Sunday
afternoon, Peter made
some time to haul the box of his artwork up to his apartment so he
could sift
through it to find some samples to share with Patty. He pulled out a
few
sketches, a couple of watercolors, and several oils that were on
canvas. They
were all landscapes, flowers, or animals. He refused to do portraits.
Since the
café was closed on Sundays, he set the work aside until he had a
chance to drop
in one evening and share them with her.
He had the
afternoon to
himself because there was a gentle rain falling, and Pastor Mitchell’s
wife had
suddenly felt the need to invite Lily for Sunday dinner. When Lily had
tried to
include him, he had bowed out gracefully. He had no desire to spend his
afternoon being scrutinized.
Peter picked up
his worn
Bible and took it to sit near the window. After a prayer, he let it
fall open
to choose where he would read. The margins were filled with notes and
most of
the verses were highlighted in various colors.
He smiled and
spoke softly,
“Ah. Matthew 25. Good choice.” His finger trailed down the column until
he came
to verse 41. “And the king shall answer and say unto them, Verily I
say unto
you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my
brethren, ye
have done it unto me.” He looked heavenward, smiling, “What say we
go back
to the beginning of this chapter and pick up there?”
~*~
Patty was
rolling silverware
in napkins when Peter walked into the café Monday afternoon. Her
face
immediately brightened and she hurried to meet him.
“A box! Does
that mean you
brought pictures for me to see?”
He nodded,
setting the box
on a table, “I did. But don’t let me stop you from working. I’m not
here to
keep your from your duties.”
“It’s fine,” she
giggled.
“Obviously there’s no business right now, anyway. Let me see! Let me
see!”
Peter chuckled
and made an
exaggerated motion toward his box of wares, “As you wish, Milady.”
“Oh, Mr.
Carson!” She
exclaimed, pulling them out to look at, one after another. “These are
wonderful! You’re so good!”
“Thank you,” he
smiled.
She came to an
oil painting
of a butterfly and gasped, “This is gorgeous! I love butterflies. My
whole room
is done in butterflies. Butterfly bedspread, butterfly curtains,
butterfly
pictures, butterfly candles…”
“Then
it’s yours,” he offered.
“What?” She
looked up, eyes
wide. “Oh no! I mean…I couldn’t afford to pay you what this is worth!”
“It’s a gift.
Please,” he
assured, “I’d like for you to have it.”
“Oh, thank you!”
She almost
squealed with glee, impulsively hugging him.
He chuckled,
glancing up to
see Wilma watching from the back with a raised brow. He gave her a
slight wave
and called, “Hello, Wilma. Patty wanted to see some of my artwork. But
now it’s
time she got back to work.”
“Oh,” Patty
blushed and held
up her new treasure. “Look what he gave me, Wilma. Isn’t it gorgeous?
Come look
at his pictures. He’s so good.”
“You don’t have
to tell me
he’s good,” Wilma wagged her finger at the girl, as she came forward.
“I
watched him paint that sign in my window. Let’s see what you’ve got,
Peter.
Anything that goes with the décor of a greasy spoon café?”
“This is far
from a greasy
spoon, Wilma,” Peter laughed. “Trust me—I’ve been in plenty of them.
Hmmmm, I
do have a rooster you might like. Or a vase of daisies.”
The bell jingled
as the door
opened and several people walked in. Wilma nodded toward Patty, “Go
take care
of them, Girl. I’ll be in the kitchen shortly.”
Peter left not
long after
with a smile on his face, two of his paintings hanging on the wall of
the café,
and a firm invitation to come back for dinner.
~*~
Wednesday
morning, Peter was
refilling the tape in the register for Lily when he heard the door
jingle. He
looked up to see a man not much older than himself. He seemed to be
there with
a purpose.
“Can I help
you?” Peter
asked.
“I hope so,” he
smiled and
put his hand out, “I’m Bob Winters. I’m the mayor of Willowbrook.”
Peter shook his
hand, “Peter
Carson. Nice to meet you.”
“Then you’re the
man I’m
here to see.”
“What can I do
for you?”
“My daughter
can’t stop
talking about you,” he stated.
Peter tried not
to let
apprehension set in, “Your daughter?”
“Yes. She works
at the café.
Her name is Patty.”
“Ah.”
“She insisted I
come to talk
to you about a job the city needs done. Showed me that picture you gave
her.
She says you can paint anything you want to. Is that right?”
Peter felt a
wave of relief
spread over him, “Well, I suppose that’s a matter of opinion, but I
have
painted quite a bit.”
