Pink Flamingoed Page 16
“Well, Dr. Watson. What a pleasant surprise!”
“Really, Mr. Holmes. I wasn’t sure if you still remembered my name.”
“I’m sorry, Amy. I’ve been rather busy lately. I really am sorry. How can I make it up to you?”
“Well, since you asked.”
“Am I going to regret this?”
“No, it will be relatively painless. The weather is supposed to be nice tomorrow, so I thought the two of us might go on a picnic.”
“And I imagine that one of us will be taking a camera.”
“Oh, no.”
“No?”
Then, thinking quickly, Brad managed to answer in unison with Amy, “Two cameras.”
“Plus three bags,” added Amy.
“And a tripod in a pear tree,” Brad sang.
“Oh, it’s so good to see you,” Amy exclaimed. “It’s been too long.”
“It has been,” Brad answered. “People have even stopped talking about us.”
“Well, we can’t let them do that, can we?” Amy exclaimed through her laughter.
“It’s good to hear your laugh,” Brad said, “but it’s even better to see your face.”
“Oh, you romantic writers are all the same,” Amy said, drinking in his compliments.
“Romantic whodunit writers. So, what’s the agenda?” Brad asked.
“Then you’re willing to put your book on hold for a day and go with me?”
“Only if you pick me up in a white carriage pulled by a white horse,” Brad replied.
“How about a brown picnic basket instead?”
“I think I’ve eaten far too much this winter to fit into a brown picnic basket, but I might be strong enough to carry one.”
“I might be able to stuff your head in it. That is unless your book sales have made your head too big to fit in a picnic basket.”
“I think I’d rather keep my head out of the basket, except when I insert it to find food.”
“So, you’re willing to go?”
“You drive a hard bargain, my lady, but alas, I accept your offer.”
“Fine, how about 10:30, and I’ll drive?”
“I cannot wait until 10:30,” Brad answered, as he took Amy in his arms and kissed her.
“Now I know what I’ve missed about you,” Amy said.
“It’s the smell of my after-shave in the morning.”
“You don’t wear after-shave.”
“See, I told you you missed it.”
“Oh, you’re hopeless. Get back to your writing and I’ll see you in the morning.”
+++
Kenny walked up the street, bored. He looked down and kicked at any stray gravel he found. As Kenny passed the Conklin house, he didn’t notice Harry hidden behind the morning newspaper. Something struck Kenny’s neck, and instantly he reached for the back of his neck as if responding to a rubber hammer.
Kenny looked up, but there was no tree which had lost its acorn. Kenny looked around, but saw nothing except Harry reading a newspaper. Kenny walked on until a second projectile found its target. This time Kenny was too quick for Harry.
“Hey!” Kenny exclaimed.
“Hey, yourself,” Harry replied.
“What’s that thing you’ve got in your hand?”
“You mean this?” Harry replied, holding an object.
“Did you shoot something at me through that straw?”
“This is no straw, Kenny. This is my peashooter, left over from my childhood.”
“Mind if I see it.”
“Come on up,” Harry replied, eager to educate one so young.
Within ten minutes, not only had Harry educated Kenny on the fine art of peashooting, which Kenny wanted to demonstrate on his sisters, but the two of them found themselves in Harry’s attic looking over a box of toys left over from Harry’s youth. Harry began by showing Kenny a couple of tops, which he demonstrated by spinning them, then Harry moved on to his trusted slingshot.
“I know what that is, Mr. Conklin. Were you a good shot?”
“Too good, Kenny.”
The quizzical look on Kenny’s face told Harry the boy needed more explanation, an explanation Harry wanted to share.
“When I got in trouble, Kenny, was when I changed from my small slingshot to this one. I found out this one was big enough to propel a small water balloon. One day my sister was having a tea party. I wasn’t invited. The party was on the backyard patio. Figuring there was no way I would get caught, I sneaked out the front door. No one knew it, but I had already perfected the art of shooting over the house and landing a balloon on the patio. Sometimes, if it was quiet enough, I could hear the splat.
“Well, I made two mistakes the day of my sister’s tea party. She was there with some friends, all dressed up in some frilly outfit. I sneaked out the front door and made the mistake of shooting just as my mother opened the back door with some refreshments. That was my first mistake. My second mistake was deciding to use permanent ink in the balloon for the first time.”
Kenny laughed. Maybe Mr. Conklin was more fun than he thought. “Got grounded, huh?”
“Got thrashed first.”
Harry and Kenny sat on the attic floor for over an hour while Harry moved from one toy to the next. Kenny thought the hula hoop sounded too much like something a girl would do, but when Harry told Kenny about his tree house, Kenny thought it sounded like something he could talk his dad into making for him. At least from a tree house, Kenny could see if his mother opened the back door before he splattered his sisters.
+++
Scott stayed busy. Not only did he pastor a church and spend around twenty hours preparing his weekly sermon, but he was involved outside the church. He devoted most afternoons to visitation. He tried to visit every shut-in at least once a month, he made hospital visits when the situation warranted, and he visited people in his congregation. In addition, he met with other local pastors on a weekly basis. He also served on a civic committee, and once a week during the colder months he helped out at the soup kitchen. Plus, he dropped in at the orphanage from time to time. Sometimes he spoke to the children. Other times he checked to see how he might be of service and to find out any needs they had that the church might be able to address.
