A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Might as well get this new year kicked off right: Dawn

SUNDAY, May 29, 2016

Rachael woke up for the last time in the house that she had lived in her entire life (counting both old Rachael and new Rachael). She had her last morning shower, and then woke Bobby before slipping downstairs. Breakfast had been well planned out. There was enough eggs and bread for one last breakfast of French toast, Bobby’s Sunday favorite. She poured the remaining milk into a glass for Bobby, and the end of the orange juice for herself. Both containers went into the recycle bin.

“Eat up, Bobby,” she told her brother when he came down in his pajamas. “We won’t get lunch until after we move at 1, so if it takes a couple of hours, then we will really be hungry.

“Is there more syrup?” Bobby asked.

“No, that is the last of it. I’m not using any. You got it all. The new bottle is at the new house, for next week’s French toast.”

Bobby finished and Rachael washed and dried the dishes they used, then went up to make sure Bobby was syrup free before giving him his Sunday clothes. She went back down and put the dishes into a box marked ‘kitchen’.

“Bring down your Harry Potter, Bobby,” she shouted up the stairs. She heard Bobby go back into his bedroom and get the book, which went into a box in the living room.

“The house looks all sad,” Bobby noted, as they looked around at the boxes stacked in the living room and the kitchen.

“Yes, but it will all be happy when we have moved it all to the new house, where our family will live from now on,” Rachael said. “Let’s go to church. We are a bit early, but this place makes me sad too. I hope Pastor McFarland will be happy here. We had some happy times, didn’t we?”

“We did, but now we move to the family house,” Bobby chanted as they walked towards the church. “I have a family, family, family. I have a Momma, and a Daddy, and a sister, and a Grandpa, and now a Grandma. I am so glad, glad, glad.”

When they got to the church, there were already a few people there. Gary wasn’t helping the elderly up the steps, but the deacon was there. When Rachael asked where the caretaker was, the deacon said he had been up all night preparing a ‘surprise,’ and was still at it.

As soon as Rachael entered the church, she saw the surprise. At the end of the entrance hall stood the painting John had made. It was magnificent. In the store the bottom panel had not been mounted, as the store could barely fit a 12-foot painting, let alone the 16-foot version that was here. The bottom panel was just the robes of the Christ, but now that she saw them, Rachael saw that they made the painting even more impressive. The church had a balcony above the back 24 rows of pews, although it was open only when the church was full. The entry hall was the height of the church plus the balcony, leaving lots of room for the full height of the painting.

Rachael stared at the painting, and realized that the third panel up was tilted out a few degrees, and the top panel, with Christ’s benevolent face was tilted out more, about 15 degrees. The effect was that it appeared as though the giant figure was smiling down on you.

Gary was still working. He had made four prayer rails, about 30 inches of doubled two-by-fours, wrapped in old carpet from the shed. This gave people a place to kneel in comfort, with room for two, or perhaps three people at each rail. As well, there was a small box with a slot in the top, which had the word ‘Donations’ written in Gary’s ornate sign-painter’s script.

There were already people standing around the painting, and some kneeling on the three prayer rails that were already installed. Some people prayed for only a minute or two, and then rose and dropped a loonie or toonie into the donations box. But many people spent longer praying, and these folks rose with looks of genuine relief in their faces, and most of them dropped bills into the donations box.

Eventually Helen had to come out to shepherd the congregation into the church, telling them that the area would be open for prayers all afternoon, and into the evening. People who hadn’t yet prayed seemed reluctant to leave, often looking backwards as they entered the church.

Rachael saw Constable Steve going in, and sent Bobby with him. She wanted to go with Helen, who was headed outside, where there was some sort of commotion going on.

Outside the two saw a group of protesters marching up and down the street. Their signs identified them as a LGBTQ group, but not where they were from. None of the faces looked familiar, and having worked in the bakery Rachael had met a lot of the townsfolk.

Helen walked up to the group, and asked what their purpose was. A rather large woman of about 40 stopped and approached them.

“This church discriminates against gays,” she shouted at them. “You shouldn’t worship here. God would not approve.”

“I agree,” Helen said quietly. “But you are mistaken. All are welcome here, equally in every way. We did have a problem a few weeks ago, but that has been remedied, and the pastor involved has apologized for his errant speech.”

“You lie,” the woman shouted, as a crowd of protestors gathered around. “We know that a gay couple were forced from the church several weeks ago. This kind of injustice cannot continue.”

“Yes,” Helen said softly, in contrast to the strident protestor. “That did happen, and it resulted in revelations by the pastor, who has since embraced the inclusivity of the Lord and welcomes all to this church. In fact, we would like to invite you all in to our services, so that you can see for yourselves how we treat people.”

That confused the protestors. Normally protests were confined to the sidewalks, off private property. To be invited inside …

“Can we take our signs?” the woman demanded, now speaking loudly, but no longer shouting.

“Well, they might be a distraction to other worshippers,” Helen said. “But you are welcome to leave them in our entranceway, and pick them up when you leave.”

“Look,” Rachael said, waving at John and Paul who were approaching the church. “These are the men who were ejected from the church two weeks ago. Please ask them about the pastor. I was with him when he apologized to them in person yesterday, and I understand he intends to make a public apology this morning to the congregation, welcoming them back to the church. I hope he can extend his welcome to all of you as well.”

For several minutes John and Paul were grilled by the protestors, who soon realized that there was no great injustice to be remedied here. A few went to their cars to leave, but most decided to enter the church behind John and Paul. As a result, the lower level of the church was much more crowded than normal, about half full. Several of the protestors paused when they saw the painting at the end of the hall, but service was starting, and Helen had to rush to the front of the church to join Pastor McNaughton. She whispered to him, and then took the seat behind his lecturn in the chancel.

After the opening hymns were sung Pastor McNaughton stood forth and spoke: “Today I have to confess to my congregation, and to all the new faces that I see in church today, that I am a sinner. Two weeks ago, I verbally chased two new members from the church, claiming that they were sinners. A young lady corrected me, and then the Lord took me to the very gates of heaven, where I was told that it was I who was sinning, in my objections to their holy love for each other. I am now chastised, and will work very hard to correct my sins. The two men I chased from the church are back here, and they have blessed the church with their love by donating the large picture of our Lord that you may have noticed when you walked in. There are prayer rails in front of the painting, and I beg all of you go there and pray at some point. I have found great comfort in praying to that image, and hope that you will too.”

“I also want to recognize some visitors to the church, who came to ensure that we are as inclusive as we claim to be. I hope to meet with each and every one of you after service, and I welcome any suggestions that you might have to show us how to better serve you, and to make the church ever more inclusive.”

“Finally, I want to announce that there is a major change in policy of this congregation. Until now, same-sex marriages have not been allowed in this church. I take full blame as the sinner responsible for such a shameful exclusion. I want to announce here and now that the church will be available for any marriages without consideration of orientation of the participants. Either Pastor McFarland or myself will officiate at the services. I only ask that any same-sex marriages occur after that of Paul Lenin and John Macarthur, which I am led to believe will occur in the next month or so. I feel that they have earned the right of being the first couple to celebrate their love in marriage here.”

“If there are others that require a quicker wedding, please speak to me or Pastor McFarland and we will work something out. However I am led to understand that the normal reasons for a rushed marriage don’t apply when both members are of the same sex.”

That took a few seconds before people worked out that he was talking about rushed marriages with a pregnant bride, and then a general laughter filled the church. After this the children left for Sunday school, and the sermon was given, with both pastors speaking about their understanding of inclusiveness, and how it related to the ministry of God.

As the final hymns were being sung, the pastors made their way to the exit. Gary had placed a chair for Pastor McNaughton, but the elder pastor insisted on standing as he greeted the parishioners. He was clearly feeling more fit.

And even though the church was more than normally filled, due to the protestors, the exit from the church was slower than usual, with many stopping to pray at the painting. A significant number of the protestors were moved to go towards the painting, and most dropped to their knees. The prayer rails were constantly in use, but younger and fitter members of the congregation just dropped to their knees on the bare floor.

Many of the protesters prayed long and arose confidently and smiling. At the door several told the pastors that their prayers had ended months and years of mental turmoil in their minds, and promised to come back to the church, even though they lived in London, Kitchener or even Toronto. The strident woman who had spoken to Helen outside the church apologized to her, and told her that her prayer had led her to see that not all people outside of her personal circle were evil. She had a small, younger woman with her, clearly her partner, and that woman also thanked the pastors, saying that her prayer had led her to understand why her parents were opposed to her relationship.

“Perhaps you can invite your parents here,” Helen suggested. “If they pray to the painting, they might understand your lifestyle.”

The young woman’s eyes lit up, and she said: “I will do that.”

Her partner grasped Helen in a hug and said: “You were right. This is the most inclusive traditional church I have ever been in. I feel I belong here. You truly are doing the work of the Lord here. Thank you.”

That was all Rachael saw. She left with the hallway still full of people, waiting to get closer to the painting. She had to get home at 1 p.m., as she had told several people that she would be there then to start moving.

As they walked to the house, Rachael’s mind was on the painting, and the miracles it seemed to be creating when Bobby spoke. “Why are there so many people at our house?”

Rachael looked up, and saw that the sidewalk in front of the house was crowded with people. There were dozens wearing Legion caps, and dozens more from the school. She recognized faces from the bakery, customers as well as Kyle, Doug and Carol. And it was only 12:50! The boys must have come as soon as they finished work in the morning.

She unlocked the door and invited people in. She gave Mikki one of the smaller box, and a little bag for Danni to carry. “You go first, Mikki, you know where the new house is. Bobby, take a small box, and walk with them.”

After that it was a matter of handing out boxes to the various people who came in. Many had brought trucks, but with so many hands, it made more sense to just walk down the street between the houses. By half past one, the last box had been taken, and Rachael locked the door and followed the long chain of people who were walking down the street, carrying her life in their hands. Four men even walked Bobby’s single bed down the street, wanting to be a part of the parade, rather than putting it on one of the trucks.

Helen and Steve arrived just as she left, and she handed over the keys. Gary was there with his truck, filled with boxes from Helen’s motel room, and Rachael told those people who hadn’t gotten a box from her to carry to the new house that they could help Helen unload the truck. She then hurried after the chain of people moving down the street.

Earlier in the day, while Rachael and Bobby were still at church, Geoff and Maria were working in the bakery with Kyle and Doug, slowly filling the shelves. At 10 a.m. there was a tapping at the back door. It was Bill Strong, the councilor, here for his meeting with Maria. She really didn’t want to talk to him, but had already postponed twice. And she could not see a time in the near future when she would be less busy. And the four of them had produced a great deal of goods in the course of the morning. She could make time.

“Come into the coffee nook,” Maria said. “We can talk there.” As they went through the shop, Bill noted the large number of strange and confusing looking machines.

“I never dreamed that a little bakery like this would have so much equipment,” Joe said as the walked to the nook.

“Geoff got most of it used, and some is going to have to be replaced soon, as the business grows,” Maria said. “We just need bigger capacity in the mixer, the proofer and perhaps a second oven. Geoff never thought that bread would be one of his biggest sellers. If you move in next door, you’ll have to do the same kind of forecasting.”

“Well, next door is not going to happen,” Bill said. “I was talking to some of my friends on council, and they brought up how huge the conflict of interest would be. I mean, I push for the subsidized buildings, and then rent one. I really hadn’t thought about it. My enemies on council would have a heyday with it.”

“Then you aren’t starting a café?” Maria asked, unsure why the man was even here.

“Actually, I am. I’ve caught the bug, and can’t shake it. I want to start a café or restaurant out on the highway, where my motel is. There is lots of land there, and I can easily swing the mortgage on a building, especially if it is attached to the motel.”

“Ah, I see. What do you see as your target market? Just motel guests? Or people from town? How many rooms do you book a night?”

Bill thought a second. “An average of 68 rooms are rented over the entire year. We are filled some times, and as few as 6 one day last year. That didn’t even meet salaries.”

“Well, I’ve heard that you can expect 70 percent of the rooms booked will visit the restaurant, with just under half of those visiting both for supper when they come in, and breakfast the next morning,” Maria said. “I’m assuming with the motel, you will want a full restaurant, and not just a café.”

“Yeah, I think so,” Bill said.

“It is important to decide on your market. Do you want to hire a top chef and become a destination dining experience? That will draw people from town and the surrounding area, but it will not suit your motel travellers looking for a quick, good meal at a reasonable price. At the other end is the greasy spoon, or a strip club, neither of which I would recommend.”

“The greasy spoon is out of the question,” Bill said. “But I was thinking of bringing girls in if the place didn’t take off.”

“It won’t take off,” Maria said. “Expect to lose money all through the first year, and then if you are lucky you will start to turn a profit the second year. But if you bring in strippers, you immediately lock yourself in as a place with a reputation. A lot of folk from town wouldn’t dream of coming to such a place, and some of your travellers won’t want to stay in a motel with exotic dancers. And once you go that way, you can’t come back. Besides, there already is a place out there that is doing pretty well. But if you try to split that market in half, you will just create two loosing businesses.”

“You have talked me out of that idea,” Bill said. “So a family restaurant is probably the answer, with breakfast in the morning, lunch, and then dinner. Do you recommend a club for the evening?”

“That is better than the idea of dancers,” Maria said. “If you are still having losses after the second year, you might think of bringing in a DJ or a lounge singer, or even teen bands. Probably just on the weekend. That means you will want to keep the dance area well away from any rooms in the motel where people will want to sleep. You definitely need a liquor license. A lot of people want a beer or a drink with their meal, and booze is your biggest profit center.”

“Oh, I guess these sketches are out then,” Bill said, unrolling a piece of drafting paper.

Maria studied them for a few minutes. “Yes, you want the kitchen here, with the bar here, not the other way around. That puts the dining and dancing area further away from the motel. And you don’t need such a large kitchen. Any chef would love a place that large, but you don’t need so much space. Move this wall 6 feet in and you have room for another eight tables. With two sittings a night, two people per table average, and an average evening tab of $40, you can add almost a quarter million a year to your gross.”

“Wow, this is why I want you as manager,” Bill said. “I’m upping my offer to $2000 a week. Interested?”

“Sorry, not even at double that. I am a partner in this place, and am marrying Geoff soon.”

“Damn. That is a price I can’t match. I don’t think my wife would agree to me marrying someone else,” Bill said with a laugh.

“No, and if you pay $100,000 a year for a manager, you are going to be out of business before you know it. Big salaries attract the wrong kind of people. It is fairly easy to steal a restaurant blind. You need someone honest, who is working for you, not stealing from you. I’d start at $40,000 to $50,000 and offer a profit sharing from the start, with a potential of $75,000 if the place is making money. That way, your manager is working with you, not against you. And you will need to make the same kind of deal with your chef.”

“Oh, I thought getting a chef out of one of the culinary schools would be much cheaper,” Bill said.

“It would be,” Maria noted. “But only one of any two would be able to run a place that young, and those that are good would be gone in a year or two and you are left looking for someone new. And that would mean a new menu, and a new style of cooking, just as people were getting used to the way the place was. Spending more on a good chef is a good decision.”

Bill pulled out a checkbook, and started writing. Maria thought she saw him write $100 as the amount. “I want your advice on this, if you will agree to be my consultant since I can’t hire you. I’d like you to take my sketches, and come up with a better layout, especially for the kitchen. I also need a list of equipment we would need, and where to buy it. And I’d also like you to come in for the interviews for the chef and manager positions.”

“I guess I could do that, if you don’t need it right away. We are understaffed here, and have to hire ourselves. I could do it in a month.”

“Two weeks?”

“No, but let’s aim for three. I should be able to find enough time to do it by then. My daughter had turned into a great little helper at home. Which I have to go to now, we are moving today at noon.”

Bill left, and Maria went out into the bakery, where she could see the boys cleaning up. She waved the check in front of Geoff’s face. “I just made a hundred dollars,” she crowed.

Geoff looked at the check. “Look again, Maria. That is written for $1000.”

Maria did look, and her eyes went wide.

“That is too much. I mean, just for talking for a couple hours?”

“Is that all you will be doing?” Geoff asked.

“No, he wants a floor plan sketch, and equipment list, and to have me sit in on interviews for the manager and chef.”

“That sounds like you are a consultant,” Geoff said. “This is the right kind of money for it. When I was starting out, the provincial government had a mentorship program, where I was hooked up with a retired baker. I paid $200 to him, and that was only a quarter of what he got: the government paid the rest. It was the best money I spent. His advice saved me thousands.”

“Come on,” he said. “Time to go. I’ve already paid bonuses to the boys and sent them to the old house to help. We got a ton of stuff made for the store, and hopefully it will last the week. All we have to do tomorrow is bake bread, rolls, and fresh pastries.”

They walked home. The check was in Geoff’s wallet: Maria was afraid to even touch it. As they walked home, they could see people coming down the street carrying boxes. They reached Grandpa’s just minutes before the first people, and the next hour had Maria busy directing people where to drop each box, based on the clear labels that Rachael had written on each.

The Legion men all insisted on meeting with Grandpa, and he swelled with pride with their handshakes. Most of those who had served saluted, ignoring Grandpa’s claim that he was non-com, and didn’t get saluted. As one older man said, “Heroes get saluted, sir.”

It was well past two when the last helper left, with sincere thanks from Rachael, Maria, and Geoff. Rachael made everyone a sandwich, and they were eating at Grandpa’s table … their table, now, Rachael thought. Rachael heard voices and giggling from upstairs. She raised an eye to her mother.

“Your friends are up there. They insisted that I not let you go up there until they are done. It is some kind of surprise.”

She went into the kitchen and made another three sandwiches. Four, actually, since Bobby asked for another with those big puppy dog eyes that Rachael was unable to resist.

She then went up to her new room and tapped on the door. Mikki opened it just a crack, and said: “You can’t come in yet. We are almost done.”

“I made you guys lunch,” Rachael said, unable to see anything through the crack.

“We’ll be down in ten,” Mikki said, and the door closed.

It was closer to 20 minutes later that the girls came down, giggling and laughing. They dug in on their sandwiches, and had a fresh brownie that Geoff had brought back from the bakery for dessert. Then they were ready for the big reveal.

The four went up the stairs, and Maria tagged along, wanting to see. Carly got to open the door, saying: “I hope you love it. Do you love it? I hope you do.”

Rachael stepped into the room. The walls were a light yellow, a color she had always liked, and it was one of the reasons she had picked this room rather than the blue that was now the guest room. The walls had been scrubbed, and there were posters of Justin Bieber and Gord Downey on the walls. There was also a great deal of Mikki’s work there as well. Several were landscapes that Rachael had admired when Mikki had first shown her her portfolio. There was the group montage of Jessica Rabbits as well as the picture of Rachael in the 19th century dress and corset both from the sleepover. There was also a large copy of the photo of Rachael and Mikki that Mr. Stoner had taken, set to one side of the bed, so that Rachael would see it first think when she woke, if she was facing the window.

She turned around, and then let out a loud “Eeep.” On the other wall was a large photo of Rachael and Robert, with his arms around her, looking down lovingly at her. “Oh yes, I do love it,” she told Carly.

“Carly was the chief designer,” Mikki said. “I supplied the photos. I hope you like my landscapes.”

“Oh, I do,” Rachael said, going from one girl to the other, hugging, and then somehow winding up in a group hug.

“Larissa just got new bedding at home,” Carly said. “I hope you don’t mind getting her old ones.”

Rachael looked at the bedding setup, with a duvet, blanket and rose-patterned sheets, all better quality than anything she could have afforded in the past. “It is wonderful. Thank you Larissa.”

“All your clothes are in the closet, or the dresser,” Larissa said.

“I put a few of my older things in there,” Carly said. “Since you have been losing weight, I’ll bet some of them fit, either now or they will in September. I promise I won’t tease you for being a ‘second-hand gal’ like I used to.”

“You guys are the best,” Rachael said, hugging them again. She looked up and saw her beaming mother. “Look what they did for me, Momma.”

After the girls left, the new family was sitting in the living room, albeit with Rachael popping up and down to check on the roast chicken that would be Sunday dinner.

“Guess what I got today, from councilor Bill?” Maria said.

“Oh, you met about the new café?” Rachael said.

“Yes, but it is going to be at his motel, not our plaza,” Maria said. “We still need to find a business for that.”

“Oh, I know, I know,” Rachael said, clapping her hands. “I didn’t say anything, because it seemed that the café was going in there. But it would be perfect for Ruby and her brother. She said they would like to get a butcher shop in town for their beef business. She said they would do the messy butchering out at the farm, but have a retail location in town. They could be our neighbors!”

“I’ll text Bill a message, and I’m sure he will want to talk to them. He had been telling people that he had a new business to fill the plaza, and with the café falling through, he could have egg on his face if he doesn’t get something in there. But here is the best part. He hired me as a consultant for his restaurant, and paid me $1000. Girl, we are going shopping. No more hand-me-downs for back to school.”

“Really?” Rachael said. “I don’t mind hand-me-downs, and I think I know of a better idea for the money. Don’t plan anything for it until I check some things out.”

That night, Rachael crawled into Bobby’s old bed, in his new room, and they read more of the second Harry Potter book. A few more weeks, and they would need to get the third. When the little guy was asleep, looking like an angel to Rachael, who had seen the real thing, she went to her new room, kneeling down beside her bed, and fingering the lush duvet cover.

Dear Lord

Thank you for another wonderful day. I know what a treasure my friends are, and not only the three girls. So many people came out to help us move, it was almost like a block party. It looked like an old African movie, with porters carrying boxes in a line. Except they were all my friends: from church, from school, from the Legion, and from the bakery. And I don’t know what you are doing with that painting in the church, but I trust that it will be good. Bless everyone.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Since it has been so long since the last chapter was posted (my back is better, but still a bit sore) I will recap. Yesterday we had three main events. The first church service after the installation of the painting, including a visit from some LGBT protestors; Rachael and her family moved to Grandpa’s house, and Pastor Helen moves into their old house; and Maria met with motel owner Bill Strong, who paid her $1000 for consulting on the restaurant he wants to build. I hope that saves a lot of you from having to reread the last chapter. Dawn.

MONDAY, May 30, 2016

When the girls got on the bus on Monday morning, Rachael asked Larissa to sit with her. “This hockey camp your brother is doing?” Rachael asked the taller girl. “Do you have any information about it? Who to call?”

“I don’t,” Larissa said. “But my mom would have all that information. You could give her a call anytime. She hasn’t got a work permit yet, so she will be at home most of the day.”

“Great. Don’t tell Marc, but there might be a chance for Bobby to go.” She told her friend about Maria getting money for consulting, and she wanted to check if the hockey camp was something they could afford. Bobby had talked a lot about how much fun he had with Marc, usually as a goalie for the bigger boy to take shots at. She had a feeling that when the NHL started in the fall, he would be wanting to watch the games on Grandpa’s big color TV.

The morning classes today were French and Phys. Ed., and Rachael finished her French work early, and then stepped out into the hall, calling Mrs. Hafleur first, and then calling Sam Weaver, a local man who had played about 25 games for Chicago in the NHL five years earlier, and who began running a hockey camp in town during the summers. He still played pro hockey in Europe for a German team in the winter.

“Mr. Weaver?” Rachael started.

“Speaking.”

“I’m calling about your hockey camp at the Ingersoll arena in July. Are there any vacancies? Not for me: for my brother.”

“How old is he? Does he play now? What position?”

“He is turning 10 in a few weeks. He only plays ball hockey right now. Goalie, I guess.”

“That would be Atom age group, then. That is filled, except for goalie. We have trouble getting boys that age that want to play goal, and it really doesn’t work as well having older boys play goal with the little ones. In fact, this year we offered a $200 discount for goalies. Right now we are desperate, and would be willing to up that to 50% discount.”

“That is $500 then?” Rachael asked. “Could you let us know what the equipment costs would be? I don’t even know what he would need.”

“Yes, $500 per session,” the hockey player said. “And you don’t need to have much equipment for a goalie. We supply all the pads, to encourage kids to try goal. He would only need to have a pair of long johns, and his skates. We would supply the rest: pads, uniform, and even a stick.”

“Wow, that sounds doable. I will have to check with my Mom, but I think you can pencil him in. Bobby Cartright … No, it is Bobby Barron, two Rs. We are changing our last name when Mom remarries.”

“I’ll wait for your call, Rachael,” Sam said. “And congratulations to your mom on her wedding.”

Rachael hung up, and hustled to the gym, where she was a bit late for Phys. Ed. She liked the sound of Sam’s voice, and hoped she could swing hockey camp for her brother. Even if Maria couldn’t justify spending the money, Rachael tried to mentally tally up things to see if she could swing the cost herself. She had saved most of what she had earned at the bakery lately. If Maria or Geoff would lend her some, she could work it off in the bakery during the summer, and Bobby could go to camp with Marc. For at least one session. Marc was going to attend both of the two-week sessions.

Arriving a few seconds late, Rachael got a dirty look from Phys. Ed. teacher Ms. Smith, but a second later a smile followed. Of late Rachael had become a second teacher in the class, and would work with the six or seven girls who were having the most trouble in the class. All of her friends had improved beyond the hopeless point, so it was a new group of girls, who had started the year with no interest in Phys. Ed. that she was working with. Rachael’s infectious enthusiasm had started to make the practice fun, and girls who hated basketball three weeks ago were now starting to have fun, especially with the attention and encouragement that Rachael gave them.

In the game at the end of the class, her new team was playing Larissa’s team, the one that Rachael had started out with. They had become one of the best teams in the class, and normally won their games by double digits. Rachael’s new team was ahead by a single point at the half, and only fell short by four points at the end of the game, thanks to some unstoppable layups by Larissa in the last minutes, while Rachael was on the bench to give the others some crunch playing time.

At the end of the session, Rachael again declared the game a moral victory for the team, and congratulated all the girls on their improving play, noting that soon they would actually win a game, if they were so close to beating the best team in the class. All the girls went to the change room with smiles on their faces, and a new enthusiasm for sports.

Lunch followed, and Rachael noticed that both Mikki and Janice were off running about the room with sheets of paper. “What are they doing?” she asked Carly.

“Oh, nominations just opened for the grad awards,” Carly said. “They have both nominated you for Top Girl and are racing to see who can get the 12 nominators signed up first. My mom was Top Girl when she came to the school, and keeps pushing me to run. She’s going to be disappointed though.”

“Why? You would be a great Top Girl,” Rachael said.

Carly snorted derisively. “Fat chance of that. You are sure to win. You have all the girls in the class from Phys. Ed., and all the kids from the movie nights. I’ve heard that a lot of the boys even think you are hot, and that will get you a lot of votes.”

“Hot? Me? I’m fat,” Rachael protested.

“Not any more,” Carly said. “You were chubby in your Goth days, but now that you are thinner you’re really cute.”

“Me cute?” She looked at Robert, who smiled.

“I’ve always thought you were cute,” he said. “But yeah, I hear the other guys talking, and you are now getting to be one of the hot girls.”

“Wow, I never knew,” Rachael said. She thought about it for a few minutes. “They can’t nominate me if I don’t sign the papers, can they?

“No, of course not. But why wouldn’t you sign?” Carly asked. Rachael didn’t answer, but left the cafeteria and went to get a nomination paper from the office. When she got back to the table, both Janice and Mikki were there with their papers.

“I won,” Mikki said. “I filled my sheet first, but you weren’t here to sign it. Sign right here.”

“I’m not running,” Rachael said. “I mean I’ve gotten popular lately, but for most of the year I was a nobody. It is only fair that we vote for somebody who has been popular all year long. I’m going to nominate Carly, and I want both of you two to sign as nominators for her.”

The girls argued for a while, until it was clear that Rachael was adamant about not running. They then signed Carly’s form. Rachael got a few more nominators at her table, and then went around to the other tables, getting nominators from the A-list table, from the Goth table, and even from a couple of the grade seven tables. Grade sevens got to vote, but weren’t allowed to run. They seemed excited to be included by Rachael.

Near the end of recess Rachael brought the filled sheet back to the table, where a sobbing Carly signed it. While Rachael was away, Carly had phoned her mom, and tearfully told her that she was being nominated for Top Girl.

“Thank you do much, Rachael,” she sobbed. “This shows why you should be the Top Girl: and why you will always be Top Girl to me. I wouldn’t mind not winning, but it would drive my Mom insane. She has plans for me all the way through college. Top Girl here, cheerleader next year, head cheerleader in Grade 12, and then cheerleader at Western University. It is all planned out.”

“Well then, we will just have to make sure you win,” Rachael said with a smile as they moved to their history class, the first of the next three periods working on their video. Mikki took charge. They had two Mac portables to work on and they went into pairs, with Carly working with Mikki, and Larissa and Rachael on the other machine. They would take turns with one on the computer, and the other giving a second set of eyes to make sure all the work was done correctly.

Rachael and Larissa were given the task of editing the battle scene, which Rachael had missed seeing on Saturday due to her visit with the Pastor to John and Paul’s gallery. She was amazed at how realistic the work was. The first step was desaturating the file, to make it look black and white. That only took a few minutes. But then they had to delete a yellow rope from the picture by cloning other material over the rope.

One of the boys playing soldier had a harness, and at the point he was ‘shot’ the theater boys all yanked on the rope, causing him to fly backwards as if he had been hit by a bullet. It ended up looking realistic, except for the rope that had to be erased from the entire scene. After a few minutes, the girls realized that it would be easier to delete from the color version, and not black and white, and Mikki allowed them to work from a backup of the original footage. She had chosen yellow rope instead of wire mainly because it would be easier to clone over.

Rachael and Larissa took turns at the tedious job of deleting the rope, with the one not working the computer watching the other to make sure that nothing was missed. One scene took just over an hour to retouch, and then it had to be desaturated again. A second video, from a different angle then had to be cleaned up, and this took until the end of the day.

The girls walked over to the elementary school to pick up Bobby and Marc, and the group then walked down to the strip plaza. Rachael got the boys each an apple at Dasilva’s and then went to the bakery, sending the boys home with Larissa so they could bike for an hour or so until supper. Rachael went into the bakery, which didn’t seem as busy as last week.

There was a new girl working the front with Carol, who introduced Jennifer Hope to Rachael when she popped in.

“How are you liking it,” Rachael asked.

“A lot,” Jennifer said, “It was really busy this morning, but it has slowed down now. I have learned so much, and everyone has been so nice. Well, except for one lady who was mad because there was no Love bread left at 3:30.”

“Yeah, that happens,” Rachael said. “I’m glad you like it here. So you will be coming back tomorrow?”

“Oh definitely. I would be even if it wasn’t such a fun place to work. I have a little baby and I have to stop relying on my parents to support us.”

“Well, keep in mind that your employee discount works for babysitting too. Just let me know if you need someone. You look young. You’ll have no problem getting asked for dates. The only trick is to find a good guy, like my Mom did.” She recounted the story of Maria’s date with Steve, the policeman. “He seemed the perfect guy, good job, handsome, really sweet, but they just didn’t click. Mom could have settled but there was no spark. She said no to more dates, and a few weeks later she meets Geoff, and there were sparks all over the place, even though they couldn’t see them at first.”

Just then Maria walked into the shop with a pan of cookies to load into the display. “Rachael!” she snapped. “Are you telling stories to the staff?”

“Yep,” Rachael said with a smile, snagging a cookie. “A good lesson for Jennifer and a warning for Carol. Look, are you super busy? I need to talk.”

“In the lunch room?” Maria asked.

“No, in the back is cool,” Rachael said, “Geoff should hear this too. It’s family stuff.”

In the back Rachael explained to the pair about Bobby’s dream of going to hockey camp, and the information she had gotten today.

“I thought that maybe with the money you got for consulting … “ Rachael told Maria.

“He’s going,” Geoff said abruptly. “You don’t need to use your money, love. He’s my son, or will be soon, and if he wants to go to hockey camp he goes.”

“He is ‘our’ son,” Maria corrected, “and he will go using ‘our’ money. My consulting fee will go into a family account, and whatever the bakery can spare from its account can be added into that. I agree that he should go. My old brain keeps telling me, ‘no, it’s too expensive’ but we do have the money now, and it will be a special time for him.” She turned to Rachael: “But that doesn’t mean that you and I aren’t going to do some serious clothes shopping. Before school in September, if not before. My daughter will not start high school as a Goodwill Girl.”

“Thanks guys,” Rachael said, hugging them both. “You are the best parents ever, to use a Bobbyism. We could even make this his birthday present. He turns 10 in a couple weeks. Can we afford a party for him, too?”

In the past neither Rachael nor Bobby had birthday parties, only small family gatherings with a mix cake. But with things changing, Rachael wondered if it was time to start.

“That is a wonderful idea,” Maria said. “We could have a small party for him, and a little bigger one for you in the fall. How many boys would he have, do you think?”

“Well, there would be Marc and Jerry, his bike buddies. And Danni would probably love to come. There might be a few others. I could ask him tonight. We could even do it at the arena, since public skating is on that weekend. Bobby and I have both borrowed old skates from the Stoners. We could go for pizza after.”

“That sounds wonderful, honey. Let’s talk about it at dinner tonight. Are you cooking?”

“Yeah, it looks like you don’t need any more help here. I’ll head off to give Grandpa some love, and make something special. Are you joining us tonight ‘Daddy?’”

Geoff got the widest grin at that. “Sure thing honey. I may be a good baker, but you are the best cook in the family. Whatever you make will be perfect, I’m sure.”

Rachael went out the door, and Geoff looked at Maria. “That girl is incredible. How does she do it? It is like sunshine follows her around. I was getting tired and sluggish before she came in, and now I feel as fresh as a daisy. You must be a great mother to have raised her like that.”

“Well, it wasn’t always like this,” Maria said, starting to tell Geoff the story of Rachael’s turnaround six weeks ago. They continued to work as she spoke.

Soon it was six, and Carol locked the door, and Geoff came to the front. Doug was there as well, since this was payday. Carol had introduced him to Jennifer, noting that he was ‘another of the good guys she should be looking for, but about five years too young.’

Maria got the task of handing out the pays to Doug and Carol, who both had big smiles as they opened the packages. There were also envelopes for Kyle and Rachael, and Maria pocketed those to hand out later.

“Jennifer?” Geoff asked.” We usually give advances to new staff, if they need it. Could you use a few dollars to hold you over until payday next week?”

“Yes sir,” Jennifer said, with tears in her eyes. “The baby needs diapers, and a few other things. Anything you can give me would help.” Geoff handed her two twenties.

Maria then snatched two more twenties from the stack Geoff was holding and handed them to her, causing Jennifer to start full out bawling. “I know what diapers cost,” she said, enveloping the young girl in a hug.

“But that is more than I have earned yet,” she sobbed. “You guys are so good. I love you all. Carol for getting me the job, and you guys for … for … just for being you. I’m never, ever going to work anywhere else. This is going to help so much.”

“So let’s get going, girl,” Carol said. “I’m betting you want to make a quick run in at Wal-Mart on the way home.”

At home, Rachael had made dinner, chatting with Grandpa as she prepared things. The salad was just cut and placed in tubs so that Bobby could ‘make’ it when he got home (after three attempts at cleaning his hands).

Dinner was a pork roast, since the Sunday dinner had been smaller than normal due to moving the household. Butter carrots and turnips (Bobby and Grandpa’s favorites respectively) were the veg, along with baked potatoes, another Bobby favorite.

Maria and Geoff arrived, hand in hand, at about 6:30, and Rachael had dinner on the table soon after. Grandpa led the prayer, remembering another veteran for them.

Before a simple dessert of ice cream was served, Maria brought up the idea of a birthday party to Bobby.

“A party? For me? Why?”

“Because you are my special little guy, and you and your sister have been so good these past weeks,” Maria said.

“Rachael is a good sister … now. I’ve never had a party before. What do we do?”

“Well, Rachael suggested that we could take everyone to the arena for skating, and then go out for pizza. I know a certain baker that would really like to make you a birthday cake.”

“Skating? Pizza? Cake?” Bobby’s eyes got wide. “That would be the best party ever. Who gets to come?”

“It is your party,” Rachael said. “You get to decide. Not your whole class though. But you could pick a few of your special friends. I was thinking of Danni, but that would only be if you want it.”

“Of course Danni,” Bobby said. “Marc, and Jerry. And you and Mikki and Larissa, and Mom and … Dad. And Gary from the church … he gave me a bike. He has to come. Oh, can Grandpa come too?”

“I don’t think skating is a good idea for me,” Grandpa said with a friendly smile. I would like a piece of your cake, if you can spare it. I’ll just take a nap while you guys have fun. But you have to come back and tell me all about it.”

“I sure will,” Bobby said with a smile. “You may be my Grandpa now, but you are still my hero, General.”

The old man’s eyes glistened as he puffed out his chest a bit, and then started to stir his ice cream when he noticed everyone looking at him.

“We’ll make a list later, and decide exactly who comes. You know everyone who comes will bring you a present?” Rachael said.

“No way,” Bobby said in surprise. “I don’t need presents. I just want all the people who love me to come and be with me.”

“You are a special little boy,” Maria said with tears in her eyes. “Now give your new daddy a kiss. He has to go home and get some sleep.” Rachael also gave her new dad a peck on the cheek and a deep hug. Maria then gave Geoff a kiss that should have curled his toes, before pushing him out the door. Soon after she also went up to her new bed, knowing that Rachael would look after the others.

When she had first Grandpa, and then Bobby, in bed Rachael kneeled at her bed.

Dear Lord

Thank you for such a perfect life. Carly was so happy that she gets a chance to be Top Girl. Please let her win it. And I think Bobby will burst when he finds out what his birthday present from Mom and … Dad … will be. Can you please find someone to help at the bakery? Jennifer is helping in the front, but there is too much to do at the back. And please let me help more people. I really like making people smile.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Not such a long wait between chapters: Dawn.

TUESDAY, May 31, 2016

On the bus ride in, which was now longer due to the circle route the bus took from the new house, Carly and Mikki tried as hard as possible to get Rachael to change her mind and run for Top Girl. Well, maybe not so much Carly, who said her Mom offered her a new wardrobe if she won. But Rachael was adamant, and would not be swayed.

When they finally got to school, Rachael realized that it would have taken less time to walk from Grandpa’s house to school than the bus took. Bobby’s bus went a more direct route, but if Rachael left right after Bobby’s bus did, she would be able to walk to the bakery, spend a few minutes there, and still get to school before the bus did. She decided to ask Maria to allow the school to let her walk, except when it was rainy. And with April and May over, there were less rainy days ahead.

In school on a B day the girls started with their project, which was starting to come together with only three more weeks to go. “At least we have all the filming done,” Carly commented, only to have Mikki reply. “Not if we want people at the cenotaph and stuff for the credits.

That meant that Carly’s task for the day was to create a schedule of everyone who had been in the film, and text or email them with an appointment to come to the cenotaph for their credit photo. The Legion helpers would all gather outside the Legion building for their photo. Mr. Churchill would be photographed outside the school, along with the other two teachers who had participated, even though the math teacher really only let them reschedule his classes. All the drama guys from the high school and their teacher would be shot outside the high school, which was on the same block as the middle school and the primary school.

The four girls decided that they would get Mikki’s dad to photograph them together, all saying “Thank You” before the other credits appeared. And everyone in the credits would be audio recorded saying ‘Thank You’. Mikki would dub those all together, and at the end of the film it would be inserted over a photo of Grandpa, so that the girls’ Thank You would have a double meaning, thanking those who helped with the film, and again as a thank you to all the veterans who had fought that war.

The final scene was a shot of the medal, and the words “This November, Wear a Poppy to Remember Them.”

