Reinventing Leona (31 page)
The paramedic scowled at Maddie’s demands. “That’s a nasty bump on his head. You sure he’ll be fine, Doc?”
“I don’t want to take any chances. We’ll run him by the hospital and let them check him out.”
They slid the board across the backseat of the limo.
“I’m fine.” Parker nearly upset the rig trying to right himself.
Maddie gently pushed him down. “Are you a doctor, Parker Kemp?”
“If your corn has weevils.” His lips curled into a goofy grin.
“Well, right now you’re a few bushels short of a load, so I guess you’ll have to trust my professional judgment. And, for future reference, I don’t plant corn.” She hopped into the limo and then squeezed in between David and her mother’s blonde replacement on the opposite seat. Her brother had introduced his passengers when the tanned strangers wearing inappropriate outerwear swarmed the truck and started praying.
“He’s all yours.” The paramedic winked. “You folks take it easy.” He shut the door and Melvin slowly pulled away from the accident scene.
“David, have you called Momma?”
“Yeah, while you were helping them load that other guy in the ambulance. How did you know he was in worse shape than Parker?”
“Four long years, Brother.” Maddie sighed. She rubbed her hands together, trying to return some feeling to her numb fingers and hoping to delay forced small talk with the curious new pastor’s family smiling at her. “How was Momma?”
“Thrilled to know you’re alive. Said the house was crammed with people praying until we get home.”
Parker opened and closed his fists in front of his face. “If my neck is broken, why can I move my fingers and toes?”
“I’m going to tighten that neck collar several notches if you don’t cooperate and lie still.” Maddie reached over and tucked her patient’s arms under the blanket.
Parker frowned. “Your bedside manner could use some work.”
“Why don’t you try to rest?” Maddie used the palm of her hand to apply firm pressure to the glove stuck to Parker’s forehead.
“Ouch!” He pulled his head away. “That hurt. Aren’t you supposed to keep me talking? Keep me awake? Not try to knock me out. I could lapse into a coma or something.”
“I doubt it. Your mouth hasn’t closed since you opened your eyes.”
“I have things to say and one of them is praise God, glory hallelujah, I’m alive.” He looked at Maddie. “We should thank God I’m alive, don’t you think?”
Maddie wrinkled her nose, and the grin disappeared from Parker’s face.
David chuckled. “So is he going to make it?”
“Not if I kill him.”
Maddie fell back on the seat, happy to lean upon her brother’s strong shoulder. Too much had happened, too fast. She needed a minute to plow through the rubble, put things in some sort of order, dissect each incredible development. But with the crisis under control, the adrenaline rush had quickly dissipated, leaving a sinking exhaustion in its wake. If her current state was any indication of how she’d hold up under pressure, then she’d count it a blessing she wasn’t interested in emergency room medicine.
She studied Parker stretched out on the opposite seat. His eyes were focused on the limo sunroof like it was a portal to heaven. His lips moved slightly, probably offering the prayers she had just pooh-poohed. Why did his unshakable faith fly all over her? She watched the lines of Parker’s pained expression soften with each word he whispered, as if doses of peace were administered with every utterance of his praise.
Maybe the bump on the head had knocked him cuckoo for a bit, but she had to admit the man still possessed the uncanny gift of discernment. He was right. They had been fortunate . . . no, they had been miraculously protected to escape that twisted mess of steel with only scratches and bruises. Blessed no one had died. Blessed they could get in out of the snow. Blessed David and Melvin were right behind them. And blessed they had been rescued so quickly. No doubt about it, their salvation had only one explanation . . .
God.
Shame washed over Maddie. Stiff-necked and strong-willed, she’d put her back to the blizzard and hung on, but for what? In the end, she had been unable to change their dire situation or do a thing for the injured on her own. Prayer had been her only option. And in her darkest hour, God had answered.
How could I have been so arrogant? So self-assured? So dependent upon my own limited and frail abilities?
Didn’t Daddy’s death teach me anything?
