So Alone Part 22

He pushed off from the pew and walked sideways to the center aisle. "You'll have my resignation as soon as I can get Harriet to type it, gentlemen." He turned toward the front of the church.

"What do you mean?" Hank inquired.

"What are you going to do?" Bill asked at the same time.

"I'm resigning," Peter said dully. He stopped and looked up at the cross on the front wall over the choir loft. "You know, I thought G.o.d called me to a life in this church, but I guess I was wrong. He can't possibly want me to work where the ruling members don't have faith in me to practice what I preach, where they'd believe an anonymous caller before they'd trust me." He continued toward the front exit beside the chair where he sat each Sunday.

"Peter, hold up," Bill called, climbing out of the pew and hurrying up the aisle after him. "Peter, let's not go off the deep end," he said quietly enough so that the other men now heading for the back door couldn't hear him, but Bette and Harriet could. "I know there's been no hanky-panky, and they'll see it soon enough."

"Thanks, Doc. It seems Carolyn was right all along."

"What do you mean?"

"She said she could never be happy living here in Sunville again. One of the reasons she gave was the 'small-town mentality', as she put it. She tried to show me people were ready to gossip with no basis for what they said and that trust was a foreign commodity here. And to think I told her she was wrong."

He turned and put his hand on the door to open it, but he stopped a second time. "You know what's ironic, Doc? I went back to Carolyn's house last Sat.u.r.day night to try once more to get her to marry me, but she was so set against living in this town that she said no. She knew how happy I was here and she thought she never could be. She told me right from the start that she wouldn't stay, and I still fell in love with her. She claimed she could never be a minister's wife because the town thought she wasn't suitable. I couldn't believe her even when someone called her a murderer to her face." He shook his head. "I went back Sunday morning to tell her I would wait forever, if I had to, for her to change her mind, and she was gone. She'd walked out of my life for good without even saying goodbye."

"I wish I could help."

"Thanks, Doc. And as a matter of fact, you can. You can do me a favor."

"Name it."

"Keep this about Carolyn and me considering marriage under your hat, okay? I sure don't want her to be the subject of more rumors. I've shared something very personal with you." He snorted an attempt at a laugh. "I almost said I'd like a chance to get the lady to agree to marry me before it gets all around the church what I'm doing. But now I guess I won't be around long enough to care. Maybe I should look at the bright side. If I move to a city church somewhere else, she might say yes."

Peter pushed open the door and disappeared.

Bette reached for the back of the seat in front of her and pulled herself up. She'd heard enough, more than enough. She pushed open the half-door at the end of the row of seats and stepped out behind the pulpit.

"Hold it there, boys," she shouted as she hurried over to the top of the steps at the center. "You've really done it this time," Bette said in a clear voice that sliced through the hollow silence and stopped the men in their tracks as they were exiting.

Bill hurried over to the stairs to offer her his hand as she stepped down. Harriet materialized at her side a moment later. Bette took the offer of Bill's arm as she made their way down to the center aisle as Peter and the choir did each Sunday at the close of services. She stopped within a few feet of the men and nodded to Bill before she stared at each man, pinning them in place. "I've been coming to this church longer than any of you, since before some of you were born, in fact. In all those years, I've never seen so many men allow something so stupid to happen."

Bette ignored Harriet's gasp. "You good ol' boys apparently don't know a good thing when you see one," she continued, her finger wagging in the air in their direction.

"You can't talk to us that way!" Hank insisted as his chin rose.

Bette squared off against him. "Hank, did you just get the promise of Peter's resignation?"

Hank nodded. "You obviously know I did."

"Then you deserve everything I said, and more. That boy is the best thing that ever happened to the Sunville Community Church," Bette said, pointing to the door through which Peter had left. "If you know what's good for this church, you'd best hightail it to his office and stop him. With Harriet being in here with me, it might take him a while to type his own letter."

"Bette?" Bill asked, standing beside her, "Just what do you know about this?"

"Well, it just so happens I saw Peter a couple of times this weekend."

"Unh huh. And when would that have been?"

"Let's see. It was Sat.u.r.day night and Sunday morning."

"Aw, Bette, you'd cover up for him 'cause you like him, just like you tried to cover up for Carrie when Ralph died!" Hank said curtly.

