Chapter 7
Samuel could not face his friends on Auction Saturday.
Not his friends, nor the unfriendly, nor anyone.
He packed his things, and as a matter of fact, he tidied up other people's things- even things that had been left lying around for many years.
Nothing of value to him, save a couple of books, but whatever wasn't thrown away, might be given away the following day at the fair.
He listened to the commotion of the auction, when the time came to set up the chapel for the last Sunday service.
When all was said and done, he was trying hard to concentrate on anything but the auction, but Mrs.Song would ruin those plans.
"Samuel. Reverend Samuel!" Mrs.Song said excitedly, and yet still rather conservatively, whilst marching in her usual manner to meet Samuel.
"Mrs.Song," Samuel replied, "Is everything alright?"
"We have some extra ordinary news. You must come and see!" Mrs.Song insisted.
She had a look on her face as if she was still trying to process the information that she wanted to convey to him.
Impulsively, she grabbed Samuel's forearm, and marched him through the crowd to the street.
"Ah..Samuel!" Pastor Warren greeted him with a warm smile and a handshake.
"Pas-tor Warren." Samuel was surprised, to say the least.
"This is my wife, Willoughby." Pastor Warren anxiously waved his hand towards his wife,
"Willoughby. Reverend Samuel."
Samuel shook hands with Willoughby, smiling, though confused.
"Samuel," Pastor Warren took a deep breath and calmed a little, "We, that is, my wife and I, have just bought the property. We've bought Saint Warren's..
The chapel. The community centre. Everything."
"Everything?" Samuel was now stunned, "That's a lot of money to..Oh, I mean, con-gratulations."
"Yeah, well, there we are. We are going to buy it. We have just bought it."
At this, Willoughby moved forward and grasped her husband's hand, as if to assure him.
"Yes, Samuel, we have." she said.
Samuel wasn't sure how to respond, as he was rather lost for words, although he did know that he was happy for them, so he assured them,
"I'm so happy for you."
As the crowd dispersed, Pastor Warren drew Samuel aside, and stretched out his arm, as he looked across the property.
"We see the old community centre as the home of our new church building, with floors above for our new community centre's services- extended, for a homeless refuge and other things as time goes on.
There'll be an underground carpark, but with a public park above it, with a playground for the kids.
We will reuse the old chapel somehow- not sure what for yet- and before all that..
We're moving upstairs. We're going to live up there."
With this last statement, Pastor Warren looked more perplexed, but again, Willoughby stood by him, and smiled,
"We'll be fine. We'll get used to it."
"So," Samuel didn't quite understand, "You'll live up there?"
"Yes, well, we'll have our office up there too, for the time being.. or longer." Pastor Warren agreed.
"The office, and our home, if you like," Willoughby confirmed, "We better get used to the place.
We're broke, as of now."
Both Willoughby and Pastor Warren nodded, smiling a little anxiously.
Pastor Warren looked up to the stairs leading to the office.
"Guess I'd better get you to show us around, Samuel."
Guy Pride happened to be walking past, and overheard some of the conversation.
"Wait," Guy paused to confirm, "You mean to say that you are going to make a bigger church on that land there?!"
"Well, yeah, and other things." Pastor Warren replied, in a hopeful manner.
"Great. That's all I need." Guy said, shaking his head in disappointment.
This distracted Pastor Warren, and he turned his attention to Guy.
Placing one hand on Guy's shoulder, and motioning him to see Guy's 'side' of the street, Pastor Warren again stretched out his arm.
"Sir," he said confidently to Guy, "When I think about your cafe- what quality, what friendly service to the community- well, the congregation here are going to be only too happy to drop by and say hello on Sundays."
Pastor Warren became more involved with his own evolving vision, and the prospects for Guy and his business.
Gesturing with his hands, he concluded,
"I think you're going to have to expand your business!"
Guy was uncharacteristically lost for words, and seemed to be searching for the same thing Pastor Warren was seeing, and yet, ironically, he could only respond to him with,
"I see."
"We'll be great neighbours!" Pastor Warren spoke as if they were already great neighbours.
"We'll see." Guy, once again, really didn't know what he was saying, but yes, they would.
Still not convinced, and yet now holding conflicting emotions, Guy looked puzzled.