“Don’t know if
you’ve
noticed, but our water tower is in bad need of a new paint job,” he
explained.
“And the council wants us to put a picture on it this time with the
school
mascot. We’ve already got the funding for it, just need to let the job.
You
interested?”
“WATER TOWER!?”
Lily
walked in at that moment. “Oh, Bob! You can’t expect Peter to climb up
that
water tower and paint it for you! Why he could be killed!”
“Well, Lily,”
Bob chuckled,
“somebody’s got to do it. And Patty thinks it’d be a shame not to let
someone
local have the income.”
Lily took hold
of Peter’s
arm, “No, Peter. Please don’t take that job. It’s far too dangerous.”
“Whoa!” Peter
put his hands
up. “First of all, you said something about a mascot, Bob. What is
the
school mascot?”
He pulled a
school newspaper
clipping from his pocket, “They’re the Lions. This is the image they
use for
their logo.”
Peter looked at
the drawing
of a male lion head, roaring, teeth bared. He thought for a moment,
then
nodded, “I could do that.”
Lily still had
hold of his
arm, “Peter, please! You could fall.”
He looked at her
and spoke
softly, “Then God will catch me. Don’t worry, Lily. If my work here is
done,
then no power on earth can hold me here. If it is not, then no power
can
destroy me.”
Lily let out a
slow breath
and Bob gave him an odd look, like he didn’t quite understand what
Peter had
said. Lily understood, though. She nodded.
“So you’ll take
the job?”
Bob asked.
“Yes,” Peter
confirmed.
“I’ll have a look at the tower later today and put a list together of
what I
need to do it. Where can I reach you?”
“I have the real
estate
office just across the way there. Just drop it off with Lois, if I’m
not in.”
~*~
Peter stood at
the foot of
the water tower, loading a bucket with all the supplies he would need
during
this trip. As he stepped into the rope harness, he heard someone come
up behind
him.
“Are you fixin’
to climb up
there, Mister?”
By years, she
had to be in
her thirties, but Peter could see past that. Through the look in her
eyes and
innocence in her face, he could easily discern that she had the mind
and soul
of only a child.
“I am,” he
answered simply,
with a smile.
“How come? That
sure is a
long way up there.”
“The mayor wants
me to paint
it.”
“Paint it? All
by yourself?
So that’s what you’re fixin’ to do right now?”
“Actually,” he
attached the
bucket to a rope he’d already rigged to the top, and began hoisting it
up,
“first I need to clean off the surface of those old letters.”
“How come?”
“So the new
paint will stay
better.”
“Can I watch?”
“Certainly,” he
smiled,
starting up the ladder. “You can tell me if I miss a spot.”
It was hours
later that he
returned to the ground, hot and thirsty. His new friend was still
standing
there.
“You didn’t miss
no spots,”
she stated matter-of-factly. “But my neck sure does hurt.”
He couldn’t keep
from
chuckling, “My apologies. I didn’t mean for you to strain your neck.”
“Aw, that’s
a’right. I’d
rather have a neck ache than to be the one has to climb plumb up there.
You
look hot, Mister. Want me to get you somethin’ to drink somewheres?”
He pulled his
wallet out and
handed her some money, then sat on the ground, “That sounds like an
offer I
can’t refuse. How about you run into the gas station down the street
here and
get me a bottle of water? Get something for yourself, too.”
While she was
gone, he lay
back on the ground and shut his eyes. The grass felt cool compared to
the
glaring sun at the top of the tower. He was just about to doze off when
she
came back.
“Mister? Are you
a’right?”
He smiled and
sat up, “I’m
fine.”
She handed him
the bottle of
water and some change, “Here you go. My friend Mike said you give me
more money
than he needed.”
“You can keep
it,” he opened
the bottle. “You earned it for supervising today.”
She got a big
smile on her
face, “I did? Did I do a good job, Mister?”
“A very good
job. And my
name is Peter.”
“My name is
Dorothy. You
live here?”
He nodded, “In
the apartment
above the bookstore.”
“Oh!” She sat
down on the
ground and started drinking the soda she’d gotten for herself. “You’re
that new
man that my friend Mike told me about.”
“Perhaps,” he
nodded,
“although I don’t believe I’ve met your friend Mike yet.”
“Oh, you’ll like
Mike. He’s
nice. He’s my friend. He always tells me funny jokes when I come to the
station
to see him. Sometimes he gives me stuff, like this.” She held up a
little key
chain with an oil company insignia on it. “Ain’t that nice?”
“That’s very
nice.”
She looked up,
“Are you
goin’ back up there today?”