While Carly was making the contacts for Saturday, Mikki was splicing the scenes together into a rough cut while Larissa and Rachael worked on the other computer cleaning up scenes. They were all busy through the three periods.

At lunch they all sat at the normal table, and as Rachael ate she quizzed Neal, asking if he had any sketches of Carly that they could use for Top Girl campaign posters. The artistic boy dove into the portfolio he always carried around and looked through it. “I’ve got one of you, Rachael,” he said forking over a paper, “but none of Carly. I could draw one tonight, or even in Science class if he just drones on and on again.

“This is me?” Rachael said, and she had to agree that the caricature did look like her. It was labeled Pepe, and clearly showed her black hair with blonde roots. Two months ago, the nickname Pepe really bothered her. After all, it was the name of a cartoon skunk. But since the change, she had laughed off the name and now few people were using it, since it no longer seemed to bother her.

“Sorry about the title,” Neal said, “but that was what everyone was saying back then.”

“You are really good,” Rachael said. “I bet you are looking forward to art in high school next year. “

“I’m not sure I will be going to high school with you guys,” Neal revealed. “Back in the fall I applied for a special art high school in Toronto. My grandma lives near it, or near a bus and subway ride to it, so I could live with her. I will hear sometime in the summer if I got accepted.”

“Wow. I will miss you,” Rachael said. “But you are good enough that you should do something. I guess that school is better, eh?”

“Well, when I applied it was because it was different, not better,” Neal admitted. “I was a loner here … all of us at the table were … until that day you and Mikki showed up. Now I have a girlfriend, and real friends, and I think I would miss you all if I go to Toronto. That can wait for college.”

“Wow, I thought you guys were friends before,” Rachael said.

“Not like we are now. I mean we mostly all sat together because of Robert.”

“Robert? What do you mean?”

“Well, back in our first year here, in Grade 5 there were some bullies. I got dumped in a trashcan three times in the first two weeks, and others were bullied too. Then one day Robert came by, and stood up to them, even though they were in Grade 7 and way bigger than him.”

“I’m used to fighting guys older than me. My twin brothers used to bully me at home, until JJ taught me some tricks. They could still beat me up, but I got in enough shots that they were hurt. They stopped beating me up once I started to fight back,” Robert said.

“So did you fight the bullies?” Rachael asked.

“Three times,” Neal said. “He was going to get kicked out of school for fighting. He really hurt those guys bad that last time. So me and a bunch of the other kids that were being bullied went to the principal, and told her what was really happening. They didn’t kick Robert out, but put him on probation for a few months. That’s when we all started to eat at the same table. Robert was our protection from bullies, and there really hasn’t been any bullying in school since then.”

“And I still eat with them because they stood up for me when the principal wanted to kick me out,” Robert said.

“I remember when Sean Hunt came over to the table when we first started sitting here, to tell us about Lucy filming my little story about gerunds. You stood up to protect me, didn’t you?” Rachael said.

“Yeah, I guess so. I didn’t know what he was planning on doing. I knew I wouldn’t let him hurt you.”

“My hero,” Rachael said, and leaned over and kissed Robert on the lips. His eyes widened and Rachael realized again that he was something special. A boy who stood up against bullies and for girls he really didn’t know.

After lunch it was a boring afternoon of Science and French, and then the last bell of May finally rang.

The girls went to pick up Bobby and Marc and then went to the bakery, where Rachael stopped, as the others went on, including Bobby, who would pick up his bike and helmet at Grandpa’s and then walk it until Marc could get his.

Rachael popped into the back, where she saw two very tired bakers kissing in front of the oven. Both Geoff and Maria brightened up when she teased them about making out on the job.

Rachael told her mother about her wish to walk to school, and Maria promised to phone the school. Then Rachael asked if it was all right if she went to Xcuts for a trim. “A trim, or to get rid of all that black?” Maria asked.

“To get rid of the black,” Rachael said. “A guy today reminded me how I used to get teased as Pepe Lepew, and I think it is long enough … the blonde part … for a nice short cut.”

“How much do you need?” Maria asked, going to her purse.

“None. I can cover it, I think,” Rachael said. “I’ll probably only be able to get an appointment today. Ariel is always booked solid.”

“You are only 13,” Maria said. “I still pay for haircuts.” She handed Rachael two twenties. “Enough?”

“Thanks Momma,” Rachael gave her a big hug. She then went to Geoff and said. “Do I get $40 for hugging Daddy too?”

“Get out of here, you scamp,” Geoff said, although he did enjoy the hug. As Rachael left the shop she heard him tell Maria: “It really makes all the hard work worthwhile, when they are such great kids.”

Next door at the salon, Rachael was surprised to see Ariel sprawled out in her chair, a little upset. “Fifteen minutes notice is not cancelling an appointment, it is just rude, she muttered, just loud enough for Rachael to hear.”

“Does that mean you are free? Could you give me a cut?” Rachael asked.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Ariel said, standing. “I’ve been wanting to get you into a chair since I first saw you when I opened. What did you do to your hair?”

“I was depressed. I decided to go with a Goth look last summer. I used a cheap drugstore dye job thing. There was enough left over that I was able to redo the roots once, but haven’t gotten anymore. I’d like to go back to blonde, if I can.”

“You did the roots about four months ago, didn’t you?” Ariel said. Rachael’s eyes widened. “How did you know that?”

“Most people’s hair grows about a half inch a month. You have a good two inches of blonde roots showing, so it makes sense that it has been four months. Luckily, that leaves enough blonde that we can just cut away the black. It would be a lot more work if you wanted to keep it long. Especially with an amateur dye job.”

“Short is fine with me,” Rachael said.

Ariel sat her in the chair and robed her. Then she started lifting her hair from one side to another, finally smiling. “You have a long, thin neck,” she said. “Short hair looks good if you are not too chunky.”

“I’m fat,” Rachael said.

“No you aren’t,” Ariel retorted. “And I think you have even lost weight since I first opened, haven’t you?”

“Yes, a little.”

“It shows.”

“Does it?”

“Yes, and your neck is the important thing anyway, and you have a skinny girl neck. I can give you a short and sassy look, that will make all the boys fight over you.”

“There is only one boy I care about,” Rachael said, “and he already will fight for me.”

Ariel and Rachael chatted for the next half hour, as snips of black-dyed hair fell onto the robe. Finally Ariel spun the chair around, and showed Rachael what she had done in the mirror.

“Wow, that is fantastic,” Rachael said as she looked at herself and the bright blonde hair that was now cropped close to her head, covering most of her ears, and barely an inch long in the back.

Rachael went back to the bakery, where she impressed Carol and Jennifer in the front, and then her parents in the back. She then speed-walked home and put her ham casserole into the oven. It should be ready at 6:30 when everyone got home.

Grandpa got a kiss, and she was told she looked like the pretty Dutch girls he had seen in the war, but was unable to kiss like his fellow soldiers, because he had his young wife Marie waiting for him in Canada.

Then it was off to the Stoner house, where Mikki answered the door, and didn’t know who it was until she spoke. Mikki squealed, and that brought Danni out as Rachael came in.

“It’s Rachael, Danni,” Mikki said. The little girl stopped for a second, squealed even louder than Mikki had, and then ran headlong into Rachael.

“You have hair like mine,” she gasped. “We are twins. It is beautiful.”

“So is yours,” Rachael said. “I decided I wanted really pretty hair like Danni.”

“I wish we could be sisters,” Danni gushed. “I mean, Mikki is a great sister, but we should be sisters.”

“We are sisters,” Rachael said. “Mikki is my BFF. Best Friend Forever. And that is like a sister. And if you are her sister, that makes me your sister too.”

“Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow,” the petite girl stammered. Rachael sat down, and Danni immediately climbed onto her lap.

“How is home school going,” Rachael asked. The little girl immediately lost her excited look.

“Not so good. It is nice not to be bullied, but I miss the other kids. And Mom is a hard teacher. I have to finish this French paper before she comes home.”

“Je t’aime,” Rachael said. “French is a beautiful language. Do you want me to help?’

“Yes, please. What did those words mean?”

“I love you. Je t’aime. Je is I, aime is love, and the t sound is from te, which means you. But in French it goes before aime, and the words get kinda rolled together like t’aime. Je t’aime.”

“Je t’aime,” Danni said to Rachael, and then turned to Mikki. “Je t’aime.”

“Remember that, and tell your Mom. See if she says merci beaucoup to you.”

“Mercy bough-coo,” Danni said. “What is that?”

“Merci beaucoup. Merci means thanks, and beaucoup means ‘a lot’,” Rachael said. “What do you need to learn for your Mom?”

“I need to be able to do the numbers to 20, and the days of the week. I can do up to 10 but I get mixed up on the others.”

Rachael spent a half hour with Danni, practicing her numbers, and the little girl seemed to be picking it up. That isn’t to say she would remember it after dinner, when her Mom tested her, but she did seem more confident.

“Can’t you stay for dinner?” Danni begged, and Mikki agreed.

“No, I have to run home right now and take our dinner out of the oven,” Rachael said and seconds later she was on the way home. She saw Bobby and Marc riding past her and she said “Time to go home for dinner, Bobby,” as they sped past. The boy nearly fell off his bike at the sound of his sister coming from a strange blonde girl.

“Rachael?” he asked tentatively.

“Yep. Do you like it?” she asked.

“Yeah, I do. It looks kinda like Danni’s but on a bigger girl. I like it more,” he said as he walked his bike along towards the house.

“Well don’t tell her that,” Rachael admonished. “Danni is still sensitive about her hair, and you have to tell her how much you like it.” Bobby nodded.

As they walked down the sidewalk from one direction, they could see their parents walking home hand-in-hand the other direction. They all arrived at the new house at the same time.

After supper was over, Geoff made plans to head back to the bakery to get some sleep before it was time to make the first bread. He realized that he could save time by just going upstairs after the bakery closed, but these dinners with his new family were important to him: more important than an extra hour of sleep.

“Momma, you should go with Geoff,” Rachael said. “You will be getting up in the middle of the night to go to work with him anyway. We three can look after ourselves.”

Maria hesitated, and then headed off with Geoff. “Just to sleep, and maybe cuddle a little. We will be too tired to do anything more,” she said.

“It would be nice just to spend more time with you,” Geoff suggested. He was in love, and was ignoring the fact that he spent the entire day working with Maria. But quiet time together was something lacking lately, and he was glad when she finally agreed, and went off with him. Rachael watched them walking back to work, still hand-in-hand, and smiled.

Grandpa, on the other hand, was upset. “They aren’t married yet,” he said. “That is a sin.”

“But times have changed, Grandpa,” Rachael said. Then she pulled her trump card. “I mean, I’ll bet when you were courting Marie her parents probably thought you were wild and crazy kids.”

“Oh yes,” the old man said, starting to smile. “Her mother wanted to chaperone us all the time when we were courting. Then there was the time I borrowed a friend’s old Model-T and took her down to the river to … cuddle. Her father wanted to come after me with a shotgun over that.”

The ploy had worked. Rachael knew that getting her grandpa thinking of his youth would make him less upset. But she was even surprised when he said “It is silly that they have to walk all the way to the bakery after supper. They can sleep here.”

“Together?” Rachael asked in surprise.

“Yes. They are getting married soon. It isn’t considered sinful any more for a young couple to sleep together, is it?”

“No it isn’t,” she said, hugging the beloved old man and giving him a kiss. “Have I told you lately how special you are to all of us? You are the best Grandpa ever.”

“Best Grandpa ever,” Bobby repeated from the floor, where he was reading his library books.

“Thanks kids. You all have brought a lot of joy back into my life over the past few months. You are pretty special yourselves.”

“Can you and Bobby look after each other, Grandpa? Perhaps he can read to you. He is getting to be a really good reader now.” Bobby looked up, beaming with pride. “I need to drop over to the church for about a half hour. I am teaching Pastor Helen how to make cookies tomorrow, and I need to see what they have there, and what I will have to bring along.”

She left them with Bobby on a contented Grandpa’s lap reading, and hustled the few blocks to the church, no longer as close as it was to the old house. As she walked past the old place, she saw that it was dark, although Pastor Helen’s old clunker was in the drive. Either she was in bed, or she was at the church, which was a close walk.

Rachael went into the front hall, which was still open. She had expected to have to get Gary to let her in. But the caretaker was in the hall, near the door. No less than six people were praying to the portrait John had made.

“You’re still open,” Rachael said softly to Gary, so as to not disturb those praying.

“Yes, we have kept the place open until midnight since Sunday. There has been a steady pace of people coming in. Sunday was busiest, from after services until we finally closed. I opened up at 8 a.m. on Monday, and there were already four people waiting outside. This morning there were 11, and people have been coming in all day. Monday there were a few spells when it was empty, but I don’t think it has been empty all day today. Word has gotten around.”

“I wonder why so many are coming,” Rachael said. “It is a beautiful painting, but …”

“It is special,” Gary said. “I see people coming in, worried, stressed out, even limping along in real pain. They pray, usually for a long time, and then they come out smiling or crying, but those crying show tears of joy. The ones that limped in tend to come out walking proudly and with no pain in their face. Something special happens when people pray here. I think it is like when you first met me. That kind of special. But the painting is doing it for everyone.”

“That sounds kinda unusual,” Rachael said.

“I only know what I see, and I’ve seen a lot these past three days. One man put $100 into the contributions box, and there are a lot of twenties. There are others who can’t afford to contribute, and many of them have come up to me and told me why. I tell them that Jesus will wait, and they can contribute when their lives are better. They leave happy, and it makes me happy. I loved this job before, but now it is just wonderful, watching people’s lives turn around.”

“There was a couple who came in this morning, barely talking to each other. When they kneeled down to pray, they took spots as far as possible from each other. After about five minutes, he got up and moved next to her, and she took his hand. They prayed for another half hour, and when they got up he put $40 in the box, and she told him to put in another $40. They came up to me, hand-in-hand, and told me that their prayers told them that they needed to work out their problems. She said: ‘I think our problems are gone. They were little things that we blew out of proportion, and it was challenging our marriage.’ They left arm-in-arm, looking like young lovers, not adults in their mid thirties,” Gary said. “Rachael, that painting is magic.”

“Not magic,” Rachael said, “but it sounds like God is working through it, somehow.”

Rachael then headed down to the kitchen as one of the praying men finally got up and approached Gary, with a massive smile on his face.

Rachael was nearly done checking the supplies, and had a small list of things to bring from home when she heard the booming voice of the deacon in the basement dinning hall. She didn’t want to eavesdrop, but she was holding a pantry door open that had a lot of pots and pans on it. She knew she couldn’t close the door without making a racket, so she overheard this: “You knew when you started here that it was only a temporary job, until the regular pastor was well again. He is now to the point where he can handle the job. The synod in Toronto gave us three months salary for you, as we couldn’t make do on our local contributions.”

“I knew all that,” Rachael recognized the voice of Pastor Helen, and immediately worried that she was listening to the young pastor getting fired. “I really love this congregation though, and we were moving things along so well. There is a bake sale this Saturday, and a special dinner on Wednesday.”

“For the homeless?” the deacon said.

“No. We changed it to a pay-what-you-can church dinner,” Helen said. “Gary is getting the word out to the homeless, so we expect a lot of them, but many of our parishioners have expressed interest in coming as well, just to get a mid-week chance to socialize.”

“Do you expect to make it pay?” the deacon said.

“We have a lot of donations for the first one, and we hope that the bake sale, along with a used equipment sale Gary is putting on will cover the costs. I really hope that we are starting something here that will last long after I am gone.”

“Well, don’t count on being gone so soon. Gary has spoken with many of the people who have been praying to the painting, and many of them say they are coming to the services Sunday. More than the church will hold, in his calculations. So I have decided that we will have two services each Sunday. You will give the early service, which we hope will be mainly our existing congregation, and then Pastor McNaughton will give the late service, for our new members. Thus we want to extend your contract for a full year. Are you interested?”

“Yes. Yes I am,” Helen said. “I have met so many people here. I was dreading leaving. Now … a year … that’s wonderful.”

“Think of it longer than a year,” the deacon said. “Pastor McNaughton is several years past retirement age. And I know he thinks highly of you. I’m pretty sure he would retire rather than send you away, if the effects of the painting ever taper off to the point we cannot afford a Youth Pastor. Welcome aboard. Your service on Sunday will be at 7:30 a.m.”

“Thank you sir,” Helen could be heard as footsteps could be heard walking away.

Helen then opened the slightly ajar door into the kitchen, and saw a guilty-looking Rachael standing there.

“Oh, it is you Rachael. I didn’t recognize you with that new hairdo. It looks gorgeous. I wish I could do something with my limp blahness.”

“I am so sorry,” Rachael said. “I didn’t mean to overhear anything, but I was in, checking on what we needed for tomorrow.

“You heard? Isn’t it wonderful? I thought he was going to cancel my contract at first, but instead he extended it. And it sounds like it will be permanent. I’m so happy I could dance,” Helen said, and to prove it she grabbed Rachael’s hands and swung her around.

“And your hair looks fine,” Rachael told the giggling Pastor. “I know a certain police officer who thinks it looks wonderful.”

“Steve,” Helen gushed. “We have talked about … things. But with me on a short-term contract … Do you know that he was willing to wait until I got a permanent posting somewhere else, and then apply to the local police force there? And now I practically have a permanent posting here. Isn’t it wonderful.”

“I didn’t know that you and Steve were so far along,” Rachael said. “He is a great guy. I’m so happy for you.”

“He hasn’t bought a ring yet, or at least I don’t think he has. And he hasn’t asked yet, but I think it will be soon. Especially now.”

“I wish I could stay and celebrate with you,” Rachael said. “But I’ve been here longer than I expected, and I have to get home to put Bobby to bed.” And Grandpa, she thought.

“And I will have to get on the Church Ladies calling lists tomorrow and let them know about the early service. Should we call it a Sunrise Service? You and your family are notified, right? We won’t call you.”

Rachael left with her list, as Helen danced back towards her office.

Rachael got home over an hour after she had left, and found a worn-out Grandpa telling Bobby war stories. Bobby was changing. When he first met Grandpa he had loved the stories of battles and fighting. But now, after the many remembrances Grandpa had shared at their suppers, he was more interested in the stories of times where the soldiers helped the French and later the Dutch citizens try to get their lives together after the war.

There was relief on his face when Rachael ordered Bobby up to his bath, and Grandpa was ready for bed himself. Rachael helped him to his room, and unbuttoned his shirt, replacing it with his blue pyjama tops. Once he was in bed, she kissed him, apologizing for being away so long.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said. “I love the boy, and he is so good. It is like his youth is making me young again. Both of you listen to my stories of the old days, and that makes me feel that age again, even if it is just while I am talking.”

Bobby, in spite of all the stories and reading he had done with Grandpa still insisted on a half hour with Rachael and Harry Potter. He soon nodded off, and left Rachael to get ready for bed herself.

Dear Lord

Thank you for having Pastor Helen get a regular posting. She has done so much for the church in only a few weeks, and there is so much more she is working on. Please kick Steve in the butt to get him to propose. And thank you for finding me such a great guy myself. I didn’t know that he had fought to stop bullying in the school. What a special boy. I hope we can be in love forever. I’ll have to get him to come to see the painting. Is it really that special? A tool for you to make people’s lives better? If it is, then thanks for letting it happen here, at our little church.

I hope you get this message. I am a blonde now. I’ll try not to bounce too much of the sunlight back at you.

I love you. Amen.

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Another long wait between Chapters. Maybe I should ask Rachael to pray for me to get another one out soon: Dawn.

WEDNESDAY, June 1, 2016

June. Finally: lovely June. School will be out in just over three weeks, with the last day of classes on June 28, and with a PD day on June 8 next Wednesday. The other important day this month is June 17, when the video needs to be handed in. Rachael’s team has practically finished theirs, except for the credits, which they would record on Saturday morning. After that there will be a day or two putting it all together, and then it would be done. Of course Mikki will continue to fiddle with it right to the deadline: she is really OCD about it. Rachael decided she was really into filmmaking, and might even be looking to go to film school after high school. And this was the shy, lonely kid who sat down next to her on the bus a couple months ago.

Rachael didn’t ride on the bus today. She walked to school after making sure Bobby got on his bus. Rachael even wondered if the bus was necessary for Bobby anymore. He really seemed to have matured over the past weeks. He had a bike now, and good friends that he rides all over town with. Last night when Rachael was reading to him, he said ‘Merci, Rachael’. Apparently Marc was teaching him a bit of French, beyond what he learns in the one day a week of French they get in Grade Four.

Rachael stopped in to the bakery to say hi to Mom and Dad (she loved calling him that, almost as much as he loved hearing it). Geoff has probably been working since 11, and Mom since 6, so they were well into their day, and Rachael liked seeing the smile they got on their faces when they saw her. This was way better than riding a bus for an hour.

It turned out that Tony Dasilva walked in at about the same time, so Rachael walked in with him. She knew she would have to tell Mikki, so that she would know Racheal was not after her boyfriend. Tony is nice, but a whole world apart from Robert, in Rachael’s eyes.

In English class, during the first period, Mrs. Cathcart announced that she expected a written script from each group, to give her something to mark for the project. That brought groans from all the students. Rachael volunteered to do that for their group, since the script was kind of her thing. But Mikki did look up the way that movie scripts were presented in Hollywood, and said that Rachael only had to do the left side, with the dialog, and she would then do the right side, with the action description. The other two girls would proofread the results in hopes of getting an A mark.

The morning classes today were for the video, and Rachael’s group didn’t have anything more to do on that, so in the class before lunch Mr. Churchill said they could put up campaign posters for Carly as Top Girl. Apparently in the past people got carried away with postering, so now each candidate was only allowed 10 posters. That is really all that was needed … it isn’t that big a school. A couple in the library, three in the cafeteria, and five in the halls would do it. Several of the girl candidates already had posters up, and one of the boys.

Neal, their artist, had drawn four really cute caricatures of her, and the girls decided to write a different caption on each one. Rachael suggested one say “Vote for me or my Mom will beat you up” as a joke, but Carly loved that, and insisted it go on two of the posters. Another four got “Carly Cares” and Rachael wrote “Carly: Cute and Clever” on another without asking. The other three just said “Vote Carly,” which what was what most of the other candidates posters said.

“Nine other girls,” Carly moaned when they found out how many candidates were running for Top Girl. “That will make it hard to win.”

“Not really,” Rachael pointed out. “There are what, 120 students in Grades Seven and Eight. That means only 12 people per candidate on average. You could win with as few as 25 votes, if everyone gets a few votes. There are only three running for Top Boy, so they will need to get maybe 50 votes to win.”

“I guess I will have to trust you,” Carly said with a smile. “After all, you are the math whiz.”

“Posters are a small thing,” Rachael said. “We have to go out into the Grade Seven tables at lunch and talk to them. Talk up the movie nights. Carly organized that one I couldn’t get to. Tell the sevens that they should start their own, and maybe suggest that three or four (no more) go to the library and ask about arrangements.”

The lunch bell rang, and the girls headed to the cafeteria. Rachael stopped at the door for a second, noticing a lot of faces staring at her, and more all the time. It was the new hairstyle. Everyone thought that she was a new student, and a cute one at that. Then she noticed someone at the old Goth table. It was Angela Smith, a girl the old Rachael had occasionally sat with. There seemed to be a small cloud over her head, and as she recognized Rachael, the cloud seemed to grow larger and darker.

“Come on Rachael,” Mikki said, tugging her arm.

“No. I have something to do. You guys go on, and don’t forget to visit the grade sevens.” She headed towards Angela, who seemed to become more and more hidden by the black cloud that no one else seemed to see.

“Hi Ang,” Rachael said. “Can I sit here?”

“It’s a free world,” the Goth girl said tartly. “I’ll move somewhere else.” She stood.

“I wanted to sit with you,” Rachael said putting her lunch sack down. She moved closer to Angela, and taking a chance, enveloped her arms around her. “You look like you need a hug.”

“No,” a resisting Angela said. “I hate you. Stop.” She was tense for a second, and just as Rachael was about to obey and let go, she sagged into the blonde girl and sobbed. “But I do need a hug.”

After nearly a minute, Angela slumped back into her seat, and Rachael sat down next to her. “I don’t hate you, Rachael. I’m just pissed at you a bit. First you dump all the Goth kids and then you get all new friends, and they get all popular. Now you walk in looking like a fashion model. I mean, your hair looks wonderful, and really makes you look cute. You’ve lost weight too, haven’t you?”

“A few pounds,” Rachael said. The cloud seemed a bit smaller, and less black. “You can’t be mad at me for that. You always were skinny and cute.”

“Cute? Not me. Under all this Goth makeup is a face covered in freckles.”

“Freckles and gorgeous red hair,” Rachael said, drawing on old memories of earlier years. “But then you went Goth in Grade Seven. That was why I went Goth at the start of Grade Eight. You looked good either way.”

“But now Goth is almost dead,” Angela said. “Most of the other girls have left since you switched over, and some of the guys have gotten girl friends and are less into it. I think I am the last one, other than the druggies.”

“So maybe it is time for you to change,” Rachael said. “They have stopped calling me Pepe now. You go back to red, and they might stop teasing you with Devila.”

Angela smiled a bit, and the black cloud shrank again. “I hate that nickname. Middle school students aren’t nearly as clever as they think they are.”

“Did you dye your hair yourself, or at a salon?” Rachael asked.

“At Miss Vikki’s downtown. And I think I’ve had it touched up about seven times.

Rachael took out her phone, and dialed Ariel’s personal number. “Hi Ariel. Do you have a time today to take another rehab client?” Angela couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation. “A close friend of mine. Black on Red. Waist length. Seven updates. At Miss Vikkis. Great.”

“She has a light schedule today, and will take you in. It’s going to take a couple hours, although a lot of that time will be you sitting there letting the chemicals do their work. Let’s eat lunch as we walk there,” Rachael said.

As they walked out of the cafeteria, Angela asked. “Am I really a close friend of yours, or were you just saying that to get me in?”

Rachael again hugged her, and said: “Yes. I am blessed with a lot of friends, but you are one of my oldest ones. I am sorry for ignoring you lately. I want you to join our table tomorrow. And don’t make plans for Thursday night. I’m going to find you a date for movie night.”

“A date? Who would go out with me? Are you serious?”

“Yep. This is Xcuts, and this is Ariel. I’m heading back to the school. I’ll tell the teacher why you skipped.” As Angela sat in Ariel’s chair, Rachael noticed that the tiny grey cloud above her head popped out of existence, and Rachael hurried back to school.

With only five or so minutes left in lunch, Rachael quickly found the student she was looking for. Byron O’Shea sat with a group of Grade Sevens, all of which were into computers and programming. Byron was a sort of guru for the younger boys, which partially made up for him being largely shunned by his own grade.

“Byron,” Rachael said. “Got a minute?”

“Sure. Are you campaigning for Carla? They were over just a few minutes ago.”

“No, something else. Two things actually. One is to make a web page for my parent’s bakery. Right now there are a lot of phone orders. It would be cool if there could be a web page that lets people order online, and then pickup in the store later.”

“That sounds cool,” Byron said. “I’m 90 percent sure I could build that. There are modules available that should do it: e-commerce stores. But I’d prefer to try and code it myself.”

“Great. We’ll have to get together next week with my parents. Next thing? Do you have $2?”

Byron pulled out a toonie, and slid it across the table to Rachael. “What’s that for?”

“You want to go on a date Thursday? With a real pretty girl?”

“Who?”

“Angela Smith.”

“The Goth girl? I guess I could. This is that movie night thing I’ve heard about, isn’t it?”

“Yep. And Angela won’t be a Goth much longer. Just come to the library branch a bit before 7 and have a ride home at 9. The movie is The General, and there will also be a bunch of Charlie Chaplin shorts before it.”

“Buster Keaton, I like him,” Byron said, impressing Rachael as the first student all week that had heard of the comic from the last century.

Rachael then headed to the Science lab; only to find that there was going to be a pop quiz. She approached the teacher and told him that Angela would miss the test. He was quite upset about it at first, until Rachael noted that it was a mental health absence and that Angela had been close to a suicide point. At the word suicide (which Rachael only guessed was the cause of the black cloud) the teacher did a complete 180. Since Rachael’s attempt a few months earlier, the teachers were on watch for problems, and he agreed to prepare another version of the test for Angela.

After French class, the girls headed home, with Rachael only popping into the bakery for a second. Larissa had to stop in to pick up an order her Mom had made earlier in the day so the entire group was able to leave together after Rachael got back after delivering her hugs to the back.

At Grandpa’s Bobby got his bike, and after giving Grandpa a quick hug he raced out to catch up to the others then walking his bike the rest of the way to Marc’s house, where the two rode off to find Jerry.

Rachael gave Grandpa a longer hug, and as she gathered up supplies for the church she told Grandpa: “I think Geoff is getting dinner tonight. Swiss Chalet chicken. I’ll make myself a bite at the church. I won’t be back until late. Here, let me unbutton your shirt so it will be ready when you go to bed. You don’t need to button the PJs up.

Minutes later Rachael was at the church, and saw that there were even more people in the lobby for prayers in front of the painting. Rachael nodded to Gary and headed down to the kitchen where Helen was waiting.

For the next five hours the two women baked, turning out multiple batches of cookies. They did peanut butter, chocolate chip, chocolate cake cookies, brownies, Nanaimo Bars, oatmeal cookies, and sugar cookies, which Helen decided to make in the shape of a cross. At about nine, Steve had come down, and Helen was so proud to give her man cookies that she had baked herself. Earlier Gary had dropped down, noting that the aromas were making all the praying people hungry. He too enjoyed sampling the wares before heading back upstairs.

“It is so rewarding,” Helen said as they were cleaning up and packaging the cookies on paper plates for the sale, “when people react like that to something you made. It just makes me feel so good inside.”

“I like it too,” Rachael started to say, when there was a loud noise from the lobby, sounding like wood splintering. The women both rushed to see what was happening.

When they got there, they found both Steve and Gary on the floor struggling with a third man. The donations box for the prayers had been torn off the wall, and the back had shattered. Money was strewn across the floor with the third man vainly trying to hold onto some twenties.

Steve finally subdued the man enough to get some of those nylon ties around his wrists. There was a massive welt on the side of the officer’s face, and it looked as though a black eye was forming.

The third man was now exhausted from the struggles. Gary was gathering up the money from the donation box, and Rachael noted that several others helped, but all handed the money to Gary. Four people were so deeply in prayer that they hadn’t even turned around during the commotion.

“What did you do that for?” an irate Steve asked, as he gently probed the spot where the man’s elbow had crashed into his face as he had wrestled with Gary, who was first on the scene.

“I … I … I need … a dose … of oxy. No money. I heard … lotsa money here.”

“Mike Campbell,” Steve said, looking through the man’s wallet. “Are you still living at 39 Whey Street?”

The man shook his head slowly. “No. Kicked out. Three months ago. I need a dose. Bad.”

“You’re going to be spending the night in the Woodstock lockup,” Steve said. “You’re lucky I am out of uniform, or you’d also be charged with assaulting a policeman. I’ll call the station to have a car sent out for you.”

“NO! Wait.” It was Helen, speaking more forcefully than Rachael had ever heard. The pastor turned to Gary. “Did he pray first?”

“No, he just came in, saw the donations box and ripped it off the wall with that crowbar. He dropped the bar to pick up money, luckily. He could have cause some serious damage to us with that.”

“I want to pray with him before you call the station,” Helen said in her forceful tone.

“WHAT?” Now it was Steve shouting. “You will not. He nearly knocked me out. He’s not going near you. That’s final.”

“You are not my husband yet,” Helen said, steel in her voice. “And even if you were, you would not order me about like that. I feel this man needs help, and the help is on the wall over there.” With that, she took the man’s left arm gently, while Steve held the right arm in a much less gentle manner, but still allowing her to lead the man to the nearest prayer spot.

“Can I have a dose first,” Mike asked. “I really need a dose.”

“No,” Helen’s voice was soft and caring again. “I want to give you something much better. Kneel on this carpet, and then look up at the painting.”

Mike did as requested, and then slumped into a prayer position. He would have smashed into the floor if Steve had not had his arm so firmly.

“Please cut the restraints,” Helen said.

“But …” Steve stopped his argument at the glare she gave him, and nodded to Gary who had already pulled out his pocket knife.

When released Mike moved his hands to support himself, and then Helen grabbed his left hand and prayed with them. After several minutes, she turned and looked at Steve and nodded for him to step back. Steve still had a hand on Mike’s arm, but reluctantly let go, to allow his girlfriend to pray alone with the man who had just smashed his face in a drug-induced frenzy.

Rachael had gone to the kitchen and made up an ice bag, and she handed it to Steve to use on his face and eye. They stood and waited and Gary tried to make the donations box usable again. There were still people coming and going as Mike and Helen prayed. Finally Helen stood, and then Mike. They turned and came up to Rachael, Steve, and Gary. Mike flung himself to the floor in front of them.

“Please. I am so sorry for hurting you. Call the police. I don’t deserve to live with good people like you.” Mike glanced at the painting. “He told me I am cured from my addiction, but I owe so much to so many.”

Mike then gave his story. He was 31, and had been on drugs for five years, almost four years ago it had gotten so bad that he had been fired from the bakery he worked at in London, and had returned to his hometown of Ingersoll where the addiction got worse and worse. He had broken into homes to steal goods to pawn, and even had broken into a pharmacy before they stopped storing Oxycodone in their shops. He had been 12 days without a dose, and it had been trying to break the habit, but his cold turkey had led him to this rage to get money, and then a dose.

“He told me that this drug was insidious,” Helen said, referring to the painting. “It makes a little spot in the brain that only it can fill, and from that point on the person just can’t do anything but work to get another dose to fill the hole. The Lord has filled the hole with love, and Mike is no longer addicted.”

“That sounds like what they’ve told us about Oxy at the station,” Steve said. “Now we have to decide what to do. The cop in me wants to lock him up, but what is that going to do? The soon-to-be Pastor’s husband says he won’t be helping society, and it is 50-50 that he’ll wind up addicted to something else. But where will he stay? What will he do?”

“He can stay in my shed,” Gary said. “I can give him work to do. No pay, but having work is an important step to recovery. I know.”

“What did you do in that bakery?” Rachael said, asking the question that she had since she learned Mike had worked in a bakery.

“I was a baker. I took the diploma program at George Brown College in Toronto after high school, and then worked over five years in Angelo’s in London. In the back. As a baker. I had papers, but who knows what happened to them over the past few years.

“I want him,” Rachael said. “My Dad needs help in his bakery. Constable Steve, can you take him down there? It must be past 11. Dad will be working by now. I’ll come along, and help explain to Dad.”

She turned to Mike. “This is your Second Chance. It isn’t a job. Not yet. You will have to prove yourself to my Dad, Geoff. If you work hard, and can show you know your stuff, he’ll probably keep you on. I know he was going to pay good money, but at first you will be on probation. It is up to you as to whether or not you succeed.”

“Okay,” Steve said, although he didn’t sound 100 percent convinced. He looked at Helen: “You are a special lady, and I want you to be my wife. I’m not asking now, just letting you know that I will be asking soon. You won’t object to being asked by a man with a black eye, will you?”

“No silly. Ask when you feel right. You do know what the answer will be, don’t you?”

Steve drove Rachael and Mike to the bakery, where Geoff was just getting started. Steve and Rachael explained the situation, with Steve making sure that Mike was brought here instead of a jail cell. Rachael stressed Mike’s background, and that he could ease the workload for Geoff and Maria.

Steve then drove Rachael home to a dark house. And Rachael went up to bed.

Dear Lord

Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’m sure you have answered my prayer for a baker to help Mom and Dad. I just wish we could have found him in a less painful way for Steve. And thank you for helping me find Angela before it was too late. The black cloud does mean what I think it does, doesn’t it. She will have a new look tomorrow, and maybe even a boyfriend. And Steve and Helen. How perfect for them.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

In this episode we go shopping. But don’t get excited. It is man shopping. In the store and out as soon as possible. One good retail experience and one not so good Not such a long wait between chapters: Dawn.

THURSDAY, June 2, 2016

The sky was just starting to lighten as Maria walked to the bakery. She couldn’t imagine how much darker 4 a.m. would seem in the winter. She came to the back door of the bakery and slipped inside, where she saw Geoff at the mixer. She waited until he finished dumping in the flour: you don’t disturb someone emptying a 40 kg bag, even to give him a morning kiss.

He stood, and turned, and Maria made a quick “Eeeep.” It was not Geoff, but another man. She looked about in panic, and then saw Geoff standing at the other side of the bakery, chuckling.

“Were you planning on giving Mike a welcome to the bakery?” Geoff said, realizing what Maria had been thinking. She always greeted him with a kiss at work: it was one of the things that made the long hours worthwhile.

“I’m sorry,” Maria told the new man, who was Geoff’s height, but much thinner. His face was also covered in small, dark red spots. “I didn’t know that Geoff had hired someone.” She turned to Geoff: “When exactly were you planning to tell your partner about the new baker,” she said sharply.”

“Just about now,” Geoff said with a smile, walking over to his fiancé. “It happened all of a sudden last night. Rachael found Mike, and brought him in. He’s been doing a bang up job for the past five hours. He really knows his stuff.”

“Your daughter said it was my second chance,” Mike said. “If it wasn’t for her, and that nice lady pastor, I’d be sleeping in a jail cell right now. I like this much better. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed baking. I hope I can make this work.”

Geoff accepted his belated kiss, and then explained what had happened at the church the night before as the three worked. The spots on Mike’s face were from trying to shave with an old blade upstairs. Geoff had taken all his shaving gear to the new house. Mike still had scraggly long hair, but this was contained in a hairnet similar to the ones that Maria and the other girls wore when working in the back. Mike was also wearing some of Geoff’s old clothes, having taken a shower upstairs while the first bread was rising. None of Geoff’s belts would fit the skinny man, so a piece of cord held the too-large trousers up.

Maria realized that the two were hours ahead of normal in production for the day, and after only an hour she moved over to do prep work for the store: work that Carol had been doing lately. Perhaps they were going to finally catch up and have the store still containing some stock at the end of the day.

Rachael was four-and-a-half hours behind her mother in walking to the bakery. She was a bit unsure what she would find when she walked in, and was pleasantly surprised when she slipped in the door, and saw Mike and Geoff working together to take a fourth batch of Love Bread out of the oven.

“Hi sweetie,” Geoff said.

“Hello, Miss,” Mike said, continuing to work as he spoke. “I want to thank you again for making all this possible. I love working here with your parents. You don’t know how much this means to me. I would have gone to jail, and then back into the hell I was in before. I thank the Lord that he sent you to me.”

“Well, you are thanking the right person,” Rachael said. “The Lord has been working through that painting, and it is Him you need to pray to.”

“I will, Miss,” Mike said. “And I will pray for you as well.”

“You will need to, if you keep calling me ‘Miss.’ It is Rachael, please.”

“Thank you … Rachael,” Mike said. “With parents like yours it is clear how you turned out to be such a nice girl.”

Rachael headed off to school after a few more minutes. She was eager to see how Angela’s session had turned out at Xcuts yesterday.

As she waited for Angela’s bus to come in, she saw Byron also waiting, and went over to talk to him. They were chatting about the Bakery web page when she saw the boy freeze up, looking over her shoulder.

Rachael turned, and shouted out a joyful “Yeep,” as she saw Angela coming down the bus steps. She was Goth no more, and wore a blue floral top and a while skirt. Her hair was a glorious mass of crimson. Ariel was known for her shorter, designer cuts, but Angela’s style was almost as long as before, with all the black dye removed. She had bangs swept over her eyes, and longer bangs along her jawline. But the bulk of her red hair still went to her lower back. She also had much less makeup on, and her freckles shone through. They were less intense than Rachael’s old memories remembered. In fact they were quite cute.

