The Pastor's Son Page 2

  I watched as the woman disappeared into the haze of snow blanketing the mountain.

  Come on, God. Just get me off this stupid mountain. Please?

  I knew it was fruitless. Even as I sat there, bargaining and fighting with God, I knew I didn’t have a choice. I was going nowhere in that kind of weather, even if my car did turn over and crank up. And as frustrated as that made me feel, part of me was relieved.

  If I didn’t go back down the mountain, then nothing down there existed.

  Right?

  “Hey!” I exclaimed.

  I shoved my door open and fought with it as it scraped around the freshly-fallen snow.

  “Hey! Wait up!”

  If she was calling out to me, I didn’t hear her, which had me worried. I’d never seen snow like that before. The snow fell so hard I couldn't see through it. I shielded my eyes as I forced my door closed. I hissed and grunted as my tennis shoes sank into the cold powder. With every step I took up the hill, I felt my legs growing colder. Growing numb. Locking up as a chill, unlike anything I’d ever experienced settled into my bones.

  Maybe I’ll die out here and be done with it.

  I pushed myself forward as I pulled my coat tightly around me. I had officially lost all feeling in my legs as the silhouette of the cabin finally came into view. The lights were on, and smoke rose from the chimney. The promise of warmth and food called to me, pulling me closer to the porch. I stumbled up the steps. I slipped on a patch of ice, catching myself with my hands on the porch. And as the cold traveled up my arm, I heard the door open in front of me.

  “Come on. Let’s get you inside,” she said.

  Her voice was so soothing. Her touch was comforting. She reached for me, and I clung to her as I tried lifting myself. We both tripped over ourselves trying to get into the cabin. The warmth that slapped me across the face hurt more than it relaxed. I grunted as the feeling of a thousand needles surfaced against my legs. Against my arms. Against my feet.

  “We have to get these clothes off you. Otherwise, you’re going to get sick.”

  Everything moved around me in a blur. Like the cold had knocked all sense away from my mind. Then again, I hadn’t had much sense in the first place. I felt numb from the inside out. I felt as if I were inhabiting a body I didn’t recognize. I felt pressure against my shoulders before I sat on something comfortable and warm, with an intense heat beating against my face.

  “Oh, yeah,” I groaned.

  Off came my shoes and my socks. I felt more pressure before I leaned forward, and off came my jacket. I closed my eyes and tried to get my bearings. I needed to focus. My brain needed to focus. I needed to try and keep myself together.

  “Here, I’ve got you some clothes.”

  I paused. “Huh?”

  I felt her sit beside me. “Clothes. I need you to get into another change of clothes. Unless you want to take a hot shower before you get changed.”

  My eyes opened, moving to where the voice was coming from. I was met with the kindest brown gaze I’d ever seen. The woman sitting next to me had sparkling blonde hair, and the red tip of her nose made me grin. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold. Her sweater was much too big on her. It fell off her shoulder, exposing the sleeve of a tank-top underneath. And as my gaze traced her body, reality slammed against me.

  She’s gorgeous.

  “Sir?”

  I cleared my throat. “Adam.”

  She paused. “Adam. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Kendall. And you need to get changed.”

  “Kendall?”

  She placed an outfit on my lap. “That’s me.”

  There was something about her I couldn’t place.

  “Why do you seem familiar?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Maybe because my family always came to Sunday church before my mother died.”

  I looked down at the clothes. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “I know the clothes aren’t much, but it’ll buy me time to dry yours. Thankfully, I’m bigger than you. So, the sweatpants and the long-sleeved shirt should fit.”

  “You’re beautiful. Don’t say that about yourself.”

  My gaze found her stare again, and she blinked.

  “I never said I wasn't beautiful. Only that I’m bigger than you.”

  I closed my eyes. “Yes. Of course. I’m sorry. I’m just--.”

  Not all here. Not in the right headspace. Completely taken by your kindness.

