Summer Sanctuary (8 page)

“Looks like you were right about that storm,” Mom said.

“The storm outside doesn't begin to compare to the tempest at church tonight.” Dad sounded weary.

“So, did you get anything resolved?” Mom asked.

“The deacons voted seven to five to let Mrs. Miller bring her dogs to church in exchange for funding the building project,” Dad told her. “Nobody wants to
open the sanctuary up to any and all dogs, but it is hard not to bow to the almighty dollar.”

“Bow?” Mom laughed. “More like bow-wow!” Mom was still trying to be funny, but Dad wasn't laughing. “So, are we just charging admission for dogs?”

“I'm afraid it's worse than that.” Dad sighed. “The official vote was that given Mrs. Miller's advanced age and fragile condition, she is disabled, and her dogs are service dogs. By law, we have to admit assistance dogs for the disabled—guide dogs for the blind, hearing dogs for the deaf, and service dogs for the physically disabled,” Dad explained. “The dogs will wear a special harness or backpack to identify them as service dogs. Mrs. Miller has already obtained authorization for handicapped parking.”

“That's not so bad, is it, Paul?” Mom asked.

“I haven't gotten to the bad part yet,” Dad said. I could hear the wind picking up outside, and I was glad that there was lightning to forewarn me of the crashing thunder. I moved further down so I could see my parents, too.

“Mrs. Miller also announced that her health is deteriorating,” Dad went on.

“Mrs. Miller was at the meeting?” Mom sounded truly surprised.

“Ben Arnold told her about the meeting, and she took it upon herself to attend,” Dad explained. “She implied that she's getting her affairs in order and would leave at least another million to Peace Congregation if the church sees fit to comfort and support her in this difficult time.”

“What kind of comfort and support is she looking for?” Mom asked.

“She's getting the guesthouse ready so she can hire a personal assistant to stay on the property with her. She's hired Tom Stone to install an intercom system next week, including the guesthouse and the house, and to make sure everything in the house is in working order.” Dad paused. “And she wants me to interview the applicants, and would like to have someone lined up by the end of the month. I'm to run the ad in Sunday's classified section.”

“You would have done that for her anyway, wouldn't you?” asked Mom. Dad stood up and started pacing.

“That's exactly my point!” Dad said with sweeping gestures he usually saved for behind the pulpit. I slid
back up a few stairs to be safe. “Here is a longstanding member of our congregation who either thinks she has to hold money over our heads for us to treat her with simple Christian charity, or who thinks that she can buy her way into Heaven as well as everything she wants from the church along the way.”

“God is not a respecter of persons,” Mom quoted scripture.

“That's just the confirmation I was looking for,” Dad said as he sat down and put his arm around Mom. “I think it's time for a little reminder that God loves us all just the same and isn't impressed by anybody's money. First thing tomorrow morning, I'm rewriting my Sunday Independence Day sermon.”

I was just ready to head back to bed when I heard Dad say, “Oh, the back door of the church was unlocked when I went to take a bag of trash out to the dumpster. I'm sure Matthew told me he locked it last night. I have no idea who would have unlocked it today. Was there a women's meeting in the basement I didn't know about this afternoon?”

“Not that I know of,” replied Mom.

“Hmmm,” Dad pondered. “Well, it's locked now.”

Dad locked the door! Dinah's locked out!

M
Y MIND RACED
. I had to find Dinah and get her back into the church where she'd be safe from the storm. I hurried back up to my room. Thank God Mark sleeps like a human vegetable. I put some clothes and my flashlight in a bag. Then I sat at the top of the steps and waited for Mom and Dad to go to sleep. I didn't move until my dad had been snoring for a full five minutes.

I slipped into the kitchen and opened the drawer where Dad kept the car keys. I knew there was both a front door and back door key to the church on that key ring. Once I had the keys in my hand, I stopped to make sure Dad was still snoring and that there was no sign of Mom.
All I have to do if I get caught is hide the clothes bag, open the refrigerator, and say I'm hungry. Mom will definitely buy that since I'm still in my pajamas and she thinks I'm having a growing spurt.