Pastor Warren was having none of that.
"You will see. Yes, you will." Pastor Warren confirmed.
Willoughby then looked at Pastor Warren's jacket, and then looked to him, as if to remind him of something.
"Ah, yes," Pastor Warren slowed down to speak more calmly and collected, "I noticed that you're a smoker.
I'd like to offer you these." he said as he handed Guy a pouch of tobacco and cigarette papers.
Surprised, but curious, Guy accepted them.
"I do, but why give these to me?"
Willoughby drew close to Guy, as if they were old friends,
"I have been telling him to quit for years," she confided, "and now, he's so broke... We're so broke, that he can't afford them any more."
Bucking his reputation, Guy graciously accepted the 'gift'.
Now, Samuel was very tired after all the tension and excitement of his exhausting day.
Everything that needed doing that day had been completed, and he'd prepared the best he could for the following day, but was arguing with himself about how he was going to fulfill all the tasks of the following day, largely by himself.
"Still," he resolved to himself, "Tomorrow has its own worries."
Just a moment's rest, as his head hit the pillow, before he heard a significant noise coming from the community hall area, and soon after, a knock at the door downstairs.
Samuel quickly jumped up, grabbed a torch, and went down to answer the door.
He opened the door and shone the torch directly in front of him.
"Gina!" Samuel exclaimed in amazement.
She nodded and grinned.
"It's Gina." she agreed.
"Gina," Samuel said, bewildered but trying to remain composed, "It's eleven o'clock."
A big sigh.
"Is everything alright, Gina?"
As he was lowering the torch, someone else approached the door.
Clutching at her friend's hand, Gina said to Samuel,
"This is my friend, Lydia. She will be taking care of me."
A well dressed, remarkably well composed woman, old enough and with such a presence, to be Gina's mother, stepped forward.
"Good evening," Lydia apologetically greeted Samuel, "We are sorry about the late hour.
We did not know that she lived behind the hall like this, until late this afternoon."
"They're my friends.
They're coming to take me away." Gina interrupted, albeit joyfully.
"They are coming to...take you..away?" Samuel asked Gina.
Lydia clarified.
"I oversee a few of our church's community services," she explained, "and Gina is a regular visitor."
"The meals, and showers and the like.." Samuel remembered a previous conversation with Gina.
"That's right," Lydia confirmed," Yes, and Gina is-"
"A friend." Gina interrupted again, happily.
Lydia turned to Gina.
"Yes," she affirmed, looking at Gina, "She's our old friend."
"They have a lovely big house and a backyard." Gina began.
Now Samuel interrupted with a smile.
"That will be special," he said with relief, "Maybe now you can have your own room."
Gina became concerned, as if Samuel had misunderstood something.
"Oh no," she replied, "They have a big backyard.
I'll have somewhere to put my tent.
But I'll have to say goodbye to the stray dogs."
"We did try to persuade her into taking a room." Lydia offered politely.
Samuel smiled, knowingly.
"Even a-" Lydia began.
"Nicer tent?" Samuel suggested.
Lydia raised her eyebrows,
"You too, it appears.
Well, we will convince her soon, I hope."
"Thank you for all your help," Gina said to Samuel, and gave him a firm hug.
"Of course." Samuel replied, relieved for the positive outcome.
"Well," Lydia said, clasping her hands together, "We'd best be going. We all have a big day tomorrow."
Samuel agreed, although he didn't fully grasp her meaning, yet.
Chapter 8
Sunday morning.
The final Sunday.
A crisp, clear day that would lead into the perfect day for a closing ceremony and community fair.
Samuel was to meet the Song's in the carpark in front of the community centre, but when he arrived he was surprised- flattered, even amazed to see so many people, most of whom he had never met before, busy organising things, arranging tables, and cleaning up the area.
Different people from various church groups, led by Lydia, whom he'd only met the night before.
He overheard her saying to some young people,
"..Treat this place as if you were having guests at your own home."
He then saw Dean Pastor Dean and Deanne Pasteur in the distance, as he recalled the words that they would bring "..some friends from the area."
"Wow," said Samuel, murmuring his thoughts to himself,
"This many people, to celebrate a church closing down."