Rachael ran up to her old friend, hugging her tightly, then stepping back while holding both her hands.

“Do you like it?” Angela asked.

“I love it. I’m surprised you have so many nice things. That outfit is perfect. When I stopped being Goth, I had trouble finding colors to wear,” Rachael babbled.

“Oh, my Mom kept buying me stuff with color, hoping I will give up Goth. She almost fell over when I came down the stairs looking like this at breakfast,” Angela said, gaining confidence as she talked to Rachael.

“Come on,” Rachael said. “I want to introduce you to someone.” She turned around and saw Byron standing with his mouth wide open. As the two girls started to approach, the boy hesitated for a minute, then bolted into the school.

“Oh, I guess he isn’t ready to meet you yet,” Rachael said.

“He hates me,” Angela said. “I must look ugly. It’s the freckles, isn’t it? I knew I should have put more makeup on.”

“Don’t be crazy,” Rachael answered. “Those freckles look perfect. If Byron doesn’t like them, there will be 20 … no 40 other boys in the class who will want to date you.”

“There are only about 40 boys in our grade,” Angela pointed out.

“Exactly. And just you remember that Robert is mine.”

Just then Rachael’s former bus arrived, and the girls got off and came up to the other girls, squealing just as much as Rachael had at her first sight of Angela. Soon their compliments and congratulations made Angela more and more confident in her new look.

Rachael caught up to Byron before first period. “What is wrong with you?” she said, lightly slapping him across the head. “Angela thought you didn’t like her new look.”

“I can’t date someone like that,” Byron confessed. “Even if it is just a $2 movie night. She is too beautiful. Someone on the cool kids table will pick her up. I’m just a nerd. Dating a Goth girl sounded okay, but when she comes in looking like that … ”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Rachael said. “She is gorgeous, I agree. But you already have a date lined up. Don’t blow it. Even if she does move on to another boy, you will have had a date with her. Other girls will see you as more dateable. And she just might like you. You are smart and good looking, for a shorter guy. And you are still taller than her. You better show up at our table at lunch, and be ready to make plans.”

“I guess,” Byron said as they sat down to class.

At lunch Byron did sit with the group, as did Angela, who reveled in being with a group that accepted her as a friend. She wondered a bit about the quiet computer-geek that she was dating tonight, who seemed to only be able to stare at her.

“Why are you staring at me?” she finally asked. “Don’t you like what you see?”

“No. I mean yes,” Byron stuttered. “It is just that you are so beautiful. You are the most beautiful girl in the school. Maybe the world.”

Angela blushed, and then said: “Okay, good answer. I guess you can stare then. Do you still want to go to movie night with me?”

“Yes please,” Byron said. The ice was broken and the two then started making plans to meet at the library.

---------

While Rachael was eating lunch, two of Gary’s old drinking buddies found him at the church shed. One was a stout fellow named Chipper, and he was with a taller man who went by Skid. Both were suffering from DTs, and begged Gary for some money to buy booze. It was three days until the welfare checks came in, and Gary remembered how bad those times were.

“I can lend you something,” Gary said, “but only if you come into the church and pray with me for a few minutes.”

“Okay,” Skid said. “Is it true that this church is going to do meals on Wednesdays?”

“Starting next Wednesday,” Gary said. He could hardly understand the slur of the men. Had he been this bad? Both men had long beards, and long scraggly hair. Chipper was wearing shoes that were duct-taped together. Skid wore better work boots, but both men were dressed in what were essentially rags. And that was giving ‘rags’ a broad definition.

The two-minute prayers turned into 15 minutes, and while the men knelt before the painting, Gary went to the kitchen, returning with a pitcher of cold water and three glasses.

When the men finally stood up, they gratefully took a glass of water from Gary, and drank deeply. They each had three or four glasses to the one Gary sipped at.

“What just happened?” Chipper said. “I feel good, and I haven’t felt good for nine years.”

“Me too,” Skid said. “I feel great.” Both men were speaking clearly now, and no longer had the shakes. Just then Pastor Helen came into the lobby to give Gary a break to go to lunch. Gary introduced her to the men, and she shook their hands sincerely, not worrying about the dirt or the way they dressed. The church motto was “All are welcome” and she lived up to those words.

“Can you take over for a little longer, today?” Gary asked. Usually he only took 15 minutes to eat lunch. “A couple hours, at least? I need to feed these guys, and get them cleaned up.”

“No problem Gary,” she said. “Take what time you need. I was going to bake this afternoon, but I will start when you get back.”

Gary led the two men back into the shed, and showed them the shower. Each of them took a turn washing and shampooing their filthy hair using Gary’s supplies. As they came out, he gave each of them a navy t-shirt from the ones he had recently bought for himself at the Goodwill store. The painting had told him to stop donating all his pay back to the church, and to build up a reserve.

The shirt was embarrassingly tight on Chipper, but much better than what he had been wearing for the past five months. Skid’s shirt fit better. Both men had to wear their old pants, but Gary found an old pair of sneakers for Chipper that were a size too big, but workable.

The men followed their lengthy showers with a spell at the sink, where Gary loaned each a razor blade to let them shave their matted beards away. Meanwhile, Gary was cooking up a meal. It was only a pair of cans of tinned stew, but the aromas had the men salivating.

Skid finished shaving first, and was setting the small table as Gary manned the hotplate. Chipper finished shaving, and sighed in relief at having a smooth face. His eyes caught sight of two boxes of barber clippers. These were from Xcuts. Gary had taken the broken clippers Ariel had given him and cobbled together three good sets, leaving only spare parts in the one box. When he presented the fixed tools to Ariel, she had squealed with joy, and then gave him the ones she had been using, asking that he sharpen and tune them. It was this box that Chipper had noticed.

“This takes me back,” the chubby man said. “I was a barber for 10 years. I had to give it up when I got the shakes. Look.” He picked up a set of clippers, and held it out. His eyes went wide.

“You don’t seem to be shaking at all,” Gary noted, stirring the stew.

“I don’t,” Chipper gasped. “I mean, I bet I could cut hair again.” He looked at Skid. “Are you up for a trim.”

“God yes, it would be great to get rid of this mop. It isn’t as bad now that it is clean, but I’d love to have you cut it.”

“And maybe I can teach one of you guys how to cut mine,” Chipper said.

“After lunch,” Gary said. “I’ll bet you guys are hungry.”

They were. With no soup kitchen in town on Wednesdays the men hadn’t eaten for nearly two days, and the Tuesday meal had been at the Catholic Church hall, and they tended to have smaller portions. Far less than a man Chipper’s size desired.

The shed was quiet as the three men ate their meal of stew and Love Bread.

“Good bread,” Chipper said as he took a break from filling his face.

“Good food,” Skid agreed, as he shoveled in another spoon of stew.

Gary ate lightly, with a small bowl of stew and several slices of bread, leaving most of the food to the men. When the stewpot was scrapped clean, Chipper took it and a slice of bread. “This is probably pretty rude, but I’m doing it anyway,” he said, as he wiped the edges and bottom of the pot with the bread, getting the last possible bits of gravy out. The pot looked nearly clean when he was done.

“That was great,” he said when he finished the last bit of gravy and bread. “Now to work. Pull your chair up to the door, so I have good light,” he told Skid.

“Wait,” Gary said. “Come with me.” He led the men back to the unorganized part of the shed. He moved a few things, and suddenly uncovered an old 1950s barber chair. “Will this help?”

“That is perfect,” Chipper said. “It looks in great shape.” The three men hauled the heavy chair out near the door, and found that while the pump to raise the seat didn’t work, it was otherwise in good, if not great, condition.

Skid sat in it, and Chipper took the scissors and tools that were waiting to be sharpened. He started clipping and snipping, all the while explaining what he was doing to Gary, in hopes that the caretaker could cut his hair after.

It took a half hour, but at the end Skid looked nothing like the hobo who had come into the shed several hours earlier. Chipper sat down and, watching carefully in the mirror Skid held, led Gary through the process of cutting the barber’s hair.

“Not bad for a first attempt,” Chipper said, as he looked at his hair in the mirror. “I feel like a new man. I could give cuts to all the guys … if I could borrow the chair and the tools. In fact, I think at least one more clipper could be built out of those spare parts.”

Gary suddenly had an idea. He had several things ready for the bake sale on Saturday, which was going to include a sale of refurbished items from the shed. But looking after the lobby had taken a lot of his time, and he hadn’t nearly enough work done.

“Guys, I have a deal for you. If you want, you can stay here tonight, and until Sunday at least. I’ll feed you, and get you some better fitting clothes. Then one of you can look after the lobby while the other helps me in here fixing up things for our sale on Saturday.”

“I’m pretty good at tinkering and fixing stuff,” Chipper said.

“Great. What about you, Skid? What did you do before … ?”

“I was a carpenter. A pretty good one, too. I mostly did decks and additions, the odd bathroom or kitchen, but I did do a few complete houses.”

“Roofs? Shingling?” Gary asked.

“Piece of cake,” Skid said.

“Well we have a few projects around here you could work on. The church needs a new roof badly, and also there is a balcony that we can’t use. The fire marshal closed it down years ago because there is only the one exit. If we could get a fire escape built at the other end, we could get another 150 seats to the services. And that side of the church is hidden from the road, so it doesn’t have to look pretty.”

“If I build anything on His church, then it will look pretty,” Skid vowed. “I’ll take a look and maybe I can draw something up while I am looking after the lobby.”

Just then the van from the Bread Baron pulled into the lane to the shed. Mike hopped out and approached the men. “Hi Gary,” he said. “I’m just off work, and Geoff gave me the van and a few dollars advance. I was going to Goodwill or somewhere to buy clothes and shaving stuff. Get a haircut too. I was wondering if you needed anything.”

“Well we can handle the haircut right here,” Chipper said cheerfully. “Step into my barber shop.” He led Mike in, and half an hour later the baker had a cut shorter than Geoff’s.

“I will take you up on your offer to head out,” Gary said. “While you were getting beautiful, I checked in the Pastor Helen, and she is happy looking after the lobby. We can take an hour or two to get you guys all accommodated.”

They drove first to Goodwill, and were astounded to find a rack of beige trousers in all sizes for only $5 each. It turned out that there was a defect in the sewing, with a darker shade of material on one panel. The manager came out to make sure the men knew the pants were seconds, and explained.

“They were made in China,” she said. “Lately they have been turning out pretty good product, but they work a pretty tight operation there, and I guess someone decided to ship defective product to Canada rather than miss deadlines. I managed to get them from the importer for fifty cents a pair. I thought it would be a no-brainer to move them, but no one wants defective trousers, I guess. The 16 pairs you fellows have are the first ones we have sold. And I have about 100 more in the back.”

“Really,” Gary said. “What would you sell the lot for?”

“If you guys pay $5 each for the pairs you have, I’d sell the rest at cost. That would be 16 pairs at $5 each, and the other 132 for $66 total.”

“Sold,” Gary said. “Now we need t-shirts, socks and men’s underwear. I got some nice navy t-shirts for $4 each a week or so ago.”

“Yes, I thought I recognized my shirts on three of you. We still have a lot of them left.”

“How much by the dozen: like two dozen?” Gary asked.

“I can do $3 each. No, $2.50.”

“Socks?”

“I have these packages of 10 pairs for $5 a package.”

“I’ll take five. Underpants?”

“I have three brands. The Stanfield’s are cheapest with packs of five for $8.”

“10 packs,” Gary said.

“$60 then,” the manager said.

“Finally, sneakers. What size are you, Chipper?”

“Nine wide,” the barber said.

“I have some used ones,” she said. “Pick anything from the middle shelf and I’ll throw it in free. You are buying a lot.”

It was a lot, about $220 for the entire bill, although it was split up with Mike paying $40 for his share. The back of the van was loaded with clothes, with Gary promising to return the hangers the next week.

From there Mike drove them to a Shopper’s Drug Mart, where all the men wanted to buy toiletries. They entered the store and headed straight for the shaving section. Each man picked up a packet of blades, and all but Gary also got a can of shaving cream. He got a large package of soap bars, and some cleaning supplies. That was when he noticed one of the pharmacists had approached.

The druggist had seen the men the minute they walked in. The shaven faces and new haircuts had cleaned them up a bit, but they still had their old pants on, and ill-fitting (Chipper) tops. The druggist immediately decided that they were street people, and liable to steal anything they could from the stores.

“Can I help you gentlemen with anything?” the man asked, sneering slightly on the word ‘gentlemen.’

“Yes, in fact you can,” Mike said. “I need to buy a gift for a girl of about 13 or 14. What would you suggest?”

“Well, we do have a jewelry selection, but it can be quite expensive.” Another sneer.

“I can spend $25, I think,” Mike said.

“If that is for Rachael, then I will double it,” Gary said. “What do you have for around $50?”

Just then a police cruiser pulled up at the store, and the pharmacist breathed a sign of relief. When the officer walked in, he waved him over to the group.

“Hi Gary. And Mike, isn’t it?” Constable Steve said cheerily.

Mike winced at seeing the purple and black welts on the side of Steve’s head. “I’m going to have to buy you a gift too,” he said sorrowfully.

“No need,” Steve said. He turned to the pharmacist: “What can I do for you?”

“You know these men?”

“I do. Two of them at least. I don’t think you need to fear what you were afraid of.”

“Oh. Good. It’s just that we got a shipment of Oxy in this morning, and I was worried.”

Steve looked at Mike, and saw a flicker of desire in his eyes, replaced immediately be a stoic look, and a smile. At that instant the former drug addict knew that he was really cured.

“That isn’t something you should mention in public,” Steve warned the pharmacist. “Especially in front of men who you had thought so poorly of. Don’t worry, I will stay with these guys until they leave.”

The pharmacist paled at the realization of what he had said. He called over a girl from the jewelry counter and then fled back to the prescriptions area.

The men explained to the girl what they wanted and their budget, and she made several suggestions.

“I know young girls sometimes like charm bracelets. We have a nice silver one for $45.95 and a silver-plate one at $25.95 if you wanted to buy a few charms for it.”

She pulled up a large assortment of charms, with nearly 200 on the tray. “Unfortunately we only have charms in pure silver or gold.”

The men looked over the charms for a moment, and then Gary saw what he was looking for. There were small charms shaped like men, women, and children of each sex. “How much are those?” he asked.

“Those are quite small,” she said. “The silver ones are $5 each.”

“I need five,” Gary said. He turned to Mike. “If you buy the silver-plate bracelet, I’ll get the charms. They will represent the men that she had saved. The pastor and the four of us.”

“No,” Const. Steve said. “Get the pure silver bracelet. I’ll pay half. And I need a woman charm as well. It will represent Helen. Rachael is the reason my fiancé came to town. I owe her as much as you guys do.”

“Not nearly as much,” Mike said softly, and Gary nodded. “But we’ll gladly go in with you. When will we give it to her?”

“I was thinking of after school,” Mike said. “I’m heading back to the bakery after we finish here. I can call you when she gets in.”

The girl at the counter had attached the charms and the men took the small box, along with all their other purchases, over to the checkout to pay, to the surprise of the pharmacist still watching them from the back.

Outside, Mike asked Const. Steve if he wanted a call to come to the bakery when they presented the gift. He declined, just asking that they tell her that he shared in the sentiment.

Mike drove the men back to the shed, where he and Gary unloaded their purchases. Gary had to find a spot to hold the other 130 pairs of pants, while the other two put on their pairs, watching their old ones practically disintegrate as they did. Before Mike drove home, Gary made an announcement.

“These pants are pretty distinctive. Almost like a uniform. I want to suggest that we form a new group, dedicated to helping those in need. We’ll call it the Hobo Army, since we were all on the streets. Chipper can give haircuts. Skid can help people who need carpentry work, or new roofs. Don’t worry. I think we will have a lot of help for you soon. That’s why I bought all the pants and more shirts than just the few of us need. Are you in?”

They all agreed, although Mike said he could only be an associate member, or an auxiliary because his first duty would be to the bakery. He would join in on his days off. Gary agreed, and Mike left.

Gary took Skid up to the lobby and after relieving Pastor Helen, explained what his duties would be as greeter.

Gary then went back to the shed with Chipper to start working on products for Saturday’s sale.

---------

After school Rachael rushed home. She was going to meet Robert at Movie Night, and wanted to get a dinner made for the family. As usual, she stopped into the bakery to say ‘Hi’ to everyone.

When she got to the back, she found her Mom sitting on the workbench, massaging Geoff’s shoulders. Mike was doing something over the stove, but moved it off the heat and darted into the office, coming back less than a minute later.

“Wow, what a bunch of lazybones,” Rachael quipped at her relaxed parents.

“I’ll have you know that we made more product today than we have on most Saturdays. And sold it too. Not only that, but I’ve got dinner ready for the family tonight. You get the night off. Look in the proofer,” Maria said. Rachael did so, and found two large flat pieces of dough.

“We’re having pizza made with Love Bread dough,” Maria explained. Mrs. Dasilva sold me a jar of her sauce, and we also got pepperoni, salami, baby tomatoes, olives, and mushrooms for toppings at her store.”

“Along with a lot of mozzarella cheese. We’ll take it home at six, and you will be able to eat at least one slice before you come back for Movie Night,” Geoff said.

“Or you could keep two slices here, and eat it in the bakery, and then go to movie night,” Maria suggested.

“The last sounds best,” Rachael said. “I like to get to the library first to get things set up.”

“Is your farmer friend coming?” Geoff asked.

“Robert? Yes. He does extra chores during the week to be able to get Thursday’s off.”

“Tell him that I’m going to be able to join the rest of the family on Friday night,” Geoff said.

“You know that we won’t finish up till around 10,” Rachael warned. “Don’t you have to start baking at 11?”

“Not anymore. Mike can handle opening. I’ll start at 11 with him tonight, but on Saturday he can prep the early doughs, and I’ll come in at 4 with your Mom. We are finally going to get to a decent work schedule around here. I’ll work next Monday, but after that Mike will work alone. He will get Sunday and Tuesday off. The girls in the front will get Wednesday and Thursdays off, and your Mom will be off on Monday with me.”

“What is Mike doing working?” Rachael asked. “I mean he started at 11. That’s 17 hours ago.”

“I sent him home at noon. He got a haircut, some new clothes and shaving stuff for the room upstairs. But the man is a maniac, and he came back a couple hours later with a bag of lemons from Dasilvas. He even tried to pay for them with his advance money.”

“Whatcha making, Mike?” Rachael asked.

“Lemon pie filling,” Mike replied. “It’s done now, and should be cool enough for a taste, if you blow on the spoon first.”

Rachael, then Geoff, and finally Maria each had a spoonful of the filling and all three of them had the same reaction with eyes going wide at the taste of the warm sauce.

“That’s great, Mike,” Geoff said. “But isn’t it a lot of work? I mean; my supplier sells me a 10 kilogram box of lemon filling for only $50.”

“Take a taste of that,” Mike suggested, and all three of them did. This time the reaction was more of ‘yuck’.

“Throw that box away,” Geoff ordered. “I’m not going to give that stuff to my customers a minute longer. We’ll make fresh pies in the morning and use your stuff.”

“Great, boss,” Mike said. “But we can do a lot more with that filling. Tarts for one. And the Nanaimo bars you sell would be tasty with just a small bead of the lemon piped along the tops. And I know a dynamite recipe for a lemon squares from my old bakery. Recipes have been coming back to me all day long. I’ll write a few out tonight.”

“What about powdered donuts with lemon filling,” Rachael said. “The better donut places have them, but with only that normal filling. We could do other flavors too. Raspberry, strawberry, blueberry, vanilla, butterscotch, banana.”

“I’m seeing another Love Bread thing coming on,” Maria said. “Donuts with homemade fillings. You’ll have to come up with a name for them, Rachael.”

Just then, Gary’s pickup pulled up in front of the shop, and the church caretaker came into the back. He walked over to Mike, who nodded his head, and then they walked over to Rachael.

“Miss Baron,” Gary said. “My Angel. On behalf of Mike and Constable Steve, who couldn’t be here, we would like to present your with this small token of our love and thanks to you, for all you have done.” He handed Rachael a jewelry box, as Maria gasped.

Rachael opened the box, and found the charm bracelet. She looked at the collection of tiny men and the woman. Mike took over. “These characters all represent people you have saved, or done good for. The first man is Pastor McNaughton, who you saved with your CPR skills. At the other end in Pastor Helen, who Constable Steve claims wouldn’t have come to town if not for you. This one is me, and this one is Gary. We wouldn’t have gotten a second chance, if not for you. And these last two are for men you haven’t met yet, but have been saved as sure as anything. They prayed at the painting this morning, and are now working for Gary at the church.”

Gary then explained the concept of the Hobo Army. The main idea was that as the painting cures street-people in town, they will need something to do. The Hobo Army will go through the neighborhood and help those in need. Cutting lawns, weeding gardens, doing carpentry repairs. The Army will provide those services on a volunteer basis.

Rachael had tears in her eyes at the sweet gift the men gave her. She rewarded each of them with a kiss on the cheek after putting the bracelet on. It was so nice to be recognized for what was happening, but it really wasn’t her. It was the Lord’s work.

Gary left soon after, but the others all chatted until six, with Rachael and Maria making the pizzas, which went into the still-hot oven and came out just as the store was closed. Carol came in from the front, and told them that the last few customers had smelled the pizza, and wanted to make orders.”

“No, no, no,” Maria said, taking the pizza from the oven with the thick Love Bread crust risen nearly an inch thick on the edges. “We are not opening this place for longer hours.” Carol and Jennifer came to the back and got a small slice each, while Mike and Rachael got two full slices each. Maria then put another slice on Mike’s plate. “You need to put some weight on those bones. Eat. Enjoy. And then get some sleep. I’ll be putting Geoff to bed shortly.”

“Remember to undo Grandpa’s buttons before you go to bed,” Rachael reminded her Mom as she and Geoff left out of the back door with the rest of the pizza. Rachael and Mike then sat down and ate their slices.

It was 6:30 when Rachael walked the few steps to the library, and Byron was already there, waiting for Angela. Heather was librarian this evening, and Rachael went in to see her. “No need to clean up quite so well tonight,” Heather said. “The Grade Sevens from your school came in yesterday and asked for permission to have movie nights for these last two weeks. Agnes said we have a few hours available this month, so we will open tomorrow for them.”

Just then Carly, Mikki, and Larissa came in. “Carly,” Rachael said. “The Grade Sevens are having a movie night tomorrow. Do you have plans?”

“Nothing special, Leon is taking me out for a drive on Saturday, but Friday I was just going to watch TV.”

“You should come down and help the Grade Sevens. After all, it was you talking to them that got them to set up the night. If you help, it will cinch your position as Top Girl.”

“Yeah, it could. I should talk to them at lunch tomorrow again. Do you think Tony will be able to supply them pop and popcorn at the normal prices?”

“There he is. Go ask. But I think he was saying there was going to be popcorn left over that would go stale over the summer,” Carly headed after the young boy carrying two cases of soda. Mikki, naturally, followed to join her boyfriend.

“Mme. Heather,” Larissa said. “I wonder what the process is to make a new program at the library. My mother, she is new to town, and doesn’t speak English well. I think she is lonely. My father has his job, and Marc and I have made friends, but she has nothing but her house, and the television, which only carries two French channels. I was thinking that she could volunteer and run a “French for Tots and Toddlers” program. Reading them books from the library and maybe teaching them their numbers in French. It would put them a bit ahead when they get to school.”

“You said the magic word … ‘volunteer,’ Heather giggled. “Tell her to come down sometime next week during the afternoon. Agnes speaks a bit of French. More than me, at any rate, and they can work something out. We have some French children’s books in the library, but can get more on transfer from the other branches.”

With Carly upstairs, Larissa and Rachael went out to the street. They wanted the other students to see Carly as organizer of the popular event. They got out just as Angela got out of a car. The man driving remained there, and Angela went up to Byron, saying: “Dad wants to talk to you.” The young boy gulped, and then went and got into the front of the car, which drove up a half block so that other cars could drop off students.

“This is so embarrassing,” Angela said. “Making Byron go through all that, when this is barely a date.” The girls chatted, complimenting Angela again on the cute and colorful outfit she had chosen.

“Mom is in love with Byron, even before meeting him. She thinks I stopped being Goth because of him, “ Angela said. “She actually told Dad that he was not to do that, and look what happens. She will go ballistic at him when we get home.”

“Don’t be upset,” Rachael said. “He is doing it because he loves you, and he wants to make sure that the boys that date you are good guys. Byron is, so there should be no problem.”

A few minutes later Byron got out of the car, which drove off. He walked back to the girls and seemed to be relieved that it was not just the two of them.”

“Come on,” Rachael said. “Let’s go upstairs. It is nearly 7. And Byron: take Angela’s hand. It is a date, you know.”

This resulted in both of them going red, but obeying, and the four got up just a few minutes before show time. Byron showed Angela to one of the pairs of seats, and then went to get sodas and popcorn for them. He sat down just as the movie started, but Rachael didn’t see that, because her attentions were on Robert.

There was less kissy-kissy at this show, although Larissa and Mark certainly kept their end up. The first half hour of the show had several Charlie Chaplin silent shorts from YouTube, most with musical accompaniment. These had the students laughing in their chairs at the antics of the Little Tramp. The film of The General also had sound, but just music, as it was also a silent film as well. It was only 75 minutes long, just long enough for the attention spans of 21st century kids.

The result was that the movie night was over before 9 instead of 10 like when longer shows were presented. Before Carly led the clean up, she announced that next week would be the last of the series (groans) until September when they would all be high school students (cheers). She said that Heather in the library had contacted a library in Toronto to get a special show in for the finale in the series, Rocky Horror Picture Show (huge cheers).

Then it was cleanup and students out on the streets, which were still light in the evening dusk. Angela and Byron were both waiting for rides. Rachael stood next to Bryon and whispered. “Did you kiss her yet?” And heard “No. Should I? What if she doesn’t want to kiss?” whispered back.

“You can always ask,” Rachael said. “But you will want to do it before her Dad shows up, won’t you?” She was amused by the shocked and scared look on the boy’s face. He quickly moved over to Angela, and while she couldn’t hear it, she imagined that he was asking her if she wanted to kiss. She nodded her head, and the two had a fairly short, but tender kiss on the lips. And to make the timing perfect, Angela’s mother appeared just then, and beeped her horn. Angela hugged Byron, and said bye before running off to tattle on her father.

Byron’s ride, a brother, was also waiting in line to pickup his brother, and was astonished to see his nerdy little brother kiss such a hot redhead.

Most of the kids were gone, but Robert was still there. “I messed up,” he admitted. “I told the guys that it was over at 10, not 9, so I’ll just have to wait.”

“You certainly will not,” Rachael said. “Text them and tell them to pick us up at the new house. We can wait there.”

He did, and they did, finding the house quiet when they got there. After she checked on Bobby and Grandpa, both well asleep, she opened the fridge to find two slices of pizza left. She microwaved them, and shared them with Robert, who was astounded at the flavor in the reheated slices.

Right at 10 sharp Peter pulled into the drive, and Robert got one last pizza-flavored kiss before running out to the car.

“Who is the hot blonde?” Peter said. “I thought you were dating Rachael.”

“That was Rachael,” Robert said. “She got all the black hair cut off earlier in the week.”

“Damn. Now my little brother has a hotter girlfriend that I do,” Peter said.

“Oh, should I tell that to Maddy?” Robert said with a smile.

“Don’t you dare, or you’ll be walking everywhere,” Peter said. “Damn. A blonde.”

Inside, Rachael was ready for bed, and knelt down.

Dear Lord

Thank you for a wonderful day. I got a beautiful charm bracelet from the guys. They think it is me that has done all these wonderful things, and we both know it has all been you. I hope that Larissa’s mom can get something going at the library to make her feel needed. I should have gotten out to visit her more often, since so few other people in town speak French. I think I will invite them over for Sunday dinner. She will love talking with Grandpa. I know Larissa did. And finally, thanks for making the Hobo Army. I see them doing wonderful things for you. For us.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Three episodes in a week! I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I like writing them (and reading your comments): Dawn.

FRIDAY, June 3, 2016

School on Friday was a dull blur. At lunch Carly and Rachael sat at the table of the Grade Seven students who were organizing their movie night. The girls were thrilled that Carly would give up her Friday night to help, and they also took advice on rules.

Carly told them that Tony would bring pop and popcorn to the library if they wanted (they did) for the normal $2 fee. Rachael suggested that there be a rule that boys would kiss the girls on the cheek only at the end of the movie, with no lip kissing at other times. The girls look relieved at that. Grade Seven was a bit young for full kissing, and a rule specifying what would happen eliminated a lot of stress on both boys and girls. Handholding was allowed. They knew that some couples would probably ignore the rules, but it allowed those new to dating to have a guideline.

The girls had not arranged a film yet, and Carly suggested that they use the same film that the Grade Eights had the night before. She would send the links to the Charlie Chaplin YouTubes. The girls liked this. They had heard the Grade Eights laughing about their movie today. Rachel said they would have to get a different movie next week. Rocky Horror was not really appropriate to 12-year-olds. They decided on Sound of Music, and would check that the video was available when they got to the library.

Carly stressed that she was not cleanup crew: the girls would have to assign tasks, and Rachael made a list of duties for the girls to assign.

Rachael did say that Carly would introduce the show, and outline the kissing rules, which relieved the girls, none of whom liked speaking in public. Carly winked at Rachael, realizing that this would earn her more votes for Top Girl.

After school, Rachael rode the bus home with Robert. The bus driver started to object until Rachael offered her a bribe: a paper sack containing three of her home baked cookies. She was waved to the middle of the bus, and sat next to Robert.

“You can get almost anything in the world, if you offer a few home-baked cookies,” Rachael said with a smile. Robert pouted: “Where are mine?” Rachael dug into her backpack and lifted out another bag of cookies, this one containing two. Robert greedily took one, and offered Rachael the other, but she turned it down, and Robert was chomping on it before the bus left the school.

Rachael noticed that the driver had eaten half of one cookie before the bus was loaded, then set it down as she pulled out from the school. She would pick up the cookie and take a bite at each stop, but didn’t eat while driving, which impressed the girl.

It took over a half hour before they reached the Jackson farm, at the end of the bus route. Apparently Archie’s farm next door was in the rural school district, but the Jackson’s were in the town district.

“These are really good, Miss,” the driver said, taking a bite out of her last cookie as they left the bus. “You can ride this bus anytime.”

“If I bring cookies,” Rachael suggested.

“No, anytime. But I wouldn’t object to cookies if you have them.”

Rachael and Robert walked up the long laneway to the house, after Robert had picked up the mail. It was about a quarter mile lane, but Rachael enjoyed being out in the country air in the spring. Robert noted that it was not so enjoyable in the winter with a blizzard blowing in your face, making the walk take three times as long and much more annoying.

Finally they got into Donna’s kitchen, and Robert’s mother gave a little shriek when she saw Rachael. “Oh, so cute,” she squealed. “Robert said you changed your hair, but I didn’t think it would look so nice. It looks so glamorous.”

“Thanks. I made cookies. For before dinner,” Rachael said. “I got a text from Mom that she wanted to bring rolls. Is that okay?”

“I got a text from her, and that saves us from having to make biscuits. There will be 18 of us tonight, so we will be in the big dining room.”

“Wow, that’s a crowd,” Rachael said.

“We have had more. Remember, we usually have seven just with the Jacksons. There are the four Barrons, and five from the Watsons, Ruby’s family. Then there is Archie and Maddy, Peter’s girlfriend.”

“Can I help?” Rachael asked.

“Thanks for asking, honey,” Donna said. “But Ruby will be here shortly and Teri, Mrs. Watson, always chips in too. I know Robert brought you out early to see the animals, and to ride. Are you still planning on entering the Farmers’ Races on the 25th?”

“Three weeks away?” Rachael said. “I’d like to run Blackie, but I haven’t been on him for over a week. I’ll have to see how I do.”

“Robbie has set up a course out back. He’s been practicing every night for the past few weeks. It is a 5-mile cross country track at the races, and he says he is hoping to break 10 minutes with Blackie.”

“I will break 10,” Robert bragged as he came into the kitchen. “I usually get done in 10:20 or so, but Wednesday I made it in 10:02,”

“Well let’s go race,” Rachael said, dashing out the door. “I call Blackie. You can ride Chocky.”

In the stables Blackie snorted the moment she walked in. He recognized the smell of his favorite human, even after nearly two weeks. She grabbed a pair of apples from the barrel near the door, putting one in her pocket and carrying the other to the horse that was now dancing in excitement in his stall. Rachael opened the stall, and the huge horse nuzzled into her chest, and Rachael felt her energy flowing into him. She gave him an apple and he chomped on it as Rachael ran her hands over his legs, and all over his body.

She examined him closely, looking into his body, and found only one small flaw. It was a tiny tear in a tendon of the right rear leg, probably caused by too much running. She fed energy into the leg, and felt the tendon heal until it was good as new. The weakness must have been there before, but made worse by all the running Robert had done on him.

She looked up and saw that Chocky was all saddled and ready to go. “Are you planning to run bareback again?’ Robert asked.

“No. I was just was waiting for some big strong man to take down that saddle that weighs almost as much as I do.”

Robert walked over and pulled down the big saddle, and thrust it up onto the black’s back, a major accomplishment for him, and he puffed out his chest as he buckled it on, proud that Rachael hadn’t seemed to notice how he struggled with the weight.

Rachael was putting the reins on the horse at the same time, and Robert looked on in awe. The horse was actually helping her put the painful bit in, when he usually fought being reined.

Soon they were both out on the track Robert had laid out. “I don’t know if this is how the course will run, but it should be something like it. After the races all the young boys like to run the course for the next day or two, until they take it up, so I’ve been running them unofficially for years. This will be the first time I have raced the under 16 group. I won pony class when I was 10. Of course, after winning, my pony was no longer eligible in later years.”

They got to the start of the track. “Do you want to walk the track first?” Robert suggested.

“You’ve run Blackie on this track for over a week, right? He will know the way. Time me.” With that Rachael and Blackie darted off down the track, with the Rachael using her powers to sense what the horse was expecting. They made good time around the track, without pushing, and after several minutes she saw Robert at the start point.

Robert was fairly impressed with a time that was going to be under 11, remembering that his first time over the course had been in the low 13s. But Rachael didn’t slow down as she approached, but instead seemed to speed up. She had a maniacal grin on her face as she streamed past, and Robert barely remembered to click the timer. He looked down and saw it was 10:55. He then looked up, and saw that they were nearly out of sight.

Rachael was feeding a need for speed into Blackie, and he was replying by giving his all. The girl was lighter than the boy, and that helped buy a few seconds. But mostly he just trusted her more, and worked harder. Soon they were approaching the boy again.

Robert thought that they were going for a third lap as they ran past him at a blazing speed, and he clicked the lap timer, and saw that they had made the long circuit in 9:12, a minute faster than his normal times. He looked up, and saw that Rachael was pulling Blackie up, letting him cool down a bit as they trotted back to him.

“How did we do?” Rachael asked sliding down from the horse. “It felt really fast. Especially the second lap.”

“10:55 and 9:12. Amazing. I can’t break 10,” Robert said.

“You will,” Rachael said. “I weigh less than you do, for one thing.”

“You were glued to him going around corners. I think the way you leaned into the corners is something I need to try. What are you doing?” Rachael was running her hands up and down the horses legs and flanks.

“Running builds up toxins in the muscles, and a gentle massage releases them,” Rachael said, not mentioning that she was also looking closely at the formerly torn ligament, which now seemed fine after nearly 20 minutes of hard work. She was sure it would be fine for Robert to ride in his practices.

“Don’t you be trying to beat my time,” Rachael warned as she climbed back onto the horse. “I’m lighter than you.”

“And Blackie loves you, and just tolerates me. He still won’t let the twins come close to him. JJ and Dad can handle him well. Dad’s even been riding him over the course. He can’t break 11 minutes, but that still should be enough to win the seniors. It won’t win the open though.”

“The twins still haven’t made friends with him?” Rachael said as they trotted back to the farmhouse. “I was hoping one of them would be able to race the under-20 class.”

“You want him to run in all the races?” Robert asked. “That is five races and nearly an hour of hard running over two days. That’s a lot to ask of a horse.”

“Blackie is a lot of horse,” Rachael said. “You could run the under-20, couldn’t you? Or does running the under-16 disqualify you?”

“No, I can run both. Under-20 starts about an hour after the under-16 ends. The Powder Puff runs first, at 1 a.m. theoretically. Usually they take off at 1:15 and it will take 20 minutes for the last horse to come in. Although apparently you will be at the finish line more than 10 minutes before that.”

“And what happens Sunday?”

“First up is the pony race. Lisa wants to run Duchess in that. It will be her first time. It is on a smaller half-mile course. Then come the seniors, and finally the open.”

“Blackie can do it. Three races the first day, and then two on Sunday.”

“Who will run the open? Me?” Robert asked.

“You could if you want to,” Rachael said. “If not, I will run it.”

Robert whistled. “You run it. It would piss all those farmers off if a 13-year-old boy beat them, but imagine if a 13-year-old girl does. Plus you are faster than me.”

They were back at the stables, and they unsaddled and brushed out their mounts. Chocky didn’t get much of a ride, but she was pretty lazy and didn’t mind. Blackie enjoyed his run with his girl, and nuzzled her before she left. An apple appeared out of her pocket, and he graciously accepted it, sad when she left the stable with the boy.

Back in the farmhouse first Rachael, and then Robert showered and changed. Rachael had brought a second set of clothes to school in her backpack for this express purpose.

Downstairs Rachael joined the women, including Maria, in getting the meal ready. When Robert came down he was nearly tackled by Bobby, begging to go out to the barns.

“How long till dinner, Mom?” Robert asked.

“At least an hour,” Donna said, and Robert allowed Bobby to drag him out into the yard.

The women worked together, and soon had a feast prepared. There was a roast beef from Ruby and her brother’s meat shop, and two deep-fried chickens from Keri’s farm next door. With five cooks there was a number of sides. Five minutes before the meal Maria dumped two plastic bags of dinner rolls of a sort Rachael had never seen into a paper bag, and popped it into the oven, which was cooling after the roast had been taken out.

Rachael set the table, noticing the other young girl in the living room with Peter. “Want to help, Maddy?” Rachael asked.

The teenager got up reluctantly, and came to help, with Rachael introducing herself and then the other women. After a few minutes Maddy seemed to loosen up, and by the time Donna rang the dinner bell, she seemed to be enjoying herself with the women.

The men came in from the barns, and lined up for the washroom. Rachael inspected Bobby’s hands, and he had to go back for a second wash, with his sister scrubbing them clean. They got back to find everyone else seated, except Donna, and Teri, Ruby’s mom. Rachael sat next to Robert while Bobby sat next to Lisa. On Rachael’s other side sat Darrel, Ruby’s younger brother. He was Robert’s age but he looked two or three years younger and attended the country school. He was nothing at all like Chuck, Ruby’s older brother and partner in the butchering business. Chuck was bigger than JJ. Three inches taller, and at least 50 pounds heavier. Rachael had no doubt that Chuck could heft a half beef carcass.

The Moms carried out the roast and the baskets of chicken: one spicy and one regular. The twins immediately reached out for food, and were stopped when Donna snapped. “Grace first. Rachael, I know you enjoy doing this.”

