sighed inwardly, unsurprised to hear that Dillard Archer was not a believer.
“Have you considered calling the authorities?”
Nicole shook her head, blurting, “I don’t want him to go to jail!”
“It might be the only way to get him the help he needs.”
“But what would happen to my little brother?”
Marcus knew the probable answer to that, but he needed more information to make an informed guess.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
So young, Marcus thought, to be shouldering such responsibility.
“Do you work?”
“Part-time. School doesn’t leave a lot of time for work.”
“You’re in college then?”
“UTA.”
He’d attended the University of Texas at Arlington himself, before seminary.
“Studying what, may I ask?”
“Early childhood education.”
He smiled at that and heard himself saying, “We have a day care center at our church.”
“Oh? I’d like to work in day care again, but waiting tables pays better, especially for part-time.” She looked down at her hands, mumbling, “Dad’s on disability because of his back, and that really doesn’t go very far. If we hadn’t used Mom’s life insurance to pay off the house, I don’t know how we’d make it.”
“His drinking can’t help any,” Marcus pointed out gently, “and he isn’t likely to quit on his own.”
“Look,” Nicole said firmly, “I promised my mom.” Her beautiful brown eyes implored Marcus to understand. “I promised that I’d take care of them, Beau and Dad. Mom wouldn’t want me to turn him in to the police.”
“Nicole, your mother never imagined that your dad would fall apart like this,” Ovida pointed out. “She wouldn’t want you to risk yours or your brother’s safety.”
“It’s not that bad,” Nicole insisted. “It’s just that I never know what’s going to set him off, and he can say some really ugly things. I shouldn’t let them bother me. I know it’s the alcohol talking, but…” She sighed intensely.
“Don’t make excuses for him, honey,” Ovida advised, “and don’t let him get to you.”
She lifted big, wounded eyes to Ovida, whispering, “He said that Mom would be disappointed in me.”
Ovida scoffed at that. “No way! Your mother thought the sun rose and set in you and Beau. Your father’s the one she’d be disappointed in, not you. Never you, sugar. And no one knew Suzanne better than I did. I knew your mom from the time she was eleven years old. I was her Sunday School teacher. Trust me on this.”
Nicole smiled wanly. “Mom always said you were the big sister she never had.”
“Oh, and I loved her like a sister.”
“He loved her, too, you know,” Nicole said wistfully.
“I know,” Ovida conceded. “I know. But that doesn’t give him the right to behave this way.”
“Would you like me to speak to him?” Marcus asked. “I think he needs to hear that God still loves him.”
Nicole looked at him, wide-eyed, and shook her head. “I—I don’t think he’d sit still for that. Maybe later, once he’s calmed down.”
“He’d have to be more open than the last time I tried to talk to him,” Ovida warned sadly. “He threw me out of his house—me, who he’s known for decades. He said God and church didn’t do Suzanne any good and he didn’t want to hear any more mealymouthed Bible-thumpers telling him it was for the best.”
“Ah.” Marcus nodded, understanding the problem exactly.
He’d seen it before, a weak faith trying to believe that a desired outcome was the only right one, then shattering completely when God’s will didn’t follow the proscribed path. Jolie had succumbed to that kind of disappointment and doubt after Connie had reclaimed her son, Russell, but with prayer and patience and a willingness on Vince’s part to be used by God, she’d come to see the truth. Marcus made a mental pact with himself to pray regularly for the Archers, starting now.
At his request, Nicole bowed her head and sat quietly while he spoke to God about protection for her and her brother and emotional and spiritual healing for Dillard Archer. Afterward, he spoke to Nicole about AlAnon, the support organization for the family and dependents of alcoholics, and she seemed interested in possibly attending a meeting, if her schedule permitted. Marcus promised to locate the nearest meeting for her, although it sounded as if she already had a pretty full timetable with classes and work and her family.
“Where do you live exactly?”
“Dalworthington Gardens.”
“We’re practically neighbors then. I’m at First Church in Pantego.”
“I know that church,” Nicole said, surprising and pleasing him. “I pass it on my way to school. I like the way it looks, sort of homey and old-fashioned, almost like its own little town.”
Marcus felt his grin stretch to ridiculous proportions. Something odd shimmered through him, something he couldn’t quite identify that snatched at his breath. He cleared his throat and said, “That’s exactly the impression we were going for, a community of believers with the church at its center.”
“But don’t be fooled by the exterior,” Ovida advised Nicole. “It’s a powerful little church, a real asset to the city, and pretty cutting-edge when it comes to technology and worship.”
“We do try,” Marcus conceded. “It’s been an exciting pastorate so far.”
“You ought to visit, Nicole,” Ovida urged. “You and Beau might like it there.”
Nicole looked at Marcus, her warm brown eyes measuring him. “We might,” she said, and then she dropped her gaze pointedly.
Marcus felt a jolt. That hadn’t been personal interest he’d seen in her eyes, surely? No, of course not. To her, he must seem like the next thing to an old man, which, comparably speaking, he was. That seemed a particularly dismal thought.
As talk became more chatter than confession and hand-wringing, Marcus made himself sit silently, a mere observer now that the emotional crisis had passed. It was what he did, part of his calling. He was good at stepping up to the plate when called upon to bat and equally good at retiring once he’d taken his swing. He couldn’t help wondering why this time it was proving so difficult.
Perhaps he should rejoin the party in the other room. He, after all, was the guest of honor. Yes, he should definitely excuse himself. Yet, he sat right there, listening as Ovida and Nicole talked of events