Maddie swallowed, but the lump wouldn’t leave her throat. Life was fragile and could be snuffed in an instant. Nothing in this world was permanent. Insecurity ruled. And what did this insecurity leave in its wake? Nothing but the one thing her father had preached for years: the hope of life eternal. The promise had sustained her father through the peaks and valleys of church work. Momma’s head was above water right now because she held on to God’s guarantee, as if it were a life raft. And Parker was so convinced of that hope that he had packed every egg of his future in faith’s fragile basket and pointed his ship toward a foreign country. Tears trickled down Maddie’s cheeks.
Lord, forgive me.
Bridget touched Maddie’s arm, compassion oozing out from under her heavy mascara like too much mayo on a club sandwich. “I’m sure your mother offered prayers of thanksgiving.”
Maddie swiped at streaks wetting her face. “Momma’s an expert in crisis management.”
“She had to be, living on Hobo Highway.” David elbowed Maddie, then flashed the play-along-with-me look they had used on the many occasions questionable antics in the sanctuary had to be explained to Momma.
Just as she was never certain of the course David’s discourse would take, Maddie wasn’t sure what her brother was up to now, but she dutifully assumed her supportive role. “Never knew from day to day what would happen next.”
“Hobo Highway?” Bridget’s voice cracked.
“Vagrants.” David leaned around Maddie. “The parsonage porch is always littered with them.”
Bridget pursed her lips, fear clouding her blue eyes. “Littered? Why?”
From the pleased look on David’s face, Maddie realized her brother was trying to scare these interlopers right back to the hole from which they had slithered. Brilliant. Rallying to the cause, Maddie charged full-speed ahead. “Because the parsonage is so close to the highway, the rumble of eighteen-wheelers rattles our windows day and night.”
“To make the hairpin curve, they have to slow down and that’s when the hobos fall off and land in our yard,” David said.
“But that’s only during the hobo migration.” Parker proved remarkably quick on the uptake for one suffering from a head injury. Maddie fought the urge to leap across the car and plant a kiss of gratitude on the less-bloody side of his noggin.
“Migration?” Bridget’s brow furrowed unattractively.
“In early spring and late fall, the hobos migrate, following the trail of the silver bullets.” Parker’s expression was so serious, Maddie checked for signs of cucumber rot on the Postiers’ frozen faces.
Ted swallowed, his eyes wide. “Silver bullets?”
“Retirees pulling silver camper trailers head south to escape the cold of winter, and then turn around and head north to escape the heat of summer.” Parker could not have sounded more convincing if he had ripped the information from the pages of the
Farmers’ Almanac
.
“Exactly what do you mean by . . . hobo?” Bridget obviously was the kind of person who needed things spelled out . . . several times.
David jumped on this flaw like a duck on a June bug. “I remember the time this strung-out, gypsy-looking lady pounded on the front door demanding Momma open the screen and feed her chicken-fried steak.”
Determined to help Bridget see the light, Maddie said, “Then there was the time that drunk fellow rammed the door in the middle of the night demanding to be let into his own house.”
“Remember the night someone set off the alarm in the church building and Dad went tearing across the parking lot in his underwear?”
“Thank goodness Momma had the presence of mind to call the police and stop him before he charged in on the thieves stealing the church’s only computer.”
“The church only has one computer?” Ted’s face clouded with concern.
“How about the guy Dad found taking a bath in the baptistry?”
“He was miffed that the church didn’t supply shampoo.” Maddie giggled. “But my all-time favorite was the night we woke up and our house was completely surrounded by flashing blue lights.”
“Cops everywhere, shouting, ‘
Freeze!
’” David shaped his right hand into a gun and slapped it into his left to steady his aim at the Postiers.
“Next thing we knew, three armed robbers were facedown and spread-eagle in our backyard.”
David beamed. “The show was better than
Miami Vice
.”
“Did they ever find the sawed-off shotgun those hooligans used to hold up the liquor store on the corner? I can’t remember.” Maddie chewed on the corner of her lip for added effect.
“Shotgun?” Bridget’s voice squeaked.
“Hooligans?” Ted added.
Maddie and David nodded their heads slowly.
Parker picked up the lull in the conversation. “And if you think this snowstorm is bad, you haven’t seen anything.”
David put on a somber face and leaned forward. He waited until he had the full attention of all four Postiers. Next to their father, no one was better at the dramatic pause. “I remember the time it snowed so bad, semitrucks skidded off the interstate and drifts of white entombed their overturned rigs.”