“Lord, thank you for the bounty with which you let us fill this table. But mostly we thank you for the comradeship of dining together as a group, with old friends and new, but to always be friends. Amen.”

Now the battle began, with the forks and knives soon breaking through the defenses of the platters.

“Oh my, I forgot,” Donna said, jumping up and darting into the kitchen. She came out a minute later with a wicker basket containing the strange rolls.

The basket was passed along, and everyone took one. Rachael looked at hers. It seemed lighter than any of the buns from the bakery. She took a dab of butter, which instantly melted on the warm bun. She took a small bite, and her eyes opened wide. She wasn’t the only one.

“These are incredible,” Frank said from the head of the table. Those who hadn’t already tried theirs all took a bite, with the same reaction.

“They are new at the bakery,” Maria said. “We have a new baker on probation. But I think his probation has just ended.” She looked at Geoff, who nodded. “This is his recipe and it is wonderful. We tried them right out of the oven, but they are still just as good. He says they should be good for several days, so people can buy them on Saturday’s for dinners on Sunday or a holiday Monday. We just need to come up with a name for them.”

“Clouds,” Rachael said. “They are light and fluffy, and so wonderful. They even look like little clouds.”

“What a perfect name,” Geoff said. “Can you write something up? I think we need another quarter page in the newspaper next week.”

“At least we now have the staff to handle a rush,” Maria said. “Love Bread nearly killed us.”

“Is that you?” Teri Waters said. “I love that bread. And everything else in there. I’m going to have to add Clouds to my purchases.”

“Phone in your order, and you can pick it up at the end of the day,” Maria said. “And if you do, I’ll put it through as a family discount.”

“Why thank you,” Maria.

“I know that there is supposed to be other announcements today,” Ruby said, glancing at JJ. “But Chuck and I would like to make an announcement first.”

Chuck took over. “As of 2 p.m. today, Ruby and I are tenants in the vacant store at the strip mall the bakery is in. We are opening a location in town. We will still do the butchering and cold storage at the farm, but Ruby will run the store in town. We got a great deal from a Mr. Bill Strong, with graduated rents for the first year. Hopefully when the new year rolls along we will be established enough for the full rent, which is still lower than downtown.”

Rachael pushed her chair aside, and ran to Ruby. “We are going to be neighbors.” She hugged the older girl fiercely, then looked a bit embarrassed as she went to sit back down.

Donna looked at JJ. “Did you want to make your announcement now, JJ? Or wait until after dessert?”

“I would be crazy to get in between my brothers and Mom’s pies,” the young man said. “After.”

The pies then came out from the kitchen. There were apple, lemon meringue, pumpkin and a chocolate crème pie. Each person selected a flavor, and Ruby cut a slice to be passed along.

When it came Bobby’s turn he couldn’t make up his mind. Suddenly Ruby started cutting. When she was done, Bobby had a plate with four small slices together molded into one normal piece. His eyes widened. “Thank you Ruby. I love you. You are the best … lady ever,” he said.

“Why thank you sir. What about you,” she asked Lisa.

“Can I have one like Bobby,” she said, “but no pumpkin.”

Geoff laughed looking at the combination pies that the kids were eagerly digging into. “Mike and I are going to have to come up with a way to make pies like that.”

With the dessert plates empty around the room, JJ stood and silence fell over the room. He walked over to Ruby and stood in front of her. She turned her chair to face him.

“Ruth Ann Watson,” he said, kneeling. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? My Ruby to light my path for the rest of time.” He opened a box from Perlon Jewelry and presented her with a silver ring.

“Not a diamond? Good,” Ruby muttered as she picked up the ring and immediately put it on. It seemed to fit perfectly. She looked up at JJ, smiled and said: “Yes, yes, a million times yes. You make me the happiest woman in the world.”

“What an interesting ring, JJ,” Teri Watson said. “What is it? I know Ruby wouldn’t wear a diamond. But I have never seen that design before.”

“Can you explain it Rachael,” JJ said. “Rachael pretty much designed it, and then Mr. Perlon built it to order.”

“The rectangle in the middle is actually two pieces of bone,” Rachael said. “One from a dairy cow, representing the Jacksons, and the other is from a beef cow, representing the Watsons. Chuck supplied the bones. The loop that surrounds the two stones is the infinity symbol, for a love that will last forever. And the stones are a sapphire representing JJ and an emerald representing Ruby, based on the colors of their eyes.” All the women around the table let out a sigh.

“How unique. I will be the only woman in the world with this ring. I love it,” Ruby said.

Rachel noticed after the dinner that Darrel helped the women clear the table while the men went to watch the end of the Blue Jays game on TV. He said he was not into sports. She had also watched him eating during dinner, and he had only picked at his meal, eating far less than any of the other men around the table, including Bobby. Rachael started to get a hunch.

After the dishes were done and packed away, she went into the rec room and gathered up Robert, taking him out onto the porch, where the setting sun was beautiful. “Darrel is a girl, isn’t she?” Rachael said as she lay in Robert’s arms.

“What? Are you crazy? She … I mean he isn’t. He’s a boy. Can’t you tell?”

“Robert, a dear friend of mine is transsexual. She is only seven, but I learned how to tell. And I had a cousin who was trans. You would never lie to me, would you? You know, don’t you?” Rachael said softly.

Robert couldn’t speak. He wouldn’t betray his friend, nor would he lie to his girlfriend. So he said nothing. And that said everything. He was about to get up and go when Ruby came out.

“She knows Ruby. I didn’t want to tell her, but she figured it out. I’m sorry,” Robert was nearly sobbing.

“It is all right, Robbie,” Ruby said, stroking the boy. “How did you know?” she asked Rachael.

“Well, first of all she looks almost exactly like you, and not at all like your brother. She is small and pretty, even dressed up as a boy. What is her name?” Rachael asked.

“Darla,” Ruby said. She turned to Robert and asked him to go get her.

“Only the two of us know. Three now, I guess,” Ruby said. “Darla told me first, about three years ago. Then she was getting beat up by bullies at school, so we told Robert and he got into a few fights, but the bullying ended. I think Mom knows about it, and won’t mind. But Dad will go ballistic, and that’s why it’s been a secret.”

Darla came out, with a scared look on her face. Rachael ran over and took her hands. “Darla, will you be my friend? We will all be in high school together next year. I bet you look pretty in a dress.”

The girl stood for a second, and then fell into Rachael’s arms, sobbing. “You don’t know how hard it is,” she cried.

“No I don’t. But I had a cousin who was like you. And I have a young friend. Bobby calls her his girlfriend, and protects her the way Robert has protected you. But you know, you are almost 14, right?” Darla nodded. “And pretty soon your body is going to start to change in ways you don’t want.” Darla sobbed louder.

“What happened to your cousin,” Darla asked.

“She couldn’t deal with it,” Rachael said. “She committed suicide.”

She felt the girl tense up in her arms, saying nothing.

“You have been thinking of that, too, haven’t you?” Rachael guessed.

“It is so hard,” Darla said. “Yes I have.”

Ruby gasped, and then rushed to join in the hug. “No, no, no, you must never do that. You are my little sister. You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

“But what can I do?”

“We will get you medicine so you don’t change,” Ruby said, full out crying now. “I’ve read about it on the Internet. I don’t know how, but we will do it.”

“What about Dad?”

“He … He … I don’t know, but we will make it work. It has to work,” Ruby sobbed. “This was the happiest day of me life, and now this.”

“It is still a happy day,” Rachael said. “It is the day we figure out how to save Darla. I have a plan.”

That night, Rachael kneeled down to a much-needed prayer.

Dear Lord

What a day. The highs of seeing Ruby and JJ get engaged. Then the lows of learning about Darla. Please help me in my plan. It depends on you. But then I guess everything depends on you, doesn’t it. Help save her, Lord.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

SATURDAY, June 4, 2016

Rachael was up very early. Her parents were already at work, and Bobby was going to have to get up when he woke later and help Grandpa whenever he could. He would make himself breakfast: cereal for him, and toast for Grandpa. This was the most responsibility the little boy had to this point, and he was told to call Maria at the bakeshop if there were problems.

Rachael had to go to the early morning photo shoot at the cenotaph, and ate a quick breakfast first, leaving the cereal and bread on the table where Bobby would find them.

At the cenotaph Mikki set up her camera, and the first actors appeared at about 7 a.m. They were scheduled at five-minute intervals, but some came late, and some were early, so the girls pretty much shot the pictures as the actors were available. Carly had a clipboard where she kept track of who had been shot, and who was due. They were done at the cenotaph by 9:30 and headed to the high school to shoot the theatre guys (and girls), along with their teacher. Mr. Churchill and Mrs. Cathcart had been shot earlier in the week, at the school. Then it was over to the Legion where the last shot was taken, a group shot of all the members who had helped in any way, outside their building.

“Guys, I’m going to donate my share of any of the money that we make from the film,” Rachael said as they were setting up the Legion shoot. Larissa immediately agreed. Mikki thought for a few seconds, and then she said she would do the same, since it was the credit for producing and directing the film that she would need to get into film school. Carly seemed a bit reluctant, but agreed.

After the shoot the Legion president came forward: a woman, to the surprise of the girls. Her father had served on D-Day, and she had supported the Legion all her life, initially in the auxiliary, and later in the main branch, when women were finally allowed to be members.

“Girls, I can’t tell you how much we are waiting to see your film,” she said. “Is there any chance that we can have a showing here at the Legion? So many members are interested.”

“We can do the world premiere here,” Mikki said. “We will be showing it in class at school on June 17, but anytime after that we can do a showing or two for you here.”

“What would you like us to charge for tickets?” the lady said.

“Why, that would be up to you,” Rachael said. “We have all agreed that any earnings from the film would go to the Legion. I think Mr. Churchill spent some money on the special effects and the German costumes, and it would be nice to pay him back, but after that it will all go to the Legion.”

“You girls are wonderful,” the president said, darting from one to the other to give them hugs. “With our members tending to be older, it is harder to find the funds to keep this place running. There are good points to it, I guess. I’m 67 and a lot of the older fellows call me ‘that young girl’ which is great for the ego. But knowing that real young girls like you four care means so very much.”

The girls were treated to a lunch in the Legion. It was just sandwiches and they weren’t made with Love Bread. Rachael found the taste of Wonder Bread so spongy and flat compared to the seven-grain bread she had gotten used to, and only ate one half sandwich. The other girls also ate light, giving each other looks.

Rachael decided to ask Geoff if he could supply the Legion with a flat of Love Bread next week. They might not become a customer, but the $80 retail cost of 20 loaves would help the Legion out financially.

Rachael got Mr. Stover to drop her off at the church, where the bake sale was almost over. She was surprised to see her mother there.

“It is only 1 p.m.,” Rachael said in amazement. “Why aren’t you at the bakery?”

“We made a few too many Cloud rolls,” Maria said. “Mike said they wouldn’t be salable on Monday, so I brought 24 dozen out here to sell. It’s my first time driving the van. I split open one dozen, and cut the rolls into quarters. Pretty much everyone who sampled one bought a dozen, so the church earned almost $75 from just our stuff.”

“Good,” Rachael replied. “I was feeling bad about not baking much, other than some cookies on Wednesday with Pastor Helen. But with film night on Thursday and the trip to the farm on Friday, there just wasn’t time.”

“How are they doing at the store?” Rachael asked.

“It is great. Mike is wonderful. I think he knows more than Geoff about baking. He said our bread molder is a bit loose, and we should get a mechanic in to tighten it up. Geoff will call someone next week.”

“Have him talk to Gary first,” Rachael said. “He can fix anything.” Just then Pastor Helen came over to hug Rachael.

“Your idea was splendid, Rachael,” she said. “We will make something over $500 from the sale. That will be enough to fund at least two dinners. I don’t know about the other two weeks though. The ladies feel we can only do one of these a month.”

“Don’t you worry about the other two weeks, Pastor Helen.” It was Gary, who had joined the group. “We have finished the equipment sale, and took in $9500. Half of that goes to the deacon, but I get to decide what to do with the other half. So no scrimping on the dinner please. I will make up the costs.”

“That money belongs to you, Gary,” Pastor Helen said. “You earned it.”

“It belongs to the Lord,” the caretaker said. “I only get to decide how to use it in His name.”

“How did you get so much?” Rachael asked.

“Well, as Chipper and I finished something, we took a picture and posted it on Kijiji. That was Skid’s idea. Just a picture and a little description, telling that it would be for sale on Saturday morning.”

“Well, one of the things we found in the shed was an old-time bathtub, with brass claw feet. Chipper worked four hours to clean it up, and it looked like new by the end. This morning, I found three people had asked me to save it for them. One was from Toronto, one from Hamilton, and one all the way from Oshawa. In the end we had a little auction, and the Toronto guy won. He paid $1300 for it. His new house will cost a million dollars, I guess, so that isn’t much to him for an original piece.”

“Most of the other things were sold based on a price tag. I think there were three or four other items where several wanted it, and we had little auctions for them too, and usually got double our asking price. But most importantly, there is now a lot of space in the shed, and I want to put up some bunk beds for the Hobo Army. We are up to seven members now, and I want space for Wednesday. I bet we get a lot more members then after the dinner.”

“That is fabulous, Gary,” Rachael said. “It must have been a lot of work getting things ready.”

“Yeah, Chipper is exhausted. He claims he has lost 20 pounds. He’s sleeping in the shed right now. We worked through most of the night to get as much done as possible. Skid has been working long hours too. I’m going to have to relieve him from lobby duty. He and another new member of the Hobo Army have been keeping it open around the clock.”

“24/7?” Rachael said, turning around to see that the church sign read ‘We never close. God never sleeps.’ “I thought you closed from midnight to eight.”

“Not since we got the last two members of the Army. We had people waiting each morning at 8, and people still wanting to pray late. Our closing time sort of came a little later each night, due to people coming in and wanting to pray. When it was 2:30 last night we just stayed open. I changed the sign early this morning so that people coming to the sales would see it.”

“I hope the deacon won’t mind,” Pastor Ruth said cautiously.

“He won’t,” Gary said with a chuckle. “Not when I show him the pile of bills that I cleared out of the contributions bin this morning. People who come in at night tend to have serious problems: some are at the end of their ropes. They tend to donate heavily when the Lord eases their problems. Deacon Jefferson will be quite happy with the new hours. And it gives the Army something to do to earn their keep. I’ve been using the kitchen in the morning to feed them and they get a meal at night, but we usually do that in our shed.”

“With everything you have sold, do you want more donations coming in?” Pastor Ruth asked.

“Yes, the more the better, especially if there is going to be a sale every month. The shed still has enough junk in it to make for two or three sales, but I want to keep my guys busy. And the men who came to the sale were happy to have something to do while their wives were inside buying baked goodies. More than a few women came out. They finished their shopping before the men. And a couple of women bought things.”

“Well I will make an announcement at the early service, and see that Pastor McNaughton does the same. Can I direct them to you?”

“You may, and I appreciate the advertising.”

“Do you want to check out the sale, Rachael?” Maria said. “There isn’t much left. If you hurry, I can give you a lift back to the bakery.”

Rachael did go to the tables, which had only a few things left. There was a lopsided Angel Food cake, and Bobby and Grandpa really liked those. She picked it up and a woman of about 30 hustled up to her. “You want that?” she said eagerly. “I thought I was going to have to take it home with me. “I’m not really good at baking, and I was surprised that my cookies sold well. But that sad-looking thing just sat there, taunting my inept baking skills.”

“Well baking takes practice. Is it a mix cake, or homemade?”

“Homemade from scratch,” the woman said.

“Well then it is a perfectly fine first attempt. The first Angel Food I made was just as bad. It will probably be tasty though. Mine was,” Rachael said. “You know, we should have a beginner’s baking class here in the kitchens once a month. I gave Pastor Helen a lesson on Wednesday for making cookies. They are kind of my specialty. But there are so many older ladies in the new auxiliary that I bet could teach the rest of us a lot.”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful,” the woman said. “I would come to that.”

“Well, talk to Pastor Helen about it. She is getting married soon, and wants to learn more herself.”

With that, Rachael gave the woman $5 for the cake (marked down from $10 several hours earlier, the woman said) and got into the van.

At the bakery, it was nearly 2 and the shelves were still largely full. Mike was gone to take a nap. He had started the doughs at 11 last night, and when Geoff and Maria got in at 4 he had things well underway. From then until noon the two men worked, and Maria went between her normal three stations, helping in the front, taking phone orders and packing them, and helping in the back, although there seemed to be less and less to do back there.

“I suspect Mike will be back here in an hour or two,” Geoff said. “He will come up with something new and delicious for our customers, without a doubt.”

“I wonder how long we will be able to keep him,” Maria said. “He seems like he could run his own shop before too long.”

“I told him this morning that his probation was over before it even started, and set his hourly rate at $25. It almost floored him, especially when I told him that I was setting his hours for this week at 40 hours, since he had been down here so much. Next week I’m going to try to set him to a limit of eight hours a day.”

“I have an idea,” Rachael said, and they both turned to her. Rachael ideas were usually worth listening to.

“You know he is going to work more than 40 hours, and you can’t really pay overtime at that rate. Why don’t you do what Archie is doing with JJ? Offer him 5% ownership in the business at the end of each year. After six years, the rate will drop to 3.3%, and then he will be an equal partner in the business with you and Mom. As a partner of course he won’t expect overtime. He won’t think of leaving, especially if you keep letting him being creative with new products.”

“That is a great idea,” Geoff said, and Maria nodded. “I was going to put him on from 11 p.m. to 8 a.m. but we are super busy at 8 and I couldn’t see him leaving. I think if he goes up for his nap at 10 and then does whatever he wants after 2 I will be happy.”

“I’ll keep coming in at 4, but I think Maria should start coming in at 8 again. The early hours were to help out, and we really don’t need it. From 8 to 6 is a good shift for her.”

“And you will leave no later than 4, mister,” Maria ordered. “No need for you to stay later, since we don’t bake anything that late.”

“Unless we are short on pies or cookies,” Geoff said.

“Agreed,” Maria said. “Although with two wonder bakers in here, that won’t happen often.”

“Well, maybe on Thursday, if Rachael comes up with a good ad for us for Clouds,” he said.

“Oh yes,” I forgot about that. “Can I use the bakery computer?”

“To write an ad that will make us lots of money? I think we will allow it,” Maria said with a smile as Rachel headed to the lunchroom/office. She returned an hour later. Mike was at the scales, weighing out ingredients for something when she handed the sheet to her parents, who were doing their massages at the bench.

“Clouds”

“You see them in the sky most sunny days. Little puffy, white things skittering across the horizon. Clouds.

“Bread Baron’s newest baker, Mike, has discovered how to capture those little clouds and make them into dinner rolls. They are 25% lighter than our regular rolls and 100% tastier. You will make your dinner guests jealous if you serve them, and your family will love you if you make them a regular part of your meals.”

“Clouds are largely hand-made. The dough is too delicate to run through our machines. But we sell them at almost the same price as our regular rolls. $4 for a dozen.”

“That’s wonderful honey, but we have been selling them for $3.50 a dozen,” Maria said.

“Consider that an introductory special,” Rachael said. “Clouds taste way better than most of the other types of rolls, so they should cost more. And people appreciate things that cost a bit more, if the quality is there. That is how Cadillac sells their cars.”

Geoff chuckled. “Maybe we should be making Rachael a partner over time, giving her one percent a year. That is great thinking, honey.”

“No Dad, I want to be a vet, not a baker. But I also want to see you and Mom succeed, so you will get all my ideas and writings. So if you guys are okay with that, I’ll go print out a couple of them as signs for the store. I’ll put one right on the door, so everyone will see it as they come in. You can keep that copy for the lady from the newspaper.”

When the day ended at 6, Mike served up the Red Velvet cake he had been working on, and Maria and Geoff added it to the cakes that were being served. He promised to try a Black Forest cake on Monday.

“Oh my God,” Rachael said as she bit into her slice of the light, chocolaty cake. “This is really good.” She Googled Red Velvet Cake and read the Wikipedia entry. “It says here that people thought that the Red Velvet Cakes sold in Eaton’s restaurants were the invention of Lady Eaton, the wife of the department store founder. Do you think we could call them Lady Eaton’s Red Velvet Cakes? Or would there be copyright issues?”

“Eaton’s has been out of business for 15 years. I doubt anyone will care. Let’s go with that, and if some lawyer objects to a tiny Ontario bakery using the name, we will rename it,” Geoff said.

Everyone enjoyed the cake, and Maria noted that there would be no one working on Sunday. Mike objected, saying that he had arranged for Gary and Chipper to come in after services to work on the funky molder.

“All right,” Geoff said reluctantly, “but then the bakery will make all the bread and rolls for the church supper on Wednesday. Cloud rolls. And we can do a dessert for everyone too. Brownies perhaps.”

“You know, for the homeless people who come, we could do a little baggie with a sandwich or two for them for the next day, and a couple cookies,” Rachael suggested.

“Good idea,” Maria said. “I remember how Gary’s face used to light up when I offered him a bun or two for sweeping the sidewalk. We can order cold cuts, lettuce, and tomatoes from Dasilva’s for fixings.”

Soon after everyone headed to their respective homes. Mike turned down an offer to join the family at the new house, but agreed to come to the Sunday dinner. Rachael also asked Geoff to invite his mother on Sunday. “She is part of the family: Grandma,” Rachael said.

At home Rachael and Maria made a simple dinner using a frozen lasagna. Geoff was about to go out and find Bobby when he saw the boy riding madly from the direction of Marc’s home. The boy seemed to have an internal clock that went off at dinner time.

He managed to get his hands washed in time to toss the salad. There were also Clouds for rolls, and Grandpa, who had not tasted them pronounced them excellent, comparing the taste to the field rations that he had eaten on the march to Holland, when the men had to go nearly a week without hot food. He was thrilled with the Angel Food cake, which didn’t look so bad when it was sliced. Rachael deliberately made the slices small, knowing that Bobby would beg for seconds.

After dinner they sat around like a real family. There was a hockey playoff game on Grandpa’s large screen television, and Bobby sat on Geoff’s lap watching the pros in the Stanley Cup finals. Bobby was cheering for the Penguins, paying particular attention to goalie Marc-Andre Fleury and scoring sensation Sidney Crosby.

Maria and Rachael started by doing laundry, which had piled up over the past few weeks. Rachael had been trying to keep up, but with Maria at the bakery or sleeping almost all week, things had fallen behind. But with the two working at it, they soon had cleared up the backlog, and sat on the sofa together, folding clothes for the baskets that would be taken up to the bedrooms as the guys watched hockey.

Eventually Grandpa started nodding off, and Rachael took him to his bedroom, kissing him after helping him into his pajamas. She then headed out to the living room and told Bobby that she expected him to have a bath during the second intermission, and even started the bathwater for her brother so he could watch the last minute of the period, which took several minutes to play.

Then Bobby shot off the couch to run for the tub, stripping off his clothes as he ran to the tub, eager to get done before the intermission ended.

Maria stood up and called: “Mister, we don’t throw clothes like that in this house.” Bobby stopped in his tracks, but Rachael said: “Hurry up and get into the tub, Tiger. I will get your clothes.” Bobby continued his run to the bathroom as Rachael followed picking up the boy’s clothes and dropping them in the hamper in his room.

“You spoil that boy,” Maria scolded as Rachael returned to the family. She noticed that Maria had taken Bobby’s place on Geoff’s lap.

“I know, but I love him so much. He is a great kid,” Rachael said.

“Both of my kids are great,” Maria said. “Both of our kids.”

“Sitting there holding him: being a Dad. It was just great,” Geoff said. “It made all the work the last few weeks great. The bakery is doing great. We beat our sales record today, and even with all the new staff we are making good money.

On Hockey Night in Canada, who air the Stanley Cup in Canada, intermission ends with an interview of a player. When this came on Rachael called up to warn Bobby that the game was back on soon. They heard frantic splashing, and then three minutes later he came down with wet hair and wearing a big fluffy towel. He glared at his mother until she stood up, and then he nestled in to his former seat on Geoff’s lap.

He watched the start of the period, but was snoring softly after five minutes of play. “I’ll take him to bed,” Rachael said.

“No, let me,” Geoff said, getting up and carrying the sleeping boy to his room. Rachael assented. She would have had to wake Bobby, and that would have resulted in an argument about him wanting to watch the rest of the game.

“He really is a great Dad, isn’t he?” Maria said as they watched the baker carry his burden up the stairs.

“He sure is, Mom,” Rachael said. “Good job in picking a great guy. We haven’t had much experience with a father, but he sure has won his way into our hearts.”

“He is so cute up there,” Geoff said when he came back and gave Rachael a big hug before he again sat into his chair. “I always thought that a father’s love for his children was something that grew as they did. But I love you guys as much as I can. You are great kids, and you have a great mom.”

The great mom moved back to her former position on Geoff’s lap and then said ‘yuck’ when she found that his pants were damp from moisture that had run through Bobbie’s towel. She didn’t move though.

The game ended and Pittsburg won, taking a 3-1 lead in the best of seven series. Not long after the three remaining members of the family were yawning.

“It’s not fair,” Maria said. “We finally get a night when we don’t have to go to bed early and we are all too tired to enjoy it.”

“Well, we do have to get up earlier tomorrow,” Rachael noted. “Pastor Helen wants us at the sunrise service at the church. We should all go to bed. Are you coming with us, Dad?”

That last word brought a smile to Geoff’s face, as it almost always did. “I wouldn’t miss getting to show off my new family, just to sleep in,” he said. “Wake us when breakfast is ready.”

“So I’m back to my position as galley slave, am I?” Rachael said with a chuckle. “It will have to be Love Bread French Toast. That is Bobbie’s favorite for Sunday mornings.”

Minutes later Rachael was ready to pray:

Dear Lord

Thank you for a wonderful day. We got all of the shooting done for our video. I hope it works to make people remember the veterans. Grandpa’s speech, remembering those who couldn’t come home, is so touching it makes me cry just thinking about it. No actor could provide that kind of feeling. I missed most of the bake sale today and all of Gary’s sale, but thank you for making them a success. We will use all the money raised to help others, and make you proud. And thanks for such a wonderful evening with my family. I love them all so much, and I know it is you who is responsible. I hope what I am doing merits all that I am gaining from my Second Chance.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Tears were involved in the writing of this chapter, so you might want to have tissues ready as you read it: Dawn.

SUNDAY, June 5, 2016

Rachael was first up, barely beating Grandpa, who came to the kitchen to chat with her while she made French Toast for the family. “Sounded like some tomfoolery going on at the end of the hall up there this morning,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. Grandpa’s downstairs bedroom was directly under the master bedroom upstairs. Rachael had also heard the noise as she was coming down.

“I think Mom and Dad have finally gotten enough rest to get frisky,” she said, handing Grandpa his morning coffee. “They were working so long and hard at the bakery I’d be surprised if they had done more than just cuddle. I’m happy. Does it bother you?”

“No. It might if they were just dating, but I consider them married. Living together is Common Law marriage, isn’t it?”

“Well, I think they have to live together for a year for that to count, and before that happens they will really be married. I suspect that they will be married in the church soon.”

Bobby was next down. “I think Mom and Dad are fighting, Rachael,” he said. “I heard noise coming from their room and the door was locked.”

“Oh my,” Rachael said. “I suppose that they stopped when you rattled the door.”

“Momma yelled for me to go downstairs for breakfast,” he said. He looked at what Rachael was putting on a plate for him. “Yippee. French toast.”

Rachael heard the shower going upstairs, and wondered if it was single or double occupancy. She had served Grandpa his French Toast, and Bobby was on his second helping when she heard footsteps on the stairs and got up to start another batch, and get two coffees ready.

Maria and Geoff came in, both with glows on their faces. “Were we noisy?” Maria said sheepishly.

“It doesn’t matter to me. In fact I’m glad,” Rachael said. “But I think that it might be time for Geoff to have a little talk with Bobby. He thought you were fighting in there.”

Geoff blanched, and Maria giggled, saying: “Well, you want to be a Dad. It is your job with the boys. I had to do it with Rachael.”

While Geoff and Maria ate, Rachael took Bobby upstairs to clean the syrup off his face. And hands. And arms. And how did some get onto his shoulders? She then had him get into his church clothes, as she darted into her room to get a nice dress on herself.

As they were heading downstairs, Geoff and Maria were headed up. “Just get dressed,” the young girl ordered. “No time for hanky panky.”

Downstairs Rachael got Grandpa comfortable in his chair, and she popped into his bathroom, knowing that Maria would be at the vanity upstairs. Grandpa had a partial bath next to his downstairs bedroom, with a special shower that had a built in chair. Of course there was a toilet and a vanity as well, and it was the latter that Rachael used to touch up her makeup.

She came out, and Geoff was already downstairs. He really looked handsome in a suit. Rachael was used to seeing him in his baking clothes: a t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. “You clean up really nice,” she said, as she heard her mother coming down the stairs.

“You leave him alone,” Maria quipped. “He’s mine.”

“Remember. I found him first,” Rachael retorted, making Geoff go red in the face.

“And this is the kind of talk we have before going to church,” he said in exasperation.

The walk was quite a bit longer than from the old house, and as they got close they noticed that the area around the church was bustling. The entire Hobo Army was out in force, directing traffic and offering a valet service for those who had mobility issues. They helped people out of their cars, writing the owner name on a little tag. Then they drove off to find a parking spot on a side street, writing the address on the tag. Tags and keys were taken back to the church.

Gary was outside the church entrance, directing people into one of two queues. One led into the lobby for people wishing to pray, and it was already halfway down the sidewalk to the road. The other, shorter line was to get into the church itself, and the Barron’s had to wait about five minutes just to get into the building. When they did, they were amazed to find the place was full. The church ushers couldn’t find four seats together, so Maria and Geoff sat near the back, while Rachael sat further up with Bobby, who would soon go down to the Sunday School.

After he left, Rachael would not alone, because the woman sitting next to her was the one who had sold her the Angel Food cake yesterday.

“That cake was delicious,” Rachael told her, and Bobby nodded vigorously. “We ate it in one meal. This little scamp had two pieces.”

“Almost as good as Rachael’s,” Bobby claimed. “Really, really good.”

“Well that makes me feel good,” the woman said. “I made another one last night, and it was really well received at home. It turned out much better.” Her husband nodded, and it seemed that there were two little boys, and a little girl in the family as well.

Helen started the service a little late and explained that the church was not used to so many at a service, and apologized about any inconveniences that might ensue. She said that anyone who used the valet parking should remain in the pews after the service and wait for their car to be picked up. She also announced that the bake sale had been a success and would be repeated in a month, and that Gary was looking for donations of any old materials that might be recycled for the next sale. A truck and men were available for pick-ups, she noted. She then went into a quick description of the Hobo Army, and noted that each of the men had prayed to the painting, and were now trying to turn their lives around. They were available for any kind of home repairs or maintenance, at a small charge if it could be afforded, and free otherwise.

As the pastor said this, Rachael scanned the crowd. She saw delight on the faces of many of the older parishioners, and realized that there were many elderly people who needed a handyman, but could not afford to hire someone.

Helen also noted that she could see many new faces in the crowd, and explained that after a few hymns the youngsters in the audience would head downstairs to the various Sunday School groups.

Her final announcement was that several members of the ladies auxiliary would be giving cooking and baking lessons on Tuesday, and any ladies (or gentlemen) who wished to learn new recipes and cooking tips should meet with the president of the auxiliary, who stood up so she could be recognized.

After two hymns were sung, the youngsters were allowed to go downstairs to Sunday School. “Bobby Barron,” Pastor Helen said. “Could you lead the new children downstairs? Many won’t know the church as well as you do.”

Bobby stood up proudly, and started leading the youngsters downstairs. There were several who had to come down from the balcony, which Rachael just noticed was full. When those were down to the main church, Bobby was long gone, so Rachael stood up, and Pastor Helen identified her and let her lead the others down.

Rachael got all 22 of the kids from the balcony down and into the rooms appropriate to their ages, and then peeked in at the nursery. There were over 50 children, infants and toddlers, and only three women tending. Normally there were only a dozen or two in the room.

“Do you need help,” Rachael asked.

“Please,” a harried woman said, with a crying baby on each arm. Rachael took one baby, who immediately stopped crying and snuggled into her. The other baby soon stopped crying, now that his accompanist had left.

Rachael walked around the nursery, and sat down among a group of about a dozen little girls. She asked them if they wanted her to read to them, and they all clamored yes. Rachael only had one hand free while holding the infant, so she picked one of the oldest girls, who was probably near three, to pick up a book. The little girl held the book so that all the kids could see the pictures, and Rachael read it to them, telling her helper when to turn the page.

One of the other women took a similar tack with a group of boys, and read them a story more male orientated. That left two to look after the eight infants, not counting the one Rachael held. After a half hour, one of those on infant duty came over to Rachael and begged to change places. “You seem to do so well with the babies, and I’ve had enough,” she said.

Rachael moved over to the babies, and found that her little helper came too. She still had the baby in her arms, and put it down in one of the bassinets, some of which had two children. The infant immediately started to cry. “Do you want to help?” she asked the toddler holding onto her skirt. The girl nodded, and Rachael lifted her up into the bassinet. The baby immediately stopped crying.

“My, you are quite the little mother,” Rachael told her, and she lisped back: “This is my sister. We plays alla time.”

Rachael then went around that part of the nursery, quieting the crying babies. The other woman working with her was amazed at how often a crying baby would stop crying the moment Rachael picked them up. There were a lot of diaper changes to do during the 70-minute service, but Rachael didn’t mind that at all.

Finally an usher came down and said the Sunday School was expected back in the church, but of course the infants were not included, so Rachael spent another 10 minutes until church let out and parents came down to pick up their child. Rachael met the mother of her helper and baby sister: a Mrs. Weller.

Rachael also had to give her phone number out to many of the parents, who were looking for baby sitters. Although she told the parents she wouldn’t be free until the end of the school year, she knew that there was going to be more work than she could handle alone. Another Rachael idea started in her brain.

Finally, the last parent came down, followed by Maria, Geoff and Bobby, who had lost track of Rachael. And while Rachael was telling them what she had been doing, parents started coming down from the second service with infants.

Then Helen appeared. “Oh Rachael, I’m so glad to find you. One of our Sunday School teachers didn’t show up for second service. It is for the age 10 to 15 group, so I really can’t have you lead them. But if you could look after one of the younger groups, then maybe I can get their teacher to help with the older kids. Otherwise I will have to take them, and there is so much else that I need to be doing.”

“I have a better idea,” Rachael said, looking at her Mom blissfully cradling an infant who had just been brought down. “I am needed in here, and I think Mom will stay and help.” Maria nodded. “What if Geoff was to look after the bigger kids?”

“Me?” Geoff retorted. “You get me to church for the first time in 20 years and you want me to teach religion to these kids.”

“It isn’t important to teach them any religion at that age,” Helen said. “Most of them tune that out. It is more important that you provide them with a positive male role model. Many of them are from single mother families. Just teach them anything you know.”

“All I know is baking,” Geoff said.

“Perfect,” Helen said. “Take them into the kitchen. It is pretty well stocked for the dinner on Wednesday, and our cooking class on Tuesday. Use what you want.”

“We could do cookies,” Geoff mused.

“Cookies?” Bobby squealed. “Can I help?”

“No Bobby,” Rachael said. “Kids that age might not like a little guy like you there. But I’m sure that Daddy will bring you some of the results. You stay here with Mom and me.”

The second service filled the nursery and all the Sunday School rooms. The exception was the senior class with Geoff, which had five girls and three boys, a manageable number for him to handle in the kitchen. They found all the ingredients to make sugar cookies, and it was a recipe that could be finished in 70 minutes.

In the nursery, there were now 60 babies and toddlers. The addition of Maria in the infant section helped immensely. The three regular carers would not have survived the numbers without the help of the Barrons. Even Bobby was a big help, reading stories to the toddlers, who looked up to him like a hero. One cute little girl sat on his lap several different times, and he seemed to enjoy all the attention.

Finally Geoff came in, with flour all over his trousers after his students had gone back up to church. “How did it go,” Maria asked, handing him the infant she had been cuddling. He reacted as if he had been handed a live hand grenade, but over the next few minutes he softened up, and started cooing to the little one.

“It was pretty good, really,” he said. “They started off pretty testily, but brightened up when I told them we were baking. There were a few disruptions in the kitchen, boys trying to impress the girls, but the troublemakers were sent to time-outs, and after about five minutes they were begging to rejoin so they could get cookies. Next week they want to do cupcakes.”

“So there is going to be a next time?” Rachael asked in surprise.

“Yeah, I think so. They sure want me back as a teacher. I don’t know what the regular teacher will think of me stealing her class. They said she just told them Bible stories and made them discuss them. They preferred me. And I got hugs. From the boys as well as the girls. And you of all people know I can’t tell a young girl no when I am being hugged. So I sorta promised to be here next week.”

“You will have to do both groups,” Rachael warned. “When the other senior class hears that the late group got to do baking, there will be a rebellion unless you help them too.”

“I can do that,” Geoff said. “It was really quite rewarding. I even explained the chemistry of baking to them, and it blew their minds. They didn’t think that Chemistry was anything other than a torture subject devised by their teachers. When I explained reactions and such, some of the older students were amazed that the subject applies to real life.”

By now parents were coming down to pick up their toddlers, and Rachael was again inundated by requests for her phone number, which she gladly handed out, noting that she wouldn’t be available in June.

When the last infant left, Geoff opened his bag of cookies, having taken two from each batch that the seniors had made and gave Bobby and Maria one. Rachael refused, but asked if the other three teachers wanted one. They all accepted happily.

The consensus among the three was that the work was too hard, even with the help that Maria and Rachael had provided. “What if I was to get a bunch of my classmates to come help?” Rachael asked. “When they find out that babysitting jobs might come out of it, I’m sure I can get six or eight to help.”

“Eight girls would be great,” one of the older carers said. “Babies just take so much care. We used to get six to a dozen. That last group was madness.”

“Okay. Don’t any of you quit on me,” Rachael said. “I will promise that there is help for next week.” She turned around and saw Pastor Helen standing at the door.

“Rachael, you are wonderful,” the young cleric said. “I ask you to help out a bit, and you wind up saving my nursery staff from mutiny. Thank you.” She hugged Rachael, and then went to hug her three regular carers. She came back and hugged Maria, and then Geoff and Bobby, who weren’t quite as enthusiastic about being hugged by their Pastor.

The Barron’s went out the side door, not wanting to disturb the service upstairs. By now all the people who used valet parking for the second service had been directed to their cars.

The family walked home. “I actually enjoyed that too,” Maria said. “It has been a long time since I held little babies in my arms like that. It tickles the mommy nerve.”

“When did you have a little baby?” Bobby asked. “I don’t remember any.”

“That is because you were the baby, Bobby,” Rachael said, tousling her brother’s hair. “Tell me about Pastor Helen’s service, I missed it,” she asked her mother.

“She talked about sharing and caring,” Maria said. “She mentioned the Hobo Army, and how those people were giving their time to help others. She said it was a new currency, the currency of Love. Giving to others gives so much more back to you. Of course she said it so much better. It was the best service she had given since coming here. Of course, it was her first completely solo service, and with the place filled to standing room too.”

“She has been a huge asset to the church,” Rachael said. “I wonder if the Lord knew she was special and picked her to come to our town. She is certainly fitting in well. Everyone seems to like her, and I know the ladies auxiliary love her.”

