Chapter 5
Samuel had finished everything he could find, including Rev. Aspen's work, and was considering certain aspects of the life, and writings, of this "Saint Warren", with a coffee in front of the chapel.
It was then that he looked across the road to Guy Pride's Cafe, where someone had painted the words "GOOD RIDANTS" on the window of an otherwise impeccably presented shopfront.
Keeping his focus on those two words, Samuel began to wonder what was wrong.
"R-I-D"
He put down his coffee, and kept reading as he walked to the street.
"No, that's..that's not right."
He crossed the road.
"Oh, that's what's wrong with it." Samuel said, audibly to himself, as he stood at the shop front window, as if he'd just solved a puzzle.
"Wrong with what?" Guy Pride asked, with a very bitter tone.
Guy had been standing in front of his cafe, having a cigarette and coffee, but Samuel had not noticed him.
Well, this was awkward, but Samuel didn't have a great exit strategy, so he stumbled through as best he could.
"Well," deep breath, "Good Riddance."
A quick glance towards Guy.
He's still not happy.
"Riddance," Samuel continued, "R-I-D-D-A-N-C-E"
This wasn't making life any easier.
"It's just that...somebody has misspelt Riddance, you see."
Guy looked at the window, and stubbed his cigarette out on the footpath, as if he was angry even with the cigarette.
"Move." Guy motioned Samuel out of the way.
He gave a big sigh, looked through the window to a man behind the counter inside, and said, clearly enough for all to hear,
"Idiot!"
Samuel must have looked uncomfortable in the moment, as Guy then turned his attention to him.
"Well," he said to Samuel, "What are you waiting for- an invitation to Scrabble night or something?"
Samuel briefly looked around his immediate environment, like a hen searching for seeds.
"Would you..sell me a coffee today?"
He didn't even want a coffee, but felt the need to fill the air with words of some sort.
Guy shook his head, as if in disbelief or disgust.
Was that a "No", then?
It turned out that no, it wasn't a "No", though there was one last complaint from Guy.
"Life is going to be a lot duller without Hard Labour around," Guy almost sounded disappointed, "You appear duller.
I used to enjoy arguing with Hard Labour."
"Sorry." Samuel replied, as a result of a confused nervous reaction.
He then thought to himself,
"Sorry for not arguing?"
Returning to 'his side' of the street, Samuel noticed a man repairing the brick fence in front of the chapel.
Putting the unwanted coffee, now in his hand, to good use, he thought he'd offer it to the man repairing the fence.
The builder was grateful, and stopped for a break.
"So," he asked Samuel, "You are the new minister here?"
"Yes," replied Samuel politely, "For a couple of weeks."
Samuel pointed to the Auction sign.
"I see." said the builder, "I won't be here long. Going soon."
Samuel looked back to the shopfront across the road.
Spelling mistakes aside, Samuel understood the sentiment.
"Don't look back," the builder said to him, as he examined his own work, "It will only make you bitter."
Such well timed words, Samuel considered, for the moment and for his general experience working with The Misery of Saint Warren's.
Although a stranger, Samuel looked to the older man as a counsellor, as the builder shared some more words of wisdom with him.
So, Samuel felt comfortable to share his own story with the builder.
"..And I don't understand," Samuel concluded, "That I turned to some church people, and they were quite harsh towards me, even though I had never met them before.
Then, when I walk in the street, some complete strangers are rude towards me, even though I had never met them either."
The builder immediately stood up, and yet kept staring at the brick wall, as if in deep thought.
"Young man," the builder said, whilst stroking his long beard, "Where I am from, people we had never met.."
He paused for a moment.
"They killed my neighbours, took their children as slaves, and destroyed their villages."
Samuel looked down at the ground, somewhat uncomfortable now about complaining.
"I'm sorry, sir. You're right.
I shouldn't complain. It's nothing, in comparison."
The builder was somewhat taller than Samuel, and looked down to look him in the eye.
"No. No." he consoled Samuel, " Share your problems. Shed your tears. But move forward.
Say your prayers. Be constructive, and move forward."
"Yes." Samuel agreed, as if receiving instruction.
"I was happy enough, once. I felt capable enough- ah, strong enough to cope, once." Samuel lamented.
The builder gave Samuel a reassuring smile, and placed his right hand on his shoulder.
"The joy of the Lord is your strength."
At this, a ray of sunshine appeared through the clouds, and Samuel felt its warmth.
It was a brief, but remarkably profound moment for him.
"Mister," Samuel gathered his words, "You're in the wrong job!"
Said with the greatest of respect, but perhaps without proper forethought, although the builder politely smiled in response.