The Postiers gasped. Ted cast a worried glance out the foggy windows, wrapped an arm around each child, then pulled them close. Bridget crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed her hands frantically over her windbreaker, shivering like she’d suddenly contracted an uncontrollable chill.
Going in for the kill, Maddie heaved a sigh. “Yeah, we had truckers sleeping on every inch of floor space in the parsonage . . . for days and days and days.”
“Days?” Bridget’s eyes were liquid.
David and Maddie turned to each other. “Breaker, breaker, good buddy,” they said in unison.
Melvin cleared his throat. “Miss Madison. Should I proceed to the hospital as planned?”
Maddie scanned the ashen faces of the Postiers. “Absolutely, Melvin. I believe we have a medical emergency back here.”
“Leona, it’s about time you let yourself cry, or you’re going to drown in all those tears you’re holding back.”
Stretched out on her bed, Leona stroked Tater’s head as she considered Roxie’s advice. So what if she had needed to get away from the serious faces huddled around her fireplace for a few minutes? That did not mean she was in danger of drowning. Dammed-up tears had ample room in her hollow chest. Besides, she believed once a person set sail on the sea of self-pity, odds were sooner or later they’d run aground on the desert of bitterness, and she had never fared well in the heat.
“The Harper replacements are waltzing in here at any moment and there isn’t a thing I can do about it . . . except try to thin the crowd downstairs and get the place tidied up.” Leona sat up and swung her legs over the edge of her bed. “Maybe this dark night will pass faster if I get up and get busy.”
“Hold on, girlfriend. Give me a minute to think.”
Tater bounded off the bed. He barked and pawed at the closed door.
“No time. They’re here.” Leona’s heart skipped a beat.
“So are your kids.” Roxie offered Leona her hand. “Isn’t that what we prayed for?”
“Remind me to be more specific in the future.”
Nola Gay shouted from the bottom of the stairs, “Leona, David and Maddie are home!”
Roxie shook her head. “Look on the bright side.”
“And what’s that?” Leona placed her hand across her heart, willing it to slow its beat.
“Maybe they won’t like the place when they find out the Storys come with it.”
Leona laughed out loud. “What would I do without you?” She kissed Roxie’s cheek.
Roxie’s eyes lit up. “That’s it, Leona.” She raced over to the bedroom window, yanked on the yellowed shade. Dust flew everywhere. She pried open the window. A blustery draft swept through the room. Shivers rippled along Leona’s spine.
“What in the world are you doing, Roxie?”
“Beating Howard at his own game.” Roxie darted to the next window and repeated her madness.
“What are you talking about?”
Breathing hard, Roxie brushed the dust from her hands. “Let’s say the Postiers meet the Story sisters in all their splendor, spend a night in this drafty old house, and try to shower while the dishwasher is running.”
“Have you lost your mind? They’d hate—” Leona stopped midsentence. “Roxanne Brewer. You have sunk to deplorable depths, and I refuse to be dragged into yet another of your evil schemes.”
“You want to live with Bertie?” Roxie parked her hands on her hips. “I didn’t think so.”
“But—”
“Here’s what we’ll do. You will go down there and give your children a hero’s welcome. Then you will turn on your best charm.”
“And then what?”
“You will leave the rest to me. That way you can sleep tonight with a completely clear conscience.”
“Momma?”
The urgent sound of Maddie’s voice tugged Leona’s heartstrings and pulled her toward the door. “I don’t think this is—”
Roxie opened the door and Tater bolted out, yapping all the way down the stairs. “Even Christ tossed a few gold diggers out on their ears.” She pushed Leona in the direction of the steps. “Now, go.”
“But this is hardly a Temple situation.”
“Momma!” Maddie stood at the bottom of the stairs.
Her girl was home. Nothing else mattered.
Leona raced toward Maddie’s open arms. She threw herself into the embrace of the child the Lord had graciously spared. They pulled each other close, and Leona buried her nose in Maddie’s tumbling hair. “Thank you, God. Thank you, God.”
Maddie sobbed, “I’m all right, Momma. I’m all right.”
“Praise God.” Leona clasped Maddie’s cheeks between her hands and kissed her forehead. “Praise God.”
“Hey, Momma.” David stepped into the hall.