After a quick lunch, Ruby and Darrel came to visit, and went up to Rachael’s room. Inside Darrel shed his boy disguise and became Darla. Ruby had brought her a bra and a few stockings shoved in the cups provided her with a small bustline. She borrowed one of Rachael’s t-shirts. Rachael’s jeans wouldn’t fit her, but she did fit into one of the smaller skirts in the closet. Darla was both thrilled and terrified at the thought of going out in public in a skirt. She didn’t wear hose but her legs were hairless. She easily fit into a pair of Rachael’s sneakers.

Rachael did her makeup, going slowly and explaining every step as she worked, and Ruby was working on her hair, taking a longish boy-cut and transforming it into a short, cute girl cut. It had to be all a matter of hair spray and combing, since Darrel would have to return for school tomorrow.

Finally they were done and went down stairs. Maria gave Darla an inspection and pronounced her as ‘So Cute,’ which really bolstered her confidence. Geoff, who was not aware of the Darrel/Darla situation, just got up and handed Rachael some cash, and said: “have fun girls.”

In the car Rachael was astonished to find that her Dad had given her $120. She had expected $40, but could tell it was more by the feel. She decided that someone deserved a big hug when they got home.

Ruby drove them to the mall, where she and Rachael had a massive job getting Darla to come inside. Finally they got the girl out of the car, and slowly led her into the mall, and then into a store. The further they walked without hearing “It’s a boy in a dress” the more confidence Darla got.

Their first step was a nail salon, where Darla had her ears pierced. They decided Darrel could wear a single hoop, like many other boys, and conceal the hole on the other side with makeup. Darla would now be able to wear nice earrings, and Ruby bought her several pairs, including a set of large hoops that she wore out of the store.

The rest of the afternoon was a shopping trip for all three. Ruby bought a skirt that Rachael claimed would drive JJ wild. And Rachael bought several new tops for herself. She had hoped to get into the lingerie stores, because she really felt she needed a new bra size, but Darla absolutely refused to go in, and the others didn’t want to press her any further today. But Darla was the reason for the trip, and once she had seen the other girls make purchases and try things on, she was more comfortable about getting things for herself. They did wind up buying two nice outfits for her Darla became more and more comfortable shopping. In the ladies washroom Darla slipped into one of the new outfits, and finally they went to the makeup counter and she had her makeup done by the expert. Rachael wasn’t sure that it looked all that much better than what she had done, but it definitely left Darla looking all girl: a girl with an expensive bag of makeup that she would never use if this plan didn’t work.

--- ----- ---

Hank and Donna Watson looked around the church where Ruby had asked them to wait. JJ Jackson was with them, along with their son Chuck. The smallish church had a lineup out to the steps, so they got into the line and slowly moved in.

When Ruby saw them finally go through the doors, she got out of the bakery van that Rachael had borrowed, and the other two girls followed. They walked into the church, using the other main entrance that lead into the church, which had no queue.

As they entered, Donna Watson saw them, and said: “There are Ruby and Rachael and …”

Ruby stopped to talk to her parents, while the other two girls carried on. There was a small wall in the lobby that hid one additional prayer rail from the waiting people. Gary was near it, keeping others away, and he stepped aside as Rachael and Darla kneeled on the rail.

Back in the lobby Hank Watson finally clued in on what he had seen. “Was that Darrel? Wearing a dress?” he raged.

“Of course not, Dad,” Ruby answered. “It is a skirt suit. It is cute on her, isn’t it?”

Hank just got redder and redder, and stepped out of the line and walked after the two girls. Donna followed, hoping that her husband would not cause a scene in the busy church lobby.

Hank was unconcerned about causing a scene or not. He reached the praying girls and was about to put a hand on Darla’s shoulder when Gary stepped forth and said: “Welcome sir. Have you seen our painting of the Lord?”

Hank glanced up, and then tried to get back to the business of dealing with what he thought was his son. But he couldn’t look away, and he finally slumped down next to Darla to pray. Donna looked at her husband’s reactions first, and then glanced at the painting. At that point Rachael stood, and Donna took her place with her husband and daughter. Rachael went back, and high-fived Ruby.

“It worked?” Ruby asked. Rachael nodded.

“What worked,” Chuck said. “And was that Darrel in drag.”

“No, that was your little sister, Darla, out of drag,” Ruby said.

“And Dad didn’t go nuclear?” Chuck said.

“That was what worked. The painting at the end of the lobby, the one everyone is in line for, works miracles. Rachael knows people at this church, and was able to cut to the front of the line. Right now Mom, Dad, and Darla are praying, and their prayers will be answered, at least in part. Darla won’t get everything she wants, but hopefully she will get support and a plan to save herself.”

“Save herself?”

“Chuck, on Friday at the Jackson’s she told me she thinks of killing herself almost every day. She has a girl’s mind in a boy’s body that is soon going to turn into a man’s body, and she is terrified. Can you support her?”

“He would kill himself? He … no, she … can’t do that. It would tear our family apart. It is weird, but I’ll do my part if it keeps him … keeps her alive.”

It was nearly 15 minutes later when all three Watsons got up from the prayer rail and Gary motioned others in the queue into the space. Hank had a blank look on his face, but Donna had her arm around her new daughter, and a smile on her face as they walked back to Ruby and Chuck.

“Let’s all go downstairs into the basement, where we can talk,” Rachael said, leading the family to a table down there. Everyone sat down, with Darla between her parents. Hank still had a stunned look on his face, and Donna still held Darla’s hand.

“I’m sorry for all the subterfuge,” Ruby said, but it is important that we do this for Darla’s fate. In a few months she is going to be hit with a massive dose of male hormones, and start to change in ways she does not want.”

“Weeks,” Donna corrected. “He told me that it is only a few weeks.”

“Anyway,” Ruby continued, “Rachael came up with this plan. I know Dad is very religious and would consider it a sin to have Darrel become Darla. We needed to get you to this church, where the painting would allow you to speak with … well, God.”

“He told me that it was not a sin,” Hank said. “In fact, those who say it is are the sinners. God said he treasures Darla, and that she deserves to live.” He turned to his daughter for the first time. “He showed me something. It was a few years in the future. Darrel looked about 16. Bigger, more manly. But he was in the big barn, hanging from a rafter, wearing a cheap dress. He was dead.” At that point Hank lost it, and started sobbing. “That couldn’t happen, could it?”

“Yes Daddy it could,” Darla said, starting to sob along with her father. “I am only surprised if I could last until 16.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” Hank cried. “We will make this work … Darla.”

“Oh Daddy,” she cried and flung herself into his arms as he sobbed. “I love you so.”

For two minutes, the two sobbed in each other’s arms. Halfway through Donna joined in from the other side. Finally Hank stopped crying. It was unmanly, and there were others watching. He pulled back and said.

“You are beautiful, Darla. Or you were until we started crying,” he said with a chuckle.

I knew that girl in the mall was putting on too much mascara, Rachael thought, as she looked at Darla’s raccoon eyes.

Darla didn’t know why everyone was smiling until Ruby handed her a compact mirror.

“Oh,” she said, looking at Rachael. “Does this happen often?”

“It can if you put too much mascara on, and then cry. I think your Dad’s white shirt is ruined too,” Rachael said. There was a pair of mascara smears on it, where she had sobbed into him.

“Oh Daddy, I am sorry,” Darla said. “Should I fix this?”

“Later,” Ruby said. “What we need to fix now is your life.” But Donna did go into her purse to pull out some wipes, and quickly removed much of the smudging as they talked.

Just then four more people came into the room. Rachael stood, and the smallest of the four propelled herself into a run, jumping on Rachael with a squeal. Darla was amazed. The little girl looked like a younger version of Rachael, with the same hair, the same blue eyes, and the same infectious smile.

Rachael introduced the Watson’s to the Stoners. Andrea, Bob, Mikki, and little Danni, who sat on Rachael’s lap when she sat down.

“I have invited the Stoner’s to this meeting,” Rachael said, “because they have some expertise in these matters. They have a daughter in the same situation as Darla.” The Watson’s all turned to look at Mikki, who reddened.

“Not me,” she said quickly. “Danni, my little sister, was a boy until a few months ago.”

“Nuh, uh,” Danni said. “I was a girl who had to dress as a boy. It is not the same.”

“But you are so pretty,” Darla said.

“You are pretty too,” Danni said. “But your eyes look funny. Were you crying?” Darla nodded. “I used to cry a lot, especially when my Daddy cut my hair. But I am much better now. I like your hair.”

“And I love yours,” Darla said. “It is so cute

“I’m going to let it grow longer. Do you have any dolls or animals?” Danni asked.

“You mean stuffed animals? No. I live on a farm, so we have real animals.”

“I brought you one of mine. Rachael gave me a doll, but she is my best friend. I talk to her when I am upset about something. But I brought you a bunny. You can talk to him when you are upset,” Danni said. Andrea took a stuffed rabbit from a grocery sack, and handed it to Danni, who passed it over to Darla.

“His name is Fred,” Danni said. “And he is a real good listener.”

Darla was sobbing again, and hugged the toy to her chest. “Thank you sweetheart, I don’t think anyone has ever given me a better gift.”

“Well, wait until you hear about the other gift she is giving you,” Rachael said.

“Danni is seeing several doctors right now, and it is very hard to get in to see one for a first consultation. It can take weeks, even months to get in,” Andrea said. “We are going to ask her gender specialist if you can take her place in this Thursday’s session. Hopefully, if you can make it, you can become a regular patient. Then they can get you on blockers before anything changes. You are so pretty now.”

Darla gasped. She could finally see a path to her goal. The sobs intensified. “How can I ever thank you enough,” she said.

“By being yourself, and by loving others. By being you. The young, beautiful woman you can be,” Andrea said.

“What I want to know,” Chuck finally spoke: “is how you have breasts now, and you didn’t this morning at church when you were in your suit.”

Ruby laughed, while Darla just reddened. “It is just a few pairs of panty hose,” Ruby laughed. “But I saw online that small inserts for $400 are much more natural.”

“$400,” Hank choked. But then the vision of a young body hanging from a rafter returned for only a second. “You will get whatever you need, honey.” He caressed Darla’s hair. “I suppose a new wardrobe will be needed too.”

“Not all right away,” Ruby said. “Darrel will have to go to school for the rest of the month, but Darla will change into her real clothes when she gets home, and on weekends.”

“I will still do my chores, Daddy,” Darla said. “But the cows will have to get used to me as a girl.”

“If you are feeding them, they’ll be completely fine with it,” Chuck predicted.

“What about Sundays,” Donna said. “She will have to wear boy clothes to church, won’t she?”

“Not necessarily,” Hank said. “Our family was Presbyterian until the 1920s, when all the churches united. We can move out of the United Church, and start coming to this church. No one knows Darrel here.”

“And even if they did, they would accept Darla,” Rachael said. “We will be glad to see you, although I have to warn you not to be late to services if you want to get a seat.”

“I want Darla to work for me in the new butcher shop this summer,” Ruby said. “And she can be a girl all day long there, once school is out.

“And September is high school for us,” Rachael noted. “I’m sure all the girls will accept you, if you want to tell them. If not then you will just have to get a PE exemption. The kids from your old school probably won’t even notice you, with all the new faces in the school. You’ll just be another girl. Another cute girl.”

The group broke up then, when Rachael saw it was nearing 7 p.m. She rushed home to dinner. Maria wore the chef’s hat on this day, and most of the meal was ready with a strong aroma that Rachael smelled even before opening the door.

There was company too. Mike was there, wearing a dark shirt, for the first time she had seen. Grandma Barron was there too, quietly talking about the old times with Grandpa, while Bobby quietly listened. Rachael immediately went over to kiss Grandpa, and then did the same to Grandma, to the surprise and delight of the older woman.

She then kissed her Dad, and finally went into the kitchen to help her Mother, who also got a quick kiss. “How did it go,” Maria asked, for she had been made aware of the plan, and had approved. Otherwise Darrel would not have been allowed into Rachael’s room with the door closed, while they transformed him.

“Perfectly,” Rachael said, as she strained the water from the potatoes, and started to mash them as Maria loaded other vegetables into serving dishes. “I was worried about Mr. Watson, but he was so good after he had seen the painting. Up till then I was scared. The Stoners came at precisely the right time, and I think they eased the minds of the Watsons a lot.”

She then recounted how Danni had stolen the show, making Maria chuckle when she learned how the little girl gifted Darla with the rabbit. Then it was time for dinner, and Rachael and Maria brought out the bowls and platters. Rachael went and helped Grandpa up and to his chair at one end of the table (Geoff sat at the other end) and Bobby helped Grandma to her chair next to him.

Maria went to the oven and brought out a paper bag of Clouds and put them in a wicker basket to pass around. Grandma had never had one, and was amazed at the taste. Mike merely sat proudly as compliments buzzed around the table while Geoff sliced the roast, which was a little more well-done than Rachael’s. Maria had a fear of trichinosis, and tended to cook things until well done. Rachael was just glad it was not a ham, which her mother tended to make into leather.

The conversation at the meal centered on the bakery at first. Grandma had only gone in rarely of late, and admitted that the busy pace of the place was unnerving to her. She much preferred the early days, when there was seldom more than one person in the shop at a time. Geoff snorted, noting that they weren’t making any money at the time.

Mike discussed the repairs to the molder. Geoff was supposed to stay away, but his curiosity got the better of him, and he had gone over at 3, to find his prized and essential machine in parts, strewn across the floor as Chipper and another member of the Army worked on it. Geoff was surprised that Gary was not there, but Chipper seemed to have things in hand. He said Gary had a chore at the church.

Things started going back together at 4, and the machine was ready for testing at 5. They turned the machine on, and it worked perfectly, although backwards. Chipper didn’t seem upset, noting that this can happen with a three-phase motor, and made a few adjustments to the motor. The second time it was turned on it ran correctly. Mike and Geoff tested that all the settings worked well. The machine was only about a third as loud as it had been, and when Mike tightened the rollers to their max it was so tight that the piece of paper wouldn’t go through. Before a quarter inch was the tightest that the machine would set, good for bread, but not for pies or pastries.

“So what will you be able to make with the machine now,” Rachael asked Mike.

“Pie crusts, for one. No more rolling them out by hand. And look for croissants next week,” Mike said. “They take a lot of work, but my croissants are so tasty.”

“You know, with all the new recipes we are getting from Mike, I think we will have to start having daily specials. We can’t make everything every day,” Maria said.

“Croissants would be good for Thursday or Friday, when we have the boys in to help Geoff while I make the pastries,” Mike suggested.

“Do you have any recipes that use meat?” Rachael asked. “Ruby is opening her meat market next door soon, and it would be nice to feature something from her selection.”

“Well meat pies are a bakery staple we don’t do,” Mike said. “We could do them one day a week. They use cheaper cuts of beef and pork in smallish tins. Does she do sausages? Small breakfast sausages, wrapped in a pie crust, always go over well.”

“Pigs in a blanket,” Rachael said. “I know she does make a sausage, but I don’t know the size. I will ask her on Monday after school, if she is in the new shop.”

“One thing,” Mike said. “There is a used restaurant equipment lot outside of London, and Chipper and I were going to head out there on Tuesday. That is my day off, right?” He looked at Geoff who nodded. “They have lots of display cases and general equipment. Chipper might be able to piece together some things for her at a great savings. Ask her if she wants to come with us.”

“I will,” Rachael said, and then entertained the party telling of her experiences during the day.

“My, this sex change thing is getting so popular these days,” Grandma noted. “It never happened back in my day.”

“Well, Grandma, maybe it did, but you just didn’t hear about it,” Rachael noted. “For a long time there was no way to treat gender dysphoria. And then for many years after it was considered a deviation or perversion, and not an illness to be treated. It must have been hard for them back then, but I suspect that there were just as many people suffering it. They just didn’t say so.”

“You know,” Mrs. Barron said, “when I was in high school there was this thin, short boy. We all assumed he was gay, and the other boys bullied him mercilessly. He committed suicide in Grade 11. Perhaps he was transgendered?”

“He might have been,” Rachael said. “Or he might have just been gay. That was considered just about as bad, back then, although they were a bigger group, and tended to have their own closed communities to support each other.”

Dessert was some new lemon pastries that Mike had made during the afternoon while the men were working on the molder. They too were delicious, and sparked Maria into running to get a pen and paper to start making a list of specials for the shop. Mike, Maria and Geoff huddled together at the table while Rachael did the dishes, with Grandma drying.

“I really enjoyed this,” Grandma said as she spent quality time with Rachael in the kitchen. “Before you came, Bobby sat on my lap and we took time reading to each other. It is so special having a little one snuggled into you. It took me back to when Geoff was that age. But his father and I were always rushing around, and didn’t take the time to enjoy it. Please promise me that when you have children you will take the time to spend with them.”

Rachael wiped her hands, and then wrapped them around the old lady, who went wide-eyed. “Thank you Grandma. It is advice like that can make us all better people. It is probably the greatest gift you can give us.”

Rachael went back to washing, and Mrs. Barron sniffled. “Such a sweet girl. I think I need to find a Kleenex.”

“In the dining room, next to the phone,” Rachael directed as she continued to wash. Soon her grandmother was back, still slightly teary-eyed, and finished the drying.

“Grandma, would you like to live here, with us?” Rachael asked. “We have one spare room.”

“No dear, although you are so sweet for asking,” she said. “But I really like my old house. There are memories around each corner. I get lonely sometimes, but I want to stay there as long as I am able.”

“Fair enough, but I don’t want you being lonely. Sunday dinners here are now going to be a regular thing. And Wednesday our church is having a community supper. You should come to that.”

“But that is not my church, dear.”

“It doesn’t matter. All are welcome. I want you to come, at least this Wednesday. If you don’t like it, that’s fine, but at least you tried. And Bobby and I will have to come over to your house to visit, at least once a week.”

“Oh my, to have little feet … and younger feet … running through that old house. That would be so nice.”

“Well, expect us after school one day soon. Your house is not so far away. We just have to take a different route home.”

The rest of the evening was spent in pleasant conversation. The bakery team had made up their list of specials, including many items that Mike had not yet made for them to test. Grandpa and Grandma were busy chatting, and Rachael and Bobby were reading Harry Potter. She couldn’t believe how far the boy had come in his reading. He could now read Harry Potter to her. It was a slow, halting read, but two months ago the boy could barely sound out words.

Eventually Geoff drove his mother home in the van, and Bobby had a bath to wash off his weekend grime. When Rachael took Grandpa to bed, he noted how much he had enjoyed chatting with Mrs. Barron.

“I think she liked talking with you too,” Rachael said. “I know she loved reading with Bobby. We will have her back every Sunday.”

“That’s good,” the old man said as he got his kiss on the cheek from Rachael. “I know what it was like to be lonely: before a little boy threw an apple core on my lawn, and his sweet sister made him pick it up and apologize. I haven’t been lonely since. If you were not visiting, you were coming, and that left me something to look forward to. And now you live here with me. You have made an old man very happy, Rachael dear.”

“And you have made an entire family happy, Grandpa. Thank you for being you.”

With everyone in bed at the end of a long week, Rachael kneeled next to hers.

Dear Lord

Thank you for a perfect day. We had a busy day at the church, but I really loved looking after the little tots and babies. I guess that will be a regular occurrence, but I don’t mind. In fact, maybe I won’t be a vet when I grow up. My arms are too short, and I am too weak to aid in the birth of a cow or horse anymore. But they fit just perfectly around a baby. Maybe I will look into Early Childcare Education as a career. Imagine getting paid to look after babies.

Thank you also for making Darla’s way a little easier. Having her parents support her should make a lot of difference. I’ll make sure she has friends too. Mikki knows now, and Robert, and surely we can get the rest of the gang onside.

And finally, thank you for giving me such a perfect family. I used to think that with just the three of us it was great. Then we added Grandpa, then Geoff, and finally Grandma, even if she won’t move in with us. Thank you for all you do for us.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

This makes six chapters in two weeks. I am going to slow down a bit, and aim for two more next week: Dawn.

MONDAY, June 6, 2016

One of the things the family had talked about at Sunday night was having a pizza party at the bakery Monday for the staff when they all came in to pick up their pays. Rachael suggested inviting Ruby and Darla to introduce them to everyone. On the way in to school Rachael popped in to the bakery with the additional idea that they should invite the employees to bring their families, as a kind of staff benefit.

She decided to stop in at Dasilva’s for a moment to ask Mamma if she had any of her tomato sauce for the pizzas. Inside there was a new face, a young woman of about 20 with a very thick Italian accent. It took Rachael a minute to explain that she needed to talk to Mamma, who finally came out. Rachael said they would be getting pizza fixings after school, and reserved three jars of the sauce. She hoped to take one and whatever was left of the second jar home.

At school, she found Byron and Angela waiting for her outside, holding hands. Rachael smiled, and then the others asked her to come into the library to see something. When they got there Byron opened his laptop, and showed Rachael a beautiful web page for The Bread Baron.

“That is gorgeous,” Rachael said, as he flipped from one page to another. The ordering page looked exactly like what they needed.

“It isn’t coded yet,” Byron said, “I need to get prices and product names from your parents before I do that.”

“We have been talking about weekly specials, where something is only available on one day of the week, or maybe two. Can you do that?”

“I wasn’t planning it, but we could do it in two ways. When people start an order we can have them select the pickup day, and only show the products that are available on that day. Or we could show everything, but have the products that are not available greyed out and unselectable.”

Rachael pondered. “If people can see something, and are not be able to pick it, it could confuse them. But if they wanted something not available that day, they would wonder why it doesn’t show up. Could we use the first option, but have a list at the bottom showing all the items not available that day. Then they might see their product down there and know why they can’t get it.”

“Yep. Can do. After I talk to your parents and get the okay, I’ll link the pages, write a SQL database, and write the php programs to make it all work,” Byron said.

“I know what some of those words mean,” Rachael said, looking at Angela. “Do you?”

“No. All I learned this weekend was that By is a genius, and a great teacher. He taught me a lot of HTML,” Angela said.

“And I discovered that Angela is a great designer,” Byron said. “In the past my pages have always looked boring and derivative. But Angela is really good with colors, and can make pages that pop.”

“Well those two really do pop,” Rachael agreed. “They look like a professional did them.”

“They were done by professionals. A and B Web Developers,” Byron said. “That is what we are going to call ourselves.”

Just then the warning bell rang, so the students had to hustle to get to their French class. PE followed, and then lunch.

“Who was the new girl in your store?” Rachael asked Tony at lunch. “I stopped in this morning. She sounded Italian.”

“Oh, that is Sophia, a cousin of mine, or Mammas, I’m not sure which,” he said. “Last week she got laid off from the grocery store she was working at in Toronto. She is not a citizen yet, and if she has no job she has to go back to Italy. So she came here. I have a lot of cousins in Toronto, and they think that because we own a store we are rich, and can give them jobs. Mamma is always telling them no, and they get upset.”

“The store is doing better, especially with all the people who see your signs in the bakery telling them to check us out,” Tony said. “But it is only so busy, and having one more mouth to feed will be hard on us. Two other cousins are doing drywall in Toronto and hate it, and want to come too. Italians are big on family, and it is so hard on Mamma to say no.”

“I have an idea,” Rachael said. “Can you and your parents come to the bakery right at 6, when the store closes? Come to the back door and just pop in. We are having a pizza night and I think I can help. Plus you will get to meet our new neighbors at the meat market.”

“Okay, I will ask them,” Tony said. “They are very interested in the meat market. They wonder if it will duplicate the things we sell.”

“I don’t think so,” Rachael said. “They are going to be selling fresh meat, chicken, and maybe fish. No cold cuts or prepared meats. Sausage would be the closest thing, but theirs will be uncooked, while yours are pre-cooked.”

After lunch, the girls started working on the credits to the movie, and to their surprise they finished a half hour before the end of class. Mikki proudly burned the video to a DVD and handed it to Mr. Churchill. He allowed the students to leave early, and Mikki and Rachael went to the new store to collect Ruby and Darla, who were hard at work sweeping and painting. Ruby wanted to have the store open by the end of the month.

They wrapped things up, and the four headed over to the bakery. On the way, Darla asked Rachael if she could wash up and have Rachael redo her makeup.

“And they thought you were a boy,” Mikki teased, but hugged her at the same time so she would not get upset.

“Sure. You are a bit dusty. Did Darrel go to school today?” Rachael asked.

“Just for the morning. Ruby got me out of afternoon classes. PE and Math, which I am really good at,” she said. “I went home and changed into this, and was helping Ruby. We mostly were going in to just decide where things would go, but it was so dusty after sitting empty after a year, we just had to sweep up and clean the window. And then the back wall really needed a coat of paint. I must look a mess now.”

“Not really,” Rachael said. “Although you forgot your other earring. This thing today is just casual for you to meet our staff and their families.” Darla took out the one earring that she had put in when in boy mode.

At the bakery, Rachael first introduced Ruby to Mike, who wanted to invite her to the restaurant supply yard tomorrow. Rachael and Mikki crammed into the small downstairs toilet to help Darla apply another coat of makeup, knowing that it would improve her confidence.

Then the three girls headed off to Dasilva’s to get fixings for the pizzas. Mamma Dasilva refused to charge for the sauce, since it was not a store product, and her family was going to eat the pizzas too. But Rachael did get her to charge for the meats, vegetables, mushrooms, and cheese that were to be toppings. Mamma promised that they would be there as soon as they could clear the store after six.

“Pappa, he wants to do his closing things first,” she said, “but I say ‘party first’ then we come back and clean up. We come as soon as we able.”

The girls went back to the bakery and took over the bread bench, preparing toppings. Mike had several pizza-sized Love bread doughs in the proofer rising, and was also working on one crust with a block of cheddar cheese. He was trying to make a stuffed crust pizza with the cheese in the crust. Ruby had finished talking to him, and moved over to help the girls, greatly easing Darla’s anxiety.

At 5:45 the pizzas were ready and went into the oven. The girls had made five, and Mike’s attempt was a sixth one. A bread oven is not as hot as a pizza oven, so it would take a half hour to cook the pies.

When Rachael had texted Maria at lunch, asking that the Dasilva’s come in, Maria had contacted the other shop owners in the plaza, and everyone else was coming, although only one of the librarians (Heather) was free. There would be 29 people there in total, counting two babies.

Geoff took off at 5:30, and went to Swiss Chalet to get two quarter-chicken dinners, then picked his mother up. She would keep Grandpa company for dinner. Bobby had been walking and feeding the dogs, and got a ride back to the bakery with his new Dad, although he looked hungrily at the chicken dinners. In the end pizza won out, and he was happy to go to the bakery.

The Stoner’s arrived at 5:30, with Danni making a bee-line to hug Rachael, and then Darla, to her surprise. Soon after Doug arrived with his mother and younger sister. Ariel came at 5:50, having no evening appointments. The men from the art gallery arrived right on time. They normally closed the gallery on Mondays and Tuesdays, but had driven in from their home in the country. Carol was still working but her husband and infant daughter (who Rachael immediately took from her dad) were next in. Jennifer and her daughter rode in with them, so Maria also wound up with a baby in her arms. A few minutes after six Heather arrived from the library, and at 6:10 the Dasilvas came in the back door. Everyone was introduced just before the pizza’s came out of the oven.

There were no chairs for so many, but Mike pulled out plastic buckets that lard and shortening came in. The 20 kg. pails made perfect seats. Kyle pulled some out for his family, and Doug made sure that seats were available in a corner for Ruby and Darla. Geoff unloaded the pizza from the oven, and it was perfectly done. Mike’s attempt at stuffed crust was a failure though, with cheese running out onto the pan.

“You’re cleaning that pan,” Geoff ordered with a smile, and Mike agreed, looking at the mess and saying: “I know what I did wrong. It will work next time.”

“Mmmmm, smells like home,” Mamma Dasilva said. Tony was sitting next to Sophia, translating for her, with Mikki sitting on his other side, holding his hand in a proprietary manner: at least until they each wound up holding slices of pizza on napkins.

After everyone had a first slice, and some had gone back for seconds, Geoff stood and welcomed everyone. “We decided last night to have a staff party to celebrate the recent success of the bakery, and to welcome the newest and final addition to our little plaza. Ruby and her sister Darla will be opening a meat market in the vacant unit, along with their brother Chuck, who you won’t see much of, since he will be doing the heavy butchering at the farm location of the current store. What is the store called?”

“It will be Chuck and Sisters Meat Market,” Ruby said. “A recent change from Chuck and Sister, due to Darla joining us.”

“I’m sure you will be selling Chuck, but will you be selling Sisters as well?” Doug quipped, and everyone laughed except Sophia, who chuckled after Tony translated and explained the humor.

“Now I want to turn it over to Rachael,” Geoff said. “She has another idea.”

“I’m happy everyone came,” Rachael said. “It is nice to get together like this, and I hope we can do it again. I’m sure there are a lot of ways that we can help each other in the plaza.”

“Well, I made my first sale for the new store,” Ruby said. “Mike has ordered sausages and the fixings for meat pies.”

“Exactly. And that is something else I had in mind,” Rachael said. “We had a smaller pizza party in the store a last week, and Carol noted that some late customers in the bakery wanted to order the pizza’s that we were making. Mom immediately kiboshed that idea, since we would be working around the clock. But Tony told me today that the Dasilva’s have cousins in Toronto who would like to work here in Ingersoll, and I thought that a pizza place at Dasilva’s would complement their existing business, if the cousins were to run it in the evenings, when the store was closed.”

Papa Dasilva looked pensive. “Thisa pizza is very good. Very Italian with Mamma’s sauce. But there isa no room in store for pizza oven and tables.”

“But it could work,” Tony said jumping on the idea. “You don’t need tables. In Canada people buy pizza to take home, or have delivered. We would have to make some of the vegetable bins smaller. Divide one bin for two products. Some things don’t sell fast enough to merit their own bin.”

“You would need an oven, a workspace, and storage. And a counter with a till up front,” Mike said. “If you used half the width of the store, and about 1/3 of the way back, there should be enough space for a takeout place. If there are no tables, you won’t need public washrooms.”

“We bring cousins in, where they live?” Pappa asked. “Tony sleeps on da couch already, Sofia is in his old room. Three, four more cousins: we have to put them on the floor?”

“Maybe not,” Rachael said. “Ruby: have you decided what to do with the apartment over your store?”

“No I haven’t,” Ruby said. “I was thinking about Darla using it, but it seems like she is going to be happy living at home. I know I will soon be living with JJ at Archie’s place. I could rent it out.”

“Perfect,” Mamma said. “One bedroom for da boys, one for Sophia and da girls. Tony getsa his bedroom back.”

“Pizza oven costa lotta money,” Pappa argued. “Where money come from?”

“Well, first of all, you buy used equipment at first,” Rachael said. “Mike and Chipper and perhaps Gary will be going to a used equipment place tomorrow. At least have them look at what is available, and what it will cost. Then you can make a budget and a business plan, and let the bank finance it.”

“Not the bank,” Geoff noted. “The credit union. When I was starting up I applied to three banks. One wouldn’t even give me a meeting. Bill Strong, the man who I think all of us dealt with to rent our places suggested I try the credit union. It turns out that he is on the loans committee there, and we got a loan there at a much better rate than the banks.”

“Signore Strong, help us with a loan, too,” Pappa said. “Maybe he give another one for pizza place.”

“When you meet with the loan committee, you need to take in pizzas for them,” Rachael said. “They will know it is a good product and you will get your money for sure.”

The group talked about the pizza place for a while, and general things as well. Ruby left her seat and came over to Rachael.

“Is that Doug character safe?” Ruby asked. “He has been chatting up Darla pretty hard over there. I don’t want her to get her heart broken so soon.”

“Doug is a great guy,” Rachael said. “He is practically supporting his mother and sister. Does Darla seem interested?”

“She does. That is what is worrying me.”

Rachael walked over and sat on the pail that Ruby had left. “Ruby says you guys are chatting. Are you interested in taking it further?”

Doug nodded first, and then Darla agreed. “You know Darla is only 14, Doug?” He nodded. “Doug is 16.”

“Oh,” Darla said. “He seems so nice.”

“He is. And in September we will all be in high school together. But we will be in Grade 9, and he will be in Grade 11.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Darla said.

“Look, our school has a movie night every Thursday, and we are closing the term with Rocky Horror Picture Show this week. I can get you tickets if the two of you want to come. Just remember it is all middle schoolers, Doug.”

“How much does it cost?” Doug said.

“I think the rich baker’s boy can afford it,” Rachael quipped. “We only charge $2 for a pop and popcorn. It is in the library at 7 p.m. on Thursday. Do you want to come?”

“Do you?” Doug asked gently. Darla finally nodded yes.

“Well I sure do,” Doug said. “Darla is prettier than any of the girls I know in high school, and talking to her she seems great. I’d love to get to know her better before September when all the high school guys will be asking her out. She might not like me: I’m just a poor kid from the wrong side of the tracks, but I’d like a chance.”

“You may be poor,” Rachael said. “And I know about being poor. But you are what my mom and I call ‘one of the good ones’.”

Doug had to leave soon after, and Rachael walked Ruby and Darla out of the bakery and back to their own store.

“Is it a good idea?” Darla said. “Going on a date with a boy, when I am still a boy at school?”

“You dress as a boy at school,” Rachael said. “You are totes a girl. Yeah, it is pretty soon to be dating, but Doug is a good guy. You just have to remember that if it starts to so somewhere, then you will need to tell him the truth.”

Darla looked horrified, and glanced at her sister, who nodded agreement.

“But that will only be if starts going somewhere,” Rachael said. “It might only be one date that means nothing.”

“But he would hate me,” Darla said. “A guy like that deserves a real girl.”

“Yes he does. And you are a real girl. And if he hates you for what you are, then he is not a good enough guy for you. But I know Doug, and I think he will accept you.”

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

Earlier in the day, at the church Gary was at the back of the building where the entire Hobo Army was working. On Saturday footing forms had been built after the sale, and after church on Sunday the forms had been filled with concrete, and were now set. A truck had been dispatched to the lumber store, and Skid was expected back soon with a load of supplies.

Just then Deacon Jefferson arrived, quite irate. In his day job as an insurance agent he had time to deal with church affairs, and now he was just returned from four days in Las Vegas where his company convention was.

“What is going on here?” he yelled at the workers.

Gary stepped forward. “We are building a fire escape for the balcony.”

“We can’t afford that,” the deacon said. “And we need a new roof before we spend any other money. You know that. I said you could spend up to $250 without authorization. And this is going to cost a lot more than that.”

“Actually it will only cost $250 of church money,” Gary said calmly. “Donations will cover the other $5000 Skid says it will cost. The men here are donating their labor. Materials are the main cost, although I had to get a building permit on Friday for $50.”

“A building permit? They usually take a month to get,” the deacon said.

“Not when the work is to remedy a fire marshal order. The work was approved immediately. It took them a half hour to find the order, but on May 22, 1997 the fire marshal closed our balcony because there was only one exit. It has been empty since then.”

“No one ever uses it,” Deacon Jefferson said.

“We had to put 300 people in there during the services yesterday,” Gary said. “We were taking a risk, but if the marshal comes by and sees we are working on a fire escape, he will be lenient.” Gary then pulled out his big guns. “We had 1078 attend the two services yesterday. The collection pulled in $4500. If the 300 or so people upstairs were paying the same rate as the others, then having the balcony open means we gained about $1200 more. In four weeks we will have paid for the escape.”

“Another thing I have done without your authorization is to keep the lobby open 24/7 for the past few days.”

“What? You left the church open and unattended at night?” the deacon said.

“Not unattended. And the extra eight hours brings in about $900. We take in about $2500 total during most days, although on Sunday it was over $4000. I have members of the Hobo Army taking shifts in the late hours to watch over things. There have been no problems since that fellow tried to rip off the collection box,” Gary said.

“Yes, that was just before I left. What happened to him?”

“He is working in a bakery and doing quite well, I understand. He plans to supply goods for the church dinner on Wednesday night.”

“He wasn’t charged? On whose authority?”

“Pastor Helen made the decision, and Rev. McNaughton backed her. The man prayed at the painting with Pastor Helen, and she was confident he could be saved. It seems he has been,” Gary said.

“I go away for four days, and all this happens,” the deacon said wearily. “Do you think we will have enough to do the roof soon? I got a quote of $35,000 two years ago, and I think our savings account for it is at nearly $10,000 now. But with all this new income, maybe we can finish it this year?”

“I plan to have it done next week,” Gary said. “We’d start it this week, but the weather channel predicts rain later in the week. We should have the fire escape closed in by then, but doing the roof would be a problem if it were started. There is usually a sunny week after a rainy one, so we will start on Monday, after next weekend.”

“The man I was dealing with said it would take two weeks,” the deacon said.

“Yes but he probably has a crew of four or six. I hope to have a crew of 12 or more, working both sides at the same time. And it will only cost $10,000 for supplies. The men will be donating their time. If you want, then we can get top quality shingles for $13,000.”

The deacon slumped down on a railing. “This is all incredible. For years I have scrambled to find money to keep this place going, and in a month you come in and we are awash with the stuff.”

“It’s not me, sir,” Gary said. “It’s the painting. It’s bringing people in to pray and some are coming back to services.”

“None-the-less, you are no longer just the church caretaker. I intend to have the board rename your title Facilities Manager, and we will come up with a suitable salary. You will be able to move out of that shed.”

“With respect sir,” Gary replied. “If it means leaving the shed I would decline the position. You see we are using that building for a headquarters for the Hobo Army. I have 15 of them sleeping in there now, and I feed them too, in the church kitchens. In return they work for the church. Most of them are out here now, but a couple are in bed now after working the night shift in the lobby. Paying for their meals is a lot cheaper than hiring attendants.”

“You have mentioned this Hobo Army before. Please explain.”

“Well, we have had a lot of street people, alcoholics and drug addicts, come to the painting. They wind up cured of their afflictions, and are so grateful that they want to help. Once the construction is done, they are going to go out into the community and help people. I have already started a list of odd jobs, and as soon as Skid comes back with the lumber, I’ll find out how many men I can have to go to homes and do the work. It is things like fixing a stuck door, a leaky faucet, a toilet that keeps running, a garden needing weeding, things like that. Simple for me or you, but for a senior they are a big problem.”

“And we are housing them here? And feeding them?”

“Well, I have set up eight triple decker bunks in the shed. Right now we have 15 staying, plus myself. And the cost of food for them is coming from the profits of the garage sale on Saturday. We are using the church kitchen. In return for that we get staff to man the lobby 24-7 as well as traffic wardens during services on Sundays,” Gary said. “I think we come out well ahead.”

“Was traffic bad on Sunday?” the deacon asked.

“Well, we had over 1000 to services instead of the normal 100 to 150. And that doesn’t count the people who just came in to pray at the painting. We definitely need to look at the parking situation. I have already heard that the lady in the big old house next door is upset.”

Just then Skid arrived in Gary’s old pickup with a load of supplies, and a truck from the lumber company was close behind. Members of the Hobo Army swarmed over the two trucks like ants on a honey crust, and in a few minutes all the materials were removed and neatly stacked in the gap between the church and the shed. Skid immediately started organizing the men and directing workers. There were five carpenters in the army, along with an electrician and a plumber, who had experience in construction. The men who had other professions, like Chipper the barber, assisted them.

“Well, I guess I will let you get to work,” the deacon said. “I always say ‘never let authority get in the way of progress’.”

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

After the pizza party was cleared up, it was nearly 7. The family went back to the new house, and there was a pleasant evening with Grandma staying until 9, when Geoff drove her home. By then both Grandpa and Bobby were ready for bed, and Rachael handled that. After Geoff returned, the girl ushered her parents up to their room. Mike might look after the crazy early hours (he had left the pizza party just before 7) but Geoff still needed to go in at 4.

