Day of the Bomb (13 page)

The welcome home party for Fred was at the VFW hall,
with the rental fee waived after he agreed to join the Madisin
chapter. In attendance was the Rhinehardts’ pastor, Rev. Lacharetti
of the Madisin Community Church and the Dalrumples’ pastor, Rev.
Trueblood of the Full Gospel Evangelical Church. Strangers until
now, the two sought each other out, mostly out of curiosity.

“Never thought they’d make more fuss over Fred’s
homecoming than they did Jason’s,” Rev. Lacharetti said.

Rev. Trueblood chuckled. “You don’t know Jason.” He
described some of Jason’s pranks before Rev. Lacharetti had
accepted a call to Madisin. As their conversation spiraled into
small talk Trueblood crossed the boundary that separates those of
the same profession by “talking shop.” First he probed. “So what’s
it like being the pastor at Madisin Community Church?”

Rev. Lacharetti gagged on the punch coursing down his
gullet. “Excuse me. “ He placed his empty cup onto their shared
table. “Maybe an analogy would describe it best. I went to college
and seminary and received my masters of divinity degree. First I
served as an associate pastor at a large church in Detroit. Then I
became head pastor for a congregation in Chicago. Somehow what I
preached went over like a lead balloon. The Church by-laws called
for an annual vote of confidence for the pastor. When the vote was
423 to 399 that I stay I took a smaller church in St. Louis. That
lasted for five years. Then I came here.”

“You like it here?”

“Yes and no. Having a congregation of only about a
hundred is nice. The much smaller salary has drawbacks though. Just
ask my wife.”

“What do you think made those other churches lose
faith in you?”

He smiled. “You hit the nail on the head. I taught
them not to put their faith in me and our church and our
denomination but to put it in Jesus and His kingdom instead.”

“The kingdom of God instead of your denomination? Bet
that went over like a fart in church at your denominational
headquarters.”

He laughed. “Yeah. You might say that. Anyway when
it’s all said and done, I went from the major leagues down to the
minor leagues in twelve years. How about you?”

“I guess I’m a rarity. Madisin Full Gospel
Evangelical has been my only church.”

“Do they have votes of confidence on you?”

“No, thank God. Does your church here have them?”

“No. That’s probably the only reason I’m still
there.”

When the party wound down Rev. Trueblood asked if his
new friend could share any material on the kingdom of God.
Something about the way Rev. Lacharetti used the term and talked
about “the Lord” as if Jesus were a close friend intrigued him.

“Sure. Follow me over to my church office.”

***

Rev. Lacharetti’s office was about the size of the
men’s restroom at his church. Sometimes it smelled as bad when the
humidity invaded it, producing mold and mildew, especially on the
rows of books in bookcases that ran from floor to ceiling. He wiped
some green and yellow growth from the binder that he pulled from a
shelf. “Here it is. These are my notes from Professor Palmer’s
class at seminary.”

“Matthew 6:33? He taught a whole class on one verse?”
He pointed at the title on the notebook’s cover.

“Seek first His kingdom and His righteousness.” He
handed the binder to him as if it were his most valued possession.
“Don’t read those notes unless you mean business with the Lord and
are willing to have your life turned upside down.”

***

A week passed before Fred’s body adapted to the
nine-hour difference in time zones. Hope lingered that Sally would
agree to a loss of one more hour. He pointed at a map, his only
ally.

“If I’m going to make a good living for us it would
be a whole lot easier somewhere back on the East Coast.”

“In other words, Boston. I already told you how much
my daddy hated living in New York.” Sally sat back in her chair and
folded her arms. “There’s no way Boston would be any better than
what he saw on the streets of New York.”

“Okay, okay. We could settle in a little town outside
of Philadelphia in the farmland of Pennsylvania. You’d like those
Amish farmers. Maybe that’s better than Boston. Look at this map.
It’s only about 400 miles from Washington D.C. to Boston. In
between them there’s Baltimore, Philadelphia, Newark, New York,
Hartford, Providence.” He ran his finger along the map. “Hartford’s
the insurance capital. As I move up selling insurance that would be
the best place to be.”