"Listen here, Hank Olson," Bette ordered. "I know you think I'm half a bubble shy of plumb, but I don't tell lies. And you know it. Not even about your wife's tough pie crust. Carrie had nothing to do with Ralph drinking enough for three men, or getting himself into the accident, and then taking the quick way out of his worthless messed up life. She was a saint for sticking by him as long as she did. And I'm telling you that Peter and Carrie did not spend a night together. So you can get off your high horse and sit down and listen while I tell you a thing or two more."

The men grumbled at first, but they took their seats in the last couple rows. Bette told them about visiting Marge and getting the ride home Sat.u.r.day night from Peter when she saw his car at Carrie's. "They were saying good night at the front door. He'd been working on his sermon here at his office and stopped on his way home to say good night to her. I'd just caught him before he left."

The men looked both relieved and guilty for what they'd been thinking. They should feel guilty, Bette decided.

"Then Sunday morning, I was walking over to church when I saw Peter drive down the street. He pulled over and offered me a ride. I accepted gladly. That block gets longer each year."

The men chuckled. Bette leaned over to whisper to Harriet who quietly hurried out of the sanctuary while Bette continued. "Peter asked me if I'd mind if he stopped at Carrie's house to pick her up, too. I thought it was sweet. 'No,' I told him. 'They can't start without you, so I won't miss anything.'"

The men laughed.

"Peter thought that was funny, too," Bette bragged. "Anyway, we pulled into the driveway at Carrie's house. I told him I'd wait in the car while he went to the door. Peter and Carrie had looked so unhappy the night before, that I didn't want to interfere with whatever he had to say to her. I knew Carrie was planning to leave and I had a feeling he didn't want her to. It was too bad because I know Maddie always hoped those two would get together one day."

"Get on with it, Bette, before the sun sets and I lose the whole day, will ya?" the farmer asked. "I knew this was a waste of time."

"I'm getting. I'm getting. But there's not much more that I can tell you," Bette claimed.

"You just said he left you in the car and he went into her house," Hank insisted.

"No, I didn't. I said I waited in the car, but I didn't tell you he went in." She paused, feeling very much the center of things.

"Well?" Hank prodded.

At the back of the sanctuary, Harriet silently opened the door and stepped just inside. Bette gave no sign to the others that she saw her there, but she met Harriet's gaze and saw her little negative shake of her head. Bette frowned.

"Well, as I was saying, Peter went up to ring the bell, but no one answered. He called out, opened the screen, and knocked on the inside door. Nothing. All the curtains were drawn. No car in the garage. You see, Carrie had already left. He came back to his car where I was waiting. I didn't mind the wait neither. He's got those high-back seat cushions that were just right to lean against."

"Bette," Hank warned.

"Anyway, the ride around the block to church was exciting," Bette continued. "He was driving like the wind--in a big hurry to get there. Oh, he helped me out of his car, but I could tell he was looking all around the parking lot."

"Looking for her car?" Bill asked.

"Yep, but her car wasn't there," Bette told him. "He went on in to do whatever he does before the service begins. But as the morning progressed and Carrie didn't show up, I could tell he was feeling sadder and sadder."

A few heads nodded in agreement. "Yeah. I thought he was ill or something."

Bette took a big breath. "Last I knew, it wasn't a sin for a minister in our church to date a woman. I certainly don't think it's reason to fire him, or to let him resign either. I do think it's reason to show our support for Peter. Whether it's in G.o.d's plan for those two sweet people to get together or not, it's none of our business, but it's our duty to have faith that he's doing what's right."

Everyone's head ducked as their guilt washed over them. The head of the board cleared his throat. "I... I'll talk to Peter. Thank you all for coming and... I'm sorry I jumped to the wrong conclusion. I was just trying to do my job."

"Before you waste too much time working up guilt, you oughta know that Peter is gone," Bette announced.

The men all looked back at her. Bette pointed to Harriet. "Tell 'em."

"I just went down to his office and he's not there," Harriet said. "He's gone!" Her voice sounded worried.

"Come on. We'll look around," Hank ordered. "I'll go check the parking lot. You check the social hall."

The rest of the men, except for Bill, followed him out of the sanctuary. Bill walked over to Bette. "You know, when Peter suggested you beat boredom by stopping by to see if you could find something to do, I don't think he had this in mind," he told her with a laugh. "But I think he'd thank you."

Bette giggled. "Sure glad I started working today so I could help the dear boy out. Carrie's such a lovely girl. They're so right together."

"You know, Bette, you really have to stop calling adults by the terms boys and girls."

"Harriet beat you to it, Doc. She's told me more than once not to call Peter a boy any more. But I think a lady who will be eighty-one next month should be able to pretty much do as she pleases, don't you?"

