A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

More from the little town of Ingersoll: Dawn

THURSDAY, June 16, 2016

Rachael stopped off at the bakery on the way to school, as she now did every day. Her Dad started at 5, and her mom at 7, so her visits at 8:30 brightened up their mornings.

“Come here right after school,” Maria told her daughter. “It is long past time for the daughter-mother shopping trip that we have been talking about. We will hit the mall and maybe the big boxes. Prepare for a marathon.”

“Okay,” Rachael said. “But remember I have that church meeting at 8 p.m. We will have to finish up before then.”

“Oh, I had forgotten that. Well, from 4 to 8 should allow us to get a start on things, anyway. Do you want to bring your girls along?”

Well duh, Rachael thought. I need some teenaged advice on what looks good. What she said was: “Sure, I’ll ask who can come. It will be Carly, Mikki, and Larissa, if they all can make it.”

At school before first class all three girls confirmed that they could come, and phoned home for permission.

---- -- - - -----

Niles Roundbar sat in his bar late that afternoon. It was dead. The bar had been dead for weeks now. There were a few pensioners who came in and sipped on two beers each, except on Mondays and Tuesdays. On those days there was a happy hour until five at Raunchy Rhonda’s, the strip bar across the street. But on other days the old men came to Niles’ bar because the beers were 50 cents cheaper.

There was still some business in the evenings, with the younger people who came in to watch sports on the TV, but the bulk of the day business had been the alcoholics. This should be a booming time, with welfare checks sent out yesterday. Normally the men would bring their checks into the bar, and for $10 Niles would cash them. Most of the men would have run a tab during the month, up to half their check, and Niles would also deduct that. Then the men would have a booze orgy with their remaining money, until it ran out in a few days. After that they would exercise moderation so their tabs could stay open until the next check came in.

The till was full, but not from sales. Niles had brought in extra cash expecting to cash 20 or 30 welfare checks. But so far he had only seen four men come in, and they had already cashed their checks. They paid off their tabs, and then amazingly left without buying a drink. Niles had even offered the last one a free drink, and the man refused, to his amazement.

Finally another regular came in. It suddenly clicked in Niles mind that all five men had been wearing similar clothes. Beige pants and a navy t-shirt. And all were clean shaved, with neatly trimmed hair. Rocky here used to look like a hermit with a long beard and wild, unruly hair below his collar. Now he looked like a school teacher.

“Paying off my tab” Rocky said, reaching for his wallet.

“No problem. You want a check cashed?”

“Nope. I got it cashed at the church,” Rocky said. “Gary cashes them free there out of the donation money.”

That explains why the others had ready cash, Niles thought. “You are looking good, Rocky. Having a drink?”

“No Niles, I quit drinking a couple weeks back. Cleaned myself up, and now I’m volunteering for the church. We just spent the last week putting on a new roof for the place, and one of the foremen on that job is planning to set up a team of workers to do roofing on the houses of the poor: purely volunteer. I’ve never felt better: physically and mentally.”

“I can’t believe you have given up drinking,” Niles said. “I remember you coming in here as a kid on a false ID. And for the last 10 years, your whole life had revolved around it. No way you have gone clean.”

“I have,” Rocky said. “There is this painting at the church. You kneel down and pray, and you can make a promise to the Lord not to drink again, and you no longer have the craving. I don’t drink anything but water any more. Those last 10 years were lost years, and I won’t lose any more. I probably won’t see you for a while, so this is goodbye.” With that he shook Niles hand with a firm grasp, then walked out of the bar.

If this church thing is for real, then it will explain where all my ‘customers’ have gone, Niles thought. I will have to go and check it out.

----- - - ------ --

An hour later Niles was at the church, and looked around the lobby. Several more of his former clients were there, in the beige and blue, helping people to the prayer area at the end of the lobby. Niles then saw the painting, and was mesmerized. Eventually one of the Army took his arm and led him to the prayer rails, and helped him kneel down. Niles was there for nearly an hour.

