Suncatchers by Jamie Langston Turner Page B

Study” stood slightly ajar off to the left of the foyer. Perry heard the metallic squeak of a swivel chair from inside the study, and before he could knock, the pastor had opened the door and was extending his hand. He wore a white shirt and a bold red tie, and Perry caught the gleam of his polished wing tip shoes without looking down at them. Perry wondered fleetingly what a man like Brother Hawthorne did all day in an office like this. He glanced at the big metal desk against the wall. A sheet of yellow legal paper had been inserted into a manual typewriter, and a few lines had been typed. Several open volumes were spread out on both sides of the typewriter. Next to the desk lamp sat a large framed picture of Edna Hawthorne, her hands clasped dramatically beside her smooth round face, her head tilted, her lips slightly parted, and her eyes turned upward as if admiring something very delightful just out of her reach.
    Brother Hawthorne was shorter than Perry by several inches but gripped his hand firmly and spoke with hearty confidence as he led him to a pair of small wing chairs slightly turned to face each other beside the window. Perry was reminded of a job interview, and in a sense he supposed that was what this was all about.
    â€œHave a seat, please,” Brother Hawthorne said, and he waited until Perry had sat down before he took the chair facing him. The pastor crossed one leg over the other and set his Bible on top of his thigh, both hands resting on it. His nails were clipped short, Perry noticed, and his wide gold wedding band caught the sun from the window and glinted. Perry thought again of plump Edna Hawthorne and wondered if this man made her happy. He glanced down at his own wedding band, which he still wore, and wondered how a man went about making a woman happy anyway. He had thought it was so easy at one time, had even been secretly scornful of husbands whose wives left them, sure that the men had been guilty of some heinous misconduct they weren’t admitting.
    â€œLet’s pray before we begin,” Brother Hawthorne said. Again he paused for a long moment before praying aloud, and Perry wondered what went on during those seconds of silence. Was he thinking of how to start? His prayer was short this time, and when he finished he smiled at Perry and asked, “Now how can I help you, Perry?”
    Perry took a deep breath and started. As he explained the book he was going to write, the pastor’s eyes never left his face.
    When he stopped, Brother Hawthorne cleared his throat before speaking. “And so you will be attending our services and activities regularly for the sole purpose of writing about them?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd you will change all the names—to protect the innocent, isn’t that the expression?” The pastor smiled faintly.
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œWhat about our church members? What about your neighbors? Jewel and Eldeen? Don’t you think they should know what you’re doing?”
    â€œMaybe they should, but I’m not sure I want them to . . . for the time being at least,” Perry said. “I’ve found in the past that . . . well, if I could just go about my writing quietly, it will move along better, I think. I wanted you to know, and of course eventually the others will have to know. But for now I was hoping we could . . .”
    Perry trailed off. He had been afraid of this, that it would all sound too underhanded to the pastor. Maybe he should just get up one Sunday in church and tell the whole congregation what he was doing. Maybe he could have it printed in the bulletin as part of the agenda, maybe after “Offertory—Organ Solo.” They could list it as “Special Brief Admission of Purpose by Frequent Visiting Nonmember.”
    The pastor cleared his throat again and tapped his fingers lightly against the cover of the Bible in his lap. He inhaled sharply.