“I know,” the counterman said. “News was talking about the Gander woman this morning, telling about how she hypnotized some girl she was counseling to get her to shoot herself.”
“Why would she do a thing like that?” Delroy asked.
The counterman shrugged and rang up Walter’s charges. “Don’t know. Guy on the news was kinda suggesting that the Gander woman had convinced the kid she’d get to heaven faster that way.”
Delroy shook his head and glanced back at the screen.
“We’re asking anyone with information that might help Mrs. Gander today in court to come forward,” the reporter said. “I’m going go be here all day for anyone that wants to stop by and talk. I’m Penny Gillespie for Dove TV.”
“Hey,” the counterman said, snapping his fingers, “aren’t you that new preacher everybody is talking about? The one that’s preaching at the old black church over in Shackleton?”
“I’m not a new preacher,” Delroy said. “I’m a navy chaplain. My name is Delroy Harte.”
The counterman thought for a moment. “There used to be a preacher here named Josiah Harte.”
“My daddy,” Delroy said.
“My father used to go there when Josiah preached.” The counterman smiled at the memory. “As I recall, there wasn’t a lot of white faces in that church.”
“They were always welcome,” Delroy said, remembering there had been a few white people in the congregation, and wondering which one of them might have been the counterman’s daddy.
“I know. I remember my father taking me there. He always said that that church was one of the best when it came to singing the gospel. And he loved to listen to your father pound that pulpit. He always said he’d never met a preacher that could bring a man to meet Jesus faster or more sure than Josiah.”
Delroy smiled and felt tightness in his chest. “I appreciate your kindness.” He held his hand out and shook the counterman’s.
“Not a problem.”
Delroy turned to go. The counterman called to him before he stepped through the door. “Preacher … uh … Chaplain,” the counterman said, looking a little nervous.
“Aye,” Delroy said.
“People I’ve seen in here this morning, some of them say you’re going to be at the church today.”
“I am.”
The counterman shrugged. “I was thinking, I get off here about eleven, and I was wondering if it would be okay if I came by. Thought maybe I’d bring my wife and a couple of my teenagers.” He rubbed his chin. “Things that are going on around here, not much of them are making any sense. People I talked to, they said you had some good words to say.”
Delroy smiled in wonderment.
“You see, Son,” Josiah had told him so many times, “it ain’t so much that a preacher has to go out an’ find him a congregation, or even work on buildin’ hisself one. God, well, He just knows when people’s right for one another. You only gotta listen to Him. You take it upon yourself to serve the Lord as a shepherd, Son, why God will give you the sheep.”
“What’s your name?” Delroy asked.
“Eddie,” the counterman replied. “Eddie Fikes.”
“Well, Eddie Fikes,” Delroy said, “when you get time, you come on down to the Church of the Word. Bring your family. You’ll be welcome.”
Eddie smiled. “I’ll do that, Chaplain. I know some other people that might like to drop by, too.”
“Well, then, bring them on.” But a small part of Delroy was wondering if he wasn’t biting off more than he could chew. The ride to the church was mostly silent as Delroy continued to wonder what he was going to do, what he was going to say.
“You want my opinion?” Walter said when they were within blocks of the church.
“Is there any force in this world that’s going to keep you from giving it to me?”
Walter appeared to consider the question for a moment; then he shook his head. “Nope.”
“Well, as my daddy would say, I guess you’d best let that dog run.”
“Well, sir, you’re overthinkin’ things. You just need to relax. Go with the flow.” Walter looked over at him. “Your daddy an’ God have prepared you for this place an’ this time, Delroy.” He shook his head. “What I saw yesterday in that church, well … it’s just meant to be, Delroy. That’s all I gotta say. It’s just flat meant to be. You just listen to your heart an’ to your faith. You’ll do just fine.”
“There’s a danger in being too prideful,” Delroy said.
“An’ if you get there,” Walter said, “I’ll thump a knot on your skull myself.”
In spite of the tension he felt, Delroy laughed. “You probably would.”
Walter laughed with him.
Only minutes later, they pulled up to the church. The sight took Delroy’s breath away.
At least two hundred people—men, women, and children—stood in the churchyard. Many of them were painting the church’s exterior, some standing on the ground, some up on scaffolds and ladders. The early morning sunlight glinted off the church’s new windowpanes. The sign in front of the old place had been rehung and repainted.
Church of The Word
A Gathering Place of God’s Faithful
Stunned, Delroy stepped from Walter’s truck. The church wasn’t as pristine it had been all those years ago, but it was a monumental change for the better from yesterday.
Phyllis, looking more chipper and less worried than she had yesterday, came forward. “Good morning, Chaplain.”
“The church,” Delroy said, unable to say anything further for the moment.
“I know,” Phyllis said. “Nobody wanted to leave after what you got started yesterday, so we up an’ divided our ownselves into shifts. Some gettin’ materials, an’ them what was handy usin’ ‘em.” She shrugged. “’Course, they ain’t nobody in this neighborhood what don’t fit a paintbrush to they hand. So we got paint.” She smiled brightly. “We even got pews.”
“Pews?” Delroy repeated.
“One of the men