He rose shakily. His whole life seemed to be in ruins. He now knew that his bar had been supporting people in their addictions. Even the younger people who came in to watch sports were just a feeder system towards life-long alcoholism. Many wouldn’t be entrapped the way some are, but a few would, with a ruined life as a result. Niles didn’t want to ruin any more lives.

He looked at the wooden box with the word Donations written on the side, and emptied his wallet, putting $80 in. Then he staggered towards the door.

“You don’t look so well,” one of the blue-shirted men said. “Let’s go down to the basement and sit awhile until you get your bearings. We just finished supper down there.”

“You … you’re the guy they call Chef,” Niles said. “You used to spend a lot of time in my bar.”

“Maybe,” Chef said. “That period of my life is pretty hazy. I did think you looked familiar though.”

“My life is a ruin,” Niles almost sobbed. “I own a bar, but as soon as I get back there I’m closing the place down. I can’t spend one more day feeding people’s alcohol addictions.”

“Odd,” Chef said, “usually the painting helps people. I have never heard of it ruining a life. You say you own a bar. What you really own is a building. Maybe it can be repurposed to something else.”

“I was thinking about remodeling and opening as a strip bar,” Niles said. “But there already is one of those in town, and I’d still be selling booze, so that is out. I can’t think of anything else.”

“I remember when I was a kid in Ingersoll there used to be a drive-in at the edge of town where all the kids went to get a burger and a shake,” Chef said. “It was where we hung out, and I guess it was a good business. Eventually the guy who owned it sold out and moved to Florida to retire. He sold to a guy who didn’t like kids, who tried to make it a fancier place for adults, and it closed down a year later. Do you like kids?”

“Yeah, I guess I do,” Niles said. “I’m a sucker for false IDs. If it even looks close I’d let the kids get a drink.” Then he hung his head, not proud of letting underage drinking happen.

“Look, you seem steadier now, so why don’t you head back to your place. I’ve got to make a run to the Women’s shelter with the food left over from our dinner, but I’ll find Skid and we will be there in an hour or so.”

“Come to the back door,” Niles said. “I’m closing the place down. I’ll leave that door open.”

Niles went back and found the bar empty, other than a bored waitress. The retirees had left, and the sports crowd hadn’t started coming in. He paid his waitress her owning salary, and then four weeks severance pay, double what was needed. He mentioned that he might remodel and reopen, if she still didn’t have a job in a month. “The place I get might not have much in tips,” he noted.

“Hasn’t been much in tips here lately either,” the girl said, heading out the back door.

Niles hung a closed sign on the front door, then phoned his evening waitress to tell her not to come in. After that he stood behind the bar, taking one bottle down from the display at a time and draining it into the bar sink.

That was what he was doing when Chef came in with Skid. After introductions, Skid walked though to the front of the bar and looked around. “Have their ever been windows here?” he asked, pointing at the front wall of the room.”

“Yes, how did you know? I’ve got pictures of the old days, and this was a general store, and the entire front was picture windows.”

“I thought so,” Skid said. “The construction still hints at it. For what Chef is thinking you will want windows back. It will brighten the place up. You have a lot of parking space, and that is great. Just make sure your employees, and yourself, park on a side street. Every parking spot is a customer, or even a carload of customers. You can’t waste that.”

“The kitchen is the pits,” Chef pronounced, coming out from the back. Nothing is worth saving, and the place needs to be four or five times bigger. I’d go open concept,” he walked about five paces out from the bar. “Put a counter along here. Everything behind would be kitchen, with the front seating. A lot of your business will be kids driving around and eating in their cars, so you don’t need a lot of seats.”

“What will this all cost?” Niles asked.

“Well, I think Gary will go for having the Army do the work. In that case the construction costs will be about $20,000 for materials. What about the kitchen, Chef?”

“You need about $30,000 for equipment. I know a place that has good used stuff for about half price, so you might be able to get a good kitchen set up for $20,000. Now, you need a specialty signature item to draw the kids in. Any ideas?”

“Well, pizza maybe?” Niles suggested.

“You definitely need pizza,” the Chef said. “But I know there is another pizza place that is probably opening a week or two before you will be able to open. You need specialize in something else. What about hot dogs?”

“Hot dogs?” Niles sneered. “They seem, well, kinda low end.”