I saw lightning flash just as I was ready to open the door to the garage, so I waited for the thunder to make my escape. It was pitch black in the garage. I thought about turning on the light in the garage, but it seemed too risky. I fished around inside my bag and pulled out the flashlight. I changed into my clothes as quickly as possible, stuffed my pajamas into the bag, and hid the bag in the cabinet where Mom kept all the extra toilet paper, Kleenex, and diapers.

I debated about whether or not to ride my bike, but decided since Dinah was walking, I'd better walk, too. I grabbed Mark's rain poncho out of his baseball bag and mine out of the cabinet.
Should I take Dad's big Notre Dame umbrella out of the car? I might as well walk around with a key on a kite waiting for lightning to strike me.
I slipped into my rain poncho and stuffed Mark's poncho inside the big front pocket. Then I stepped quietly out into the night.

The rain was really coming down. I darted through the torrents, straight across the grass to the church. I ran faster, driving even more rain into my face. The drops rolled, dripped, and splashed into my eyes. The uneven ground knocked me off balance, and all of the puddles kept sucking me in. By the time I reached the
back of the church, the water was squishing in my sneakers, and my jeans were plastered to my skin.
What was I thinking wearing long pants anyway? I should have put on my swim trunks!
There was no sign of Dinah as I checked the back door. It was locked all right. My first thought was that she would be at our tree waiting for me.
She doesn't know I know she's locked out. Only a fool would stand under a tree in a storm. A tree's an even bigger lightning rod than an umbrella. Where could Dinah be?

Then I remembered she'd spent several nights in the park by the YMCA.
Maybe she's in that playhouse. Is the playhouse any safer than under a tree? At least it's out of the rain
. The church was less than a mile from the YMCA on foot. I ran most of the way, only this time I stayed on the trails. By the time I reached the park, the rain had let up. The play area included a big wooden ship that was two stories high on one end and a playhouse that was three stories high at the other end. Mark and I called the playhouse the castle. There were all kinds of slides and tires and monkey bars in between. Depending on which way you went up, there was a swinging wooden bridge leading up to the castle.

I bounded up two stairs at a time and crossed the bridge to the castle. That put me up high enough to see
into the second floor as I approached. “Dinah!” I called softly several times. No response. I didn't want to startle her by just walking right up. I think I was probably more worried about getting hurt myself if I surprised her than I was about scaring her.

I shined my flashlight in through the window and called, “Dinah!” again. Then I climbed inside, shining the flashlight up to the third floor. “Dinah! It's me, Matthew.” Nothing. As I climbed the ladder to the top, tears started burning my eyes. Lucky I was dripping wet. No way I wanted Dinah to see my tears. But when I reached the top, Dinah wasn't there. I sat with my legs swinging over the ladder, heart pounding and eyes streaming. I buried my face in my hands.

Except for my sniffling, the only sound was the irregular drumming of water dripping off the roof of the castle onto the plastic slide down the other side. I didn't have any idea what time it was or where else Dinah might be. Since the storm had passed, I decided to walk to our tree to see if she might be there. I still had enough adrenaline pumping that I didn't realize how tired I was getting.

I kept a brisk, steady stride as I walked.
When Johnny comes marching home again, Hurrah! Hurrah! When Johnny
comes marching home again, Hurrah! Hurrah! The ants go marching one by one, the little one stops to suck his thumb, and they all go marching down—to the ground—to get out—of the rain
.
Boom, boom, boom
. I didn't know all the words to
When Johnny Comes Marching Home
, so it kept turning into
The Ants Go Marching
in my head.

When I finally reached our tree behind the library, there was no one around. I walked along the edge of the creek to the bridge on the bike path. I leaned across the railing and listened to the rushing water. Still no sign of Dinah, and I was running out of ideas. I was also running out of steam. Part of me wanted to lie down right there on the bridge and go to sleep. I shined the flashlight down on my jeans and sneakers. In addition to being soaked, I was covered in mud and grass. I needed more than clean pajamas to get back into the house. I needed to wash up.