He shook his
head, “I don’t
think so. I’ll go up tomorrow morning before it gets too hot and paint
the
letters.”
“Letters is what
you’re
gonna paint?”
“Tomorrow,” he
smiled. “Then
I’m supposed to paint a lion on the other side.”
Her eyes got
big, “Really?
You can do that?”
“Well, let’s
hope I can,” he
chuckled.
“Can I come
and…what was it
you said I did today?”
“Supervised.”
“Yeah, can I do
that again
tomorrow?”
“Certainly,” he
smiled. “But
tomorrow you don’t have to look the whole time. We don’t want to hurt
your
neck.”
~*~
“Peter!” Lily
gasped, as he
walked into the bookstore. “Look at you! You got a sunburn today!”
He glanced down
at his arms
and shrugged, “I’ll live.”
“You’d better
put some
lotion on or you’ll be hurting tomorrow,” she warned.
“I’ll be fine,”
he assured,
heading toward the back of the shop. “What I’d better do is wash up.
I’ll be
back down to help you close up as soon as I can. Where’s Joey?”
“Oh, I asked him
to run an
errand for me. He’ll be right back.”
“Good,” Peter
added before
disappearing up the stairs, “he can help you out until I get here.”
Peter felt
refreshed when he
returned to find Joey sweeping the floor.
“Hi, Mr. Carson!”
“Hello, Joey,”
he ruffled
his hair. “You’re doing a good job there, Son. Keep it up.”
Lily let out a
sigh as he
walked up to the counter, “Tell me that you got the job done and don’t
have to
go back up there again.”
“If I told you
that, I’d be
lying, Lily.”
She frowned,
“Peter, I
really hate the thought of you taking such risks. If it’s because you
need the
money…”
“Lily,” he
stopped her, “you
should know better than that. Now, stop worrying about me and tell me
something.”
“What?”
“I met a young
woman today.
Her name is Dorothy.”
“Ah,” she
nodded, “Dorothy.
Yes, everyone eventually gets to know Dorothy.”
“Tell me about
her.”
“Well, Peter,”
she stopped
working on the deposit, “I really don’t know very much. She didn’t grow
up
here, so I can only assume that she has always been as she is now. But
I could
be wrong. It could be that something happened to her to cause it. But
she’s
sweet really. And completely harmless. Although I wonder sometimes if
she’s
really capable of taking care of herself adequately.”
“So if she
didn’t grow up
here, how did she get here?”
She shook her
head, “That’s
a bit of a mystery, too. There’s an old two-story house down the street
from
the gas station, with a big front porch on it. You know the place?” He
nodded,
so she went on, “That’s where she lives. The family who owned it moved
a few
years back, and suddenly Dorothy was living there. I don’t know if they
were
her relatives, or if she bought it from them, or…well, I just really
don’t
know. There was never a real estate sign on it, and no one around here
was
involved in the sale if there was one.”
“So she lives
there alone?”
“Yes.”
“How does she
pay her
bills?”
“I can only
assume she’s got
some sort of income. Perhaps she’s on some type of government
disability, or
maybe someone is helping her. I really don’t know. What I do know is
that
everyone around here just kind of keeps an eye on her to make sure
she’s all
right.”
He nodded,
“That’s good to
know. So what can you tell me about her friend Mike?”
Lily looked at
him for a
moment, as if trying to place the name, then smiled, “Oh! Michael
Parks. He and
his father own that gas station close to her house. I’m sure that’s who
you
mean.”
“Yes. What do
you know about
him?”
“He’s a good
man. Has a
family. He was in school with my girls.”
“She kept
referring to him,”
Peter recalled. “He’s not the type to take advantage of someone in her
situation?”
“Oh no, not at
all.”
“Thank you,
Lily. Now, are
you ready for me to take that deposit to the bank for you?”
“Will be in a
just a minute.
Someone’s had me distracted from my work. I don’t know who would do
such a
thing,” she teased.
“Perhaps you
should fire
him,” Peter winked.
“Not a chance!”
~*~
Peter sat down
on his bed
and reached for a leather-bound book. Using the attached ribbon, he
opened it
to the page he had marked. The page was lined and filled with his
handwriting.
Across the top, the word ‘Willowbrook’ was written, along with the date
he had
arrived. He glanced down the list of names he had recorded: Lily
Barnes,
Allison, Brenda, Jimmy Johnson, Joey, Pastor Mitchell, Judy, Wilma,
Patty, Bob
Winters. He lifted his pen and added two new names to his list: Dorothy
and
Mike. He closed the book, and bowed his head to pray.