The Cat That God Sent Read online

  “It is good—especially with the butter.”

  Jake finished first and slid his plate to the side.

  “So . . . you’re a pastor?” she asked. Her tone was coy, lighthearted.

  “I am,” Jake replied.

  “Did you always want to be a pastor?”

  How do I answer this? Should I start being honest?

  “Maybe,” he said. “My father left my mother and me when I was like seven. I’m not sure of the whole story, but I haven’t heard from him in more than ten years now. My mother raised me as a single mom—more or less. I don’t think they ever officially divorced. My mother always wanted me to be a preacher. Her dream was to see me go to a seminary and be a famous preacher at a big church.”

  “Coudersport doesn’t have any big churches, Jake. Or hadn’t you noticed?”

  “I know. But the Church of the Open Door is a legitimate church, and they needed a pastor. I needed a church.”

  “Your mother wanted that, Jake. But did you always want to be a pastor?”

  “You want me to be honest? If I had my choice, I would be playing center field for the Pittsburgh Pirates. But that dream didn’t happen. This one did.”

  Emma offered a knowing smile and looked like she wanted to push the question one more time, but didn’t. Apparently, she would take his answers at face value.

  “So, Emma, are you a ‘churchgoing’ woman?” Jake asked.

  Emma shook her head.

  “I grew up going to church. But I stopped going when I went to college. A lot of things happened, and I guess I lost faith in it all.”

  “What happened?”

  “A lot of things.”

  Jake didn’t push that question either.

  “I’ll change the subject,” Emma said. “What’s up with the young girl in the RV? My mother was talking about her. Tassy, right?”

  “It is Tassy,” Jake replied. He briefly related Tassy’s story of how she came to the church and wound up living, at least temporarily, in Vern’s RV.

  “So he just threw her out on the side of the road? Her ex-boyfriend? A charming fellow, no doubt.”

  “That’s what she said. And she is such an attractive young woman,” Jake added. “And such a nice person. I just don’t understand how someone would do that to her. She is not the sort of person who anyone would reject or abandon.”

  Emma almost winced, but didn’t. If Jake noticed the pained look that swept past her eyes, he made no comment.

  “So what does your faith say about that, Jake? I hope you don’t mind me asking. As you might guess, I don’t have a lot of intellectual friends in Coudersport. I have friends—good-time friends—but having an intelligent conversation? . . . Well, that doesn’t happen all that much.”

  “No. I’m a pastor, remember? I’m supposed to handle questions like this.”

  He accepted a second refill on his coffee and added two sugars and cream.

  “I know God is in control. Even when it seems like he isn’t. Things don’t always happen the way we want them to happen. But it doesn’t mean God isn’t there. Things happened in my life I don’t understand. But it is not because God turned his back.”

  I hope that sounds like I believe that. I’m not sure I do. But that is the party line.

  “So a pretty girl like Tassy being tossed out and abandoned is all part of his plan?”

  Jake narrowed his eyes, as if in deep thought. “No. Maybe. Sometimes we do stupid things and have to suffer the consequences. But God is still there. We do have free will, and sometimes our free will gets us in trouble. We do stupid things. I know that has happened to me.”

  “You’ve done stupid things?”

  “Some.”

  “Like what?”

  Jake hesitated.

  Should I be honest? Should I tell the whole truth? This is way too early, right?

  He looked at his hands, wrapped around his coffee cup.

  “Let’s just say stupid things for now. Nothing horrible. Just stupid.”

  Emma let him off the hook by smiling.

  “I guess that could describe all of us, right?”

  At that moment, Emma’s cellphone came alive, warbling. She grabbed it out of her purse.

  “I should take this. It could be some sort of cat emergency,” she said, explaining the unexpected interruption. “Hello?”

  Jake could not help overhearing. She was sitting close and the person on the other end was speaking very loudly.