Bill laughed and held out his elbow. "You've done a fine day's work already and it's not yet noon. May I offer you a ride home?"

Bette smiled and slipped her hand in the fold of his elbow. "Thanks, Doc, don't mind if ya do."

Chapter Eighteen The long phone cord in Carrie's apartment just reached to the couch. She made herself comfortable sitting with her legs crossed beneath her. She looked at the card Don had given her two days earlier and dialed the digits for his office number. She hoped he wouldn't mind if she broke into his afternoon coffee break so soon. When his secretary answered, she switched the call to his line. "Hi, Don. It's Carrie."

"Good to hear from you," Don responded.

"I'm not sure either of us expected me to call just a couple days after I left town, but some decisions are being made for me here." "Tell me what's happening," Don encouraged. "For one, I lost my job." She drew in a deep fortifying breath. "They'd already hired someone else by the time I got back here." "Oh, Carrie, that's a jolt." "My boss said some part-time editing might come up that I could do freelance during their busiest times, but I don't know. Now that I've thought about it more, I think losing the job was good." She managed a brief laugh. "I hope I'm not just rationalizing my way out of that." "Well, a.s.suming you're not, you've decided what you want to move away from, but what are you moving toward?" Don asked.

"Well, I'd like to get into writing more. And I've come to realize that I can do that from anywhere," she said, remembering that it was Peter who had pointed that out to her.

"Okay. Have you thought how you would like that to work out?" Don asked. "I spent the rest of yesterday and again this morning making the rounds of the companies with offices here that put out in-house publications, to see if they needed an editor or a writer. No one did. One of them, however, encouraged me to write freelance articles for them when they saw the clips of what I've published already." Carrie smiled, thinking about the interview.

"There's a step in the right direction," Don said happily.

"That was very exciting because, from what they said, I can expect to place something there several times a year, especially if I'm willing to do a piece on a subject of their choosing." "Congratulations!" "Thanks." Carrie laughed briefly at Don's enthusiasm. "And one did say that if the got swamped, they would send me articles to edit via email so I could work on it anywhere. I feel good about what's happening to me, which is crazy since I've just lost my job and this freelance work isn't enough to live on. I should be depressed and at my wits end by now. The only hangup so far was this apartment."

"What do you mean?" "I can't afford it without any income. Grandma left me a little money, but I want to save that and what I've saved myself for a real emergency. This apartment is too expensive, way more expensive than just paying for heat and light there in Sunville." She sighed and then straightened, feeling the new resolve she was developing. "So I gave the apartment office my notice today." "How long do you have to stay?" "I told them I'd be out in thirty days which is the minimum on my lease." She exhaled a little laugh.

"Actually, they were glad to get the apartment vacated at the end of the summer for the State University students returning to Fargo, so they said I could leave at the end of this month and not have to pay the rest of the thirty days."

"A landlord who's got a heart," Don remarked with a chuckle. "That's got to be a good sign." "I think he had people waiting for a place to open up and they want to grab them before they find something else. I probably could have left this week if I'd pressed the point. But I need more time to think and besides, I haven't started packing up anything. Everything looks and even feels like I'm doing the right thing in moving back to Sunville permanently, but I've got to be sure. After so many years of believing I could never go back, I still can't quite believe I'm working this hard to do exactly that. And I don't think I would be if you hadn't found that letter. It's one thing to have other people think poorly of me, but quite another to have thought badly of myself for so long." "A new lease on life has been given to you. And G.o.d will let you know what he wants you to do, if you just listen for his direction. Pray for his guidance, Carolyn." "I am, Don. The burden of guilt I've carried all these years has been lifted. I still feel very badly about Ralph feeling he had no other option than death, but I don't take responsibility for his actions anymore." Carrie heard some knocking at Don's end of the line. "Hang on a minute, will you? My secretary must be out because someone's knocking at my door. I know this is long distance so I'll be quick." The phone clunked as he set it down on his desk before Carrie could say she'd call back another time.

She couldn't hear anything more until Don said, "Peter!" He sounded surprised. "Come on in." Carrie lifted her other hand and clutched the phone tighter to her ear. "You look awful," she heard Don say. "What's wrong besides Carolyn being gone?" "You knew she was gone?" It was Peter's voice. Carrie's heart beat sped up. Suddenly she felt uncomfortable eavesdropping. Peter didn't know she could hear what he was saying.