Rachael spent the next hour working on the script for the movie, finishing it up. She would hand it in to Mrs. Cathcart tomorrow. She had heard more ‘fighting’ from her parent’s room, which made her smile, but it was quiet now.

Dear Lord

Thanks for the idea of the pizza place. I know where my ideas come from. And it was so great to get together with all the folks from the plaza. I wish Agnes could have been there from the library. I thought about saving a slice of pizza for her, but it was all cleaned up by that horde. I mean even Mike’s disaster was gobbled up. Bobby started it, and when he declared that it was tasty, in spite of looking horrible, others joined in and it vanished too.

It looks like Darla might have a boyfriend already. Let’s hope they take it slow and everything works out.

Bless all of them, all of my friends, and everyone from the plaza. And my family, and … well bless everyone please.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Fans of Rachael are going to be a bit disappointed in this chapter. She only appears for the concluding prayer: Dawn.

TUESDAY, June 7, 2016

Ruby was at her new store before 8, and shortly after she saw Gary’s pickup truck pull up outside. She exited the new store, and slid into the truck between Gary and Mike. Apparently there is a law that if there are two men and a woman in a pickup, the woman must ride in the middle.

It is a little over a half hour drive from Ingersoll to London, but the restaurant supply place was on the western part of the larger city, so they made it in 25 minutes. The place reminded Ruby of an auto wrecker’s yard, except with restaurant equipment strewn around the place instead of cars and trucks. In the middle of the acres-huge lot were three large barn-like warehouses. The foremost of these had a storefront, and inside they could see good quality equipment, gleaming and ready for sale. Ruby wanted to go in there first, but the men drove on out into the junkyard.

When you got into it, you saw that the place was not the complete chaos that it appeared to be from the road. There were little streets up and down the place, and equipment of a similar type was grouped together. Ruby’s dire need was for coolers and refrigerated display cases. She also needed a commercial air conditioner unit. The store came with a heating system, but not cooling. Gary had scouted out the building after the pizza party, and knew what was needed. He hoped to get a unit that would cool the store at least, but hopefully the apartment above as well.

There was a generator in the bed of the pickup, and when Gary parked near a series of display cases, Mike jumped out and turned it on. Gary started working his way through the displays. Ruby felt sick to her stomach. This was garbage. Many of the units had broken glass, and in all cases the dirty displays that had sat in the rain for months, if not years, were no longer white, but yellow. How could her customers feel that they were getting top quality meat out of cases like this?

Chipper had pulled a long extension cord out to Gary, and they began plugging the units into a generator and testing them. Some no longer even had refrigeration units, and those who did often didn’t work when plugged in. Finally Gary came to Ruby.

“Your new store is 25 feet wide. Ideally you want a 10-foot and a 12-foot unit, which will leave a gap of three feet to allow access from the front to the back,” Gary said. “What do you think of that one, and that one? They look pretty similar, although the shorter one is older and in kind rough shape.”

“Kinda rough shape?” Ruby said. “They look like garbage. There is no glass in that one, and the corner of the other one is all smashed up.”

“We can get a piece of glass easily enough,” Gary said. “And we have some body shop guys in the Hobo Army that will make it so that you won’t even be able to tell which end was smashed. They will repaint the entire thing white again, inside and out. There is no refrigeration unit in that one, and the other has one that just needs a real good tune up. We’ll pick up another good refrig. unit from another case. And we also need that.” He pointed to a compressor-looking device.

“What is that?” Ruby asked, hoping that the rusty old unit was not going to be inside her store.

“That is an air-conditioning unit. We need to find two more.”

“Three? Why?”

“That one will air-condition both the store and the apartment above. It is made by the same company that makes your heating unit, so it will fit in together. The other two? One will be for a walk-in cooler, and another for a walk-in freezer. The boys in the army will build the units for you.”

“Okay,” Ruby said, uncertain. Meanwhile Mike had found additional compressors, and Gary tested them and picked two more out of the five. Then they loaded all the items onto the truck, with Ruby’s farm-girl muscles helping out with the big display cases. They then drove around the property, and found a collection of rusty pizza ovens in one area.

“Excellent,” Gary said. “We will be able to piece something together cheap from that mess. What next?”

“Bakery mixers and ovens. Proofers too, if they have any that will go cheap,” Mike said.

Mike was not pleased by the mixers in the outside yard, but did find several ovens of the type he was looking for. There were also many old proofer units, and he was happy with those.

Nothing more would fit on the truck, but that was okay, since the pizza oven would have to wait for a decision by the Dasilvas. And Geoff and Maria would have to agree with Mike’s ideas for the bakery.

Back at the main store a short, obese man with scraggly long hair and pock-marked skin waddled out. He was chewing on the stub of a cigar that looked like it had last been lit in the last century. “Find anything out there?” he said, looking into the back of the truck. “Pretty good stuff you’ve got there.”

“Bullshit,” Gary said. “It’s all crap. You should pay us to cart it away for you. But we will dicker later. We need a good mixer. You got any inside?”

“Sure do. What size are you looking for?”

“A 300-quart, although I’d take a 240,” Mike said.

“Hobart?”

“Of course.” Hobart mixers are the industry standard, and it was crucial to Mike that they deal with those, because parts are always available, even for the earliest models.

“I’ve got a nice 300 for $25,000, and a 240 for $30,000. It’s a lot newer,” the cigar man said, leading Mike into the store. Ruby and Gary followed, with Ruby carefully avoiding the spot where the man had spat around his cigar without even taking it from his mouth.

While Mike and the man looked at the machines, which were both in good shape, Ruby and Gary explored the display room, which was much more inviting than its owner. Ruby fell in love with some refrigerated display cases that looked as good as new. The prices on them were not so good, ranging from $5,000 to $20,000. Gary wandered about, and fixated on a POS (Point of Sale) system in several cardboard boxes. It had several cash registers, and a jumble of cables, along with a computer that seemed to be from the 1990s.

“We might buy one of the mixers,” Mike was saying to the man as they walked back to the others. “Depends on whether we can get a good price for that load of crap in the back of the truck. We are also looking for a pizza oven, and will probably get that out of your scrap heap as well. And there was a proofer and a rack bakery oven out there we like. In other words, this isn’t a one and done deal, so give us your best price on what we have, and we will become regular customers.”

“I’ve kinda been toting up what you have in the truck,” cigar man said. “It is worth at least 10 grand, but I could give it to you for five.”

“Five thousand?” Gary snorted. “Are you high on something? That is a load of scrap metal, and you know it. It’s closer to $500 than $5000.”

The man spat again, and Ruby skipped away, moving to the other side of Mike. “Tell ya what,” cigar man said. “Give me three and you can drive it away.”

“Come on guys,” Gary said. “Let’s take this crap back to where we found it. This man doesn’t want to sell today.” He headed to the driver’s seat, and Ruby gladly got to her seat in the middle.”

Mike was at the door, about to get in, and he said. “Look, our limit today is $1000. But if you throw in that POS system in the store and we’ll go to $1200.”

“What?” the man gasped. “There are six registers in that lot, worth a grand each if you can get them to run.”

“If you can get them to run,” Mike noted. “I’m betting you can’t. Am I right?”

The man deflated a bit, and then nodded. “I’ll do $1250 if you have cash. If it is on a card I have to do $1300.”

“We can do cash,” Gary said, getting out of the truck. “That’s a fair price, and remember, we will gladly do more business with you.” He and the man went into the store to do paperwork while Ruby and Mike went for the POS stuff.”

“We can put two registers from this into your store, and one in the pizza place,” Mike told her. “The other three will go in the bakery: two in the store and one in the back where Maria does the phone orders. I’m pretty sure I’ve got a guy who can make it all work.”

The back was so full that only the box of cables would fit there. Ruby and Mike climbed into the cab, each with a box sitting on their lap. Gary was back minutes later with a receipt, and they headed back to Ingersoll. It took a full hour to make the return trip, because they took the back roads instead of the expressway. The last thing they wanted was to get caught up in the vacuum between two speeding semi trailers. Slow and sure got them back to the shed just after noon, and unloading was easy, with Ruby watching as a crew from the Army did the heavy lifting.

“When do you need the displays?” Gary asked.

“We are putting a floor down this week,” Ruby said. “Anytime after that.”

“There are at least two weeks of work on the cases,” he said. “It looks like the fire escape will be into finishing work after tomorrow. How many men do you want for the flooring?”

“What? You are going to help? I thought it would just be Darla, Chuck and I,” Ruby said. “Four?”

“Let us know when you get your wood in, and we’ll be there. I also will have three men, and myself, to build the cooler and freezer. And you will need a counter and a block for cutting meat, I bet. We can do that too.”

“Why are you doing all of this for me?” Ruby said, tears in her eyes.

“Because you need it,” Gary said. “Because we can. We have men who want nothing more that to pay society back for what they have been. We care and we want to help. It makes us feel good. It makes us feel we are worthy again.”

“Look,” Ruby said around her tears. “I have to go talk to Pastor Helen. I will have to talk to Chuck, but I think we will be donating several hundred dollars of meat for the supper tomorrow.”

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

Gary woke from a nap in the early evening. The men were all down in the church kitchen, getting their dinner. Chuck had delivered a huge order of meats from the farm less than an hour after Ruby called him, and all three fridges were packed. A small package of beef was left out, and the chef had made into a delicious stew. The chef had just joined the Hobo Army the day before. He had been chef in a top-flight restaurant in Toronto, but got hooked on cocaine, and then harder drugs, and finally had to return to Ingersoll, his hometown, to take advantage of the cost of living. He had prayed to the painting, and now was the cook for the Army, making delicious food that had the Pastors starting to eat with the men.

---- - ---- - -

Hans Vandereynd drove in a rage. His damned wife was drinking again, and had just finished a major shouting match with their daughter, leaving the girl in tears. Hans just had to leave. He would go out to check on the job sites. Of course, it was after midnight, and he wouldn’t be able to see inside any of the homes his men were working on, but he just had to get out of that house.

He was driving past the little church and felt a strong urge to stop and go inside. The sign said ‘always open,’ and he had seen someone go in as he drove past. He shook off the urge. Then his pickup died. The electrical systems just went dead and he had to wrestle the power steering to get the truck off the street.

He slammed the steering wheel. “This piece of crap is only four months old, and it does this to me,” he swore. He took out his cell phone, and discovered that it too was dead. He swore again.

The church will have a phone, he thought, and got out of his truck, locking it by hand when the push-button lock wouldn’t work. He stormed over to the church and entered.

There were three men standing nearby, and he walked up to them. As he did, he caught sight of the painting, and walked past them to it, entirely forgetting his need for a phone.

He dropped to his knees, but unlike most prayers, he sprung to his feet within a minute. He looked up in a panic, and saw Gary walking towards him. Gary had been unable to sleep, so had gotten up to check on the men in the lobby. He was now headed to the back door to go to the shed again.

“Help me. I need help,” Hans cried out in panic. “It is my daughter. I have to get home. My truck died.”

“Quick, through here,” Gary said, recognizing the man’s need. “My truck is right out here.”

The two got into the truck, and Hans gave Gary an address in one of the nicest subdivisions in Ingersoll. As they drove, Hans said that the painting had given him a picture of his daughter hanging from a rafter in his three-car garage. There was only a short explanation. “Hurry” was all the painting told him.

Gary was speeding, and running stop signs as they headed towards the subdivision, and eventually there was a police cruiser behind them, siren wailing and lights flashing. Gary ignored it, and continued towards the house.

“Do you have a garage door opener,” Gary asked as they neared the house.”

“Yes,” Hans said. As they neared the house he started to repeatedly click it, and as they pulled into the drive, the garage door started up. They could see a ladder fall, and then as the door was up completely they saw the body hanging from the rafter, just as Hans had described.

Hans ran to his daughter, and grabbed her legs, holding her up. Gary ran to the ladder, righted it, and was up in seconds, with his always-sharp knife slicing through the thin rope that held the girl. In a second he was through it, and the girl slumped over her father’s back.

The police officer was Steve, and he had planned to arrest the truck driver for not stopping, but as soon as he exited his vehicle and saw what was happening in the garage he called his dispatch to have an ambulance sent to the home. He then ran in to help.

Hans was sobbing over his unconscious daughter and Gary was doing CPR. “Call 911,” he said between compressions.

“Already done,” Steve said, and sure enough a siren could be heard approaching.

When the EMTs arrived, they took over from Steve and got the girl into the ambulance. Hans tried to get in too, but was refused.

“Sorry sir,” the female EMT said. “But protocol in attempted suicides is that the parents are not allowed to see the patient until after a doctor has seen her. If you come to the hospital in about an hour, you should be okay.”

Hans turned away, and watched the ambulance drive away. Then he turned and stormed into the house, shouting his wife’s name. Gary and Steve followed through the open door. They found Hans in the living room, shaking his wife roughly, and yelling “Lisa, Lisa. Look what you have done. Autumn is in the hospital and it is all your fault.”

Steve pulled the man back. His shaking was verging on abuse, and the officer was worried that blows might follow. Gary went and stood in front of Hans and said: “The painting. Remember the painting. We need to go back. You. Your wife. Your daughter when she is able.”

Hans slumped in Steve’s arms, no longer in a rage. He nodded to Gary. They went and roused Lisa, who was completely intoxicated.

“Should I take her?” Steve asked.

“No, they need to do this together,” Gary said. “I’ll take them in the truck.”

They drove back to the church at a much safer pace, but just before they got there Lisa threw up, with most of it landing on Gary. He didn’t get upset, just noted to Hans “the more of that she gets out of her system, the better.”

The two men led Lisa up the ramp, feeling that the steps would be a problem in her condition, and took her into the lobby. There were two or three other prayers there but Gary helped Lisa and Hans kneel down at a rail near the painting. He turned and saw that Helen had come in.

“Can you look after them,” he said. “I need a change of clothes.”

Helen nodded, and Gary darted off to his room. He was back within five minutes, carrying three bottles of water. He knew Lisa would need fluids when she finished praying.

He returned to see Helen kneeling next to the praying woman, who had vomited again. Helen was wiping the mess from the woman’s face, hair, and clothes. She wordlessly took a bottle of water from Gary and wet her own cloak to wash the woman. Gary stood back, and thought he saw a halo around Helen’s head. His mind flashed back to the Bible reading of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples before the last supper.

But it was Steve who was most affected by the event. He too saw a halo, and as he watched his girlfriend tenderly and lovingly wash the drunken woman he felt unworthy of her love. But his love for her seemed to double, and then triple as he watched. Finally he saw them rise. Gary handed the woman, now sober, the other bottle of water, and she drained it.

“Oh my, did I do that?” she said, looking at the mess around the rail.

“Don’t worry,” Gary said. “We will clean it up. I’m just glad you are feeling better. Now you have a daughter to see to.”

“Autumn?” Lisa said. “Why? What happened? It is like I was in a fog before, but now I can see clearly.”

“It has all been my fault,” Hans confessed. “I spent too much time on the business. I thought that making money, being able to buy things for you and Autumn was the right way to be a parent. But he told me otherwise. I need to give you and Autumn my time. You two are the most important things in my life. I have been a horrible husband and father.”

“We have been given a second chance,” Lisa said, taking her husband’s arm and feeling more love for him than she had felt in years. “Now let’s go get Autumn. Where is she?”

That left Steve and Helen in the lobby. Steve wrapped his arms around the young pastor, holding her tight. She took them to a clean rail, and eased the both of them down. They spent several minutes before the painting and when they stood Helen gasped. “We are married!”

“Yes. I felt it too,” Steve said. “I saw him standing before us. He put a hand on each of our shoulder’s and said: ‘You are now one.’ We have been married by Jesus himself.

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

Rachael enjoyed her family that evening. As usual, she was the last one to bed, and read for a while until she felt sleepy.

Dear Lord

Thank you for such a lazy, uneventful day. I needed that. Other than Paul and Pastor McNaughton coming by to ask for my help tomorrow nothing much happened. I’m sure we can all convince Paul’s mother and sister that they should come to Paul and John’s wedding on Saturday.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

No excuses for why this took so long. Enjoy: Dawn

WEDNESDAY, June 8, 2016

Today was a PD day at school, but while all her classmates slept in, Rachael had to get up at her regular time. John, Paul and Pastor McNaughton were coming by at 8:30 to pick her up. John and Paul had decided to get married on Saturday, June 18, and Paul really wanted his estranged mother and sister to come. They had disowned him five years ago when he came out of the closet, and when his father died soon after, the pair blamed Paul.

They lived in St. Mary’s, a town slightly smaller than Ingersoll, about a half hour to the north. They arrived a bit after 9 and Rachael went to the door. A woman in her mid 20s asked, and grimaced when Rachael said she was a friend of Paul. She did invite her in, and called her mother to the dated, but tidy front room.

“What did you want to tell us about Paul,” Jennifer, his sister asked. “Did he get AIDS?”

“Jennifer,” Mrs. Lenin said with a gasp of horror. “That is cruel.”

“No,” Rachael said. “He is getting married a week Saturday, and would like both of you to come.”

“To a girl?” Mrs. Lenin said hopefully.

“No. To his boyfriend John,” Rachael said. This was not going well, she thought.

“They are both sinners,” Mrs. Lenin insisted. “Our pastor says so.”

“Well, I have brought their pastor,” Rachael said. “He used to think that way, but changed his mind. I should let him tell you the story.”

Jennifer snorted. “Probably pastor of some rinky-dink New Age church with a mail order diploma.”

“Pastor McNaughton has been a pastor in the Presbyterian Church of Canada for over 50 years. His credentials, and his experience, are real. If you two are really Christians, you would listen to him,” Rachael said.

“Okay, where is this minister?” Mrs. Lenin said.

“Out in the car. I will wave him in,” Rachael went to the door waving once, and holding out one finger. Three fingers would have meant all three should come in, while two would mean Paul and the pastor. John and Paul sat in the car, realizing that things were not going well.

Pastor McNaughton was brought into the house, and he sat on the sofa and explained his near-death experience.

“So you went to heaven,” Mrs. Lenin said, clearly impressed by the story.

“To the gates of heaven,” the pastor clarified. “And I was told that the Bible is only a guidebook to be followed, with different books giving rules to be followed at different times. They told me that gay people were creations of the Lord, and should be loved as all other creations of His are.”

“Listen to the man, Pipken,” the pastor said, but in a different voice: a voice that both mother and daughter recognized. Pipken was the pet name that Mr. Lenin used to refer to his wife.

“Jason? Is that you? How …?”

“The pastor is a good man, and he allows me to use his earthly form from time to time,” the voice said. “What he says is true. When I first came here I had to repent my sins.”

“You were no sinner, Jason,” Mrs. Lenin said. “You were a good man.”

“A man who shunned his son,” the voice said. “Kicked him out of the house … out of the family, just for being the man whom the Lord created. That was a sin, and I still repent it, although in His wisdom He has accepted me into heaven.”

“So I … we should accept Paul?”

“What is in your heart?” the voice said.

“I … I want my son back,” Mrs. Lenin said, bursting into tears. Her daughter and Rachael embraced her, and both were soon crying too.

“He is in the car outside, with John,” Rachael said.

“John? That man? I can forgive my son, but I will never forgive the one who led him into that lifestyle.”

“You must,” the voice said. “John didn’t lead Paul anywhere. They are both men that the Lord created. If you want Paul’s love, you must give John your love unconditionally.”

“Yes. I must,” the woman sighed. She wiped her eyes as she told Rachael and Jennifer to go let the others in.

Rachael waved a three from the door, and a smiling Paul and John left the car and came to the house. When they got into the living room, Lena and her husband were chatting. Paul recognized the voice.

“Dad?” he asked.

“Yes son. I can’t speak much longer. The pastor needs to take control again. I just want to tell you that I approve, and I will be at your wedding, whether or not your mother or sister attend. The man you love is good, and you will do well with him. And as your family grows, he will show it.”

Then Pastor McNaughton shook himself, and spoke in his normal voice: “It happened again, didn’t it?”

Rachael nodded, yes, and much was accomplished.

They spent an hour and a half visiting, and over that time Jennifer and her mother got to know John, and found they liked the jolly man. At one point in the discussion, John noticed that there was a photo that was clearly of Jason sitting on an end table.

“Your husband?” John asked Lena. “He looks like an interesting man. I wish I could have known him.”

“Yes. He was a good man, in spite of his faults. Our faults,” she said.

“Those are long forgotten. I wonder if I might borrow this photo for a while. I would like to paint a portrait of the man, if I could. For a Christmas gift,” he glanced at Paul.

“He would love that,” Lena said, looking at her son who was chatting with the pastor at the moment. “Take it. I think we have a negative for the picture, and can have another made.”

The entire family posed for a new photo, with John included with the other three. Rachael took it on her cell, and immediately emailed a copy to Jennifer. They agreed to meet in just over a week, when the Pastor was planning to wed the couple on a Saturday.

John wrote out a check for $2000 and handed in to Jennifer: “I know that money is tight for college students, so this should help with the cost of dresses and the like. It will be a casual wedding, and many of our friends from Toronto will be wearing jeans and the like. But I would like my new family to look nice, so treat yourselves.”

Jennifer was amazed at the generosity of the man, and decided at that moment that this was her new brother-in-law, no matter what the pastor of her church says.

There were kisses and hugs all around before they left, with the Lenin’s promising to visit the gallery and the church in Ingersoll soon. A half hour later, the four were at the church where Rachael and the pastor got out. They wanted to see how preparations for the church dinner that night were coming.

They were only downstairs for a few minutes. The basement was set up with tables and wonderful smells were coming from the kitchen, where the chef was prepping the church dinner later in the night.

Pastor Helen came across to them. “Thank goodness you are back. Mrs. Winchester, who lives in the big house next to the church, has complained about the parking situation on Sunday. Apparently her lane was blocked in, and she had difficulty getting out to her ride to her church. We promised to come over and work it out for her.”

“I’ll be right there,” Pastor McNaughton said. “We should bring Gary along.”

“And Rachael too, if you don’t mind,” suggested Pastor Helen. “She has a way with older people.”

“That’s for sure, the elder pastor said. She certainly did a good job for us this morning.”

Rachael ran and found Gary in the shed, and the four of them went to neighbors house. Along the way Rachael stopped in the kitchen and packed a small bag with some of the goodies that had been donated by the bakery.

Mrs. Winchester took some time answering the door, and when she finally opened it, Rachael could see why. The lady was nearly as old as Grandpa, and had definite mobility problems. She used a walker to get around.

“Hello, madam,” Pastor McNaughton said formerly. “We are from the church next door, and we understand our large crowd last week caused you some problems. We want to make sure you are not inconvenienced again.”

“Oh do come in,” the frail old lady said. “It is so lovely of you to come and see me. I usually only get out on Sundays for church. I am Baptist, you know, and one of my former students drives me in every week.”

Pastor McNaughton introduced himself, and then: “Pastor Helen McFarland, our junior pastor, Gary Sovey, our properties manager, and Rachael Barron, one of our youth members.”

“Oh dear, I suppose you would all like a cup of tea?” the lady said. “I so seldom get visitors at my age.”

“Let me come in and help,” Rachael volunteered, and followed the woman into her kitchen, and pretty much made the tea herself, with the woman only pointing out where things are. She took out the goodies from the bakery and spread them on a platter, and popped some Cloud rolls into the microwave for a quick warm up. During the 10 minutes she spent in the kitchen, she became friends with the old lady, who apparently remembered Grandpa from her youth. She was in grade four when he went overseas, and told stories that Rachael would later be able to recount to him. As they walked back to the parlor, with Rachael carrying the platter, she got an idea.

“Do you have plans for this Sunday?” she asked. “I usually make a roast on Sunday and I’d love it if you could come. Grandpa will enjoy talking with you about the old days. I can have Dad pick you up at 7, and we will have you home well before 10.”

“Oh my, dear,” she said. “I haven’t been out in every so long. I don’t know Mr. Verdun all that well, but yes, I would love chatting with him. You are so kind.”

Rachael poured, and urged Mrs. Winchester to try a Cloud roll. “Why these are delicious, dear,” she said. “Where do you get these?”

“My father runs a bakery on London Road,” Rachael said. “We just started making these. And all the other goodies here.”

From that point the meeting went well. Gary explained that he would have a member of the Hobo Army at the house all day Sunday to prevent people from parking in her lane. The woman was thrilled at the accommodation being made for her. She even promised to have the woman who took her shopping once a month to stop at the bakery, especially when Rachael raved about Dasilva’s store, and the coming meat market.

Gary took a long shot: “Have you ever considered moving to a nursing home, madam? Then you would need to worry about shopping trips, and there is probably a bus service to your church.”

“I don’t think so, young man,” she said. “You see, I have my roses here. I haven’t been able to tend them for the past few years, but they are like my children, and I couldn’t just leave them.”

“I saw some roses as we walked in. Next to the porch,” Gary said. Rachael had noticed them too. There were a few nice blooms, but the bushes hadn’t been pruned back in years. They must have been spectacular when they were tended.

“One of my men is pretty good at gardening,” Gary said. “I could have him come over and prune them back for you, if you want.”

“Oh no.” The woman seemed offended by the thought. “Someone else doing my roses? I couldn’t do that.”

“Well, that is your decision,” Gary said. “But if you change your mind, just ask for Kevin Ripley.”

“Young Kevin?” Mrs. Winchester said. “He was a student of mine in Grade 8. And later he joined the Horticultural Society when I was still active in it. I taught him everything I know about roses. He certainly can prune them if he wishes.”

“One last thing,” Rachael said as she got to the door to leave. “We are having a church supper tonight. Some of the people who are coming are homeless, but the congregation is also invited. And even though you are not a member of our church, we would love to have you. After all, you are closer to the church than anyone else.”

“Oh my. Two dinner invitations in one week,” the lady giggled. “I would love to come. I can probably walk there, if someone comes to help.”

“I will come myself,” Rachael said. “What is a good time for you? We are serving from 5 p.m. until 10, or as long as the food lasts.”

“Oh my, 5 is a bit early for me. Six or Six thirty would suit me, if it is no trouble.”

“I will come by at six,” Rachael said. “If you are not quite ready, that is fine. In fact, I might be able to help you. I know Grandpa has a terrible time with buttons.”

The four walked back to the church, and Gary saw Kevin Ripley working on the church landscaping. He spoke a few words, and then Kevin headed over to the big house with pruning shears.

It was still just a bit after 2, so Rachael was surprised to see her mother in the kitchen, making sandwiches.

“How did you get away from the bakery so early,” Rachael asked in amazement.

“Wednesday’s are our slowest day,” Maria said. “Carol will stay until close, and Geoff and Mike will be here shortly thereafter. I suggested she have her husband come by and they can have dinner here.”

“And the baby,” Rachael let out a squeal. “That will make it fun.”

The plan was for all of the homeless to get a sandwich or two to take home, as well as their hot meal. The chef had large roasts in two of the ovens, and two more in fridges. It was going to be a simple country meal with sliced roast beef, donated by Ruby, potatoes and carrots donated by the Dasilvas, and bread, rolls, and desserts donated by The Bread Baron. There were also pies: Pastor Helen had started her cooking group, with several of the older ladies teaching the younger ones how to make pies.

There were 21 homeless men at the door when it opened at 4:30. Gary told them that they could come in early if they would pray at the painting before the meal. The Hobo Army had a large collection of water bottles out, knowing that the alcoholics in the group would be thirsty when the liquor was released from their systems. Gary explained that anyone who prayed first, was allowed seconds, as well as the packaged sandwiches to take home. Even the most irreligious in the group decided that it was worth five minutes praying.

But most of them spent 20 or 30 minutes at the painting, and all came out as changed men. Members of the Army were there to explain things, and most wanted to join. They were told to stick around at the end of their meal.

The first men came down right at five, and went through the cafeteria type line. They were amazed to find that the people serving, including Maria, were polite and friendly, which was not always the case in soup kitchens. What was really amazing was the portions. There was no limit to the carrots and potatoes, and up to three thick slices of beef. It turned out that only 1 in 10 needed to go back for seconds, although most had two or three desserts.

At five to six Rachael slipped out, and went next door. The first thing she noticed was that the rose garden had been pruned, and looked wonderful.

Mrs. Winchester was not ready, and Rachael slipped in the door when she heard the lady call for her to come. She was upstairs, in her room, struggling with a dress.

“I can’t quite reach the snaps,” she said tearfully. “I used to be able to manage this myself, but I am just getting so feeble. Maybe I should go to a home.”

“I hear the one down near the river is quite nice. I spoke to Kevin, and he said that he could transplant your roses if you wanted. You really can’t see them from the house where they are. If they could be transplanted locally, you could probably get them transplanted to a home where you could enjoy them. Kevin says he intends to look after them wherever they are.”

“He is such a sweet boy,” the lady said. “We had such a nice long chat. He gobbled down some of your sweets, I am afraid.”

It was 6:30 when they got to the dinner, partly due to the slow walk in the walker, but also because Mrs. Winchester had spent nearly 15 minutes admiring her roses.

They walked up the ramp to the lobby, and Rachael helped her stop and pray at the painting. Then they walked down the back stairs, where the walker would not slow down others. Rachael was surprised to see the hall nearly full. Mrs. Winchester took her walker through the line, telling the servers what to put on the plate that Rachael carried. After they got a slice of lemon pie that Pastor Helen said she made, they headed back to the tables, and found Kevin Ripley just finishing his meal. Rachael sat Mrs. Winchester there, and gathered Kevin’s plate and silver to take back to the crew of the Hobo Army who were washing dishes. She then took another slice of Pastor Helen’s pie to Kevin, who enjoyed a second dessert as he chatted with the lady about her roses.

Rachael then left, looking for Carol and her baby. She didn’t see her, but saw Gary sitting at a table chatting with Ali Weller, the single mother whose children had made babysitting on Sunday so much fun for Rachael. Little Annette squealed in joy when she saw Rachael approach, and baby Dory held her little hands out to the girl, wanting to be picked up. Rachael didn’t need to be asked twice, and immediately picked up the girl. There was a half full bottle in the car seat that the baby was in, and Rachael immediately got the girl sucking on it.

“This is such a wonderful meal,” Ali said. “I was just telling Gary here that we don’t eat this well at home, even on Sunday’s. This is the best meal we’ve had in a long time.”

“Well, we don’t know if it will always be so plush,” Rachael said. “There were a lot of donations this first week. But we can guarantee that you and the children will be looked after.”

“And not just on Wednesday’s,” Gary vowed. “This young lad is Luke, and I was just telling him about the bike that I fixed up for Bobby. I’m pretty sure that there is one in the shed that would be the perfect size for him.”

Young Luke’s eyes widened, but then his face darkened. “But I don’t know how to ride a bike,” he said sadly.

“Well, you are in luck,” Gary said. “Because this bike comes with lessons.”

Luke pretty much flew off his chair to embrace Gary. “Thank you so much. I know Mamma can’t afford one, so I never asked for a bike. I kept hoping Santa would bring me one, and now you say I can have one. I love you, Mr. Gary.”

“Well, hugs like that are why I love doing things for people,” Gary said. “Now if you are done with your dinner, take your plate, and your sister’s, to the dishwashers over there.”

“That is Bobby, over there,” Rachael pointed. “Head over there and tell him that Rachael said you guys can go for a little walk outside. Not too long, your Mamma will want to head home soon.”

“Can we have a story?” little Annette asked.

“Will you turn the pages for me?” Rachael asked back. “I’m going to keep getting cuddles from Dory, so long as your mom lets me.”

“Enjoy her,” Ali said. “I get her enough during the day. And it is so nice having an adult conversation for a change.” She looked at Gary, and Rachael thought she saw a special spark of interest in her eye. She decided to leave the two alone for a while, and took the girls to the nursery to find a book.

Twenty minutes later there were a dozen toddlers and small children surrounding Rachael as she read from the five books that Annette had picked. When she finished the last one, those who had joined in late clamored to hear the first one again, and it was nearly an hour that Rachael spent reading with the kids. Finally she had to let them go, since Mrs. Winchester might be tiring.

As she approached Gary and Ali, Rachael thought that there was now a spark in Gary’s eye. Ali, on the other hand, looked like she was in love, staring raptly at the rugged man. When Rachael returned the sleeping baby to her car seat, and told them it had been over an hour, they looked startled that they had been talking for so long. Bobby and Luke showed up, and Gary announced that he would drive them all home in the Pastor’s car: there not being enough room in the truck.

Rachael went over to Mrs. Winchester, and found her chatting away with another woman nearly her age. She did agree that it was time to go home, and Rachael patiently waited for her to get ready and walk to the back stairs. She chatted non-stop, clearly thrilled with her evening out.

“Kevin gave me a nice long chat, and then introduced me to Ella Scott. She lives in the home by the river you were telling me about. Did you know that the church sent a bus to pick up anyone who wanted to come? Some were from the church, but Ella just saw it as a night out. She told me all about the things at the home. It sounds like a lovely place. There used to be a garden there, but they had to stop it when they cut back to one gardener from two.”

“I bet if you moved there, Kevin would organize some of the men to do the gardening work to make a resident’s garden. And if you plant some fruits and vegetables, that would save the home’s kitchen from having to buy as much. They would be saving money, and you would be getting fresh food.”

“Oh my,” she said. “I was just thinking about the fresh tomatoes from my own garden. They were so good. I really need to look into that place. Do you think that you would come along? I’d like that other young man … Gary? … also, but it helps to have a woman come to see what is needed. Would you?”

“I would love to,” Rachael said. “Now, would you like for me to come in? You are going to need help with that dress, aren’t you?

Rachael went in and not only helped with the dress, but also helped her into her pajamas, and brewed her an evening cup of tea. Mrs. Winchester wanted Rachael to stay with her, but realized that the girl had to get back to the dinner.

Rachael went back, and found the place was still busy. Many of the parishioners had come to the dinner. It was “Pay What You Can,” and while most of the homeless had paid little or nothing, the parishioners were putting tens and twenties into the collection box. When Maria, Geoff, and Rachael finally sat down to eat, they found out why. The beef was perfect, and had been covered in a layer of spices that took it out of the country-style mode and into the gourmet restaurant level. The carrots were especially tasty, and were glazed in a sauce that made them almost like candy. The mashed potatoes would have been average, but the beef gravy (Maria said the Chef insisted it be called sauce, and not gravy) was so smooth and flavorful that it also was gourmet class.

Geoff put $30 into the collection for the three meals, even though the Hobo Army man standing by said that workers didn’t need to pay.

The last meal was served at 9:45 and it was nearly 11 before everything was cleared up. All the workers agreed with Pastor Ruth that the night had gone well and everyone wanted to do it again the next week. The collection had brought in over $600, enough to buy meat and supplies for the next week.

Gary, who had spent more than a bit of time at the Weller house when he drove them home, was amazed that he now had another 100 members in the Hobo Army. Most of them would have to go back to their hostels for the night, but those who had been living hard on the streets were invited to the shed. That was good, since Gary had found a lot of small tasks that needed to be done at the Weller house, and had promised to have a crew over the next morning to get started on repairs.

At home Geoff drove his mother home. Next week, he planned to make up two take out meals from the dinner and bring it to them. They had enjoyed their chat, along with a chicken takeout dinner.

After all were in bed, Rachael prayed.

Dear Lord

What a busy day. Did you know I would be so busy, and arrange for it to be a PD day at school? I was so glad that Paul reconciled with his mother and sister. Family are so important to life. They were a bit cold toward John at first, but his cheerful nature won them over.

Thank you for letting me get to know Mrs. Winchester. She is a dear. I think if she does move into that home, I will have to go visit her regularly.

And thank you for making the dinner such a success. That Chef is incredible. I don’t think it will be long before he is working in a classy restaurant, now that he has licked his drug problem. And now there are so many more members in the Hobo Army. I hope Gary can find things to keep them all busy.

And Gary and Ali? Is it love? I hope so. Gary is so good with kids. Bobby loves him, and I think Luke does too. He deserves her, and she deserves him, and a better life for herself and her kids.

Thank you for making this little part of the world a better place.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

This should make up for the long gaps between chapters before: Dawn

THURSDAY, June 9, 2016

On Wednesday night Gary got over 100 new members for the Hobo Army. However there were also several women who prayed at the paintings that evening.

Three young streetwalkers were out early on Wednesday night, and with a lack of customers at the early hour and the normally slack day for that business, they wandered quite a way from their normal downtown beat. They were about to turn around when a street person approached. Normally they ignored his type. No money.

But this fellow mentioned that there was a free dinner at the church just a few more blocks to the west. They decided to go, even though in an hour or so they would start craving a dose of drugs from their pimp, and he wasn’t likely to be happy if they hadn’t brought in any cash.

The little church was cute and well looked after. They ambled in. There was a man in the lobby who approached them. The girls expected to be asked to leave, but instead the man welcomed them sincerely and told them that there was a meal going on downstairs, but would they like to pray at the painting first? They all looked up, and were drawn to the painting, and the man gently led them all to prayer rails.

They prayed for nearly a half hour, and finally rose. They were all in tears, ruining the thick mascara they wore. They were approached by a young woman named Pastor Helen, who led them to a washroom. Minutes later, they exited, with mascara and all other makeup removed.

As they went down the back stairs and entered the dining hall, one of the Hobo Army said “Hubba, hubba” at their scanty outfits.

“Jason Knight,” Pastor Helen scolded. “These young ladies are our guests, and should be treated as such.”

“Sorry, Pastor Helen,” the man said contritely. “May I escort you to the serving line?”

Jason seemed chastised, and Pastor Helen watched as he politely led the women through the line and then to a table before returning to his duties, while keeping an eye out on the other diners to make sure that no unwelcome men approached the table.

When the women had eaten, Pastor Helen returned to them and sat down as they ate their desserts. “I can’t believe it,” the busty redhead said. “I don’t feel any urges for a dose of coke.”

“And you won’t, ever again,” Pastor Helen said. “Now I have been talking with Gary, our property manager, and we have come up with an idea. I assume none of you want to go back to your former life. Is that right?”

“Yes ma’am,” the woman said. “My name is Temptat … no, it is Jane. This is Sunshine,” she gestured to the tall blonde who corrected her by saying “Beth Anne,” and this is “Running Dove.” The third girl was a First Nation’s member, and slightly chubby compared to the others. “They let me keep my real name,” she said.

“Well ladies, it turns out that we have a place for you to stay tonight. I recently married, and moved out of my house to be with my husband, although a lot of my stuff is still there. You can stay there. There are two beds, and the sofa.”

--- -- --- --

Carlos Murrez was properly pissed off. Three of his girls had not come back to the house this morning. It was 3 a.m., and by now they should be in major withdrawal and crying for a dose. In the past clients had occasionally given coke to the girls to make them more compliant, but for the past month Carlos had added opiates to their doses, which should have pretty much disabled them by now. Yet they were not at the house. He would have to go looking for them.

Carlos checked the trackers. He had put these on the phones of all three. None of them were answering either voice or texts. At least all three were in the same direction so he headed that way.

He parked on the street outside a tiny house. He looked in and saw movement behind the drapes. It was clearly Running Dove, perhaps making a trip to the washroom. He got out of the car and walked towards the house, his anger growing as he went. What the hell had happened to half of his stable of whores that led them to this cute little house far from their normal track?

Carlos took a first step up to the porch and his hand extended to try the door when a voice spoke out. “Can I help you, sir?” It was Jason Knight. “I don’t think this is what you are looking for,” said another voice approaching from the other direction.

“Those are my girls, and I’m taking them back to the house,” Carlos said angrily.

“I don’t think you look old enough to be their father,” a third voice said. Carlos spun around, and saw that man standing a few feet from him, while a fourth man was nearer the road, on a cell phone. All four men were dressed identically, with navy t-shirts and beige trousers.