“What’s wrong with Omaha? They have insurance
companies there. And it’s only a day’s drive from here.”

Fred closed the road atlas. For the first time, he
missed his authority as an ensign, of being able to issue orders.
For a moment he was tempted to say that he should have stayed in
the Navy because then Uncle Sam would decide where he and his
family lived. But with Karl playing with his building blocks a few
feet away Fred abandoned the argument. “I’m supposed to meet Jason
for breakfast. I’ll be back later.”

“Why don’t you sell him some insurance? Him and all
the other veterans. I read somewhere that there’s over ten million
veterans now that the war is over with. That’s who you ought to
sell insurance to. Veterans.”

Her words echoed in his mind as he drove to Tom’s
Diner, known to regulars as Tom’s Greasy Spoon. There the food was
fresh, portions large, and prices reasonable, which made it the
haunt of lower and middle class folks of Madisin. Those better off
preferred the country club on the north end of town and it’s
eighteen-hole golf course.

Fascinated by numbers since age four, Fred decided to
put them to work to determine his future. “Okay Sally, you think
you’re so smart?” He smirked at the photo of her and Karl that he
had taped to his 1941 Ford sedan’s dashboard. “If I sell a policy
to Jason during lunch, we’ll stay here in Madisin. If not, I’ll
spend most of my time out on the road until you cave in and let us
move back East.”

Random chance? Statistical
probability? Dumb luck? Fate? Divine Providence?
Take your pick. You set the odds, Sally. But I’m
rolling the dice. You better not have loaded them by praying about
this. That’s not fair.

Sally was one of those wives convinced that the hosts
of heaven, including their Creator, were on her side come hell or
high water. God help any poor fool who thought otherwise. When
husband or child or both proved unbearable she retreated to her
prayer room, which was a walk outside weather permitting; if not,
any available room that was unoccupied. There she stayed until she
“prayed through and now I feel the Lord’s peace no matter what
happens.” Fred had yet to decide which was worse, a hell raising
Irishwoman who had tended bar such as his mother or one with a
direct line to God such as his wife.

Jason Dalrumple also had forebears from the Emerald
Isle and his impishness was in fine form as he held court at Tom’s
Diner. “About time you got here. The waitress was in a hurry so I
ordered for you.”

Fred’s pants snagged on a spring protruding from the
red vinyl seat as he slid into the booth. “I just need some
coffee.”

“Can’t start the day on an empty stomach. Especially
since we need to talk business.”

“Huh?”

“You’re number three on my list.”

“What list?”

“The one I came up with while I was stuck on Monkey
Island, the five things I needed to do once I came on back home.
Marrying Thelma was number one. Taking over my dad’s business was
number two. Thanking you is number three. So thank you, Professor.”
He shoved his hand toward his chest.

“For what?” Fred lightly squeezed it.

“For saving my life. If it hadn’t been for you I’d
have gone up on deck without my life jacket and become fish food
for sure. So thank you, Fred.”

“Uh, sure.” He blinked as the waitress set a platter
of eggs, bacon, toast, and hash browns in front of him. Six
buckwheat pancakes waited for Jason to baptize them with maple
syrup and whipped butter.

“Let’s pray. Dear Lord, thank you for this food and
for Fred. Amen.”

“Amen. I don’t ever remember you praying before.”

“I’m trying to walk the straight and narrow now. Dad
said I need to get me some of that insurance you said you’re going
to sell because Thelma’s pregnant.”

“She is? Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Anyways, when you get a chance come on over.
I need to buy the most insurance I can but it’s got to be cheap.
Running a business is not easy. It ate through all my cash income
last month. Between paying for FDR’s New Deal and Truman’s Fair
Deal, I’m flat broke.”

They talked of how trading a uniform and gun and ship
for home and family was not as easy as they had thought it would
be. Jason urged Fred to stay in Madisin.

“All your talk about moving off makes about as much
sense as running your transport ship onto a reef.”

“Why?”

“Everything you need is right here.”

“Except customers. Selling insurance takes lots of
prospects. I figure there’s maybe fifty million of them living
between Boston and Washington D.C.”