The moment had overwhelmed Samuel, but there was one thing he should ask, he thought, since he was the minister of this church, and thus responsible for the fence..
"By the way," he asked the builder, "Who are you?"
"My name is Nehemiah," he replied, and pointed to his van, as he began to pack his tools away,
"I mend fences."
Sure enough, Samuel became a little embarrassed as he read the sign on the van, which read;
NEHEMIAH.
THE BUILDER.
Still basking in the moment, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed "the young woman they'd never spoken to" from the Sunday morning church services, crossing the road.
He thanked Nehemiah for his time, and ran off to try and finally meet this elusive "young woman".
He saw her just a few metres away, as she was hastily walking towards the old community centre, where she disappeared behind a hedge of small trees.
Samuel considered this odd, but before his time was finished at St. Warren's, he wanted to at least say hello.
He moved through the bushes, and followed a rough path behind the old hall.
He came across a poorly constructed tent, pitched between the hall and a high brick wall.
He knelt down.
"Hello?" Samuel called out, cautiously.
He heard movement in the tent.
"Hello?" he called out again.
"Hello?" a voice came back.
"Hello. It's Reverend Samuel from church. Have you got a minute to talk?"
The front flap of the tent slowly opened, and the young woman slowly emerged.
"I'm sorry. I don't know your name." Precariously moving forward, Samuel said gently.
"I'm Gina," she said, "Gina the dog lady."
Samuel wasn't surprised.
"Ah, Saint Warren's. Of course she is."
"Pardon?" Gina asked, still rather timid.
Samuel smiled.
"Don't worry."
Motioning at the tent and surrounding area, Samuel asked,
"Gina. This is where you live?"
Gina nodded and smiled.
"With my friends."
Samuel looked down further behind the hall, to see two dogs laying on mats.
"Your friends...right." Samuel nodded.
He stood up and looked around, greatly troubled.
"I was sleeping in the hall before, but Reverend Lothsumn told me that I would need to pay rent." Gina said.
"That sounds like our Reverend Lothsumn, yes." Samuel tried to remain polite.
"Are...you going to ask me to leave?" Gina asked. She was now cowering before Samuel.
Samuel was confused.
"You mean, you have nowhere else to go?"
"My mum died," she explained, "and my dad went away.
I didn't know what to do.
Mum used to care for me."
Gina still wouldn't look directly at Samuel.
Samuel knetl down on the soft soil, so that he might look at Gina, face to face.
She cowered even more.
"Are you going to ask me to leave?"
What a position he was in.
He wanted to say, "No. Stay here..", but where?
So, he instead replied,
"No. If you're comfortable here- though, we will find you somewhere better soon."
"Oh, thank you." Gina replied.
"Tell me though," Samuel asked, "How do you eat? How do you look after yourself?"
And, looking around, he thought to himself,
"And where does she go to the toilet?"
"Oh, I shower at the Quietly Charismatic Church most mornings, a-and they give me breakfast.
I have lunch, and meet my friends at the Quaintly Conservative Church most days, and I come here every Sunday." Gina was so happy to explain.
"And what does this church help you with?" Samuel asked inquisitively.
"They give me morning tea after the service," she replied, "For only $4.95.
I don't understand most of what they say, but I do enjoy the morning tea on the way out."
"Only $4.95?" Samuel asked, sarcastically.
"Well. Yes." Gina replied, confused that he didn't understand his own church's customs.
Gina didn't understand sarcasm, and this made her quite confused sometimes, listening to particular people speak at St. Warren's on a Sunday morning.
Not that it bothered her greatly. They never actually spoke to her.
Chapter 6
Now, Gina "Dog lady" could not be convinced to move from that tent, even when she was offered a "nicer tent".
Therefore, Samuel would regularly walk by to make sure that she was alright.
"I am alright," she would say, "God looks after me."
Gina's welfare was just one issue on Samuel's mind, as he attempted to put a crudely painted advertisement up, next to the Auction sign, for a "Community Fair", to be held on the final day of the Misery of St. Warren.
Indeed, as Samuel put it;
"150TH ANNIVERSARY
and
CLOSING CEREMONY
Free lunch. Fun for the kids."
He was having trouble placing the sign properly, until he felt the bulk of the weight lifted from the other side.
"There we go." a voice to his left could be heard saying.
Although it was early evening, he didn't need to see who it was- he knew that voice well.
"Pastor Dean, and Deanne!"
Samuel was so happy to see familiar faces.
Dean Pastor Dean Pasteur was the Dean of Holy Bible College.
He and his wife, Deanne, ran the college with a 'family' atmosphere- treated the students as if they were their own children.