Lydia had heard Samuel's murmuring, and gave him a concerned look as she passed him by- was he joking in some way?
Samuel could not easily explain his way out of it, so with a clap of the hands and a nod of the head, he added,
"So..Right,well let's get to work then."
And with that, Samuel left Lydia, The Pasteurs, and the young people to do their work, while Samuel headed for the chapel to get on with his.
The next surprise for Samuel was when he entered the chapel to prepare for that 'closing ceremony'.
The service itself was not to start for another forty five minutes, yet there were people gathered about the place, everywhere.
Some standing, some sitting.
Why, some people even looked happy.
The place seemed to be filled with anticipation.
People catching up with old friends. Chatting together.
Funny thing was, Samuel noticed, that not one of them was of the "Seven old people and the 'young woman they'd never spoken to" (now known as Gina).
Samuel walked to the front of the chapel and publicly introduced himself.
"..and welcome to the closing ceremony.
We will begin soon, but please, make yourself at home."
Some people gave a polite acknowledgement, whilst others barely turned their heads for a moment before returning to their conversations.
Without thinking, Samuel continued,
"But it looks like you've already made yourselves at home, so I'll move on."
Everybody stopped what they were doing.
Who did he say he was?
Was that some kind of joke?
Was he being sarcastic?
"I mean," Samuel jumbled his words to get closer to his thoughts,
"I'll just be over here if anyone needs me."
Everybody then resumed their socialising.
The chapel became full, for the first time in many years.
Standing room only.
Samuel glanced at the back of the chapel, to see his family, friends and pastor who he'd known since childhood, sitting and talking together.
Samuel's family were often in the background, but they were always an encouragement to him.
Mrs.Song chose three "happier than normal" hymns for the day.
The service itself began well, and appeared to be going smoothly, except for an apparent protest of two old members of the church who wanted to be seen arriving, sitting and then leaving during the service.
Samuel came to the pulpit to speak, finally, about all that he'd discovered since arriving at this church, about the "real life story of Warren of Pistyll ''.
However, Mr.Chinwaggen and Ms.Gaul made their presence felt, by standing up to protest, not two minutes into Samuel's sermon.
"Heretic!" Mr.Chinwaggen shouted, waving his index finger at Samuel.
"Mr.Chinwaggen, you've never given me a chance to finish." Samuel politely responded.
"That's not the miserable Saint Warren I was raised with, and I will not sit here and listen to you and your 'facts' any longer."
Samuel was astonished.
Did Mr.Chinwaggen hear anything that he was saying, or even what Mr.Chinwaggen had said himself in that remark?
Sadly for Samuel, several other people vocally agreed with Mr.Chinwaggen.
He later discovered that they were disgruntled former members of the church.
They joined Mr.Chinwaggen, as he then exited the building.
Somewhat distracted, and yet pressing on, Samuel found his notes where he'd left off.
"Ah, yes, anyway.."
Not ten words later, Ms.Gaul, who was already standing, complained,
"Appalling! And misleading!
Saint Warren was renowned for his suffering and misery!"
Ms.Gaul took a brief, deep gasp for air, before attempting to continue her tirade.
"Enough!" decried Pastor Warren, not in anger but as an appeal for calm.
He had heard everything, and heard enough.
As he made his way from the back to the front of the chapel, he looked around the room and declared,
"I can not listen to any more of this."
Everybody in the chapel now paid close attention to the tension brewing in the room.
"Sit down, son." Pastor Warren instructed Samuel, kindly though formally.
Pastor Warren approached the microphone.
Ms.Gaul was livid, and she wasn't going to sit through another speech about Saint Warren.
In her anger though, she could only mutter the words,
"The gall.."
"Yes," Pastor Warren retorted, "The gall, Ms.Gaul.
The gall of your group, and the gall of The Board, whose goal it was to ground this young man down, to the ground."
But there was more.
"Samuel was only going to bring to light the real 'Saint' Warren,"
Pastor Warren's piercing eyes crossed the room, and his formal voice pierced the quiet room.
"Some of Samuel's own research, and some of which was my father's, to tell people about the real, inspiring story about Saint Warren, and not some of these myths and legends, that have burdened so many, for so many years."
"And who was your father, sir?"
Ms.Gaul enquired as if she was in a court of law.
