church in the afternoon.

The thought of encountering Witford or Tisha upset her stomach, which pissed her off, so Vera put her ass in her car and headed that way after lunch.

Only one car was in the parking lot, a red Toyota four-door. Bastion had reported Witford drove a Lincoln Continental. His presence or absence shouldn’t matter either way. She wasn’t here to see Witford.

The doors leading into the nave were propped open, but it was empty. The clacking sound of a computer keyboard in use came from the hallway to her right. The sign posted at the corner saidChurch Office.

But before she headed in that direction, she stepped into the nave and moved down the aisle until she stood before the large cross. How did Rev feel up here? Or when he walked along the aisles, singing? Reaching out toward the souls that needed him.

Most people she could figure out. She understood what drove them, what fears and insecurities, the needs they had. Often it didn’t change anything, to know and understand. But sometimes it did.

Rev had brought forth things in her she thought she’d made peace with. She hadn’t. She’d just buried them, because with that kind of loss, she could only bury the body and move on, missing the soul of what was, and the connection that had been.

He wasn’t a preacher. He was a soul minister.

She left the nave and went to the office, finding a woman in her forties, with bouncy curled hair and well applied makeup. Her navy-blue dress was printed with white polka dots, and her gold name plate said she was Mrs. Byrd.

“Hello. I’m Vera Morgan, a friend of Rev’s. Can you tell me where I can find him?”

The woman looked up from her screen, the welcoming warmth in her brown eyes releasing Vera’s tension like air from a balloon, sending it sputtering away. In some corner of her subconscious, she’d absurdly imagined Witford putting her on a blacklist to keep her off the church grounds.

That cold look in his eyes, the venom in Tisha’s words, had rattled her more than she realized. It wasn’t like her.

“Well, lucky Rev. He’s doing his Garden of Gethsemane right now.”

“Pardon me?”

“It’s what he calls it. He goes into the contemplation garden behind the church to pray and think. He seemed like he had a lot on his mind.”

The secretary’s concerned expression was replaced by a speculative one. “You know, Rev doesn’t pay attention to what most of us find important. I’ve seen him hand two twenties to a convenience store clerk for an eight dollar purchase.”

The segue took her off guard, but since it was a story about Rev, Vera rolled with it. “Did the clerk take advantage?”

“He thought about it. You can see that kind of thing in the eyes. I was about to step in—we were on a church trip, and getting some snacks. But Rev was gazing at the boy as he waited, and humming to himself. That voice…” Mrs. Byrd shook her head. “Even under his breath, you want to listen close, because it brings on a feeling you want to have.”

“That’s a perfect way to put it,” Vera murmured.

“You’ve heard it.” Mrs. Byrd’s smile deepened. “Good. When the clerk gave him the right changeandthe extra twenty, Rev told him that being able to look in the mirror and see no tarnish made every day a good one. Then Rev gave him back the twenty and said he’d meant for him to take that for his mother. She apparently had a cold and needed some medicine. When that boy smiled, it looked like the first real one he’d had in a long time.”

Vera saw the scene in her head, as clear as if she’d been there. “Why’d you tell me that?”

“You looked like you expected me to tell you Rev couldn’t see anyone right now. But I’ve learned people come looking for him, at the right time, for the right reasons. And not just because he’s a pleasing man to look at.”

“I’ve noticed that.”

“You’re not blind, so I expect so.” Mrs. Byrd winked. “He’s not much on book learning. Says it doesn’t take hold in his mind. But between you and me, he may be the smartest man I’ve ever met.”

Mrs. Byrd waved a hand toward her door. “Take the exit at the end of my hall. Turn left and cut through the cemetery. You’ll see the garden entrance. If he’s deep into it when you find him, take a seat nearby and do your own prayer until it’s over. There are plenty of places to sit.”

“Thank you.” Vera turned toward the door, then paused. “Mrs. Byrd, what was the significance of the Garden of Gethsemane? I know it had to do with Jesus.”

“It certainly did. The Garden of Gethsemane is where our Lord spent His hours before His arrest, dealing with His fear and sadness about the trial ahead of Him. I think it was also where He let Himself really feel the sadness and pain for all of us. Are you familiar with John 11:35?”

Vera shook her head.

“‘Jesus wept.’ Shortest verse in the Bible, and possibly the most powerful. I think about it whenever it rains.”

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