  “Joanne talked to Arlene and then called Betty, and she said that Arlene’s son—you know, Gary, the one with the lisp—well, he was at the movies tonight and he said he saw you with that new preacher fellow. Is that true? Or is he lying again? You know how those Pipers can be.”

  Emma closed her eyes, as if wishing to disappear.

  “Yes, Mom. It is true. He saw us there.”

  “So, who did the asking—him or you? You aren’t getting any younger, you know.”

  Emma shook her head, held her hand on top of the mouthpiece, and whispered loudly to Jake, “Do not do anything in this town that you don’t want everyone to know about in like fifteen minutes. Don’t do anything stupid. They will hunt you down like a rabid wolverine.”

  She returned to the call.

  “Mom, we’ll talk tomorrow. I have to go.”

  She snapped the phone shut and watched as a wide smile spread across Jake’s face.

  7

  Jake felt good about his take on the first chapter of Ephesians. He would plow no new theological ground, but as a basic expository sermon, it was at least okay. And he had sprinkled in a few personal anecdotes throughout. He liked hearing personal anecdotes and hoped his new congregation would as well.

  Verna played through the first two hymns, mostly in tune. Jake could not be sure if it was her or the organ that went wobbly on a few verses. Jake did not study music, so anyone who could decipher the black lines and squiggles was head and shoulders above him in musical ability. Apparently Verna also taught piano on the side, so Jake blamed the warbles on the organ.

  Jake—Pastor Jake—walked up to the pulpit and cleared his throat. The pulpit was on the smallish side, so Jake had to lean forward just a bit when he grabbed both sides of it.

  He started with a short prayer, then launched into his sermon. Perhaps fifteen seconds into the material, he noticed a few people staring at the door to the anteroom of his office. He had locked it the night before—just in case. Petey on the platform once was amusing; twice might be seen as an affectation, and he did not want to be known as the “cat pastor.” An older lady whom Jake did not recognize pointed toward the door—and not a subtle pointing, her arm raised shoulder high. Jake tried not to be obvious about it, but he looked. A silver and black, furry paw scrabbled at the bottom of the door, trying to pull it open. The door, of course, would not budge. The cat tried three more times, then the paw disappeared. Jake took a deep breath and continued.

  Maybe no one other than the lady and I saw it.

  Why is this door locked? It wasn’t locked last week. Jake! You must have made a mistake. I get it. You locked the door by accident. I know you didn’t mean to lock the door. I need to hear your sermon.

  Petey scampered from the small office into Jake’s bigger office. The windows were closed.

  He ran into the kitchen and tried the door, but even tugging with all his might didn’t open it. The door did not budge. He looked at the windows in the kitchen. All were closed tight.

  How am I going to get out of here?

  He ran into the bedroom. Closed windows.

  Wait. I know.

  He ran into the bathroom. He didn’t like the bathroom. He remembered once, as a small cat, he had jumped into a tub, not knowing it was full of water. He did not like being immersed, accidentally or not.

  Took me two days to dry out.

  But the window in the bathroom was open—sort of.

  Jake had bought one of those sliding screens with the wood frame that pop
in an out of an open window. Petey made his way to that window, jumped up, and pushed. It squeaked just a little. He pushed again, and the screen went clattering to the outside. The drop was only six feet and onto grass. Petey jumped and took off to the front of the church.

  How do I open those doors? If I’m supposed to be inside, there’ll be an open door for me. I’m sure of that.

  He ran to the front of the church and up the steps. Neither of the doors was open.

  Maybe I’m not supposed to be inside. Could that be possible?

  Just then, as Petey stared hard at the double doors, one side opened. Charles Hild stepped out, reaching for a rumpled pack of Chesterfields in the breast pocket of his blue sport coat.

  “Well, hello there. You’re the pastor’s cat, right?” Charles said.

  Petey meowed, a tad annoyed at having to affirm the obvious.

  “You want to go in?”

  Petey meowed again.

  “Okay, I guess. After all, you are sort of a church cat, right?”

  Charles held the door open as he pulled a lighter from his pocket.

