Boo Who (20 page)

W
OLFE PICKED UP AINSLEY
from her house on Sunday morning. She was wearing a beautiful blue sweater and a matching blue skirt. “Wow!” he said as she climbed into his truck.

“What?”

“You look terrific.”

“Thank you.”

As they drove to church together, Ainsley told him some of what her mother’s wedding diary said. “It was such a different time. Things seemed so much simpler then.”

“How so?”

“Moms diary is filled with dreams, just like mine. But it seemed like some of them were just dreams. She wanted a four-tier cake. I know she didn’t have that. She wanted a silk dress. But hers was taffeta. Yet she wasn’t upset. She was focused on what the wedding was about.”

“Sounds like she was really in love with your dad.”

“She was. I just wish she could’ve had the wedding she dreamed of. Dad said they’d planned on doing something really special at their twenty-year wedding anniversary. They were going to have all the things that they couldn’t afford at their first wedding.” Ainsley squeezed Wolfe’s hands, indicating she couldn’t say the rest of what she wanted.

“Sweetheart, your mother was very happy when she was alive, right?”

Ainsley nodded.

“She had you and your dad and your brother. So she never got a big wedding cake. I bet she wouldn’t have traded anything in her life.”

Ainsley smiled. “No regrets.”

“No regrets.”

“I guess I want to have a dream wedding partly because there’s always the possibility that there isn’t going to be a second chance.”

“Our wedding is going to be perfect.”

“What’s that?” Ainsley said, looking out the front window of the car. She was pointing to a line of orange cones in the middle of the small church parking lot.

“Looks like they’re blocking part of the spaces,” Wolfe said, pulling in. There were only a few cars in the lot, but the orange cones were causing quite a bit of confusion. Cars were backing up and trying to pull around to the few empty spaces left.

“I wonder if Reverend Peck is going to have the parking lot paved?” It was currently gravel.

Wolfe found a parking spot and went around to the other side to help Ainsley out. Holding hands, they walked to the church. But when they got to the door, there was a teenage boy standing there, one they didn’t recognize.

“Hi,” he said, his hands full of bulletins. Wolfe smiled and held out his hand. But the kid said, “Sorry. If you want a bulletin, it’ll be a dollar.”

“What?” Ainsley laughed.

“A dollar. Cash only.”

“For the bulletin?” Wolfe asked. “Does Reverend Peck know you’re out here? What kind of scam do you think you’re pulling?”

“The guy hired me. I get twenty percent commission.” He smiled broadly.

“Forget it,” Wolfe said. “Come on,” he told Ainsley. “Let’s go inside.”

“But what if there’s something important we need to know in there?” Ainsley asked. “Maybe there’s a reason the reverend is charging for it.”

Wolfe sighed and handed the kid a buck.

“Thanks!” the kid said.

Inside, they silently surveyed the once-familiar sanctuary that now contained only half the number of pews it used to.

“What’s going on?” Ainsley whispered.

“I have no idea. This is weird.” Wolfe took her hand and led her to one of the pews. “But we’d better sit down, or we might be standing for the whole service!”

They sat down, and Ainsley opened the bulletin. “Well, let’s find out what’s so interesting in this bulletin that would make it worth a dollar—
Oh!”

“What?” Wolfe asked. Ainsley handed him the bulletin. Wolfe read the sermon title:
What the Bible Says About Sex.
He glanced at Ainsley. Her face was bright red.

Miss Missy Peeple, in her purple polyester suit complete with a green and purple scarf tied precisely around her neck, walked to church as she had every Sunday since she was able to walk. Nothing had ever kept her from church. She’d once trekked through a snowstorm. One time she even walked with a broken leg. She’d been born in this church, and she intended to die there too. Nobody would ever be able to accuse her of not supporting her local church.

As she made her way up Scarlet Hill, shooing cats that had the gall to get in her way, she could not help thinking of Marty Blarty and his quest to find the truth about Skary, Indiana. She’d seen him day after day at the library, at the courthouse, and at the town hall. The poor lad. He tried hard. And he sure was ambitious. Part of her felt sorry for him, for no matter how hard Marty Blarty looked, he would never be able to find the truth. She’d made sure of that nearly fifty years ago. Surely he would give up soon! Everyone who knew anything of the truth had died off years ago, except her. Besides, what this town needed was a good dose of inspiration. It could be famous again if given the chance. It was time to move forward, not get mired in a lot of ancient history.

She’d spent her life savings to promote to the world that Skary, Indiana, was the place for cat lovers. She’d expected people to come in droves. But instead, all she had noticed were some strange and unlikable
people wandering the streets. They’d come and gone for a couple of weeks now. She’d even spotted one in her backyard for heaven’s sake! She’d called the police, but once they got there, the person had vanished. Of course, the police never believe little old ladies, and her complaint was met with skepticism. She knew what she saw, though, and from then on she kept a close watch out for them. And every once in a while, in the middle of the night, she would hear a scream that froze her to her bedposts.

Apparently, from what she’d heard, the sheriff hadn’t noticed the strangers yet, nor heard a scream. Of course, he was too busy worrying about that furry fiizzball of a friend of his to notice anything about the town except that cats weren’t multiplying by the dozens anymore.

An irritated grunt left Miss Peeple’s lips as she climbed the final few feet of the hill that led to the church.

