“I didn’t expect this so fast.” Reverend Jones opened the envelope with his fingernail, pulled out the check. “Latigo, this really is more than that truck is worth.”
“It has scrap value.”
“Thank you. Thank you very much.” Herb replaced the $8,000 check, slipping the envelope into his pants pocket.
“As for a new truck,” said Latigo, “this is a good time to buy. Folks are staying away from the gas guzzlers, so truck sales are slow. You should be able to drive a good bargain.”
“That they are, but the church needs a big truck. As you can imagine, the upkeep on a place this old consumes a considerable chunk of our budget. I’ll buy the truck in my own name, but, of course, we’ll use it for necessities here.” He leaned back in his chair. “Nothing seems to get cheaper, does it?”
“No. Doesn’t the church provide you with a car?”
“They do, and it’s a big help.” He swept his hand toward the triple-sash windows, wide open. “What a beautiful place to work, to live. Can’t put a price on that, and what preacher is in it for the money?”
An eruption of laughter roared from Latigo. “All of them on TV.”
Reverend Jones smiled at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t consider them ministers. I think of them as hucksters. Revealing my prejudice here, but I am an ordained Lutheran minister, so I have high educational standards. Plus, I don’t think one should use the Good Lord for profit.”
“I do.” Latigo smiled. “I pray daily.”
This time it was Reverend Jones’s turn to laugh uproariously. “I’ll pray for you.” He patted his pocket wherein he had slipped the check. “You’ve got one good deed fresh in St. Peter’s book.” Then he smiled again. “And I’m sure many, many more.”
Latigo surreptitiously checked the Napoleon clock on the mantel. “I’ve got to run. Let me know what you do buy. I certainly hope you’ll continue to insure with Safe and Sound.”
“I will.”
As Latigo left, Lucy Fur raised her head. “Poppy’s happy.”
“A new truck,” Cazenovia purred. “New leather seats to scratch. Heaven.”
Herb dialed ReNu.
“ReNu Auto Works,” Kyle intoned.
“Kyle, this is Reverend Jones. You have my 1994 Chevy half-ton there. I’d like to come down tomorrow and clean it out thoroughly. I didn’t do that when it was towed. Just too upset about it. Will that be okay?”
A short pause, then Kyle replied, “Sure. I’ll tell the boys to leave it alone.”
“What would they do with it?”
“Strip it. There will be good parts in it even though it’s old. The boss sells the older stuff to specialty houses.”
“Specialty?”
“Places that work on old vehicles, trucks. Plus there are warehouses for old parts.”
“I see.”
“And then the boss sells the truck for scrap. Scrap metal’s up right now, so he’s happy.”
“Well, you don’t stay in business if you don’t find ways to make the money, beat the tax man.”
“Right.”
As Reverend Jones hung up, he thought to himself that the few times he’d seen or spoken to Kyle, no sliver of enthusiasm ever disturbed the young man. The other thing was, Kyle never said good things about ReNu. He didn’t say bad things, either.
He dialed again. “Harry.”
“Rev.”
“Will you go down to ReNu with me tomorrow?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I need to clean out the old truck before they trash it. I was so mad when the truck went out on me, I didn’t think to take all my stuff. I don’t even know what I left in there.”
“Glad to help.”
“I don’t want to go there alone, truth be told.”
“I understand. I really do.”
“Okay, then. Mmm, ten too early?”
“No. I’ll pick you up.”
Relieved? Reverend Jones enjoyed the smooth ride of Harry’s Volvo station wagon as they left the church to go into town.
A silence followed this. “Yes. I was sure I was fine, but yes.” Harry waited another moment. “I have gained even more respect for doctors and nurses who deal with cancer.”
“It’s all around us. Our various church groups provide comfort. The men’s group surprised me.”
“You didn’t think they’d talk about how cancer affected them?”
“I thought the men who had been afflicted with cancer would. But the new group, the one for men whose spouses, family members, have cancer or have had it, that’s been the surprise. And your husband holds it all together.”
“He never talks to me about it.” Harry wasn’t offended by this.
“Sometimes, Harry, there are things a man can only say to another man, especially in a situation like this. To tell your wife, daughter, sister, best friend, of your fears while she’s in the middle of battling this disease, well, most men feel this would make it worse. They feel their job is to hold you up, not focus on fears.”
“I believe that. But Fair’s helping?”
“He has a knack for getting other men to open up.”
“Maybe because his patients can’t talk, he’s learned to read the signs. I think he can read people as well as he can read horses.”
“Can’t read me,” Pewter called from her snuggle bed behind the driver’s seat.
“Sure he can.” Mrs. Murphy, next to her, contradicted the gray cat. “All you want is tuna and catnip.”
“Mom,” Tucker whined from the back, “they’re at it again.”
Harry heard the slight snarl between the cats. “If I have to stop this car to break up a fight, there are going to be two unhappy cats. Do you hear me?”
There was not a peep, but Herb laughed loudly. “My three run the church and run me.” He paused. “They’re very faithful cats.”
“That’s because you don’t have a diva like Pewter.” The tiger couldn’t resist.
Harry looked at the rearview mirror just in time to see a gray paw swat the tiger on the side of the head. “Damn.”
Herb turned around, booming in his deepest preacher register, “That’s enough.”
The two culprits froze, deciding to call a temporary truce. Pewter was already plotting her revenge for when they got home.
“Thanks,” said Harry. “You even scared me.”
“Takes a lot to scare you, but you sure scare the rest of us. We never know what you’re going to get into.”
“The truth,” Pewter agreed.
Harry pulled onto the back ReNu lot, cruised the parked vehicles yet to be repaired. “Sure are a lot of accidents in Charlottesville. Look at all these cars and trucks.”
“Inattention. People take their eye off the road constantly. There’s cellphones and texting, but I actually think the worst is those maps.”
“What maps?” Harry’s eyebrows moved toward the middle for a moment.
“What do you call it? My truck’s so old, doesn’t have it. You know, a screen and a map pops up.”
“Navigation system. GPS.” Harry found Herb’s old truck and parked at the end of the row wherein it sat. “Each carmaker gives it a special name. BMW calls it iDrive, which performs more functions than a visible map. Mercedes has their name. Some makers call it a driver interaction system, which takes too long to say.”
The reverend unbuckled his seat belt. “Well, I say they’re responsible for a lot of accidents. If you don’t know where you’re going, pull over and look. Don’t do it while driving.”
“You’re right, but people aren’t going to do that. They’re going to look at that screen and bam! It only takes a split second.” She lifted the back door to let air in.