In addition to all of this, Scott had his family responsibilities. He juggled the thought of having another child with the life of the three children he already had. He fielded questions from the neighbors about his wife’s health. In his spare time, he managed to work in some sermon preparation and thoughts about Easter.
+++
The first of April arrived just as Brad put the final touches on the first draft of his latest novel. Now, the hard part began. Or was it the hard part? Brad stayed in touch with his editor, who wanted to be in the know as to how Brad was progressing. Brad held off as long as he could, then sent a few chapters to his editor to see what his next move might be. He preferred to wait until after he had made a few revisions, and he had made a few, but he liked to make most of them after reading the completed novel. Brad took a couple of days to read it and made notations as to what he liked and what he planned to change. He hoped he and his editor were of one mind. It helped that Brad had a track record. Four successful novels.
+++
Palm Sunday came complete with palm branches in the hands of Pastor Scott’s children, who, as everyone knew, were the only children in the church. Just as quickly, Palm Sunday passed and Pastor Scott turned his thoughts to the church services of Holy Week.
The Armbrusters attended a worship service on Good Friday, but Pastor Scott did not have to preach because The Church On Aylesford Place was one of three congregations that combined their Good Friday worship service. Each year a different pastor shared the message. This year, Pastor Johnson, the pastor of the black church, delivered the message.
Both Pastor Johnson and Pastor Scott were members of the group of local pastors who got together each week, and they had become close friends because of this associati
on. Pastor Scott looked forward to hearing Pastor Johnson’s message. Pastor Scott also looked forward to the fact that most of the people of The Church On Aylesford Place planned to be there to hear Pastor Johnson’s message.
+++
Good Friday arrived and the church was packed. Many people from all three congregations took time to attend. After the service ended, Pastor Scott stood talking to his friend Pastor Johnson.
“Lionel, did I ever thank you for going into the ministry?”
“I’m not sure, Scott,” Pastor Johnson said, laughing.
“Well, let me thank you now. God definitely used you to bless me today.”
“And me, too,” Frank said, as he and Cora exited the church.
“Lionel, this is Frank and Cora Henderson,” Scott said.
“So nice to meet you. And thank you for coming.”
“No. Thank you for coming, Pastor Johnson. We must do this more often.”
“Yes, we must,” Brad said, as he and Amy left the church and stopped to shake the pastor’s hand.
“Yes, we must,” Pastor Johnson agreed. “It’s so good when more of God’s people get together and celebrate Jesus together. Scott, maybe we can do another combined service sometime, and, if you like, we can do a pulpit exchange some Sunday.”
“I’d like that, Lionel. I really would like that.”
People took advantage of the beautiful weather and warm hearts as they stood outside the church. Members from all three churches continued to linger and visit with one another under the trees, as the sun peeked through when given a chance.
I’m glad each church group is making an effort to get to know the people from the other two churches. This is definitely a Good Friday, Pastor Scott thought as he watched the congregations intermingle.
+++
Other than the time and money the residents of Aylesford Place gave to their church, they gave more to the local orphanage than to any other organization. Because of that, the day before Easter meant so much to the people who lived on Aylesford Place. Each year, The Church On Aylesford Place hosted an Easter egg hunt for the children who lived at the orphanage.
Each of the residents on Aylesford Place played an important part in the children’s activities that day. Brad, Scott, Frank, and Jim went to the orphanage to pick up the children. Cora, Ethel, Kathy, and Bertha stayed behind and prepared snacks for everyone to enjoy after all the eggs were found. Amy and Melanie hid the eggs.
+++
“Okay, kids. Who’s ready to find some Easter eggs?” Allison asked.
“Me!” shouted all the children.
“Okay, let’s go!” Allison said, as she, Chuck, Harry, Brad, and Amy got ready to make sure each child found some eggs.
In her eagerness to help the children, Allison failed to watch where she was going.
“Is anyone interested in a flat egg with tire tracks on it?” Chuck asked.
“I autographed that one for you, Hon,” Allison said.
“You know I prefer my eggs over easy,” Chuck replied.
Each child giggled with delight each time he or she found another egg.
Harry stepped back to get out of one child’s way.
“Hey, Harry! It looks like the yolk’s on you,” Brad hollered, as Harry’s misstep found an egg. “Hey, kids, you’d better hurry and find the eggs before Allison and Harry scramble all of them.”
+++
The children from the orphanage and the big children of Aylesford Place had a wonderful time that day.
As Pastor Scott remained at the orphanage until he was sure every child had returned safely, he heard one youngster exclaim, “I finded six eggs today and one of them was the special egg.”
“And did you get anything for finding the special egg?”
“I shore did. See. I got this great big coloring book and crayons. It’s so big I’m going to share with all the other kids.”