“They work for me, smartass,” Carlos retorted. “I’m taking them back with me.”

“I believe they have all quit,” Jason said. “They no longer work for you.”

The men argued for a few more minutes and suddenly the door opened. “Go home Carlos,” Beth Ann said. “We no longer want anything to do with you.”

“Maybe you can quit me,” Carlos said with a smile as he reached into his pocket. “But can you quit Miss Cocaine here?” He held up a small plastic baggie with the white rock in it.

“We have been cured,” Jane added. “Your drugs have no allure for us. We have been given a second chance, and we are not going to blow it.”

“You’re coming with me, and that is final,” Carlo said, reaching out to grab his most lucrative streetwalker by the wrist. But before he could touch Jane another hand grabbed his and pulled it away. It was Jason.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” Jason said. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Now.”

“Who’s going to make me go,” Carlos said. “You four and what army?”

“This army,” a voice said. It was Gary, and there were another 15 men with him, with more coming down the street from the church.

“Dammit,” Carlos said, and he pulled a Bowie knife from his belt, waving it dangerously. The men all backed off a bit.

“Come with me,” Carlos said, making another grab for Jane, who danced back. Carlos moved to follow, when the second guard stepped forward, shouting “No.”

The knife flashed, and red could be seen on the shirt of the man. The blow was not deep though, when an 18-inch pipe came swooping down and wacked the pimp’s wrist hard enough that everyone could hear bones cracking. Carlos screamed, and dropped the knife as he fell. The stabbed man also fell to his knees, and one of the other men who had come from the shed approached him. Gary recognized him as Wally Smythe. He was a registered practical nurse who had gotten hooked on drugs at the hospital before being fired. He was the best person to look after the injured man.

Just then Officer Steve and Pastor Helen arrived from their house down the street. The constable handcuffed the man, who screamed anew when the cuff was placed on his injured wrist.

An EMT is on the way, he told the men, while Pastor Helen slipped into the house where the three women were clearly distraught over the incident. A moment later a police cruiser stopped, and Officer Velma Cierra came up to get briefed by Officer Steve. Perfect, he thought. The man is a pimp and it will be a woman who takes him in.

The ambulance pulled up, and took the stabbed man and Wally to the hospital. One EMT asked Steve is he wanted a second unit sent for the man screaming on the ground. “No. Take these to the hospital. I don’t want them travelling together, and we need to do some things first. Come back when you finish with these, and meet us over at the church.”

“Okay,” the EMT said. “You better take that cuff off. It might damage the wrist more.”

“Will do,” Steve said sadly. He had wanted to keep the man in pain, but now that the EMT had warned him he was forced to comply, or face charges of police brutality. He unlocked that cuff, and then attached it to his own right hand. Carlos was hauled to his feet. Gary ordered eight men to stand guard over the house, plus two more to escort Pastor Helen back when she was done. The rest of the men formed a circle surrounding Carlos and Steve, with Officer Velma walking 10 feet behind, with her hand on her service revolver holster.

In the church Carlos was led to the lobby, and made to look up at the painting. He stood there for ten minutes, chuckling to himself. It was not the reaction his captors had expected. He was moved closer until he was right at the front of the painting. He continued to laugh.

Pastor Helen arrived, and was surprised to find the pimp defiant, not contrite. She dropped to her knees in front of the painting, and then swiftly rose.

“It didn’t work,” she said. “He is very upset. He says that he cures by going into a person’s heart, and using love. The man has no heart, no love. He cannot be cured at this time. He has to open his heart first.”

“Ha, ha,” Carlos boasted. “So your little plan failed, didn’t it? I have heard of this painting, and yet it has no power over me … Auggggghhh.” He screamed as Officer Cierra ‘accidently’ brushed into his damaged wrist. It did serve to shut him up. She was also less than gentle as she moved the handcuff from Steve and attached it to herself.

“I’ll take your cruiser,” Steve said. “You take this trash to the hospital in the ambulance. I think I hear it outside. I want to check out that ‘house’ he was talking about.”

The ambulance left, and Steve asked Pastor Helen which of the three girls would be in the best condition to accompany them to the whorehouse. She suggested that Jane has suffered the least trauma, and that the other two would be fine together, knowing that the Army was surrounding their new home.

Jane led them to an ancient and dilapidated house downtown. She had a key to the door, and let them in, then roused the others in the house. There were three young hookers and an older woman. When they learned that Carlos had been taken to hospital, and then to jail, they wailed. They had gotten a dose earlier when they came in from their work, but what would happen tomorrow?

Gary and another man arrived soon after Steve had called him, and he took Pastor Helen, Jane and the four women back to the church, where Helen hoped that the painting could heal them. Meanwhile the other night shift officer arrived at the house, and Steve and he started going through the house seeking evidence.

They found five handguns, large quantities of drugs, a safe, over $10,000 in cash. After an hour, Gary returned with the older woman of the house. Her name was Miriam, and she had been Carlos’s first whore after running away from home in Toronto 28 years earlier as a 14-year-old.

“Do you think you can help us with this,” Steve asked Miriam.

“Gladly,” the woman said. “I’ll do anything to get that bastard put away. Do you need to get into the safe? I know the combination. He thought my addiction made me safe. I can also show you his ledgers, and what the entries mean. I was responsible for writing most of them.”

The safe contained almost $100,000 and more drugs. But that was not as important as the ledger books that made it clear that Carlos would be sent away for a long, long time.

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

Rachael woke up knowing nothing about what happened in her old house earlier that morning. She went to the bakery, and then to school where absolutely no learning seemed to happen. It never does in mid-June. With their project completed, the four girls helped the boys out with their animations. There were a pile of cels to color in on the computers before the animated characters could be loaded onto the video, and the girls joined in on that tedious task.

At lunch Rachael flitted around the cafeteria, collecting film night money since the students hadn’t been in school since Tuesday. She found that there were four couples where one or both of their parents had said they couldn’t attend Rocky Horror. Of course this just made the movie more appealing to all the others. And other parents remembered seeing Rocky Horror in their youth, and were glad to see their kids following in their footsteps. At any rate, it meant that Rachael didn’t have to worry about there being space for Darla and Doug. The latter had paid his money when she stopped into the bakery in the morning, as he was still helping out on Thursday and Friday mornings, and all day Saturday. Kyle Stoner was only working Saturday’s since Mike had started.

Mike and Rachael had developed a tradition of having a pizza after work on Thursdays, so she could head to movie night without going home. This week Bobby begged to stay for pizza, and Rachael was unable to deny the puppy eyes he made. Geoff decided to get takeout food for himself, Maria and Grandpa. On the way they picked up Grandma to make it an adult’s only night.

Mike would take Bobby home, since he didn’t have his bike at the bakery. Rachael got to the library at about 6:30, and started setting up the room. Today, with a few empty spaces due to the no-shows, she arranged the chairs in pairs along the walls, leaving a large open space in the middle so the students could dance to the Time Warp when that came up in the movie. At a quarter to seven Darla showed up with her ‘cousin-in-law’ Robert. They joined in with moving the chairs. Less than two minutes later Doug came in, gently kissed Darla on the cheek, and gave her a single red rose.

“See Mr. Robert Jackson,” Rachael chastised. “That is how you treat a lady.” Darla just got redder and redder, and Doug led her to a pair of chairs where they would sit.

The movie started right at 7, with Carly warning that none of the audience participation that was so famous for Rocky Horror showings would be allowed. This had been said before, when Rachael had collected money, so there wasn’t much disappointment.

“This is the library, not a theatre, and we aren’t paying enough for a major cleanup,” Carly said. “I know this is the last movie of the year, but we hope to do this for another two years, so we don’t want to piss the librarians off. They did say that we can dance The Time Warp, so that’s why there is space in the middle of the room.”

“I don’t know that dance,” one girl in the audience complained.

“Don’t worry, they tell you how in movie,” Carly said. “Just hop up with the rest and follow along. It’s pretty easy. Larissa and I had the CD yesterday and we played it like four times.”

The movie went well, with almost all of the students dancing at least one of the three times the Time Warp song played.

As the lights came up Robert and Rachael were surprised to see Darla and Doug kissing pretty seriously for several more minutes. “Oh, oh,” Rachael said.

“Triple oh, oh,” Robert concurred. Robert helped clean up, and Doug joined in. Rachael took Darla into the washroom, and helped her fix her makeup. Her lipstick, in particular, was a mess. The last of the other girls left the room, and Rachael took advantage of the quiet to softly say: “You know we said if it got serious, you would have to tell him.”

Darla’s eyes showed blind panic. “No! Not tonight.”

“Is it getting serious?” Rachael asked.

“Yes, I guess it is. What do I say?”

“Well, let’s all go to the bakery and chat there. Is Ruby coming to pick you up?” Darla nodded yes. “She might be able to help.”

The library was clean. Rachael said that the four of them were going to the bakery, and Doug nodded. “I left my bike at the back door, chained to the gas meter. So stopping in is cool for me.”

Inside Rachael found a few pastries that she served up to the four, and soon Ruby showed up.

“I understand that Darla and you were really getting into the movie,” Ruby said, starting the dreaded conversation.

“Yeah, she is great,” Doug said. “I really, really like her.”

“I think there is something she needs to tell you,” Ruby said.

Darla paused, hesitated, and then leapt sobbing into her sister’s arms. “I can’t,” she cried.

Rachael took over: “Doug, have you ever heard of transgender?”

“Yeah, sure. It’s all over the pl …” he gasped, and clued in. “You don’t mean Darla?”

“Oh man, I was kissing a boy?” Doug said.

“No Doug, Darla is a girl. She just has a birth defect that needs to be removed when she turns 18. Are you man enough to love her?” Rachael asked.

“No, no, no,” Doug yelled, running through the bakery and out the back door.

Darla just wailed louder, and for the next 15 minutes they tried to calm her down. Finally they had, and Ruby drove them all home, dropping Rachael at her house before heading out into the country with the others.

The house was quiet when she got in, and Rachael was glad. She didn’t want to relive that scene. Not tonight.

She puttered around, reading for a bit until she felt ready for bed. She was about to kneel down when her phone beeped for a text. She looked, and saw that it was a text from Doug.

“Can you talk?”

She was still angry with him, but phoned him.

“I’m so not happy with you,” she said to his “Hello.”

“Yeah. I wasn’t too cool tonight, was I,” he said.

“The Oscar for understatement of the year goes to you,” Rachael retorted.

“It was such a shock,” Doug said. “I really was falling for Darla. She is so cool. So pretty. So not like a boy.”

“That’s because she isn’t a boy. She’s a girl. A girl who is crying her eyes out tonight. Luckily her sister is with her. I don’t know what she might do if she is alone. You are the first guy who ever kissed her, and then you ran away from her like that. They call that a trigger event in psychology.”

“Trigger? You mean she might … oh God, I have to talk to her. I messed up. All the way home one my bike I thought about her. I haven’t kissed many girls, but none of them did turned me on like she did. Am I gay?”

“Of course not, she is a girl. If she was a boy and that turned you on, you might be gay. But she is not and you are not,” Rachael said.

“Man, I have to call her. I don’t want her to do something … final.”

“Do you want to date her again?” Rachael asked.

“More than anything else in the world,” Doug answered.

“Then text her. If she won’t talk, then keep sending texts telling her how you really feel about her. And tell her you want to go out again.”

“I’ll tell her I love her,” Doug said.

“If you really do, you can,” Rachael said. “Now start dialing.” She hung up.

Dear Lord

It looked like it was going to be another lazy day today, and then at the movie night all heck breaks loose. Please help Doug say the right things, and for Darla to understand that he really cares for her, and was just freaked out. It was a lot to throw at a guy all at once after a date that had gone so well, to that point. And no matter how that all goes, look after Darla. She is on a rough path, and we didn’t make it any smoother tonight.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

FRIDAY, June 10, 2016

Rachael woke up a few minutes early. She was making Bobby’s favorite breakfast: French Toast. Grandpa was always up before her, and she helped him into his shirt while the oil was heating. Mom and Geoff were next down, and finally Bobby, whose nose led him into the kitchen.

“French Toast,” he said for a whoop. “But it isn’t Sunday.”

“No,” Rachael said with a smile. She then went over to her brother and engulfed him in a huge hug. “Happy Birthday, 10-year-old boy.”

Hugs from their parents, and then Grandpa followed as Rachael plated the meal. “Is my party today?” Bobby asked.

“Not today, Tiger,” Rachael said. “I am going to the farm after school, and we won’t hold your birthday until Saturday, when the arena opens. You will be able to try the skates that you borrowed from the Stoners.”

“Skating will be fun,” Bobby said glumly. “But I really would like to go to the farm with you.”

“Well, you can’t ride on the middle school bus with Robert and I,” Rachael said, and her brother looked even sadder. “But Mrs. Jackson said we could have a little party there tonight: just our two families, and all your friends among the horses and cows.”

“Whoopie,” Bobby cried. “This will be the best birthday ever.”

Rachael went to school, and not much special happened there. She did get a text from Darla (in Darren mode at his school) thanking her for talking to Doug the night before. She said that they talked until after midnight, and patched things up. Doug, as a member of the bakery team, was invited to the birthday party at the arena, and when Rachael had stopped in during the morning he had asked if Darla could come. Of course Rachael had agreed. In their texting before classes, it was apparent that he had left that as a surprise. Darla just thought that the two of them were going on a makeup date at the arena for public skating Saturday afternoon. Rachael didn’t spoil the secret.

In mid-morning Rachael got a text from Ruby, asking her to bring some friends over at lunch break. Larissa, Mikki, Carly, Rachael and their boyfriends all went to the formerly vacant building. When they got inside, they saw that one of the display cases was installed, looking brand new. The other was still in the shed, being worked on. And there were about eight men from the Hobo Army working on the walk-in cooler and freezer.

“I want to test something Chuck and I have been working on,” Ruby said to the teens. “Spicy hot dogs. There are five levels of spice. ‘A’ is a normal store wiener. We won’t be able to match prices, so we will just sell Schneider’s brand for those. ‘B’ is a little spicier, but mild enough that smaller kids will enjoy it, except the littlest ones. ‘C’ is a bit spicer: I think all of you teens will like it. ‘D’ is hotter still. You have to like spicy food for it. And ‘E’ is our super-spicy brand.

“I’ll try E,” Mark Russett, Larissa’s guy, said. “Me too,” claimed Leon, Carly’s guy.

“I have sliced the dogs in two. They are just boiled wieners: grilled would be tastier. There are two halves in each bun. The first one has a half B and a half C. Then the other one has D and E. All in a steamed bun from Bread Baron.

Mikki and Rachael both got through the first bun, but a single bite of the D type stopped them as too hot. Carly and Larissa liked the D, but wavered at the E. The boys all ate both dogs, although it was clear that Leon and Robert were using male machismo to get through the E. Tony, with his Italian heritage, loved the E, as did Mark. They actually finished off the rest of the girl’s buns.

“Those are great,” Rachael said, as all the teens were drinking milk to dull the fire in their mouths. “You should make up a batch for Bobby’s birthday party tomorrow. How much are they?”

“Well, regular wieners are under $6 a dozen,” Ruby said. “We haven’t set prices yet, but we are thinking $18 a dozen. That’s just $1.50 each. Our small batch production and quality ingredients mean we can’t match the factory dog prices.”

“Make us up a batch of 60,” Rachael said. “Mostly B for the kids, and a few of the others for the adults.”

“And when you officially open, my Mom will be here to buy some of the E,” Mark said. “Those are so awesome. I’d get her to buy them even if they were $10 each.”

After school went out, Rachael got on Robert’s bus, handing a bakery bag to the driver. “Oh, cookies,” she said. “I’m a bit hungry today.”

“Nope,” Rachael said. “Those are Clouds, something new at the bakery. You might want to try one now, and save the rest for Sunday dinner.”

The driver nibbled on three of the buns during the rest of the trip, and when she stopped at the farm to let the kids off, she claimed: “Those are the best buns I’ve ever tasted. I have got to get into your Dad’s bakery.”

Rachael had two more bags of the buns for Mrs. Jackson, but she and Robert then hurried out to the barn, where they saddled up Blackie and Chocky. As they trotted out to the track Robert had set up, he said that he had finally broken 10 minutes for the route. He suggested they race Blacky with Chocky. He knew the mare would never keep up with the stallion, but it would give Blacky a chance to experience a race with other horses.

This meant that they couldn’t keep time, but Rachael on Blacky wasn’t worried about that. She had done the run in 9:12 last week, and if she could race that speed, she would be fine.

The race was from a standing start, and when Robert said “Go” Blacky bolted ahead. He then noticed that there was another horse following him, and he went into a higher gear, pulling away. Chocky was several minutes behind when they got to the start/finish, and Rachael was already halfway through her scan of the stallion’s legs, all of which were fine.

Chocky was completely spent, so Rachael ran Blacky alone for a second lap while Robert took the mare over to the rain barrel that he had set up to allow the horses to drink between laps.

He was back at the finish when Rachael crossed the line. This time he had timed her, and reported that their time was 8:58. “That’s incredible,” Robert said. “You are a full minute ahead of me.”

“I think the first race was even quicker,” Rachael said as she checked the horse’s legs. “He really likes the challenge of running against other horses, and just turns it on. Do you want to run him a lap?”

“Three laps?” Robert said. “I usually only run two with him.”

“It will build his stamina,” Rachael said. “And he will be running several races a day at the Farmer’s Races.”

“Yeah, but not without a rest between,” Robert noted. “But if you think he is ready, I’m game.”

While Robert was running Blacky, Rachael checked over Chocky. She had a few small tears in her leg muscles from the exercise she had taken in the first race, but Rachael was able to focus enough energy into the horse to cure them, and also eased the horse’s pain and exhaustion.

Robert pulled up after doing the lap, looking at his stopwatch. “Damn. I am over 10 again.”

“Come on,” Rachael said. “It is his third run in an hour, what did he do?”

“Only 10:16,” Robert said glumly. “He likes you more than he likes me. He runs faster for you.”

“Maybe a little, but he is still going to win a race for you,” Rachael said. “Why don’t you ride him back to the barn and I’ll ride Chocky.”

They headed back to the barn and when Blacky realized that his girl was riding the other horse, he looked back at them as though offended. Back at the barn, however, Rachael took over the big stallion and rubbed him down. That and an apple seemed to placate him.

They were just about done with the horses at 6:30, when they heard Bobby calling for them in the barn. When he found them, he ran over to Robert, jumping at the older boy. Robert swung him around.

“Oh my,” Robert said, feigning tiredness. “You must be 10 now, you are so much bigger.”

“Am I?” Bobby replied. “I want to grow up big like you.”

“Hah, I’m not big yet,” Robert said leading the boy over to Lisa’s pony. “Just wait until I am as big as JJ.”

Bobby’s eyes went wide. “Do you think I will get that big?”

“I don’t know,” Robert said. “I probably will, because I am his brother. But you don’t have any brothers to compare with.”

Rachael left her boys to head to the farmhouse, where she wanted a quick shower to get rid of the Blacky smell and into the clean clothes she had taken to school that morning in her knapsack. When she finished, she went down to the kitchen where the women were making the meal. There was Maria, Donna, Ruby … and Darla, who ran to Rachael to hug her.

“Thank you so much,” the girl said. “I went home last night and everything was so black and … terrible. Then I got the first text from Doug. It said ‘I’m so stupid.’ It was like a light shining through the blackness. Then he phoned me and we talked for hours. He apologized over and over, and said he would make it up to me. He’s taking me skating tomorrow. I worried about that … my skates are boy skates … but Ruby found some of her old ones, and they fit me pretty well. I think my feet are too big, but Ruby says they are just right in the girl range.”

The women all chatted during the meal preparation. Ruby had brought a roast over for the olds, but since it was Bobby’s birthday, a package of ground beef was provided, and Rachael showed Darla how to make sloppy Joes, Bobby’s favorites. Mike at the bakery had come up with a new Kaiser recipe, with buns that were nearly twice as large as hamburger buns, and tended to sop up the tomato sauce better.

In the meal, it was more than the kids that had sloppy Joes. The twins and everyone younger chose that entrée, although Rachael took a small slice of beef to taste it. Donna cooked it rare, compared to how Rachael and Maria did, and Rachael decided she preferred it that way.

After the meal, there was cake: a birthday cake, with 10 candles that Bobby blew out. “Mike won the contest, so we are having the cake I made tonight,” Geoff noted. The cake was of a boy riding a bicycle.

“It is a great cake, Dad,” Bobby said. “I love it so much. It is the best cake ever.”

“You haven’t seen the one that Mike made yet,” Geoff said. “Even I had to say that his was best. And it is bigger too, so it, plus the leftovers from this one, should be enough for that army of friends you invited to the rink.”

“It’s not an army. It just me and Marc, Luke, and Jerry.”

“And Lisa, and Darla and Doug, Gary, Mom and Dad, Gary, Ruby, Mikki and Danni, and Me,” Rachael said, counting to 15 on her fingers.

“Okay. A small army,” Bobby admitted.

There were gifts afterwards. Most of the people there were going to the skating party on Saturday, and would give their presents then, but Archie, JJ, the twins and the Jacksons all had presents for Bobby, who was used to getting two presents on his birthday, cheaper things from his sister and mother, who both scrimped to save a few dollars for something.

The Jacksons, Donna and Frank, gave Bobby a complete riding outfit and said that it came with unlimited rides on Lisa’s pony. The twins went together and got him a real Stetson cowboy hat, which Bobby immediately put on and could not be convinced to take off. When JJ brought out his gift, Bobby’s eyes lit up. Even while still wrapped, he could see that it was a hockey goalie stick. He tore the paper off the gift and hugged it close to his chest.

Then Archie took over. JJ’s partner admitted that he wasn’t good with gifts, but he said that he was going to give Bobby a heifer that had been born earlier in the week.

“You know what a heifer is, don’t you, Bobby?” Robert prompted.

“Yes. It is a girl cow,” Bobby said, remembering what Robert had taught him. His eyes widened. “You are giving me a cow? Can I take her home?”

“I don’t think we have room for a dairy farm at Grandpa’s house,” Maria laughed. “I think you will need to keep her here with her mamma.”

“But if you come out enough during the summer, I will teach you how to look after her. You can even become a 4-H member. I used to be one until a couple years ago, and Lisa is a member now. I’ve asked, and I can become a junior leader now,” Robert said.

“I want to see my cow,” Bobby said.

That was the end of dinner. Most of the women stayed to clean up, but Rachael, Maria and Darla followed the men out to Archie’s barn to see the newborn calf. Rachael and Bobby went into the pen, and a touch from Rachael calmed the mother cow, who then didn’t object when Bobby put his arms around her daughter. Rachael then touched the little calf, inspecting its health, and also easing its anxiety about having the boy hold her. Rachael forced a little of her special energy into the calf, bonding it with Bobby. The calf would forever recognize the boy, and be attracted to him.”

Robert then put Bobby to work, with the two of them mucking out the pen, which was fairly clean to start with. Bobby took to the work joyfully. He didn’t mind working when it was to benefit Dora, his heifer.

They all walked back to the house, except Archie, who walked to the house he was now sharing with JJ and Ruby. There were farewells on the porch, since Bobby’s boots were no longer acceptable in Donna’s clean kitchen. He put his loot into the bakery van, and then crawled into the back seat with Rachael, while their parents drove home.

“Can you look after Bobby tonight, Rachael?” Maria asked. “There are a slew of orders for Clouds for tomorrow, and I expect they might finally be taking off. People were just waiting for the weekend, to have fresh rolls for Sunday dinners. Geoff and I will go into work early, so we can get to the skating party at 3, or 4 at the latest.”

So that night Rachael worked. As soon as the family got home, she immediately went to get the vacuum, and cleaned out the messy area in the van where Bobby had been sitting. The van was the work vehicle for the bakery, and having it dirty or smelly could turn off potential customers.

When she got inside, she found that Bobby was already in the bath, after a rather detailed telling about the party for his grandparents. While he played in the water, Rachael got Grandpa to bed while Geoff took Grandma home. She even got Bobby’s boots cleaned, and his filthy jeans into a separate wash load.

She had just gotten back to the living room when she saw Bobby in his shorts at the top of the stairs.

“Rachael,” he asked sweetly. “Can we read tonight?”

“But you are 10 now,” Rachael teased. “Surely 10-year-olds don’t get bedtime stories, do they?”

“They can, I think,” Bobby said, concern on his face. “At least until they are 11.”

“Or maybe 12. Of course I will read to you,” Rachael said, and was rewarded with a huge smile.

After Rachael finished with Bobby, getting a big hug from the birthday boy when she crawled onto his bed, she was exhausted and lay for a moment on her bed, wondering what she should say in her prayer. Suddenly, she dropped off asleep.

She awoke to a familiar place. Off in the distance, on a low hill, she saw the golden gates of heaven. But she was in another place: one with many people, male and female, young and old, wandering about. The one thing that was the same was their expressions. They all had a stricken, pained look on their face.

“What place is this?” Rachael asked herself.

“It is the waiting place,” a voice behind her said. Rachael turned around and saw … herself.

No, it was the old Rachael, with badly dyed hair, chubbier than the new Rachael, and a sad expression on her face.

“You are …” Rachael started.

“Yes. I am the girl who killed herself so that you would be given a second chance,” her doppelganger said. “I have been watching you in my place. Seeing you spending special times with my little brother. I hated him. He was nothing but a pest to me, always getting in my way. Yes, I hit him. Anything to keep him away from me. Then you took over, and gave him the love that he wanted. I can feel a little bit of the love that he gives you in his hugs. Only a fraction of what you feel, I assume, but it makes me wish I had hugged him when I had a real body.”

“I hated my body. I only saw what was wrong with it. Bad hair, bad skin, too fat. Then you took over and instead of just hating it, you fixed it. Cut your hair and went back to blonde, which is so cute. Started eating well and walking home from school for exercise, and working hard in Phys. Ed. So you don’t have the same rolls of fat that I have. I had no friends … you seem to become a friend to everyone you meet. I saw you make Carly from one of the mean girls into a close friend. Why couldn’t I have done that?”

“Well, I did have help,” new Rachael said.

“No, you instigated just about everything you did. I hated my Mom: thinking she was an ogress holding me back. I fought her every turn. You helped out, cooking, minding Bobby, cleaning, doing laundry without being asked. And you got closer to Mom than I ever was. I envy your love.”

“And you even found her a man. I wish I could have had a Dad like Geoff. You know he loves you and Bobby as if you were his own children. I just was a screw up,” old Rachael moaned.

“What … why are you here? And where is here?”

“We call it the waiting place,” old Rachael said. “People who commit suicide have to stay here for … well, a long time before they are admitted into heaven. Most don’t get out until the last person who they were close to dies. That is why everyone is so sad up here. They have to watch the people who they left behind, and see how much pain they caused them by killing themselves. Except for me. I get to watch you, living my life in such a better way.”

“You could have done all this,” new Rachael said.

“But I didn’t. Instead I killed myself. I am such a loser.”

New Rachael saw a familiar rotund shape at the gates, and started leading her double down there. When they got close enough, new Rachael spoke to her angel: “What can we do for Rachael here? Is there anyway that she can get into heaven. There is no one on earth mourning her death: they all think that I am her. Surely she can get in?”

“I’m sorry Rachael. And Rachael. The rules are that there is only one space in heaven for each soul. Old Rachael can never be admitted, or there would be no space for new Rachael when her time comes. She is doomed to walk with the waiting for all eternity. “

“No,” new Rachael said. “That’s not fair. She is going to be punished worse than anyone else. Forever. There must be a way.”

“I am sorry,” the angel John said.

“Wait!” Rachael said. “What about my Ron soul? Did it come to heaven when that body died?”

“No, of course not,” John said. “You would not be Rachael without your soul.”

“Then I should have two places in heaven. Rachael can have the other.”

John stopped, and mused for a bit, and then took on a distant expression, as though he was mentally communicating with someone far away. Finally he snapped out of it, and said: “They agree with you. You have discovered a loophole.” He turned to old Rachael, opening the gate. “You may enter.”

The dark haired girl nearly skipped to the gate, but then stopped and enveloped the blonde girl in a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she wept. “You really are like an angel. I will never forget you. And I will always be watching.” Then she broke free and went through the gate.

When she was several yards inside, she turned to face Rachael and a transformation occurred. Her hair became long and blonde, and her figure thinned out. She looked like she was 16 or 18-years-old, and was extremely pretty.

John saw Rachael’s look of wonder, and explained. “When you enter heaven, you take on the body of your choice, from any point in your life. It keeps this place from looking like a senior citizen’s city. This is the look that Rachael chose.”

“You are beautiful,” Rachel said through the gate. “Remember that always.” And new Rachael realized that in a year or two she could look like that, although perhaps with slightly shorter hair.

Suddenly Rachael woke up in her bed. She knew what she had experienced was more than a simple dream. She got down on her knees and said her forgotten prayers.

Dear Lord

Thank you for accepting the other Rachael into heaven. I know no one here can ever know about it, but I think she deserves it.

And thank you for letting Bobby have so much fun on his birthday. When we were poor, Mom made our birthdays as special as she could, but it was nothing like today. She gave us love, but it is kinda nice to have nice gifts on top of that.

Thank you for everything you have done.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Okay, I messed up. Somewhere along the story I started thinking this was Bobby’s 11th birthday, when in fact he was 9, turning 10. I have corrected the last chapter, but want to mention so people aren’t confused at how he got a year younger: Dawn

SATURDAY, June 11, 2016

Saturday was a busy day for Rachael. She had an appointment with Gary and Mrs. Winchester, the older lady who lived next to the church. She wanted to look at a vacant room at the Riverview Nursing Home, and decide if she wanted to move there. Kevin Ripley, a Hobo Army member who had known the older lady when they were both in the Horticultural Society, was also coming.

Gary picked up Rachael before Mrs. Winchester, not wanting the woman to feel concerned about being alone in a car with two men. Rachael went into the house to help her get ready, and then aided her outside, where the two men were admiring the rose beds.

“They look wonderful Kevin,” Mrs. Winchester said. “It’s a pity I can’t see them from the house. It is just too much work getting the walker out to the porch, and then the chair here hurts after a little while. I don’t have the padding back there that I used to have,” she said in an aside to Rachael.

They arrived at the nursing home where Franklin Myers, the administrator, was waiting for them. He showed them the vacant room, which Mrs. Winchester decided was exceptionally small.

“Yes, but in effect it is only your bedroom,” Mr. Myers said smoothly. You can eat your meals in if you like, but most residents eat in the dining room. And there is a large parlor, where most of the residents spend their days. We usually have two or three televisions on in different parts of the parlor. A lot of the ladies still like to keep up with their ‘stories’.”

“I do like Coronation Street,” Mrs. Winchester said. “And Jeopardy in the evenings.”

“And look Myrtle,” Kevin said. “There is even a patio door that leads out onto a little porch. It is nearly ground level, and I think you could easily manage your walker out to the little patio.” With that, he opened the door, letting the fresh morning air in, and Rachael helped Mrs. Winchester out to the patio.

“I don’t like that,” Gary said, pointing out that frost heaves over the winter had displaced the pavers and left several of the stones raised up, and a tripping hazard.

“If you plan on using the patio a lot,” Mr. Myers said, “We can put a work order in to have those fixed. I can’t promise it will be done this summer.”

“It will be done next week, if you allow me to have my men do it,” Gary said.

“Well, we do allow residents’ family members make improvements to the rooms if they are approved by the board,” the manager said. “I think we can treat you as family. And the fixing of tiles is something that I will personally authorize.”

“And then there is this,” Kevin said, showing a pad he had been sketching on. It contained a plan for a garden just outside the window. It would have raised beds, so that residents could work on them without stooping. The front two or three feet were floral, with Mrs. Winchester oohing and aahing over the flower choices that Kevin suggested. Behind the flowers were garden plots for vegetables. The entire bed was 40 feet by 15 feet, with several park benches surrounding it.

“Something like that would cost over $20,000,” the administrator said hesitantly. “The budget …”

“It will cost the home nothing,” Gary said. “Kevin here would like to get a landscaping business going, and this would be a showplace advertising it. A small plaque saying that he donated the time and materials would be the only payment he would need. And Mrs. Winchester would have to get first call on the beds.

“But maintenance?”

“Included in the deal,” Gary said. “My men will come in every spring and till the soil, and Kevin will check it on a monthly schedule during the growing season, and do weeding and trimming as necessary.”

“Well, this will definitely need board approval,” the administrator said. “Can I have your sketch?”

“Actually, I would rather put together a professional proposal for you,” Kevin said. “It will detail all the elements as well as our commitments towards maintenance. I can have it for you by … Tuesday?”

“That is fine. The board meets on Wednesday night, so we will have some time in case I find something that needs tweaking. I can let you know that I approve of the idea, unless someone on the board can raise some valid reasons not to do it. We had garden spaces for the residents up until the last depression, when we had to make some cutbacks.”

“So what do you think of the room?” Rachael asked the older lady.

“It is cosy, and knowing that there is someone checking in all the time is a blessing. I fear falling at home, and no one coming for days and days. I like that there is a little kitchen here, and my own bathroom. The closet is small, but I really don’t wear most of the clothes I have. Will you help me move, dear?”

“I would love to,” Rachael said. “And I’m sure that the Hobo Army will move everything over.”

“What about my roses?” Mrs. Winchester asked. “I can’t wait until spring for the garden. I need my roses.”

“I was thinking about a little rose garden right here, alongside the patio,” Kevin said. “The light here is ideal. We will get you a comfortable deck chair or two, and you could sit out here with a friend to enjoy them whenever the weather is nice. And you will even be able to see the bed from inside the room, through the patio door.”

“I can approve that,” Mr. Myers said.

Then the tricky part came up: finances. Mr. Myers outlined the costs for the room, for meals, and for the nursing care. Even Rachael was amazed at how expensive the place would be.

“I don’t know. That seems a lot,” Mrs. Winchester said hesitantly. “I have a small pension, but it isn’t going to cover that.”

“Do you own your home?” Mr. Myers asked. “Many residents sell their homes and invest in an annuity that more than covers the costs.”

“I was planning on donating the house to the church next door,” the lady said. Gary’s eyes went wide at that. It was clear that he was not expecting it, although he had been hoping that the church could buy the house for a parking lot.

“I will have to take this to the deacon, and the church board,” Gary said. “But if you were to give us your house the church might consider paying your fees for the home in return, as long as you need it.”

“Do you have children?” Rachael asked. “It would only be fair that you talk it over with them.”

“I have one son and a daughter left,” the woman said. “They are both retired themselves. I lost one son when he was in college. But the others have blessed me with many grandchildren and great-grandchildren. And soon, I hope, my first great-great grandchild.”

“Do call them, and let them know what you are thinking of. If they are concerned, then we can set up a meeting and Gary and the deacon will explain it all to them,” Rachael said.

“And you dear? I feel so much better if you are around,” she said.

“Yes,” Rachael said. “I would love to help any way I can.”

“You do understand that the house would be torn down if you sell or give it to us,” Gary said.

The lady looked sad: “Yes, I suppose it must go. That is the way with all the old things, we just get bulldozed away.”

“Oh no,” Gary said. “We would take it down piece-meal. There are far too many beautiful components and valuable things there for a bulldozer to just smash and throw into a landfill. Things like the gingerbread trim along your eaves. People in Toronto will pay huge dollars for authentic work like that. And the lumber will be reused. In fact, Kevin might wind up using timbers from your house to build your garden beds.”

Myrtle was sobbing. “Oh, that is so sweet: to know that the old house is not gone, but lives on in pieces across the province. It is sort of like when a person dies and their organs are used so that others can see, and live. And I would like very much if Kevin can use some of the old house here. I would be able to look out the window and know my old house is right there, holding up the flower beds.”

“Now,” Mr. Myers said. “I don’t want to rush you, but I can only keep the offer open for 48 hours. There are many others who would like a room. I really will need an answer by noon on Monday. Now, I hope that you can all stay for lunch. I would like you to see what our kitchens can do. They have the top approval ratings from residents of all the homes that we manage.”

“I would love to join you,” Rachael said, “but I have a birthday party to get to. My little brother is 10. Ruby will pick me up in a few minutes.” The girl thought for a second. “After your lunch here, would you like to come to the party,” she asked Mrs. Winchester. “Gary is coming, and he would bring you along, I’m sure.”

“Oh my dear,” the woman said. “I don’t know. Well, yes I do. I had such a good time at the dinner you invited me to on Wednesday. I would be glad to come, if you won’t mind an old woman there.”

“My Grandma and Grandpa are coming too, so you will have company while us youngsters are skating. Oh, Gary, I got a text. Apparently my parents have their heads in some Clouds, and won’t be to the party until late. Can you pick up Grandma and Grandpa on your way in? Grandma is driving over to Grandpa’s house.”

“Sure thing, Rachael,” Gary said.

Rachael got to take the tour of the kitchen before Ruby came to pick her up in the bakery van, which was loaded with great smelling things, and then they headed to the arena to set up for the party. Geoff had rented the small hall at the arena, and the kitchen. Ruby had volunteered to be the cook for the party, which was just hotdogs, although the new spicy type her store was offering. Bobby was with Marc, and they were going to come in with the Stoners at 1 when skating would start. Ruby was planning a meal at 3, including cake and presents, and then the kids would be able to go back on the ice until 6, when parents were asked to pick up their kids.

Rachael helped carry the cake in from the back of the van. It took both women to carry it. It was huge and Mike had placed it on a foil-covered piece of plywood for ease of moving it around. The girls put it in the kitchen where it would not be seen until it was to be presented, and then peaked under the foil.

“Oh, Bobby is going to love this,” Rachael gasped. The cake was a goalie in front of a hockey next, with full pads on, and a helmet that had the word “Bobby” written in icing. The cake was reminiscent of the Ken Danby painting “In the Crease” but had the goalie front on, and more modern equipment, especially a newer mask.

“Mike is a real artist, isn’t he,” Ruby said. “I can see why Geoff agreed that his cake last night was second best. This is gorgeous.”

“I guess he spent five hours doing it Thursday night,” Rachael said. “That means, with the cost of the cake added in, we would have to sell something like this for over $200. Let’s cover it up and protect it from snooping eyes.”

“Other than our snooping eyes, you mean,” Ruby joked.

There were another two loads from the van each. There were buns and wieners for the kids and their parents, ice cream to go with the cake in three different flavors (chocolate, chocolate chip, and Rocky Road), and pastries and donuts from the bakery. Rachael was content that it would be a feast that the kids would enjoy.

At about a quarter to one the birthday boy arrived with the Stoners, less Kyle who was working a long day at the bakery so that Doug could get away early for his date with Darla. They had also brought along Marc, who had been taking shots on Bobby all morning in his garage, to test out Bobby’s goalie stick.

Danni immediately ran over to Rachael to give her a hug, while Mr. Stoner brought in a box full of gifts. Mrs. Stoner was laden down with a collection of skates: Danni’s new figure skates, Mikki’s pair from last year, the pair of Kyle’s that fit Rachael, and the older pair that fit Bobby.

Rachael spent the next fifteen minutes tying skates for the kids out in the arena. The ice would not open until 1, but during that time she tightened a dozen pairs of skates. The Jackson’s arrived, and Robert tightened hers. Her Ron memories of playing minor hockey told her that tight skates were essential to skating well. She just wasn’t sure how well this newer body would adapt to having steel blades on her feet.