"Sorry we haven't visited earlier." Deanne said apologetically.
"Yes, we've heard about what you've been going through recently, from friends." Dean Pastor Dean agreed, nodding.
"I really should've called and asked for help." Samuel conceded.
"You look tired,son. Can we buy you dinner?" Although Deanne was asking, it sounded more like a statement.
Samuel knew that he couldn't refuse the Pasteur's hospitality, so he took them to the nearest cafe open.
Samuel stopped in front of Guy Pride's Cafe.
Someone had corrected the spelling mistake.
"Good riddance." Dean Pastor Dean noted with a confused tone.
"Are we happy now?" Guy called out to Samuel, as they entered the cafe.
Samuel smiled, and nodded awkwardly,
"Yes. Much better."
Guy tried to hide a contorted smile, before quickly moving on.
"More God botherers, I imagine..?" Guy snidely snapped at Samuel.
Samuel and his friends sat at the nearest table.
"Friends, sir." Deanne politely interjected, "We are all friends here."
"Yes, well. You're a stranger here, evidently." Guy replied, placing the menus on the table.
"There are no strangers here, sir," Deanne responded pointedly, "Only friends you haven't met yet."
"Oh joy. Oh rapture." Guy mumbled, walking away.
The Pasteurs sat at the cafe with Samuel for over an hour, before getting up to leave.
"You can't run that community fair by yourself, Samuel," Dean Pastor Dean insisted, "It wouldn't be fair."
"We have friends in the area," Deanne assured him, "We'll all pitch in."
Dean Pastor Dean smiled, agreeingly.
"This will be the best church closing ceremony you will ever see." He said, warmly shaking Samuel's hand.
Deanne gave her husband a strange look.
"..And, the only one, we hope."
Relieved to have a few days free of any great responsibility after this, Samuel prepared himself for the final weekend of commemorations, celebrations and commiserations.
Busy but productive, it did cross his mind from time to time, what would become of the old church building.
He was treated like a short term employee, but Samuel was no longer thinking about The Board and his job, but his concerns were more about some people he'd met during this "season" of his life.
Guy Pride and Rev. Loathsumn were two people he would not be in a hurry to meet again any time soon, but unfortunately that Friday night, he could not avoid either of them.
They were arguing on the front lawn of the church grounds.
"I might just buy it," Guy announced aggressively, "and bulldoze it."
"You couldn't afford it." Rev. Loathsumn spluttered with disdain, "Besides, it's got a Historical Heritage listed order on it.
You can't bulldoze it."
Both men's attention turned towards Samuel.
"What is it!" Rev. Loathsumn ordered.
"I live up there, sir." Samuel began OK, but then began to trip over his words,
"And you are both blocking my way to...up there, sir. Sirs."
Rev. Loathsumn stared at Samuel, as if he was trying to interpret his favourite abstract painting.
"Don't worry," Guy insisted, "I'm leaving."
And he did, almost knocking Samuel out of his way.
Rev. Loathsumn was in a fury.
"The nerve of the man." He said to Samuel.
Samuel often tried to avoid conflict, to the degree that he might get angry with himself sometimes for doing so, and yet at other times, he just forgot this habit altogether, and said everything on his mind, and reviewed his actions later.
Like, right about..now.
"Guy Pride can buy this building, sir." Samuel said, summoning up courage.
"What?!" Rev. Loathsumn sounded astonished.
"Guy Pride is right, if he does have the money.
Guy Pride, or a child minding centre, or a local zoo.
Anyone can buy it, because you're selling it."
Samuel raised his sight from the ground, and looked Rev. Loathsumn directly in the eyes.
"Be careful," Rev. Loathsumn uttered solemnly, "Mind your words. I could fire you, right now."
Samuel boldly stepped forward, and actually felt a little dizzy in the moment, but he knew that the timing was right.
"I have discovered, while I have been here, that you locked the doors on the community centre because it was commercially unviable, to allow people who weren't using the hall for business purposes."
"We needed the funds.
We hired the hall out for market rent only." Rev. Loathsumn interrupted.
"And when no one else would pay the market rent, you locked up the hall.
Apparently, you wouldn't allow a soup kitchen, or a homeless refuge.
You wouldn't allow a mentally disabled homeless woman to sleep on the floor."
Samuel slowed himself for a moment, but this time, Rev. Loathsumn did not interrupt.
"And now you don't have a say," Samuel continued, "and neither do I.
Therefore, you do not have a right to complain, regardless of the outcome."
Another brief pause.
"Now, if you'll excuse me," Samuel said, motioning forward, " I have some phone calls to make.
One of my congregation is living in a tent."