"She stopped here on her way out of town," Don admitted. "Is that what's got you looking so down today?" "Not entirely. I'm resigning from the church," Peter said dully. Carrie gasped. She felt dizzy and couldn't believe what she was hearing. He'd asked her if she would marry him if he quit and got a position in a city to please her. Had he really done it? How could he? He was so good for that church that she didn't want him to leave. Not now. Not just when she was returning to Sunville.

A sharp bang on the phone was so loud that Carrie jerked it away from her ear. When she returned it gingerly to be sure the noise was ended, she heard Peter apologizing for having knocked some books over onto it.

"Sorry. That's what I get for sitting on desks instead of chairs," she heard him say. "Don, I just don't get it. I was so sure G.o.d wanted me here. And if I can't figure out what he has planned for me, then what good am I to help anyone else?"

There were more thumps. Carrie guessed he was standing up the books again.

"Sorry, I even knocked over the phone." Peter said absently.

Click. The line went dead and Carrie realized he had hung up the phone, not knowing that Don had been talking on it. She kept the phone at her ear, but in a few seconds the dial tone sounded. She put it down in the cradle and crumpled against the back of the couch.

"No, Peter, you can't quit," she said aloud.

She closed her eyes. She knew Peter loved living in Sunville. He must be hurting badly. Her hands folded into a praying position.

Don't let him throw it over, please. He shouldn't leave, not for me. Especially not for me.

"Oh, what have I done?"

Tears pooled in her eyes. Carrie had never felt lower in her life. No matter what she did, she seemed to deeply hurt the ones she loved the most, and to hurt herself in the process.

Bill Bolton sat in the chair opposite Peter in his office at the Sunville Community Church. He and Bill were on a friendlier basis since Bill had stood up for him against the elders who'd later refused to accept his resignation.

Peter wanted to believe that the head of the board had been doing what he thought he had to in the investigation to fulfill the duties of his office. Never in the history of their church had anything like that happened. Peter prayed it never would again.

At the time Peter had heard Bill mutter under his breath about some people being promoted past the level of their competence, but Peter hadn't commented. He knew all the people who worked on the boards of the church did so on their own time and without pay. He was in no position to complain.

He was happy to learn the elders did not truly believe he'd spent the night with Carrie. He was relieved because he knew he couldn't set an example for others if they didn't have faith in him. The youth needed good role models and he wanted to be one.

"I feel like a new man now compared to that day I said he would resign," Peter admitted. "I don't have to leave this area I love."

"I'm glad you're staying too. This church is better because of you," Bill told him.

"Thanks. Now if I could just figure out a way to get Carolyn to come back to Sunville and marry me," Peter mused. He would continue to pray about it and was not giving up.

"This town didn't treat her kindly with their rumors a few years back," Bill said. "She had few people to stick up for her other than Maddie and Bette." He shook his head. "She was so lost and alone back then. She..."

"If you're going to tell me about Ralph, please don't. I still have high hopes that Carolyn will some day. At that point, I think I might have a chance with her. In the meantime, I think she still feels lost and alone, but I'm going to do my best to convince her otherwise," Peter vowed.

"She deserves to be happy. You both do. Have you talked to her since she left?"

Peter shook his head. "I thought I would give her a few weeks to get settled in Fargo and then I'm going drive out after church some Sunday for a visit. I think I can do a much better job of convincing her in person than over the phone."

"Sounds like a good idea, but who am I to advise you? I've never been married," Bill said with a chuckle. "But speaking of phone calls, I still don't get who did the calling," Doc said.

"Well, I have a theory about that," Peter responded hesitantly.

"Are you going to tell me?"

Peter laughed at Bill's directness. "I really haven't got much to go on except that the caller referred to Carolyn as Carolyn."

Peter saw Bill's blank look and explained. "You see, I'm the only adult here who calls her that. You and everyone else call her Carrie. The caller must have learned to call her Carolyn from hearing me. And that means Don Hoag at the nursing home and the youth group who are working on the puppet show and have spent time with Carolyn and I. Only two of those are females."

"Sounds logical," Bill said nodding.

"If the girl I have in mind did it, confronting her in public won't help because it didn't stop her after her last stunt. Maybe this was a lesson for me--G.o.d wanted to teach me to be less impulsive, more patient." He ran his hand through his hair. "But I was so anxious to stop the rumors about Carolyn that I jumped at the chance and may have handled the situation wrong."

"To your credit to recognize it. I'm in general practice and not psychiatry, but let me know if I can help," Bill insisted as he rose and opened the door to leave.