“Nothing is low end if you produce the best there is. My idea is for you to get your dogs from a little butcher’s that is just opening up down the road from the church. They brought me in some samples. They make four blends, each spicier than the last. I tried their E dog, and it was too spicy for me, and as a chef there isn’t much I can’t eat. Pair the dog with a fresh bun from the bakery beside the butcher shop and a ton of fresh condiments and you will have a winner. Of course you still serve burgers and shakes: real milkshakes, not the crap that the fast food places serve.”

“It sounds like it might work,” Niles agreed.

“Call it Hawt Dogs and More,” Chef said.

After the men from the Hobo Army left, Niles sat in the deserted bar for a few minutes, and then got up and left. He felt better about himself, and his future, than he had in months, if not years.

---- - - -- -- - ---

Rachael and her friends hurried to the bakery as soon as school let out, and found Maria ready to go. They all piled into the bakery van, and minutes later were at the town’s only small mall. Maria led them first to the phone kiosk, where she bought two Samsung phones in a package deal. She handed one to Rachael, to replace the old and feature-impoverished phone she had.

“The other one is for Bobby,” Maria said. “We need to be able to contact him when he is biking around town. And these have a GPS unit in them, so if he loses it somewhere we can use Rachael’s phone to locate it.”

The next stop was a lingerie store. Not the world famous chain, but a locally owned store that had pretty much the same product line, although not as expensive.

“Bra fitting time,” Maria said as the elderly manager came up to the girls. “Rachael definitely needs one. I have seen side boob puffing out on her bras. You other girls can also get measured if you want.”

In the end, all four got a fitting, although Maria claimed she didn’t need one. Rachael learned she was now a 32-B, and nearly a C. Mikki was a 36-B, barely. Larissa was the same bust size, in spite of having such different bodies. She had nearly a foot more height, but her torso was close to Mikki’s. Her waist was also smaller, although Mikki vowed that one day she would be that thin. Carly was a 34-C.

Maria refused to say what size she was, only that it was the same as she always wore. Rachael then ratted her out, telling the girls that her bras were 34-DDD at home.

Mikki and Larissa each found a single bra, while Carly just looked, claiming that she would bring her mother to the store with a credit card on the weekend. Rachael stocked up. Her old bras had been 34-A, and had only fit (awkwardly) because she had lost weight over the past months, as her bust increased. Maria bought her seven bras, and two sports bras for gym in high school. She also bought four more in her own size, so the Barron girls could get out of the constant three-bra washing cycle.

After that the girls headed out to the shoe store, where they mainly played with the high heels that they were too young for, although Maria bought three new pairs of school shoes for Rachael. She also bought her a pair of western boots: “For the Farmer’s Races, dear.”

Rachael also got a denim skirt and a blouse with a lot of western embroidery on it at another store for the races, along with four other outfits. Rachael insisted that her mother also get an outfit, and the three girls had fun picking out one which they assured her that Geoff would find “hot”.

It was after 7 when they stopped at the food court for pizza slices. Rachael winced at the taste. They were nothing like the Love Bread pizzas from the bakery, and the new pizzeria that was opening in the front of DaSilvas. By the time they finished, they had to hurry to drop Rachael off at the church before Maria took the other girls home in the van.

--- -- --- -- ---

Inside the church Rachael went in and found that there was a boardroom set up in one of the Sunday School rooms. She was a few minutes early, but Helen and Pastor McNaughton were both there already, as well as Deacon Maclean. Eventually three more people showed up, including Gary and Beth Anne Smith, the tall blonde girl who had been rescued from the pimp. She was volunteering in the church office, and would record the minutes of the meeting.

It was 7:10 when Deacon Maclean called the meeting to order, and introduced Rachael to the people the she didn’t know. They all knew her, of course, from her saving the Pastor’s life, and for the work she was doing with the Sunday school. A vote to add her to the board as a full voting member carried unanimously.