  “Grieving,” I said. “I’m grieving, and I don’t feel all the way here.”

  She sighed. “I’m so sorry, Adam.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Me, too.”

  I fingered the clothes she placed in my lap and noticed my nail beds were turning blue. I needed to warm up, and quickly. Which meant I had to stop sitting there and do as the breathtaking woman asked of me.

  “You said something about a hot shower?” I asked.

  She thumbed behind her. “Down the hallway, take a left. First door on the right.”

  “I appreciate that. Thank you.”

  “You allergic to anything?”

  I struggled to stand. “What?”

  I stumbled into her, and she quickly caught me. She shot up from her seated position, her hands gripping my arms. And I clung to her. I tried to steady myself against her grounded form. As my legs threatened to buckle beneath me, I felt her breath against my lips. Warming me at a core I thought had thawed over with the anger I felt towards my life.

  “Sorry,” I whispered.

  She shook her head. “It’s fine. You’re fine. Can you stand?”

  She rubbed my upper arms with her hands, and I wanted to collapse against her. For the first time since finding my father’s body that morning in the driveway, it felt like I had finally caught up with reality. Like I had been running a marathon while chronically behind, and all of a sudden, the race stopped to wait for me. The pain mounted. I felt tears prickling behind my eyes. A knot formed in my throat that I couldn't swallow down, and I quickly pulled away from Kendall.

  “Shower. Yes. I, uh, I’ll be right back,” I said.

  I stepped away from her grasp and averted my stare. I pushed all thoughts out of my head as I made my way down the hallway. My feet were still numb, which made walking even worse. But, eventually, I found my way into the bathroom.

  I quickly shed my clothes.

  “Dad!”

  “Yep?”

  “For the thousandth time, can you please start the dishwasher once you’ve filled it up? I don’t have a clean mug for my coffee.”

  “You know I don’t drink coffee. All those mugs are yours.”

  “That doesn't mean you should keep the dishes dirty, Dad.”

  “Stick a straw in the pot. You’ll be fine.”

  As the hot water battered against my aching skin, I relived the last moment I ever had with my father. Me, complaining at him over something stupid and trite. Coffee mugs. I had been fussing at him over dirty stinkin’ coffee mugs before he walked out our front door and collapsed on the concrete.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

  “Adam!”

  I groaned. “Yeah, Dad?”

  “How many times have I told you not to leave your study stuff out on this coffee table? I poured my cereal on your paper!”

  I ripped my bedroom door open. “Please, for the love of everything, tell me you didn’t--.”

  Dad pulled my paper out from behind his back. “Kidding. I’m only kidding. But, learn the lesson.”

  My face fell. “Seriously, Dad?”

  He pressed my paper into my chest. “Seriously, son.”

  I felt my lower lip trembling as I washed myself down. It was all I could muster to keep myself upright. The memories that crashed against my mind weren’t good. Just moments between my father and me while we bickered. Sometimes, that’s all we did, especially after Mom died.

  We fought, and we yelled, and we criticized one another.

  “Dad!”

  “What?�
�

  “What in the world is this!?”

  “You’re gonna have to be more specific about that.”

  I stormed down the hallway. “My room? What in the world did you do to it?”

  He didn’t even look up from his Bible. “I cleaned it like you should have.”

  “Where are all my clothes? And my books? I had shoes right there on--.”

  “I threw it all away.”

  I balked. “I’m sorry, you did what?”

  He waved his hand in the air. “Well, not the books. I put those on the shelves. But your clothes? Your dirty clothes? I threw them away.”

  I blinked. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.”

  “Why on God’s green earth would you throw my clothes away!?”

  His eyes slowly found mine. “Because if you’re not going to take care of them, you don’t deserve them.”

  “Oh, Dad,” I whispered.

  I clutched my heart as I sat at the bottom of the shower. I leaned my head against the wall, allowing the tears to fall for the--well--I’m not sure how many times I had cried that day. All I knew was that my heart physically ached.

