this late.”
“They may make an exception under the circumstances,” I said in consolation. “I take it there's no chance that you can come a little later? Like in a week?”
“Hell, no!” he exploded in my ear. “I can't leave my people. Adam's out there right now with about forty of them. They're standing around in the ashes looking like lost souls, trying to make sense of what happened, tryingto figure it out based on their culture and traditions. Or else muttering that it's God's will. Bullshit, blame it on the weather. Or maybe it was electrical. The wiring's always been patchwork.”
“What about insurance?” I inquired, unable to refrain from congratulating myself for checking out
The Advocate's
coverage with Brendan Shaw.
“I've got to check with Tucson on that. The Extension Society provides us with a subsidy. Remember how they helped us in Mississippi after the flood?”
I vaguely recalled Extension's work with the home missions, including Ben's. “I'll send you a check,” I said. “It won't buy much more than a couple of two-by-fours, but maybe I can get Dennis Kelly to take up a second collection. The parishioners here know you.”
“Den's got plenty on his plate as it is,” Ben said, again sounding glum. “Don't worry about it. We'll manage. These people are wonderful, really. They know hard times, they understand struggle. And I'll have Adam here to help for a few more weeks.”
“How is my son?” I could barely keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
“He's fine. Upset, of course. But he's out there trying to keep everybody's spirits up. You'd be proud of him, Sluggly.”
Hearing the old childhood nickname forced a small smile. “I doubt that I'd recognize him,” I replied. It wasn't merely a slighting comment; the idea of my spoiled son extending himself to others still had a foreign ring. With a few more words of comfort, I let Ben go. My disappointment over his cancellation of the Alpine trip was small compared with what I knew he must be feeling.
The next day, Friday, I thought about calling him back. But I realized I didn't know where to reach him. If both the church and the rectory were gone, so was his phone. Wherever Ben had called from, it hadn't been at the mission. I'd have to wait until I heard from him again.
The long weekend now stretched out before me like a bottomless pit. No change in the weather was predicted. Vida had Buck, Ginny was going home to Rick, and Carla was headed for Seattle. I didn't pry into Leo's plans. Milo would be tied up for most of the three days. I'd left a message with Jack Mullins that my brother wasn't coming to town after all. By mid-afternoon, I still hadn't heard from the sheriff.
When my staff had all left by ten to five, I sat alone in my office staring at the computer screen with its half-finished editorial on coping with graffiti. “If private business owners won't take the initiative of removing the offensive artwork from their walls and windows, they shouldn't expect the city or the county to pony up the funds to clean it for them.” How bland could I get? Neither the city nor the county had the funds to get rid of graffiti. “If stiffer fines were imposed on the graffiti artists, the monies collected could be allocated for …”
I intended to hit the
save
command, struck something else instead, and wiped out the entire editorial. Frantically, I searched for
undo.
I found it, and restored the text. Then I wondered why I had bothered. The piece was still a bore. Maybe on Monday … Except that Monday was a holiday. But with no plans, I could come in for a while and get some work done. The thought held no charm. On a sudden whim, I called Francine at the apparel shop.
“If that dinner invitation is still open tonight, I can come,” I said, inserting a false bright note into my voice.
Francine hesitated at the other end. “Actually, Emma, it's not. Alicia and I have other plans. In fact, Alicia's gone into Snohomish to see an
“They may make an exception under the circumstances,” I said in consolation. “I take it there's no chance that you can come a little later? Like in a week?”
“Hell, no!” he exploded in my ear. “I can't leave my people. Adam's out there right now with about forty of them. They're standing around in the ashes looking like lost souls, trying to make sense of what happened, tryingto figure it out based on their culture and traditions. Or else muttering that it's God's will. Bullshit, blame it on the weather. Or maybe it was electrical. The wiring's always been patchwork.”
“What about insurance?” I inquired, unable to refrain from congratulating myself for checking out
The Advocate's
coverage with Brendan Shaw.
“I've got to check with Tucson on that. The Extension Society provides us with a subsidy. Remember how they helped us in Mississippi after the flood?”
I vaguely recalled Extension's work with the home missions, including Ben's. “I'll send you a check,” I said. “It won't buy much more than a couple of two-by-fours, but maybe I can get Dennis Kelly to take up a second collection. The parishioners here know you.”
“Den's got plenty on his plate as it is,” Ben said, again sounding glum. “Don't worry about it. We'll manage. These people are wonderful, really. They know hard times, they understand struggle. And I'll have Adam here to help for a few more weeks.”
“How is my son?” I could barely keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
“He's fine. Upset, of course. But he's out there trying to keep everybody's spirits up. You'd be proud of him, Sluggly.”
Hearing the old childhood nickname forced a small smile. “I doubt that I'd recognize him,” I replied. It wasn't merely a slighting comment; the idea of my spoiled son extending himself to others still had a foreign ring. With a few more words of comfort, I let Ben go. My disappointment over his cancellation of the Alpine trip was small compared with what I knew he must be feeling.
The next day, Friday, I thought about calling him back. But I realized I didn't know where to reach him. If both the church and the rectory were gone, so was his phone. Wherever Ben had called from, it hadn't been at the mission. I'd have to wait until I heard from him again.
The long weekend now stretched out before me like a bottomless pit. No change in the weather was predicted. Vida had Buck, Ginny was going home to Rick, and Carla was headed for Seattle. I didn't pry into Leo's plans. Milo would be tied up for most of the three days. I'd left a message with Jack Mullins that my brother wasn't coming to town after all. By mid-afternoon, I still hadn't heard from the sheriff.
When my staff had all left by ten to five, I sat alone in my office staring at the computer screen with its half-finished editorial on coping with graffiti. “If private business owners won't take the initiative of removing the offensive artwork from their walls and windows, they shouldn't expect the city or the county to pony up the funds to clean it for them.” How bland could I get? Neither the city nor the county had the funds to get rid of graffiti. “If stiffer fines were imposed on the graffiti artists, the monies collected could be allocated for …”
I intended to hit the
save
command, struck something else instead, and wiped out the entire editorial. Frantically, I searched for
undo.
I found it, and restored the text. Then I wondered why I had bothered. The piece was still a bore. Maybe on Monday … Except that Monday was a holiday. But with no plans, I could come in for a while and get some work done. The thought held no charm. On a sudden whim, I called Francine at the apparel shop.
“If that dinner invitation is still open tonight, I can come,” I said, inserting a false bright note into my voice.
Francine hesitated at the other end. “Actually, Emma, it's not. Alicia and I have other plans. In fact, Alicia's gone into Snohomish to see an
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