Gary reported on the construction. The costs were slightly lower than expected for the new roof, and the cost of the second access to the balcony had paid off by the increased attendance over the past few weeks. He reported that the visits to the painting had leveled off at about 8000 per week, with half of those repeat visitors from the area, and half being new people from out of town, many from Toronto. He noted that not only Christians were appearing, but also Muslims and other religions. The Muslims claimed that they had prayed to Allah, not Jesus, and he had answered with a call for peace and harmony. Lately there had been a spate of Sikhs from Toronto coming in, also finding their own god answered their prayers.

Deacon Maclean continued with his financial reports. The painting donations were about $10 from locals revisiting, but newcomers often gave much more, sometimes over $100. In the last week there was $69,500 donated. The two sessions of the church were also full with nearly 800 crowded into the church each Sunday for a total of 1600 parishioners, who gave an average of $8000 each week. Thus the church income was $77,500 each week and the salaries of Gary and the two pastors were just over $3000 a week.

“I would like to propose a fourth staff member,” the deacon said. “For the past week Miss Smith has volunteered as church secretary, and the pastors have found her help invaluable. I would like to recommend that she be hired as a part time secretary for two days a week, at a weekly salary of $200.”

A motion to accept was passed and carried before anyone noticed Beth Anne was in tears. Helen and Rachael both got up to calm her. She apparently didn’t consider herself worthy of a church position, particularly in light of her past profession. She soon calmed down and thanked the board, promising to make them happy with her work.

Pastor Helen then gave a report on all the activities going on. The youth group for high school students had reached a record number of 64 young people coming in on Monday nights, which had become a bit of a social event for the young people. The cooking classes on Tuesday’s were well attended, with 20 ladies attending and 12 on a waiting list for a second group. Wednesday’s were the church dinner, and about 500 were served each evening, with about half of those church members, and the other half homeless or destitute people and families. The church members paid a donation of about $10 each, and this, plus donations, meant that the suppers were nearly self sustaining.

“I do have one other request of the board,” Helen finally said. “I have been approached by another congregation, from Oshweken Reservation. They would like me to give Saturday services on the banks of the Grand, when weather permits, or in the community hall other times. This is not a matter of either/or. I want to do both. I would never leave Ingersoll, especially now that I am married to a local man. But if the board would give me leave to do both, I would appreciate it.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Deacon Maclean said. “It is common for churches to have satellite congregations in smaller communities nearby that cannot afford a pastor of their own. We should be able to put it through that way.”

Helen hesitated. “I don’t know if that would work, Deacon. The people of the Six Nations have different beliefs from ours. I don’t think they would accept Presbyterianism any more than they accepted Anglicanism. I would prefer to give them a more free-form religion. They call God Manitou, but it is the same being. I preach to them of their history and their innate beliefs, and I think that is what they like. And what they need. If they are only a satellite congregation, then I think it will fail.”

Rachael jumped in now: “What are the rules for pastors? Are they expected to work seven days a week? If they are allowed two days off like everyone else, then Pastor Helen could go to the reserve on her days off, and do what she likes there. I’m just glad she says she will never leave us. Because we need her.”

There was some discussion, but a motion was finally made to approve Helen to preach at the reserve, so long as she was able to keep up with her duties at the church in Ingersoll. Helen noted that she would probably go to Oshweken on Friday afternoons to visit congregants there, preach a morning service on Saturday, and then be home before noon.

Gary reported on the Hobo Army next. There were nearly two hundred men and 12 women in the group, and so far seven had found paying jobs. Himself, Mike, two at the truck dealership, and two more at the carpenters: Ruth Anne was the seventh.

The men who had worked on the roof had split into two groups. One was seeking paying work as roofers, now that they had the church roof as a showpiece to let customers know they knew their stuff. Another group was planning to do volunteer roofing for people unable to afford the expensive process, but whose homes really needed it.

There is a third construction crew headed by Skid doing charity work. They are just completed work on the new meat market in the Library plaza, and had just started work on a pizza place in the deli. And Skid said just he learned a few hours ago that they want to convert one of the town bars into a burger joint for the local kids to hang out at.