  “Something about sitting in church this long makes me really need a cigarette.”

  Petey chose not to run, but walked, his tail held high, and slowly made his way down the center aisle.

  Jake saw him first and closed his eyes in dismay.

  Don’t know why he’s upset. Obviously, I’m supposed to be here. There was a door open.

  The rest of the congregation noticed, of course, as Petey walked past them—especially those in the aisle seats. Petey walked slowly up the steps to the platform and jumped onto the center chair—the same one he had used the previous week.

  Everyone in the congregation had laughed. And for a long time. Maybe it was the exasperated expression on his face, or the calm, serene look on Petey’s face, or perhaps it was the tension between the two.

  Jake waited until everyone had finished.

  “I guess we have a visitor again. If it’s okay with you, we’ll just go on. Chasing a cat around the platform isn’t on my order of service today.”

  Most everyone agreed with a chorus of “okays.” A smattering of applause indicated general approval, Jake guessed.

  Petey waited for the sermon to continue, still as a statue, his eyes flickering between staring at Jake in rapt attention and with bemusement at the congregation and their smiles.

  “Okay, then, back to Ephesians.”

  Emma liked spring Sunday mornings. She had nothing pressing to do other than read the Sunday copy of the Philadelphia Inquirer, which she accomplished by 9:00. Finished with that task, she carried a cup of coffee out to the second-story porch. Winston followed her to the door but did not come out on the porch. Obviously, heights unnerved him. He realized she had not taken food with her, so he wasn’t acutely disappointed. She did carry her small laptop computer with her, thinking she might catch up on e-mails.

  She placed the computer on a small table and started it up. She typed in her password, then hesitated. Instead of opening her mailbox, she went to Google, and hesitated again for a long moment.

  Then she shook her head and typed in: Barbara Ann Bentley.

  I’m not snooping. I’m not. I’m just interested, that’s all. Jake is a new friend, and I’m interested in his life before he came here. That’s all.

  Barbara Ann Bentley brought up more than a million hits.

  Emma was not surprised. Type in “dancing pink hippos” and you’ll find several million hits as well. She added “Butler” to the search and, on a whim, “beauty pageant.”

  Bingo.

  Barbara Ann was the owner of a website that focused on beauty pageant tips and consulting on all things related to beauty pageants. Items for sale included a beauty pageant video and a book on pageant secrets, entitled, appropriately, Beauty Pageant Secrets. The site was very pink and very bejeweled, with many sparkles and diamonds.

  It appeared that Barbara Ann no longer competed professionally but would be willing to help others in consultations, coaching and accompanying contestants with whatever pageant they entered. Barbara Ann included a picture of herself wearing a tiara and a sequined silver gown. She showed a great expanse of very white teeth.

  “Well, Winston, our Pastor Jake dated a very pretty girl—if you like that style of pretty. A little artificial, if you ask me. But pretty.”

  Winston snorted in reply and remained standing, a few inches shy of actually crossing the threshold to the porch.

  “And she has a lot of teeth.”

  Emma read some of the free hints provided on the site: “Always Smile—Even If It Hurts!” and some of the testimonials: “Without Barbara Ann I would have never won Miss Fayette County. From, Cindy Jones.”

  This is so unexpected. I never would have figured Jake as a man who would be with a woman like this. The two of them just don’t add up.

  She clicked on the heading of “Contact Me.”

  There was an e-mail and a mailing address. And there was a phone number.

  Emma stared at it for a long time.

  Probably an answering machine.

  She looked out to the street and watched an old minivan rattle past.

  Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, poised to leave the site and move on to a more intellectual news site—maybe the e-version of the Wall Street Journal.

  Instead, she moved the cursor to the phone number, hit the copy key, and pasted the number into her contact list.

  I’m not going to call her, of course. That would be wrong.

  She stared at the number.

  I should just erase it.

  She stared a little longer. She didn’t erase it.