  “I’m sorry, Dad,” I whispered.

  The grief was strong, but the guilt was stronger. For all of the bad I thought I saw in my father, he had been the only man in my corner for years. Supporting me, even though he didn’t agree with me going to seminary. Cheering me on, even though he felt like I was going to seminary to try and make him happy. I ran my hands through my hair. I opened my eyes and watched my tears fall to the swirling water at my heels. I sniffled deep, trying to find the well of strength within me I could’ve sworn my mother passed down to me.

  But that well was dry.

  My lungs felt as if they were drowning.

  I didn’t bother washing my hair. I simply sat there until the hot water ran out. Then, I got out and dried myself off. The sweatpants and long-sleeved shirt Kendall afforded me smelled like her. Like honey doused in vanilla, with a trace of wood smoke. I focused on the smell and inhaled the wondrous scent by the nose-full. I wiggled my toes as my feet finally came back to life. Wiping down the fog from the mirror, I took a good, hard look at myself. At the red bags beneath my tired eyes and the ‘Rudolph nose,’’ I sported from the cold.

  “You have to do this. You don’t have a choice.”

  It was the only pep talk I could muster for myself. And it would have to do. I made my way out of the bathroom and walked down the hallway, unsure of what to do next. Kendall had been sympathetic enough to invite me into her home. Me, a strange man, in her cabin of solace. I looked around the kitchen, but couldn't find her. All I found was a pot of hot coffee with a mug and some sugar sitting out. So, I made myself a mug to enjoy before I found my way to the window.

  I gazed out over the porch, taking in the beauty that was before me. Even through the heavy snow, I saw the lake down below. Down the hill, I had trekked to get up to a haven that beautiful woman had offered me. And the sight was breathtaking. The dark blue lake with soft snow piles dotting its top. Nestled against the backdrop of other mountains in the distance. The bare trees, coated in white, without a track to be seen in its perfect blanket. My tracks had already been filled in, creating an angelic scene for me to behold.

  I suddenly got the urge to breathe in the crisp, winter mountain air. So, I flipped the lock on the window so I could slide it up.

  “Keep everything closed, so we don’t freeze. Thanks.”

  My head whipped around to follow the sound of her voice. And when I found her in the kitchen making herself a mug of coffee, I looked down at my own. Was the mug she set out for herself? Had I made yet another selfish assumption?

  “I’m sorry if I--.”

  She waved her hand in the air. “I set it out for you. Drink up. And if you want more, you’re welcome to it.”

  Relief trickled through my veins. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I watched her pick something up from the counter before she set it back down again. And as the television came to live at my side, I turned to face it. A red band with moving white letters stamped itself to the bottom of the screen, with the weatherman flailing his arms. Whatever the forecast, it didn’t look good.

  “Sorry. It’s muted. Hold on,” she said.

  “--the largest snowstorm this area has seen in a while now. The last time we had this kind of forecasted snowfall was twelve years ago. If you’re already inside, stay there. If you aren’t? Well, get inside as quickly as you can, because behind this initial snowfall are three small cells, headed straight for us. So, brace yourselves, everyone. It’s going to be a long two weeks.”

  I paused. “Two weeks?”

  Kendall walked into the living room. “That’s what they’ve been forecasting, yes. Two weeks of this mess. Though, this is supposed to be the heaviest of it.”

  I can’t be up here for two weeks. “Any idea when the plows will get up here?”

  She snickered. “You’re joking, right?”

  I slowly faced her. “Why do you say that?”

  “We’re on a mountain, Adam. A mountain that continuously stays snow-capped. Plows don’t come up here to dig us out. We wait until we can get down the roads once everything blows over.”

  “I can’t stay here for two weeks. I’ve got too much to do.”

  She shrugged. “Not much I can do to help that.”

  Panic seized my heart. I abandoned my coffee on the windowsill and stuck my hand in my pocket. I searched around for my phone before it dawned on me that they were in my other pants. But, Kendall must’ve been a mind-reader.