“We are feeding those 200 three meals a day. There are 24 sleeping in the shed, but the rest are in the town shelter and just come here for meals. Almost everyone works. Crews have been fanning out to the local homes and asking if they need work done. They cut the grass and trim hedges on the town owned boulevard strips, and many homeowners see them doing that, and allow them to do other outside work. We have a lot of seniors in the area that just can’t do the work. We also let them know that we can do light plumbing, electrical, or carpentry work. We have fixed a lot of running toilets and creaky stairs. The men are inspired by the appreciation that the residents show. They often just stop in for tea if they have worked on a house and found that the owner seemed lonely.”

“The cost of the meals comes from the painting donations, and it costs about $75 a week for each of the 200. That comes to $15,000 a week, a sizeable part of the take from the donation box. The Deacon has asked if we can continue this, or if it is too onerous, for the church. I would like to make a motion that we continue this,” Gary said.

“I would like to second that motion,” Rachael said. “The Army does a lot for the church, and the town. Just the parking work they do on Sundays is a godsend. I’ll bet there wouldn’t be 1600 people coming to church each week if they had to find their own parking. I have heard people rave about our valet parking. They also give the church and the painting 24-7 protection at no cost. And the work they are doing for our seniors is just wonderful. I think we need to keep feeding them, at least until they get paying-jobs. It seems that they are starting to. We are giving them a boost up into society. What can a church do that is more important than that?”

The discussion continued for a few more minutes, and then Gary took the floor again. “Beth Anne, do you have those figures that I asked you to work out?”

“Yes Gary,” she said, handing him a sheet. His eyes went wide as he read it.

“Are these numbers accurate?” She nodded. “Ladies and gentlemen, welfare checks came out earlier this week, and most of the Army are on that program. I found out that people in town were charging fees for them to cash their checks, so I cashed many of them out of the donation money. It was a dollar for dollar transfer, and checks from the province are a safe bet. But a lot of them then handed me money to support the army, often $200 or more. Some said they had debts to pay, and would give more in the future. Beth Anne ran the numbers and the total in the Hobo Army account is $38,570. That is for a month. It looks like the Army is nearly paying its own way.”

That ended discussion quickly, and the motion passed.

One board member continued on the topic though. “I have heard that some of the food from the meals and especially from the Wednesday suppers is going to the Women’s shelter in town. It that so?”

“I can answer that,” Gary said. “Yes. Chef asked what to do with the leftovers on the first Wednesday dinner, and someone suggested the shelter. He took the food over, and it was gratefully received. I understand that Chef is the only man allowed in the building now, and he is continuing to make donations. He also plans a special dinner for the ladies tomorrow, using his own welfare money. He refers to the women there as ‘severely damaged’ by their past relations with men, and hopes to help in their rehabilitation.”

The final discussion for the meeting was what the church should do with their excess funds. They were sending $10,000 a week to Toronto for the provincial offices, with the recommendation that the money be used to subsidize smaller churches, just as they had been subsidized in the past. Pastor McNaughton took over.

“I have been approached by no less than three missionaries from Africa who somehow heard we have funds. I think all of them are worthy of a donation of $500 or $1000, but I suggested that they come in on Sunday and make a pitch for more money. One impressed me in particular, and a little more money going that way would help a lot of people. Would the board approve having the three young men come into services on Sunday and spend 10 minutes explaining their projects?” The board agreed.

There were no further questions on the topic. The meeting adjourned soon after.

At prayers that night Rachael had a lot to go over.

Dear Lord

My head is a twirl after that meeting. You are doing so much good work in the community. I nearly cried when I found out what Chef is doing with his own money. I’m so glad that when I told mom about it she agreed to donate baked goods to his dinner tomorrow. And the Army … they are touching so many lives. Fixing things for the elderly, or just being there when they get lonely. Grandpa used to be lonely, and our family has cured that, but how many widows or widowers out there feel abandoned like that?

Helen is taking on another congregation. She is an incredible lady. We are so lucky to have her. The people on the reserve are also lucky. I think there is a story behind all that: I’ll have to ask her about it. And the news of a new burger joint for kids is wonderful. It will be a safe place to hang out: much better than a bar.

Who knew that my shopping trip with Mom and the girls would be the boring part of the day? But thank you for helping me get slimmer, although I guess not in the bust.

Amen