Trying to compose himself, Pastor Warren panned across the room with a long stare.
"My father was..Reverend Snowy Aspen."
Many people in the room remembered Rev.Aspen, and there was a collective sigh,
"Oh.."
But there was no time for sympathy, or time to pause and reflect for Ms.Gaul.
"Pastor Warren Aspen," Ms.Gaul growled, "I'll not be lectured to by a man who conducts church services in the auditorium of a club, within metres of a..bar!"
Pastor Warren was about to respond, when Ms.Gaul suddenly turned around, looking to present her case to the people around her.
"This man's father," she said, pointing to Pastor Warren, though never looking towards him,
"made a point of preaching from that pulpit, about some life that triumphs over adversity somehow, some rejoicing through suffering, as if that's how Saint Warren really lived!
Well, sir, we don't like these 'real life' stories.
We want to be lectured to!"
Several people quietly agreed.
Ms.Gaul then turned to face Pastor Warren.
"And to what end?
He dropped dead, face first in the cabbage patch.
Where was Reverend Aspen's happy ending to the story?"
At this, Ms.Gaul moved her pointed finger to a nearby window.
There was stunned silence in the room.
Someone close to Ms.Gaul reached to touch her forearm, but grabbed the handbag, carefully positioned on her forearm, instead.
"You can't talk like that." a voice from behind her said, and other people murmured in agreement.
"No, no. It's alright." Pastor Warren said.
At first his wife, and then Samuel rose to be by his side.
He motioned them to be seated.
"It's true," Pastor Warren addressed the congregation, "My father...Dad was of the firm belief that Saint Warren was poorly represented, even lied about, in this place."
More gasps from the congregation.
"Warren of Pistyll did have a difficult life, full of sufferings and trials of all kinds, and health problems, but the records show- first hand written accounts, and his own notes- show that he was a joyful, faith filled man."
Pastor Warren gained a weak smile.
"A minister, a pastor in his own region, but a chemist, too, and a counsellor apparently.
A wise man. He learnt best about his own ailments, and discovered herbal remedies for them, and then, because he had empathy for people, he helped others, too.
He studied people, and learnt how to settle what we might call neighbourhood disputes, and family counselling. He was widely respected."
Pastor Warren paused, as if to contain his emotions.
"His suffering was not in misery.
It was his classroom."
Complete silence in the room.
Nobody moved, as Pastor Warren continued.
"My dad was trying to package the story of Saint Warren, who would not even have liked to be called 'Saint' Warren, I'm sure, and a number of people in this church did not like what my dad had to say.
This put Dad under a lot of pressure, to the degree that The Board removed him from his position in the church, and we had to move away.
Move away from family and friends. Uncomfortable conversations. Untold grief.
When Dad did return one day, to visit, to find the community centre closed, and the community garden full of weeds...He was tending to it, when his heart gave in."
Pastor Warren began sobbing gently, but looked to Ms.Gaul directly, across the room.
"He was a good man," he began to compose himself as he spoke,
"A troubled man, in the end, but still a good natured man.
Quite frankly, he would have had an easier time appealing to the cabbages, than to The Board and some of the congregation!"
Still complete silence in the room.
Shock.
All of a sudden, Mr.Longrange, a former member of the church, turned to the rigidly upright Ms.Gaul, from nearby to her, and firmly spoke up, saying,,
"Actually, I miss Reverend Snowy.
He was a breath of fresh air."
A large group of people expressed their agreement, though still murmuring to one another.
"He didn't belong here!" Ms.Gaul protested.
"Well, we thought he did!" a voice from behind her shouted, and Ms.Gaul turned to see who she was going to argue with.
A middle aged man jumped to his feet in defence of Ms.Gaul, and a young woman stood with him, and denounced those who disagreed with her,
"How dare you!"
Willoughby assisted her husband from the podium, as some people towards the back of the chapel cautiously left the building, leaving other folk in the chapel to argue among themselves.
"Well, that's all we've time for today," Samuel tried to talk above the noise,
"Thank you for coming.
Tea and coffee will be served on the lawn."
Samuel's parents looked on from afar, both giving him a stern look.
End it.
"Thanks for joining us." he finished, before attempting to quieten arguing neighbours and usher them out the door.