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Chapter 3: Saints and Sinners
Part 1: Sophie
Sophie’s alarm went off at its usual, punctual 6:01 a.m. She would have been happy to hear the chirping bird tone if she hadn’t already been staring at her dark popcorn ceiling for the last half hour while listening to the sounds of the building through the paper-thin apartment walls. Her neighbors to the east? Having a raucous ‘debate’ as to whether their toddler could have sugar cereal on a Sunday morning. Her neighbors upstairs? Never turned their pounding subwoofer off even though they probably passed out hours ago.
With a long-suffering sigh, Sophie gently tapped the button on her phone to silence the alarm, then climbed out of bed. Exhaustion pulled at her eyelids, but she forced herself to go through the motions of a shower and a cup of good, strong English breakfast tea. She was debating whether she wanted to make scrambled eggs or a bowl of oatmeal when sudden, blessed silence descended.
Aaaaahhh. Thank you, Lord, for a building super who was willing to cut the power to the party apartment.
Oatmeal, she decided. And pain killers. Starting the day with a headache when she already was anxiously dreading what came next was a recipe for disaster.
Thus fortified, she ran her brush through her hair one last time, secured half of it up with a leather-covered clip, and slipped into her one pair of church shoes. Basic black went with all of her dresses. Today she had chosen her favorite plum-colored shift. It was both unfailingly modest and gently flattering, always making her feel pretty. Even her brother had once begrudgingly complimented the dress. That memory brought a smile to her now-glossy lips.
The drive to New Albany was nothing short of pleasant. Once out of Williamson, she passed mostly farm fields. Some would soon sport crops of corn or soybeans. Others were full of cows grazing contentedly. The whole scene was beautifully pastoral. It soothed her ruffled soul.
It was easy to find Bethel Lutheran. The white clapboard church of pleasing proportions and a tall bell tower stood one block off main street, its steeple like a beacon with the newly risen sun behind it. People worked their way slowly from a small parking lot to one side of the building into the church, either via a winding ramp on the side or the wide staircase along the front. The double doors were thrown open in invitation. Sophie readily accepted.
The second she stepped through the doorway, before her eyes could adjust to the dimmer lighting, a pair of male hands thrust a bulletin at her and offered a handshake.
“Good morning, and welcome to Bethel,” greeted a raspy, thin voice. The hands shook slightly, the skin paper-thin with age.
“Good morning,” Sophie returned quietly, accepting the bulletin and the handshake. Her eyes finally adjusted enough to see a man shorter than her, rail-thin, with only a few patches of white hair left on his speckled scalp. His smile stretched wrinkled cheeks wide from ear-to-ear. What a joyful man!
“I don’t recognize you, miss, and I know near-abouts ev’rybody here. First time?”
Warmth bubbled up inside Sophie as she listened to his slight drawl. She got the impression he didn’t use his voice very often – thus the rasp – but when he did, he used it to coax life from both plants and people.
“Yes, sir,” she nodded. “Officer Harrison recommended it.”
“Ah! Fine young lad,” the old man commented with a grunt and a grin.
“He seems nice,” was all she trusted herself to comment.
“He usually sits on the pulpit side, about halfway back, if you want to join him.” Then the audacious old man winked slowly, his smile never faltering. Oh, boy. Sophie was in trouble with this one!
“Um, thanks,” she mumbled, then scooted into the sanctuary and away from perceiving old eyes.
Wishing to put no pressure on Sam or anyone he might know here, she purposely sat near the back on the lectern side. Flipping through the thin bulletin, she quickly realized this church actually used the hymnal for both liturgy and hymns. The very first page of the bulletin noted which liturgy would be followed today, then listed the hymns. She noted the hymns matched the ones on the old-fashioned wooden hymn board on the front wall beside the pulpit. She found the right liturgy page, then used the attached ribbon to mark her place.
The remaining two pages of the bulletin – which, she noted, was just an 8.5×11 sheet of office paper folded in half to make a four-page ‘booklet’ – included announcements of various events and activities, a list of people to pray for, the Lenten service schedule, and contact information for the church council members.
Oh, man. Lent. How had she missed that? Well, not hard when Resurrection didn’t schedule the special midweek services she was used to. Had she missed Ash Wednesday? A quick consult with the bulletin proved that she had, indeed, along with the first midweek service. A melancholy sadness deflated her shoulders as her eyes no longer focused on the paper in front of her.
She hadn’t missed an Ash Wednesday service since her appendectomy when she was 13. She knew it wasn’t a sin, but it felt all wrong. Tears stung at the back of her eyes.
“Sophie?” came a curious voice from just over her left shoulder. She quickly sniffed before turning her head. Sam!
“Officer Harrison,” she choked, hating how her voice always went funny when she cried.
“Sam is fine, if you like,” he said with a smile and an outstretched hand. She shook his hand while attempting to return his smile. The concern drawing his eyebrows together told her she probably didn’t succeed at the latter.
“Would you like company or prefer to sit alone?” he offered.
Sophie took a deep breath. If she sat alone, she could process her feelings and maybe talk to him after the service, when she was more collected. But then she knew she would feel lonely and out-of-place, sticking out like a thumbtack on an office chair. If she accepted company, he’d ask why she was upset. She might be embarrassed, but her time with Sam reassured her he wouldn’t judge her, at least not too harshly. She slid down the glossy wooden pew.
“Company, please.” This time, her little smile was real.
“I’m glad you made it,” Sam said with genuine earnestness as he sat in the pew next to her. He wore gray dress pants and a white button-down shirt, no tie. Sophie had to swallow hard and mentally shake herself as his body radiated heat she could feel across the inches that separated them.
“It was a lovely drive,” she answered honestly.
Sam’s smile grew. “Isn’t it? I don’t know why, but something about passing pastures full of cows on the way to church is…”
“Soothing?” she suggested.
“Yeah, that’s a good word for it,” Sam agreed with a nod. Then his smile dipped. “No pressure, but if you need an ear, I’m a good one. Something was bothering you. Are you okay?”
Drat. He would have to remember. Sophie sucked in the biggest breath she could and tried to let it out discreetly.
“I realized when I looked at the bulletin -” she waved it lamely – “that I missed Ash Wednesday.”
“And that bothers you.” Statement, not a question.
“Yes.”
“Why?” No judgement, just warm curiosity.
“I never miss Ash Wednesday. I… it’s probably weird, but I actually like Lent. I find the solemnity helpful to study and self-reflection. I like the extra services, too. I can’t believe I didn’t even know it was Lent.”