  “The door across from the bathroom you were just in is where you’ll be sleeping. I’ve pulled out some more clothes for you to use. Your phone is on the bedside table. I had an extra charger for it, too, so I plugged it in for you.”

  I rushed out of the room without so much as a word spoken. My mind was already taunting me with the things on my list that needed to be accomplished. I stormed through the bedroom door and went straight for my cell. I sat on the edge of the bed as it creaked and groaned, pulling up text message after text message. I had way too many people to call and get in touch with. And apparently, they wanted to get in touch with me, too.

  My phone started ringing off the hook.

  “Hey, Maybel, thank you for calling. Yes, you read my text, right. The church will be closed for the next two Sundays due to this weather. Yes, that means the canned food drive will have to be moved. Uh-huh. And the yard sale. Yep, that too. Reschedule? Uh…”

  Kendall hissed from my door. “Yes. You’ll reschedule for next month.”

  I jumped at the sound of her voice. “What?”

  She pointed to my phone. “Say that. That you’ll reschedule for next month.”

  “Uh, yes. Sorry, Maybel. I’m here. I’ll reschedule everything for next month. Second Sunday for the yard sale. Third Sunday for the canned food drive. Last Sunday of the month for the women’s breakfast.”

  Kendall gave me a thumbs up from the doorway before disappearing, and it made me smile. Briefly, at least. But, my phone beeping in my ear made me groan.

  “Sorry, Maybel. I have to go. Circulate the word that church is closed, and I’ll get a formal schedule drawn up once I can dig a path into the office. Uh-huh. Thanks. Bye-bye.”

  Then, I flipped over to an incoming call from the funeral home.

  “Mr. Caldwell, thank you for getting back to me so soon,” I said.

  “Of course, Mr. Riley. And my condolences for your loss.”

  I nodded. “Thank you. I was calling because--.”

  “If you’ll allow me, I think I can make this phone call easier on you.”

  I sighed. “Then, by all means, go for it.”

  “Here at Caldwell Funeral Services, we have three basic packages and a crematorium.”

  “I don’t want my father cremated.”

  “Wonderful. So, our three packages. They all come wit
h a personalized tombstone, five caskets to choose from, and all other expenses regarding a funeral service bundled into one. Usually, the kind of casket a customer wants for their loved one determines the package they receive. I try to make it as simple as possible.”

  I sighed. “Any way I can view those caskets without actually being there? I’m a bit… trapped in this weather.”

  “I’ve already drafted the email with all of the options. I just wanted to call first.”

  “Send it on, and I’ll get back to you in a couple of days. You know, once I can piece things together.”

  “Of course, Mr. Riley. You let us know, and we’ll make it happen. I’ll also send over open dates and times where my guys and I can be in town to make sure things go off without a hitch, so to speak. Pick a casket, pick a date and time, and we’ll be set.”

  I blinked back tears. “Thank you.”

  “Whatever we can do, you let me know. Also, as a precaution: if your father had life insurance of any sort, that usually doesn’t kick in until a few weeks after the initial loss. So, the payment will have to come from you, and then the life insurance policy will eventually reimburse you.”

  Initial loss.

  Like we were talking business statistics.

  “Yes. I’m aware. Thank you,” I said.

  I felt my phone buzzing against my cheek. “Just sent the email. Take your time. We’re here when you’re ready.”

  It was as if that phone call unleashed everything. My phone kept lighting up and buzzing in my palm with people texting and leaving voice messages. They called to ask if I needed anything. They texted their condolences and how sorry they were for my loss. And as the buzzing from my phone set me on edge, I silenced it, before setting it back on the bedside table, face down.

  “Need anything?” Kendall asked.

  I snickered. “Do you do anything else other than hover?”

  She paused. “Sorry.”

  I shook my head. “No, no, no. I’m--.”

  I ran my hands down my face before I heaved a heavy sigh.