CHAPTER TWELVE

“Reverend? Reverend, are you alright?” asked Barry, walking into the backyard of the church.

It wasn’t much of a backyard. Once upon a time, there had been a swing set and slide for the children. This past summer, they’d attempted a community garden, but the rain was so bad everything died. Occasionally, they would do a cookout in the backyard, and it appeared that’s what the reverend was doing.

“Reverend?”

“Oh, Barry,” he said, jumping slightly. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you. Lost in my own thoughts, I suppose.”

“I know this is difficult for you, Reverend. Don’t worry, we’re going to find who’s doing this.”

“I know we will,” he said, smiling at the young man, gripping his shoulder. “I guess I’m getting old and sentimental. I’ve seen too many people pass on for senseless reasons, and after a while, it just gets to you.”

“I’m sure that’s true, but you saved me. Had it not been for you, I probably would have died as well.”

“You were worth saving, Barry, and your grandmother would never have allowed you to perish. She’s a formidable woman, and I admire her. You’ve turned into a fine young man, and I hope one day to officiate at your wedding and all your children’s baptisms.” Barry laughed, shaking his head.

“Well, I would need to have a girlfriend first, and it doesn’t feel as though that’s going to happen any time soon. I just don’t feel ready for that yet.”

“Don’t rush yourself,” he said, shaking his head. “You get you right, then focus on the rest of the world.”

“What’s the bonfire for?” asked Barry.

“Just needed some warmth tonight,” he said with a sad smile. “I decided to clean out some things from the storage closets, and this seemed a good way to kill two birds with one stone.”

“Do you need me to do anything before I leave?”

“No,” he smiled. “You’re a gem, Barry. I can’t thank you enough for all you do here. You go on home. I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good day at work.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The reverend watched as Barry left through the back gate. He was such a good young man, although sometimes a bit too anxious to help. The church was already struggling to get people in. He’d hoped to handle all of this mess just through the police. Now, there were security men coming in and out, and everyone was noticing.

“I suppose that’s to be expected,” he said to himself. He stretched his back, wincing at the tightness. “You’re getting old, Morris.”

He almost laughed at him talking to himself, but it was all too silly and sad. He’d been alone for many years now. No one to come home to, no one to share a life with. He wasn’t sure when all that slipped past him, but it seemed to just happen overnight.

He took a seat beside the fire and watched as flames licked the sky, the embers flying off into the darkness. He wasn’t worried about it spreading. There had been so much rain lately everything was still saturated.

Hearing a car door, he glanced over the fence and saw the neighbors behind him returning home from dinner. He didn’t want to be a peeping Tom, but it was nice to see a husband, wife, and three little children happy. They didn’t have a lot. In fact, it appeared they were all carrying cups from a local fast-food restaurant.

“Good for them,” he murmured to himself. “Live within your means, but live.”

Turning back to the fire, he looked up at the second story of the church, seeing the light for Isaih. He was most likely reading or watching a movie on the small television. Another man had joined their small group the day before. Someone from Arkansas who was down on his luck.

“Someone is always down on their luck,” he said quietly.

He tried to keep the donation bins full and the pantry, but sometimes, it was a full-time job. Hell, he thought, it was his job. All of it. He was lucky to have Barry and Shirley. Imelda would be missed, and he would have a hard time finding someone to do all that work for very little pay.

He heard thunder in the distance and felt the first few raindrops. Looking at the darkening sky, he knew that the weather would ensure the fire didn’t get out of control. Satisfied that everything was taken care of, he went inside, locked all the doors, and bid goodnight to his tenants.

“Time to go home. Alone,” he said to himself.

From the second-story window, Isaih watched as the man moved out of the backyard of the church and walked toward his small rectory home. His routine was the same every night. No surprises. No changes.

He was a man alone.