Since I already had the key to the church, I decided the best thing to do was walk back to the house, get my pajamas and a garbage bag out of the garage, and then walk back over to the church. At least I could run some water and get cleaned up without waking Mom and Dad. Yesterday I never would have considered walking
from the church to my house in my pajamas, but tonight it made sense.

As I unlocked the back door of the church, I decided I'd better take my rain poncho, sneakers, and jeans off at the doorway so I wouldn't track water and mud through the church. I stuck them in my garbage bag and headed for the men's room upstairs. I was almost to the stairway at the other end of the basement when a flashlight popped on and blinded me. Oh, and I shrieked, too. That was when the other flashlight hit the floor. “Matthew? Is that you?”

“Dinah! I've been looking everywhere for you!” I cried. I completely forgot I wasn't wearing any pants. “I heard Dad tell Mom that he'd locked the door. How did you get in?”

Dinah picked up her flashlight, and we both shined our lights straight up, illuminating our faces without blinding each other. “When I couldn't get in the back door, I just came in through the bathroom window there by the nursery.”

I was stunned. She'd been here in the church the whole time. “I can't believe you found an open window,” I said.

“I didn't
find
an open window, Matthew,” Dinah explained. “The very first night I stayed here I decided I better have a Plan B in case I got locked out. I checked all the windows in the church and chose that one to leave unlocked. It's got enough of a ledge on the outside that I could get in and out, and the blind is always closed on the inside, so nobody would notice that's it's unlocked.”

I should have known that Dinah would be able to take care of herself. Suddenly, I remembered my pants were in my hand. I held the garbage bag in front of my groin. “Let me go get cleaned up,” I said. I wished I had something more than my pajamas to put on. But even pajamas were better than standing there in my underwear another second.

It took forever to get all the mud off my legs and arms. I even had mud in my hair. I got the mud off of me and all over the bathroom. So I had to clean that mess up, too. When all of the mud was either down the drain or in my garbage bag, I put on my pajamas and gathered up all the used paper hand towels, stuffing them all the way to the bottom of the trash can.

Dinah was dressed and waiting for me when I returned. “Come on,” she said. “I'll walk you home.”

“You don't have to do that,” I said. I was so tired by this time that I felt like a little kid. I didn't want to say so, but I was overjoyed that she was going to walk me home. Dinah took the garbage bag from me and pointed me toward the back door.

“You lead the way. I'll make sure the door doesn't lock behind us.” Outside, she held my hand as we walked. “Thanks for looking for me, Matthew,” she said. “You're the best friend I ever had.”

M
OM WAS SITTING
on the edge of my bed feeling my forehead when I woke up the next morning. “Are you feeling okay?” she asked.

I stretched and rubbed my eyes. “I'm okay. What's wrong?” I asked.

“It's almost noon, honey,” Mom said. “I just wanted to make sure that you weren't sick.”

“Almost noon!” I scrambled out of bed and peeked out the window. Sure enough, the sun was straight up in the sky. Last night was all coming back to me. Dinah might be worried.

Mom laughed. “It's okay. Mark and Luke worked together and got your morning chores done. I've got lunch ready in the kitchen. I think you really are in the middle of a growing spurt.”

I straightened my back and took a deep breath. “You think?” I asked, hoping it was true, but knowing
that despite what my mom believed, I wasn't eating or sleeping any more than usual. Probably less.

“Hurry up and get dressed. I'll see you downstairs. I'm going to get your brothers started on pancakes and smoky links.”

I smiled. My favorite breakfast. Mom occasionally made them for a Saturday brunch or Sunday evening meal, but I can't remember ever having that for lunch on a weekday.

By the time I got downstairs, Mark and Luke had roared through their first plate of pancakes. Mom handed me my plate and went back to the kitchen to get more for my brothers. I breathed in the delicious buttermilk steam hovering above them. “Pass the butter and syrup, please,” I said to Luke.

When Mom came back with the pancakes for Mark and Luke, she turned to me. “Milk or juice?” she asked.