“But here you’re more centralized. It would only take
you a day or so to drive to Chicago, St. Louis, Kansas City,
Memphis, or Dallas. Sure the Twin Cities, Detroit, Cleveland, and
Pittsburgh are a longer trip but you can hit them all on one long
swing at once.”

Fred stabbed his eggs with the fork. “Maybe so.” He
pushed the half-finished breakfast to the table’s edge. “I’ve been
wondering what’s number four and five on your list.”

“Number four is sort of personal.” Jason stood and
threw three one-dollar bills on the table. “As soon as I take care
of it, I’ll get back to you since number five involves you. I got
to run. Mrs. Baker’s roof is leaking again. I’m hoping she’ll let
us replace it. The shingles are worn clean through.”

***

Pastor Trueblood made notes as he read the binder
labeled Matt. 6:33. At the tail end of middle age, he needed lists
to help him complete projects. He liked them to be short. The long
lists handed to him by his board of deacons and wife wearied him.
This list was titled Seeking God’s Kingdom:

1. Use concordance to find references to kingdom

2. Mark verses referring to God’s kingdom

3. Go back and read marked verses

4. Memorize and meditate on ones I don’t
understand

He was on step number four when a knock on his office
door broke his concentration. “Yes?”

“There’s someone here to see you.”

He glanced at the appointment calendar that covered
half of his desk. “But I don’t have any more appointments all
day.”

“It’s Jason Dalrumple.”

His fists closed as the invisible vise tightened
around his temples. “Okay, show him in.”

Every church has at least one, the member who never
climbs on board, gets with the program, and goes along to get
along; the one who is a pain, who contributes little except a buck
in the offering and his presence at every potluck, dinner, and
wedding to feast on free food, the one who drives the pastor crazy.
He reached for his bottle of aspirin and took two. At least the war
seemed to have quieted Jason’s rebellious ways to some degree. Oh
well, time to put on the forced smile and pretend I’m glad to see
him, he thought.

“Good morning, Jason.”

“Hi, Pastor. Sorry to drop in like this but I got a
feeling it’s now or never.”

“Please sit down.” Rev. Trueblood
turned sideways in his chair to hide half of the displeasure on his
face.
Give me Your grace, Lord.
Please.

“I’ll cut to the quick. I’m ready to come to the
altar next Sunday. Anything I should do to get ready besides
wearing my best suit?”

He spun his swivel chair to face the penitent.

“I know I was all wrong to plug up my ears so as not
to hear your preaching all these years. I’m sorry, real sorry.”

“That…that’s okay. Why the change of heart all of a
sudden?”

“Well, while I was off on Monkey Island I had time
and lots of it. In fact, it felt like time stood still there most
days. I got to thinking things through real good and came up with a
list of things I needed to do after the war. Coming to the altar
during your next altar call is one of them.”

“Oh.” Some of his meditation on the kingdom of God
began to spill forth. “God’s kingdom is eternal, Jason. Once you’re
born into it, there’s no turning back. Ever.”

“Oh. I don’t plan on backsliding.”

“If you ever do God will destroy your body to save
your soul.”

“Huh? You never said that before. Are you sure?”

He leapt to his feet. “Why do you tarry? It’s six
days away to next Sunday. You could die before then.”

“I sure hope not. I haven’t got to number five on my
list yet and still need to buy life insurance.”

“Today is the day of salvation!” His hands sliced
through the invisible barriers. “Are you ready? Or are you just
fooling around like you always do?”

“Sure. You’re the preacher man.”

For the next hour he flipped through the pages of his
bible, stopping at each marked verse and reading it to the
unexpected visitor. Jason listened. At times he nodded. When the
bible closed Jason stood.

“I never heard you preach like that before. We best
head over to the lake so you can baptize me right now. I’m through
putting things off. Let’s get moving. I got a roof to fix.”

***

I know Sally won fair and square.
But that doesn’t mean I have to let her know she did.
After a week of trying to manipulate her into
letting him sign on with an insurance company headquartered in New
York or Hartford, Fred chose an Omaha company, Heartland Mutual
Insurance Company. So far he had met with his manager
once.