+++
Nancy knew her job. Scott always liked to be the first one at the park for the sunrise service. It allowed him to reflect on the day to come and spend time alone with his Lord. Also, he wanted to greet each person as they came. As Nancy constantly reminded her troops to hurry, she wondered how in the world she would be able to handle all of this next year with her three rapscallions and a baby in tow. Then, God got her attention and reminded her to take one day at a time.
Pastor Scott meandered through the park, with no company except the birds and the squirrels. After carefully looking over his shoulder from time to time, he practiced his two sermons, the brief sunrise sermon and the longer one he prepared for the regular service. He continued to walk and sermonize the animals until the first of his congregation arrived, excited about what they would be celebrating.
Except for Mrs. Peabody and Norman, all of Aylesford Place gathered for the early service in the park. The service began with a hymn about the resurrection, which got Pastor Scott’s blood pumping. Then, he delivered a short message. When he finished, everyone rushed to hug everyone else and talk about their special day together.
“Don’t forget, everybody! Breakfast at the church!” someone hollered.
No one had forgotten. No member of any church had ever forgotten a meal, so why should it be any different at The Church on Aylesford Place? Many years earlier the church gathered to see whether they would prefer a breakfast after the sunrise service or a dinner after the regular service. Someone made a suggestion and the vote was unanimous. There would be both.
“There’s nothing like an Easter sunrise service and a breakfast of ham, sausage, bacon, biscuits, eggs, pancakes and maple syrup to bring out the boisterousness in a crowd,” Brad said to Amy, as he counted off the things on the serving table.
“Well, this is definitely a rowdy group.”
The group ate, talked, and hugged, and then dispersed for an hour or so until it was time to come back for the regular service. Some went home to rest, others to change clothes. Some merely went home because most people did, but a few went for a walk in the park, or waited at the church.
+++
Pastor Scott read the scripture, a scripture many of them had heard many times before, a scripture some of them knew by heart. He finished reading the scripture and looked up at his congregation.
“Today, we’re going to talk about one of the saddest things we could talk about. We’re going to talk about the empty tomb. Now, you might ask, ‘What could be sad about an empty tomb?’ What would be sad is if the tomb were not empty, because if the tomb were not empty there would be no reason to hope and no reason to gather together each week. There are three reasons I am saddened when I think of the empty tomb. One, of course, is that there are people in this world who have not been told of the empty tomb, because they have never been told about Jesus Christ. Another reason I’m so sad is because some people have been told about the empty tomb, but for some reason or another they refuse to believe it, and so these people live lives of quiet desperation. Because these people don’t believe in the empty tomb, they lead empty lives, lives that can be filled only with the love of Jesus Christ. But possibly sadder still are those people who hear about the empty tomb, say they believe in the empty tomb, but don’t embrace it. Many of these people fill churches every Easter Sunday. Many of these people confess on that Easter Sunday that they believe in Jesus Christ. Some will even confess that every Sunday, but they forget all about the tomb every other day of the week. The time has come for each of us who believes in the empty tomb to embrace that tomb. The time has come for each of us who believes in the empty tomb to share the story of the empty tomb with others. Many of us love to tell stories, but do we love to tell the story? We need to tell the world that Jesus is Lord of our lives, but more than that, we need to show the world, and let them know that Jesus can do the same thing for them. In a few minutes, each of us will walk out the door of this building, and, when we do, we’ll find ourselves a part of the world once again. We’ll find ourselves in a world that embraces a much differe
nt lifestyle than the one to which each of us has been called. When we walk out those doors, will each of us take the empty tomb with us, and, if we do, will we carry with us all that that tomb stands for every day for the rest of our lives? Or will we merely set it by the door as we leave, only to pick it up next Sunday or next Easter?”
Pastor Scott concluded and took a seat, while the congregation kept their seats and sat silently reflecting on his message.
+++
It rained a lot the two weeks following Easter, but no one on Aylesford Place seemed to mind too much. Everyone was excited that winter was over and that spring had arrived.
As the sun began to shine more often, the people who had hidden in their houses most of the winter ventured out and sat on their front porches. Everyone except Norman. Lady Catherine did not talk about him much, so everyone assumed that he spent his days sleeping in the basement and spent his nights working at the motel.
No one knew about the woman most people referred to as Wicked Witch Peabody, either. The high wall which surrounded her house prohibited anyone from seeing if she was out and about, and seldom did anyone venture past her gate and look inside. Most had heard the rumors about the gun, and if they walked past her house at all, they hurried past it.
Life was a pleasant life of leisure to many of the residents of Aylesford Place. Many spent their mornings planting flowers in front of their houses or in their backyards, and their evenings after dinner talking to their neighbors from their porch swings. Life was good on Aylesford Place.
+++
Easter had come and gone. With it went Scott’s excuse to his son. A few weeks before, Kenny had run home to tell his dad all about Harry’s boyhood tree house, a tree house Kenny suddenly coveted. Scott begged off, citing his busy schedule, and promised to consider a tree house when time permitted. When Easter passed, Kenny reminded his dad. As soon as the sun began to shine with regularity, Kenny accompanied his dad to buy wood, nails, and other items necessary for a state-of-the-art tree house.