  That Sunday afternoon, Jake changed from his suit and tie and polished, uncomfortable preaching shoes into a pair of jeans and a Butler County Community College sweatshirt—“Home of the Pioneers.” He once taught a course there: Comparative Religions of the World.

  That seems so long ago right now.

  Petey danced around him as he changed, purring and chirping and meowing.

  “So, Petey,” he said as he sat on the bed and laced up his sneakers, “did you enjoy today’s sermon?”

  Petey butted his head into Jake’s shin and meowed loudly.

  “You paid attention the whole time. That’s a good thing. I only noticed a few sleepers today.”

  Petey jumped on the bed, then down again.

  “So you think you’re going for a walk with me? Who says I want to take a cat for a walk? And I thought cats don’t do walks. Do they?”

  Jake thought Petey tried to look offended and bemused at the same time.

  “Well, I’m willing to try it. But you cannot run off and get lost. I already have invested a lot of money in you, between the food and the litter and the doctor’s visits.”

  Petey lowered his head, as if he felt guilty for costing Jake actual, human money.

  Spring had arrived, and then some. The breeze carried a hint of warmth, almost hot, and the trees had filled out in green during the last few weeks. Coudersport was much more rural than urban, so a walk in any direction took one into the country very quickly. The Allegheny River lay only a few hundred yards to the south of the church, though at this geographical point, was not much of a river but more like a large stream.

  Jake grabbed an old Pirates baseball hat and stepped out onto the parking lot, breathing deeply. His shoulder had hardly bothered him for the past week.

  No twinges, no omens. That’s good. Omenless.

  Tassy opened the door to the RV.

  “Going for a walk? Could I come?”

  “Sure. Just a short one. Down to the river.”

  The three of them crossed the road and headed south through an open field populated by tall grasses and milkweed plants and hundreds of butterflies that took flight as they walked.

  “What kind are these?” Tassy asked. “I’ve seen them before, right?”

  “Monarchs,” Jake said. “They are pretty common. Did
you know that they migrate all the way to Mexico?”

  “Really? They can fly all that way?”

  “I’m not sure. I think they do. Or maybe it takes a generation or two to get there. Anyhow, a place in Mexico gets hundreds of thousands of them. So many at once that they can break tree limbs.”

  “Really?

  “Well, I haven’t seen it. But that’s what I’ve heard.”

  Petey, following them, meowed.

  The headwaters of the Allegheny River lay only fifty miles upstream, so at this point, the river was not an impressive body of water. The spring thaw muddied the water and filled the banks to their upper limit, but the river still was no more than a swollen stream.

  “This is really a river?” Tassy asked as they stared at the flowing water.

  “It is. It picks up volume as it goes, of course. In Pittsburgh, it joins the Monongahela River and forms the Ohio River.”

  “That’s a big river, right? I’ve heard of that.”

  “Pretty big. I’ve never seen the Mississippi. That’s bigger.”

  Tassy sat on a large stone outcropping and folded her knees up. Petey jumped to join her.

  “I wish I could follow the water. Just float away. Sometimes I would love to float away from everything.”

  Jake tossed a few pebbles into the water.

  “I know what you mean. Life gets complicated sometimes.”

  Tassy nodded and reached to stroke Petey’s back.

  Jake said, “So, have you thought more about staying, Tassy? I know you said you don’t feel like you belong here. But what would make some other place better? Couldn’t you start your life from here? Begin it all again?”

  Tassy shrugged. “That sounds easy. But it isn’t, Pastor Jake. You might have everything figured out. Like faith and God and where you’re supposed to be. But I don’t. And I can’t even see where I would go for answers.”

  “Tassy, I don’t have everything figured out. I don’t. Just because I preach doesn’t mean I have all the answers.”

  She looked at him intently, as if she heard his words but did not agree with him, yet was too polite to call him on it.

  “You can stay here, Tassy. You could find a job, I bet. Make new friends. Start over. Here is as good a place as any. Maybe better. You already have a place to stay for a while.”