The first thing she noticed were the cars, parked every which way and on the sides of a nearby street. What in the world was wrong with people? Too much holiday cheer? Yeah, it’s lots of fun putting up hundreds of dollars worth of lights. But then comes the time when you have to take them all down in the middle of the coldest month of the year. Nobody ever thinks of the takedown. Nobody but Missy Peeple.

The next surprise came when she shoved her way through a crowd of people near the front door. A pipsqueak sort of kid, with his hair gelled like his life depended on it, held up his hand. “Stop. Nobody else goes in. Sorry. We’re full.”

Miss Peeple was not accustomed to having people tell her no, nor hold up any sort of extremity in her face. “Step aside,” she ordered the boy, waving her cane at him.

“Sorry. Can’t. Maximum capacity is already in there. It’s standing room only, from what I can tell. You’ll just have to get here earlier next week. But,” he said with a smile, “you’re still welcome to a bulletin for a dollar.”

“A dollar?” Missy hissed. “What nonsense is this?” She turned to those standing nearby. “What is going on here? Since when has anybody ever been turned away from church?”

She knew how to get a crowd going, and soon, after a few more derogatory remarks, heads were bobbing up and down. She could’ve said aliens were attacking, and there they’d be, agreeing with every word she said. She was just angry enough about this situation, though, not to be able to appreciate her sudden authority. “We will protest! That will show them! None of us will go to church! We’ll start our own church!”

Suddenly the boy with the bulletins stepped forward. “A lady had to leave because her baby was crying, so whoever has ticket number seven can go on in!”

A man in the back yelped and then moved through the crowd, quickly hopping up the steps. The crowd began murmuring that perhaps their number would be called next, and soon nobody cared who Miss Peeple was or why she was there. All they wanted was their number called.

Missy turned and scowled at the church building. She knew one thing for sure. She had Reverend Peck’s number. This was no accident. Miss Missy Peeple could smell a plot a mile away.

Reverend Peck hadn’t actually read his sermon out loud, so when it came time to say the word he was preaching on, it got stuck on his tongue. The whole point of his sermon was that God created sex to be good, and that He had a plan for it, and that the Bible outlined exactly what that plan should be.

And in the monthly pastor’s newsletter he received, called “Growing Your Mini into a Mega,” it had told of a pastor who’d decided one day to preach on sex, and the next thing he knew he had five hundred people in the pews.

The Song of Solomon was certainly nothing new to him. It was a beautiful book of the Bible. When his wife was alive, he would oftentimes cite passages from this book and send it to her in a card.

Yet now, as he stood in front of a congregation half sitting and half standing, all of whom were looking at him as if he’d grown an extra head, Reverend Peck felt self-conscious. And perhaps it was because
deep down in his heart, he knew he was not preaching this sermon because he felt a passion for, well, passion. No, he’d come up with this topic for its pure shock value.

Well, it worked. He was completely shocked. And so was the congregation, that so far in the five minutes he’d been behind the pulpit, all he’d managed to convey was something about the
s
word, that it rhymed with a letter in the back of the alphabet, and that it was supposed to be within marriage. Looking down at his notes, he had three pages full of things to share! Why was he fumbling around here like an idiot?

Gulping down his newly formed stage fright, Reverend Peck realized he was going to have to do something, and do it quick. Murmuring had begun. He’d been around long enough to know nothing good ever came from murmuring. His whole plan was about to fall apart! He’d spent weeks on this … now for it all to crumble because he was embarrassed by his own sermon topic? He knew things were working so far. A crowd remained outside, anxious to get into the church. Everyone had a bulletin in hand, so he’d guessed correctly on that, too.

So with every ounce of boldness he could find in himself, he began reciting his notes. And not just in a conversational way, as he’d been accustomed to doing for decades now, but in a flamboyant, charismatic way. He used hand motions. He told jokes. He even walked the newly created center aisle where some pews used to sit.

Twenty minutes later, he’d covered everything anybody ever needed to know about sex. The basics were: God created it. It was good. Supposed to be for husband and wife only. Side benefit of reproduction.

When Reverend Peck came to the last sentence of his notes, he was relieved as never before. By the dismayed expressions staring back at him, he also realized perhaps that was a bit much for a small-town church to handle in one sitting. But he’d gotten their attention! Not once had he seen anyone yawn. And taking out the extra pews in the sanctuary made the place look packed. The people standing in the back didn’t seem to mind. In fact, they looked simply happy to be here. When had anyone looked happy to be here?

So with a confident nod indicating he was indeed finished with the
s
word, he then announced coffee would be served in the foyer for three dollars a cup. Cream and sugar were fifty cents more. And then he left the pulpit and quickly slipped out the back door of the church.

Sure, he used to greet everyone. But wasn’t there more mystery to a person you never actually got to meet? People would wonder,
What’s he like? Why doesn’t he want to talk to us? He must be awfully important and busy.

As he walked home to the parsonage, Reverend Peck knew he was making a gigantic gamble. In all of his years of ministry, never had he done a thing like this. The closest he’d come was deciding one day not to wear his robe. That had caused quite a stir among the community, which he thought was interesting since most of the community didn’t attend. There was even an entire newspaper article about it, debating what kind of theology was behind the decision. Turned out it was simply because he’d gained some weight and couldn’t zip it. But it took a lot of convincing on his part to settle everyone down. He did recall a slight surge in attendance, at least for a couple of weeks.