At one the lights went on and the kids got on the ice. There would eventually be another two to three hundred skaters from the community to the first day of summer skating, but for a few minutes it was like the rink was reserved all for the party while outsiders waited to pay at the booth and then get their skates on. The party folk had come in early through the hall door, and were prepaid by Geoff, so they could get started quickly.

Danni had never had any interest in skating or hockey when they were treating her as a boy, but now that she had official ‘girl’ skates, she was enthusiastic about trying. She fell on her rear many times, but just laughed as Bobby picked her up and got her going again. Soon Lisa Jackson took over, and Bobby went off with Marc, as the taller boy tried to teach Bobby how to skate. Robert was a good skater, as was Mikki, and they skated around as Rachael stayed near the little ones until she got her balance and adjusted to the new body mechanics. Then she took off, and soon was gliding with the rest of them.

Bobby was the surprise though. He followed Marc’s instructions meticulously, and as the taller boy had attended hockey classes in France for several years, he was able to give useful skating tips for a beginner.

After an hour Darla and Doug showed up. They both skated well, and caught up with Rachael as she made a loop around the ice. “Hey Rachael, wait up,” Doug called, and as he pulled to a stop, Darla feigned not being able to stop in time so she could grab on to her new boyfriend. She didn’t let go, and Doug didn’t seem to mind.

“You smell like bakery,” Rachael teased.

“Sorry about that. We were slammed at work today. We had to add another five batches of Clouds to the schedule, and it still isn’t going to be enough.”

“Don’t be sorry. I love that smell. It reminds me of my Dad. And my Mom sometimes, too.”

“I like it too,” Darla commented.

“Anyway,” Doug continued. “Your Mom and Dad aren’t going to be here at three like they planned. Your mom said you should take charge. They hope to make it by 5 at the latest.”

“Aw, Bobby will be sad that they are missing it. Did you see if Grandma and Grandpa made it?”

“Yes, and there is another very old lady with a walker. Gary is in the kitchen helping along with Ali. Is she his girlfriend?”

“I think so,” Rachael said. “They may not know it yet, though. That is Luke, her son.” She pointed out the boy, clearly new to skating, who was wearing his laces far too loose. “I need to help him tighten him up. You guys have fun.”

She skated off towards Luke. “Having a bit of trouble?” she asked.

“Yeah.” The boy was near tears. “It is my first time skating. Gary got me these skates, but I can’t skate as well as Bobby and Marc.”

“Well, part of your problem is your skates aren’t tight enough. That is half the battle. Bobby is skating for the first time, and he and I are both in used skates.”

“His first time?” Luke said in awe as Rachael pulled him to the hockey player’s box, and hoisted him up to the bench. His skates were so loose she could stick a finger in them. She retied them tight.

“How’s that?”

“It hurts a little,” Luke said.

“That’s perfect then. Here come Bobby, Marc and Jerry.” When the four boys got to their friend in the box with Rachael, Marc joked. “Are you serving a penalty, Luke?”

“Now boys. This is Luke’s first time today too. I know Marc had a lot of experience, and it looks like Jerry has skated before. But if you could help Luke out the way that you did for Bobby, he’ll soon be on your team.”

Rachael caught up with Robert, and skated with him as Larissa skated with her boyfriend Mark. Mikki felt like a third wheel until Tony showed up. Both of the boys were not official guests at the party, but Rachael invited them to lunch and the cake and ice cream.

As she was skating, she noticed a young boy tearing through the center of the ice. It was tradition in Ingersoll Arena that slower skaters stayed in the middle, while the better skaters took the long way around. Fast skating was right near the boards, and couples skating leisurely skated in a middle track.

In horror, Rachael noticed the boy speed through the middle, knocking Danni down as she skated with Lisa, who had to dodge away from the boy to avoid the same fate. Rachael raced over to cuddle the crying girl, who had bumped her head on the ice when she tumbled.

Rachael looked up, and was amazed to see Bobby tearing after the boy who had hit Danni. Incredibly, he caught up with the boy, who was at least five years older, and then leapt at him, tackling him around the legs and nearly getting a skate in the face.

“Go help Bobby,” Rachael told Robert. The boy was back on his feet, and Bobby looked as though he was going to fight, although the boy towered over him.

“What did you do that for?” the boy said, Robert could hear as he approached.

“You ran over one of my friends,” Bobby said, his anger boiling. “You need to go back and apologize to her.”

“She shouldn’t be at the arena if she can’t skate,” the boy retorted. “Are you going to make me apologize?”

“No, but I will,” Robert said, skating over to stand behind Bobby. The other boy now hesitated. He was still taller than Robert, but fighting him would not be a walk in the park like a tussle with the little guy would. And like most bullies, he didn’t like to get into a fight he couldn’t win easily.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “I’ll apologize.”

“And be more careful next time,” Bobby said.

Almost the entire skating party was surrounding Rachael and Danni when they got there. Those who had seen it glared at the strange boy. He approached Danni, and apologized in a fairly sincere manner.

Just then a man approached the group wearing boots and Arena coveralls. “What’s going on here?” he said. “I heard that there was someone skating wild through the center ice and knocked a little girl over.”

“Yes, but it is all over now,” Rachael said.

“You.” The man pointed at Marc. “You are banned.” Apparently, for no reason except perhaps the boy’s height, the man assumed Marc was the culprit.

“No no,” Rachael said. “It was not him.”

“It wasn’t him, mister,” the new boy said. “It was me. That kid wasn’t even close.”

The ice man stood for a minute, trying to decide what to do. Rachael jumped in again, and suggested that everything was fine now, and he finally turned around and left, after announcing that the next hooliganism would result in a ban.

“Thank you for being honest,” she told the boy. “What is your name?”

“I’m Josh,” he said. “I really am sorry. Maybe I can take the little girls for a skate to make up for being so stupid.”

Lisa was first to agree, and then Danni finally nodded yes. Before they left, each one holding one of Josh’s hands, Rachael invited Josh to have lunch with them. The three skated off.

“And you, mister,” she said to Bobby. “Never, ever again tear off after someone like that. And never tackle a person on skates. The blades are dangerous, and you could have been injured badly. Going to the hospital kind of injured. What would Mamma say if I let that happen?”

Bobby suddenly realized what he had done, and apologized sincerely. Then Marc chipped in noting how fast Bobby had been skating when he had chased down the teen. “You were flying,” the tall boy said.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything,” Bobby said. “I just wanted to nail the guy who hurt Danni.”

“Well, I think we should have a race,” Marc said.

“Keep to the outside then,” Rachael warned.

The boys had a race, from the redline area (the ice was not yet painted for hockey) once around to the same spot. Rachael watched, and was amazed that Bobby nearly kept up with Marc, and stayed ahead of Jerry as they tore around the rink, Luke was better now, but still hadn’t made it halfway around when Jerry came in third. The three speedsters skated carefully through the center ice, and then the four moved to a middle track, where they continued to give Luke a chance to improve.

At five minutes to three, Rachael’s watch beeped, and she asked Robert to gather up all the folks for the party while she went to the ticket booth. Now that she saw that Bobby liked skating, she knew what to get him for a second present.

She got back to the hall to find that all the kids had skates off, and were slip-sliding along the waxed hardwood floor. She dropped her skates, and went off to greet Mrs. Winchester, who was sitting with Grandpa and Grandma, having a lovely chat.

“Grandma, Mrs. Winchester is coming to Sunday dinner with us. Would you like to join in?”

“Yes dear, I would,” Grandma said “I know I’m an entire generation younger than her and your grandfather, but I find their talk about the old days fascinating. Plus I know what a good cook you are.”

“Dear,” Mrs. Winchester said. “I wasn’t able to get your brother a present. I just don’t know what a boy that age would like. I wonder if he would like this.” She showed a beautiful red rose, just starting to open.

“Oh my. One of your roses,” Rachael was touched. The woman treated the roses as her children, and she was willing to cut one for Bobby.

“Will he like it?” the old lady asked.

“Well, roses are not a boy thing,” Rachael admitted. “But he does have a special someone, and if it wouldn’t bother you if he passed it on to her …”

“Of course, dear. That would be fine.”

Rachael stood up and clapped her hands until all the sliding stopped, and the adults became quiet. “Okay people. I thought Mom and Dad would be here, but they got held up at work feeding all of Ingersoll. Luckily, we are part of who is getting fed, with the buns for hotdogs, and donuts and pastries from the bakery. There is also rumor of a cake, but I don’t see it anywhere.”

“Before we start, I want to have one present given. We will do the rest after we eat. Bobby, can you come up?”

The boy had met Mrs. Winchester at the dinner on Wednesday, but was still a little shy in front of her. “Darling boy,” the lady said. “I don’t have much at my age, but I would like to give you this.” She handed the rose to Bobby.

“Thank you ma’am,” Bobby said politely. Rachael whispered in his ear and his eyes brightened. He then walked over to where Danni was standing in front of her parents, and handed the rose to her.

“This is the prettiest flower I have ever seen,” he said, holding the rose out to her. “It should go to the prettiest girl I know.”

Danni gasped as she gently took the flower, looking first at it, and then at the boy who had given it to her. Tears appeared in her eyes and she passed the rose to her mother, and then leapt onto Bobby, embracing him in a hug.

“First you are my hero, ready to beat up a big kid for me, then you give me this. I love you Bobby Baron.” She kissed him on the cheek, and refused to let go for several minutes.

There was a chorus of oohs from the women in the crowd, and Mrs. Winchester beamed at the attention her modest gift had gotten.

Mark Russett, Doug and Tony were nudged by their girlfriends, in a ‘that’s how you treat a lady’ way. Robert was not with Rachael, so he might have thought he was going to avoid that, but then Mrs. Jackson gave him the same nudge.

“So if anyone is hungry, line up at the booth for a hotdog,” Rachael called out. “There are condiments on the first table. I suggest kids go first, then adults. Mikki, Larissa and I will look after the seniors. There will be enough for everyone to get seconds, but do take one at a time. Same with the bakery goodies.”

“Finally, the hotdogs are a special production of Chuck and Sisters Meat Market, which is opening in a few weeks next to the Bread Baron.”

“Six days,” Ruby shouted from the booth. “We will open at 9 next Friday for a soft launch, with a grand opening a few weeks later. We will be closed on Sundays.”

Rachael took over again, even as kids were racing to get in line for the food. “Remember, there is cake and ice cream after we do the presents,” she said, but wondered if anyone heard in the mad dash for food.

The dogs were Ruby’s B brand for the kids and a many sets of eyes widened in surprise and delight when they bit into the flavored wieners. Only one child complained about the different taste, and Ruby cooked him a Schneider’s store bought dog, which satisfied him. While the kids were eating the adults came up to order, with Mikki, Larissa, and Rachael getting dogs for the elderly guests. Mrs. Winchester was pleased with the hot dog Rachael served her, and commented on the unique and unusual taste.

Adults and teens had a choice of the B dogs their kids got, or the spicier D dogs. Some asked for E, but the super hot level were not available to make it easier to handle the crowd.

The girls got back into line after serving the seniors, and found that they were being swarmed by kids looking for a second dog. Donuts and pasteries were out as well, and many of the kids in line were eating a donut as they waited for their second hot dog. Rachael smiled at that. All the exercise skating certainly would explain the healthy appetites.

After a few more minutes everyone was happily full, with a few teens getting third hot dogs.

Rachael stood up: “While we are all down to the nibbles stage on our food, I want to start with the gifts. I do notice that there are quite a few lemon Danish pastries left, and I need to tell you that they are to die for. Hopefully Ruby will grab one, and put it aside for me, since I don’t think it would be polite to be talking with my mouth full of Mike’s awesome lemon.”

“We have some gifts for the birthday boy, and I want him to pull his chair up here so I can hand them to him. I have a special request for the first gift, which is from the little girl holding the rose.” With that Rachael handed him a small package, while Danni danced on her toes in front of her mother.

Bobby opened the package, and it was a book. To be specific, it was the Third Harry Potter book. He looked at it, and then turned to Rachael, asking: “From the library?”

“No Bobby, that is your very own book. Danni bought it for you.”

“My own book? My very own?” He clutched the book to his chest. “I’ve never had a book of my very own.” He then ran over to Danni and hugged her tightly, whispering ‘Thank you,’ to her.

And the next present is from Mikki. She handed the boy a similar sized package. It was Harry Potter book four. “Two books,” he squealed, and ran over to give Mikki a hug.

Harry Potter book five was the next present, from the Stoners and Alison got the hug for this.

Book Six was from Kyle, who was still working, and then the final book in the series was from Rachael, who also got a hug. “Look inside the front page, Bobby,” his sister prompted. It was a small card, and Bobby was confused.

“That is a pass to use the arena for the next three weeks, until the hockey schools start,” she told him. He leapt up to give her an even bigger hug, and whispered “Best present ever” to his sister, who thought ‘until you get Mom and Dad’s.’

“Finally, finishing off a theme, could Gary get his gift for Bobby?”

The caretaker brought out a present larger than the boy, covered in Kraft paper. Bobby tore away the paper to reveal a beautiful bookshelf made of wood that had been in the shed. It was three shelves high, and four feet long.

“I can keep all my books in it,” Bobby squealed, putting the five books he had received into the shelf. “I wonder if I can fill it up?”

“Well, it will be a good place to keep your library books safe,” Rachael said. “And I know that by the time you get into college you will have it filled.”

Bobby was about to run and jump on Gary when the man raised his hand. “There is more,” he said. “A secret compartment.”

He whispered into Bobby’s ear, and then stood so people could not see the boy trip the compartment. It took three tries for Bobby to get it, but suddenly a compartment at the top of the cabinet popped open. Gary moved so that everyone could see. There was a false back on the top shelf and a compartment that was about 2.5 inches wide running the full width of the cabinet. The secret compartment was spring activated by the trigger, and the top of the cabinet split into a long door that gave access, and could be closed with a click.

“That is so awesome, Gary,” Bobby said, completing his hug.

“What little boy doesn’t like a secret compartment,” Rachael said. “And I know that there are a lot of adults here that are impressed by your workmanship, and will want to talk to you about other furniture contracts.”

The next present was from Luke, and Rachael was pretty sure that Gary had been involved in it as well. It was a light for his bike that used the motion of the wheels to power the lamp. “And that comes with installation and a lesson in bike repairs,” Gary said. “Luke and you will both get a lesson on how to fix a tire, put a popped chain back, and some other things that a boy wants to know. You can even bring along your other friends.”

There were more presents, and Bobby got more and more excited. He had never had more than two small presents before and now he was getting dozens, between the two parties he had.

“Now, skating time is slipping away,” Rachael said. “So perhaps we should just skip cake and ice cream and get back on the ice. Is that okay?”

There was a chorus of ‘No’ from the kids, so Rachael nodded and Gary and Ali went into the kitchen to bring out the cake, as Ruby went and got the ice creams out of the freezer.

The cake was covered in foil, and when Rachael lifted it, to show the goalie in his net, the entire crowd was in awe. “Mike made that for me,” Bobby said in a whisper.

“Yep Tiger. I think you will have to make one of your special hugs up for him.”

“I will. This is so awesome. I wish I could just keep it. But I want to eat it too.”

“We have a picture of it, and we can put it in your room to remember it by,” Rachael said. Meanwhile, Ali had placed ten candles on the cake, scattered across the cake, and then lit them.

A chorus of Happy Birthday was sung, and Bobby tried to blow out the candles. Since they were not close together, he only got four in his first breath, but then got the rest in a second breath. Rachael handed Bobby the knife, and told him he should cut the first slice, and find out what kind of cake was underneath the colorful icing.

He cut in, and after that cut he could see: “It’s chocolate” and cheers came up from the kids in the crowd.

Rachael helped Bobby put the first slice on a paper plate, and then told him to deliver it. He immediately carried it over to Danni, who got a huge smile.

“Remember, Ruby has ice cream ready, so take your cake to her if you want a scoop. Stand in line nicely. There are chocolate, chocolate chip and Rocky Road flavors, so make your mind up when you are in line. Not when you get to the front.” Rachael took over the cutting duties after the first slice, and kids lined up: first for cake, and then for ice cream. Mikki and Larissa took slices over to the seniors. Grandpa was the only one wanting ice cream, asking for vanilla. Larissa gave him a small scoop of chocolate chip, which pleased him as being mostly vanilla.

With that, Rachael announced another round of skating, which brought cheers again from the sugared up kids. She again had a session of skate tying and tightening, and soon had everyone back on the ice.

She headed back to the hall to clean up, and found it was spotless. Mr. Stoner and Gary had taken all the presents out to the bakery van and all the women had cleaned the hall.

Rachael walked out to the arena with the women, and stood with Ali, Ruby and Mrs. Stoner as they watched their kids enjoying themselves. “Danni never wanted to skate before,” Mrs. Stoner said. “Same with Darla,” Ruby noted. “Now look at her, skating along with a boyfriend.”

“You might want to put Danni into figure skating this fall,” Rachael said. “Darla is probably a little old, but she will definitely want to keep coming to public skating, if it means being able to hold onto her man.”

“Oh, look. Luke fell,” Ali gasped. But the boy got right back up and continued to skate. “I can’t believe how well he is doing for his first time.”

“Marc is a good teacher,” Rachael explained. “It is Bobby’s first time on skates too. Does Gary skate?”

“Gary can do anything,” Ali said in a breathless voice. This girl is so much in love, Rachael thought.

“You might want Gary to give Luke some lessons. He really seems to like the boy,” Rachael said.

“Luke loves him too,” Ali said. “I guess I haven’t had provided him with any good father figures before. I hope that Gary sticks around.”

“I suspect he will,” Rachael said. “Gary is the sticking around type. And I know he really likes you.”

“Does he? Do you really think so? Oh, that would be so special.”

“I do. Now if you three don’t mind, I want to get back on the ice. There is a young man out there that needs a partner.”

It was six o’clock when the public skate was over. The ice needed to be resurfaced, and then another layer of ice added, as well as the hockey markings. Apparently a summer league had been formed and was playing each evening until the end of August.

Rachael and Robert were busy untying skates, and making sure that the right skates went out the door with the right child. When they were done, Rachael saw her parents standing with Ruby and Ali. The Stoners had already left.

Gary then came out to Ali, with Luke in tow. “Come my dear,” he told her. “We need to get to the babysitters and pick up your other two darlings.”

Ali took a quick glance at Rachael that said ‘that is the first time he called me dear’ and smiled broadly as she left the arena.

Darla came over to join her sister, and Ruby said: “We should go now, too, I guess.”

“Come into the hall for a moment,” Rachael said. “You are family, darn near. There is one more surprise.”

Bobby had dragged his parents in the hall, wanting to show them all his presents, and was sad to see they were all packed away. That didn’t stop him from animatedly recounting all the events of the day.

After he had wound down a bit, Geoff reached into his pocket and said. “This is our gift to you, son.”

Bobby looked at the paper but couldn’t make head nor tail of it. He handed it to Rachael, who was his go-to for reading problems. She didn’t need to look to know it was a receipt for the hockey school.

“It is the receipt for hockey school,” she said. “Mommy and Daddy have decided that you deserve to go to the school for two weeks. It costs a lot of money, but they had enough, and feel you are worth it.”

Bobby sat stunned. Marc had bragged about hockey school, but said it cost $1000. He didn’t know that Rachael had gotten him in for half that cost. Bobby started to cry.

“These are happy tears,” he finally was able to say as he hugged his mother. “I never thought we could go to something like that. We are poor.”

“Not so poor, anymore,” Geoff said as the boy transferred his hugs to him. “We are just a hard working family, that can do things when we save up for them. And this is something we saved for.”

“I am the luckiest little boy in the world,” Bobby wailed, moving over to Rachael. “I love you all so much.”

They got home that night to find that Gary had loaded all the gifts into the living room. Grandma and Grandpa were home now and Rachael wasn’t sure how. Then it hit her. The Hobo Army was at work, and apparently had driven a thrilled Mrs. Winchester home as well.

Bobby had another hour of excitement as he showed all his gifts all over again to his parents. Maria insisted that he show her the secret of the hidden compartment. She didn’t want her son to have a hiding place from her as he went into his teen years. Bobby didn’t mind showing it off anyway. At his age, it was more for his imagination than for actually hiding anything from his family.

Geoff and Rachael wrestled the bookshelf into his room, where Bobby immediately filled one shelf with books, both his new ones and his library books. The remaining shelves were then filled with other treasures he had gotten on his birthday.

Rachael made a light supper of soup and sandwiches, and the family had a wonderful family time until just after eight, when there was a thump on the living room carpet. It was Bobby’s head. He had totally run out of gas and fallen asleep as he watched TV. Geoff picked him up and carried him off to bed.

Grandma then asked for a ride home, and by the time Geoff was back Rachael had also put Grandpa to bed.

Geoff slumped on the sofa. “I’m beat. I know we worked harder during the Love Bread crisis, but this seems worse. I know we certainly made more money than ever before, thanks to Rachael raising the price on Clouds.”

“Do we need to hire another baker?” Maria suggested.

“I don’t think so,” Geoff said. “It is a situation of diminishing returns. Mike doubled our production, but a third baker would leave us getting into each other’s way. Maybe we can handle a third student, since Clouds seem to be a weekend thing. We will have to think it over. Partner.”

Maria just cuddled in closer. “Let’s go upstairs, partner. I want to show you what I think of your management style.”

Rachael just rolled her eyes at the love talk. She really didn’t mind, unlike any other teen on the planet. She liked that her parents were in love, and willing to show it. She really didn’t have any schoolwork to do, so she read in bed for a while, and then slid over the side.

Dear Lord

Please help Mrs. Winchester make her decision on whether she wants to move into a home. I am worried now that she might have had trouble getting ready for bed. I should have gone over to help. I am so sorry.

It’s just that the afternoon was so special. I know that it was the best day of Bobby’s life. I think it might have been the best day of my life too. My birthday is August 25 and I hope they don’t feel they have to equal this celebration. I would love just a small party with Bobby and my parents, Grandpa and Grandma, Helen and Steve, Gary and Alison, the Stoners, some kids from class, and gosh, I think I am already over the numbers Bobby had. I want a small party, but I want all the people I love there too, and there are so many.

But that is far away. Let’s take it one day at a time.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

The little yellow bus is back. I know a few of you have been waiting for a chapter. The story will continue until the end of the school year, and then will take a hiatus: Dawn

SUNDAY, June 12, 2016

Sunday Bobby came down to his breakfast wearing his hockey helmet. Was he still charged up over ‘the best birthday ever’? More than a little. After his French toast, Rachael made him wash up before getting into his church clothes (which, to his dismay could not include either hockey helmet or cowboy hat).

The family kissed Grandpa and then headed off to the little church. It was a beautiful spring day, and as they got near they saw that the Hobo Army was out in full force doing valet parking and directing traffic. Rachael left her family to go to Mrs. Winchester’s house. The woman has said at the party that she was willing to attend the church next door, now that she had met so many people there.

Rachael rapped on the door, and waited for the elderly woman to come down. “Did you let your friend know not to pick you up for church?” Rachael asked.

“I did, and she was sorry to hear that we wouldn’t be going together as usual. In fact, she said that she would come here too. I told her you would be helping me today, so she is coming to the later service. She said she has heard a lot of nice things about the church and the painting.”

Rachael helped the woman into one of her nicer dresses, remembering that she would have to help her out later in the day. The dress had buttons in the back that the old lady couldn’t manage.

“You know, if you won’t have anyone coming for you, perhaps we could let some people park in your drive,” Rachael suggested.

“Certainly, so long as they don’t trample on my roses,” Mrs. Winchester said.

As the two walked over to the church, Rachael told the Hobo Army man guarding the lane that he could let cars park in the drive. It was a double drive, and long enough that they could accommodate six cars.

In the church Myrtle wanted to pray at the painting, and Rachael got down with her, not having prayed to the painting for several weeks now. She was blasted with that warm feeling that she got at home at nights occasionally. She had decided that this meant ‘job well done,’ so was pleased when she stood. Myrtle stood several minutes later with a huge smile on her face. “That helped,” she said. “I have made up my mind about the house.”

Rachael took her into the hall, which was filling fast, and an usher led them to a single seat left next to the woman Myrtle had eaten with at the Wednesday dinner. She helped her into the seat, and then begged off to head to the nursery.

In the nursery she was pleased to see that eight girls from her class at school were already there, helping the three adult women. Rachael had mentioned the idea to the girls at lunch at school earlier in the week, and all of them decided to come in hopes of getting babysitting jobs, one of the few ways a 13 or 14-year-old can earn money. Only Larissa was unable to attend. She had asked permission to come to her priest, but was curtly told that she would be sinning by stepping inside a Protestant church. He told her to help her own church’s nursery, which she was planning to do.

Only a few of the girls were Presbyterians. Mikki was there, along with Carla, Angela, Becca, Janice, Layla and Lucy. Tanya from the Grade 7s also came. All had babies or small groups of children with them when Rachael entered.

“This is so much fun,” Mikki said. She was reading to a group of toddlers.

“I’m glad you are enjoying it. I’m going to have to break away halfway through the service. I should be down for the entire second service though.”

“What’s up?” her friend asked.

“A surprise. If you can get the others to stay down here to the end, Carly and you should be able to pop up and watch.

Rachael, of course, went immediately to a crying baby that Layla was holding, and it settled down immediately. “How did you do that?” Layla demanded. “She has been fussing since her mother left her.”

“I think it was because she recognized me from last week. I’m sure she will adore you next time you come,” Rachael said. “Oh, that might be the problem. She just had a poop. Time to learn how to change a diaper.”

“No way,” Layla said.

Rachael gathered four of the girls, including Layla, and showed them how to do the dirty task. It was not long before another baby had the need, and Rachael showed the remaining girls how it was done. Before the end of the sessions, all of the girls had changed a diaper, although for some it was only a peed-in diaper. There were a lot of ‘icks’ and ‘yuks’ but in the end all the girls had picked up a valuable skill. They were also learning that babysitting was going to be a job, and it would have unpleasant aspects as well.

An usher came down to get Rachael, and Carla and Mikki followed her. Rachael took a second to change her blouse in the washroom. It had baby spit on it. Then they headed up to the church where Pastor McNaughton was wrapping up his short sermon on “Coping with Change.”

Seeing Rachael, the pastor smiled, and then said: “Today we have a special treat. As you know, Pastor McFarland usually gives this service. This week I am leading both, as Pastor Helen has something special to do today. She is getting married to Constable Steven Winslow, a member of our local police force and a man I greatly admire.” With that about 20 members of the Ingersoll town police entered the church and stood at attention on either side of the main aisle. They were wearing their fancy dress uniforms, and stood at full attention facing the aisle.

“When Constable Winslow asked for her hand, Pastor Helen insisted that she get married in front of her congregation. That is what we plan for the last part of the service today.” At that point Steve entered the church, marching down past the members of his force, to take a position at the head of the church, in front of Pastor McNaughton. His younger brother Edward accompanied him.

With that the Pastor looked to Rachael, who moved near, but not onto the raised platform and began to sing to the accompaniment of the church organ.

Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found;
Was blind, but now I see.

'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved;
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares,
I have already come;
'Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home.

The Lord has promised good to me,
His word my hope secures;
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.

Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess, within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.

The world shall soon dissolve like snow,
The sun refuse to shine;
But God, who called me here below,
Shall be forever mine.

When we've been there ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun,
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we'd first begun.

Immediately as the sound cleared, the Wedding March was played, and Pastor Helen came down the aisle on the arm of an older man, her father. Rachael looked to the vacant seat at the front, where the man would sit, and saw that the next seat was filled with another man. Then she remembered Pastor Helen mentioning that her mother had died of cancer while Helen was in seminary.

The traditional service followed, with the only surprising thing being that Pastor Helen gave the traditional vows, not removing the ‘to obey’ clause that so many brides today refuse to include. The service ended, and as the register was signed by the new couple and their attendants (the maid of honor was the leader of the church women’s auxiliary), Rachael sang her second song:

He is now to be among you at the calling of your hearts
Rest assured this troubador is acting on his part.
The union of your spirits, here, has caused him to remain
For whenever two or more of you are gathered in his name
There is love. There is love.

A man shall leave his mother and a woman leave her home
And they shall travel on to where the two shall be as one.
As it was in the beginning is now and ‘til the end
Woman draws her life from man and gives it back again.
And there is love. There is love.

Well then what's to be the reason for becoming man and wife?
Is it love that brings you here or love that brings you life?
And if loving is the answer, then who's the giving for?
Do you believe in something that you've never seen before?
Oh there's love. There is love.

Oh the marriage of your spirits here has caused him to remain
For whenever two or more of you are gathered in his name
There is love. There is love.

With that the happy couple escaped down the aisle, with the officers marching in step, the stomping of their heavy boots in cadence with that of the applause of the congregation, honestly happy for their new pastor and glad that she thought so much of them to have them all at the service.

“That was so cool, Rachael,” Carly said. “I didn’t know you could sing so well.”

“Did you see the photographer?” Mikki said. “That was my Dad. He wouldn’t tell me where he was shooting this morning. I’m glad you invited me up to see this.”

The three girls hurried down to the nursery, getting there before many of the parents arrived to pick up their little ones. The parents all came over to Rachael and congratulated her on her hymns, and then picked up their children. Rachael had printed up sheets of paper with the names and phone numbers of each of the girls on it, and the girls handed those out to the parents who again asked about babysitters. Carla, Layla and Tanya all got promises that they would be called later in the day to set up a time for sitting in the next week.

The second service parents started coming down even before the first service ones had left, but with 11 helpers in the room there was no confusion. The girls were again handling the children with a greater confidence this time. Maria came down to help as well, but seeing she was not needed, headed off to the kitchen to see if Geoff needed help.

“What is happening at the back of the church?” Mikki said. “I saw lots of construction stuff back there when we came in.”

“Oh, that would be the scaffolding for the roof. The Hobo Army are going to put up a new roof next week. They will put scaffolds on the front as well, but not until Monday. The church will still be open, for the painting, and they plan to have everything done before next Sunday.”

“That sounds really interesting,” Mikki said. “I wonder if they would let me film it. I had a blast doing the video for school, and it would be cool to do one on how they do roofs. In fact, I could do a full series. Ingersoll Works. Do you think Geoff would let me do a film on how you make Love Bread?”

Rachael immediately got the idea. “Yeah, and you could also do one on Robinson’s Dairy Farm, and the egg farm next door to them. And there is the beef farm that Ruby works with. Then there are other plants in town you could talk to. It would be a great idea if you want a portfolio for film school. I’ll introduce you to Gary at the end of the services, and you can ask him if it would be okay.”

Maria and Geoff returned almost two hours later with a bag of cupcakes. By then the nursery was emptying again, and this time four more girls got promises of babysitting jobs during the next week.

Once all the tots and toddlers were gone, Geoff opened his bag of treats, and handed out cupcakes that his students had made. All the helpers, students as well as adult, slavered over the tasty treats.

Kevin Ripley, the gardener who had done Myrtle’s roses had taken her home after the services. She had told Rachael that she wouldn’t need help with her dress until after supper … she was coming to the Barron family dinner that evening.

Thus the young family was walking home just after noon, with Bobby munching on an extra cupcake. A few weeks ago Rachael would have made him wait until after lunch, but with all the racing around with his friends on their bikes, he was no longer pudgy. There was a little extra around his waist, but he would grow into it.

In fact, once they got home, and he finished the bowl of the soup Rachael has left simmering, he grabbed a sandwich in each hand and ran out to get his bike to head to Marc’s. He was gone all afternoon.

At 5:30 Rachael and Geoff took the van over to Mrs. Winchester’s, where the lady was ready and waiting, wearing the same dress as church, which Geoff complimented her on, to her delight. Then they drove to Grandma’s who got into the back and chatted with Myrtle on the way to the house.

Dinner that night was chicken, and there were two birds, impressing Bobby when he saw that there were four drumsticks, his favorite. He actually got three of them, with Geoff snagging the other.

After the meal, which included lemon meringue and cherry pies for dessert, Myrtle announced that she had decided to take the church offer for her house. She had decided in the prayer at the painting that morning, and had phoned her children during the afternoon. Both children were retired themselves, and had been pushing for her to move to a home for some time now, so they readily agreed with the plan.

“There will be a lot of work to get ready to move,” the old lady said. “Would you be able to help, Rachael?”

“Yes dear, I will,” she said. “I have the morning off tomorrow, then the afternoon the next day, and so on until Thursday. Hopefully we can get a lot done by then, and if not we should be able to spend the whole day on Saturday.”

“Oh my,” Mrs. Winchester said. “I hadn’t thought there was that much.”

“Well, it is a big house. Once you get in at the home, we will get the Hobo Army to move out the furniture and goods you don’t want. Gary can arrange a big auction sale.”

When they were getting ready to take everyone home, Myrtle noted that it had been a busy and tiring week for her, but the most pleasant one she could remember. Rachael went home with her, and after dropping Grandma off, Geoff waited in the car while Rachael went in to help Myrtle with her night dress. She promised to be over in the morning to help.

Then it was back home, where Maria had put Grandpa and Bobby to bed, and she nestled up with Geoff. “We are taking the day off tomorrow, right?” Maria told her man.

“Well, I want to pop in and check on Doug,” Geoff said. Maria just frowned. “Okay, okay,” he said. “At nine we will pop in for a few minutes, just to see how it is going, all right? There are a few chores around the house that need doing, and we can spend a couple hours planning for the future with the new schedule.”

“Good,” Maria said. “It will be good for the two of us to have a two-day weekend for once, even if it is Sunday/Monday.

That night Rachael prayed as usual

Dear Lord

Thank you for everything. Mrs. Winchester is becoming like a great grandma to us. I need to make sure Bobby and I can get to the home often as she is getting used to the place. But she is a friendly old soul, and I’m sure she will make friends there easily. Thank you for making the wedding so perfect. I know Helen and Steve had considered themselves married by the painting, but I guess the legal steps had to be completed with the church wedding. Now there will be no gossip in town.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Just a short series of vignettes to keep the story moving: Dawn

MONDAY, June 13, 2016

Rachael was up early and got Bobby fed and off to school. Then she headed back to the church and the house next door where Mrs. Winchester lived.

As she got close, she saw Larissa, Carly and Mikki heading in from the opposite direction.

“Yippee. The whole team together again,” Carly said. Apparently she had slept over with Mikki the night before.

“No, Rachael can’t help us,” Mikki explained. “It will only be the three of us on this project.”

“I’m helping the lady in the house next to church move,” Rachael explained. “She is moving into a nursing home in a few days.”

As they neared the church they could see that there was a lot of work underway. On the back side of the church men were already on the roof, clearing off old shingles, which slid down to a commercial collection bin parked underneath between the two areas of scaffolding. On the street side of the church was a second bin, and men were erecting scaffolds on either side of it.

Rachael continued on to the house, while the other girls went to the church, with Mikki already filming.

“Gary and a man Mikki didn’t know walked up. “Hi girls, this is Skid, foreman for this project. He’s here to help you brush up on safety issues.”

Carly, who had Mikki’s old camera started taking pictures.

“First off,” Skid said in a no-nonsense voice, “whenever you are on my site, you will always wear a hard hat. We did some work on these last night, and the fitting inside should be small enough for a girl’s head. If not, we will adjust them further. You will wear the helmet at all times, and always keep the chin strap tight.”

“Next, whenever you are on the roof you will wear a safety rope. He held up a harness. Who here will be going up?”

“Me and Carly,” Mikki said. “Larissa has a thing about heights. She says she is as tall as she needs to be.”

Carly filmed as Mikki got into a harness, which went around her legs and then up and around her shoulders. “You probably won’t need this,” Skid warned, “but it must be connected to the cable at the church peak at all times when you are on the roof. If I find you unconnected, or not in a helmet, even for a second, then the project is over and you will be asked to leave.”

Carly then got into her harness. “I’m not going to be climbing the roof,” she explained. “I just want a little corner somewhere that I can film from.”

“Bark,” Skid shouted. “Can you take a couple of 2x4s up and make a little perch in the front corner for this young lady to film from. One board for her legs, and then another for her rear. You are going to be sore sitting there all morning,” Skid warned, “but at least your legs won’t cramp up from trying to hold your position on the slope for a long time.”

Mikki then filmed Carly getting her outfit on. Once that was done, Mikki headed up the scaffolding like a monkey, soon reaching the top. One of the men already in a harness grabbed the rope, and walked it to the top of the roof, where he fastened it to the cable that ran along the peak of the roof. Carly climbed up slower, and soon found the resting place that Bark had made for her. Her support rope was also connected, and she nestled into position at the lower corner of the roof.

Larissa stayed on the ground, and filmed her friends climbing up with her phone, and also took shots of work happening at ground level.

Most of the action was on the roof, and Mikki was right in the middle of it. Skid was up there as well, supervising the crew, and occasionally explaining what was happening to Mikki.

“We started at 7, so we have a good two hours of work in,” he explained. “The men are using shovels and pitchforks to lift the old shingles, which are then fed down to the bins below. We’re over half done lifting the old shingles on this side, which is coming wonderfully. We may not have the same luck on the other side, which is the southern exposure. Those shingles are in worse shape, and may break apart instead of coming off whole. That might mean we have to take each nail out by hand.”

He moved off, and Mikki kept filming. She had enough memory cards to hold a couple hours of video, so she kept the camera running, trying to get good angles of the men lifting the old shingles, and then showed the debris sliding down to the eaves. Larissa got shots of the shingles falling over the eaves, and down into the bin from the ground.

Later Skid came back, when almost all the old shingles were gone. “The men up there are replacing some areas where the roofing has rotted through,” he said, pointing. “Again, the other side will be worse. All the leaks are on that side, and we expect to find a lot of rotted boards there. We are almost ready to cover this side. We are really making good time.”

“What do you cover with?” Mikki asked.

“There will be a row of felt paper at the bottom,” Skid said. “Then we are going to cover the rest with Tyvek house wrap. It normally doesn’t get used on roofs, but I think it will extend the life of the roof by at least five years. We are using 35-year shingles, but you seldom actually get that long … with the Tyvek I’m hoping we will. The shiny side goes up.”

He held out a sample of the white material, which usually would wrap a house before the brick or siding was installed. One side was slick, and the other side was a bit rougher.

The material went on quickly. Gary had rented nail guns for the crews, and it only took about 10 minutes for each of the rows of Tyvek to be installed. By 11 a.m. it was all down, and the men were starting on shingles in the lower corner opposite to where Carly sat.

Carly was a bit afraid sitting on the top of the roof. She was near the eaves, which were still 25 feet in the air. Mikki, on the other hand, was fearless, and was all over the place. She had even sat near the steeple to get shots of the surrounding area. Carly was glad ‘second shooter’ status meant she could just park herself and take shots, like right now where she was filming Mikki jumping about on the peak.

Although Carly didn’t notice it, Mikki had gotten something on one of her sneakers, and then stepped on a scrap of Tyvek that was laying upside down. What Carly did see through her viewfinder was Mikki starting to slide down the roof on one foot, going faster and faster. The last three feet of the roof did not have Tyvek, since tar paper was nailed there, but that didn’t slow the girl down. Instead, she arced over the edge of the roof, with her hard hat flying to the left, and her expensive Nikon camera going to the right.

She had screamed all the way down the slide. Carly started to scream as Mikki neared the edge, and below Larissa started to scream as she looked through her viewfinder and saw Mikki fly through the air over the edge of the eaves, heading for the ground.

All work stopped at the screams, and men watched the slide in horror. Those on the ground, including Gary, saw the girl flying through the air. Then the rope played out and went taut, and arrested the arc. A second later Mikki was hanging upside down in the air. Larissa wanted to run towards her friend, but something made her hold back, continuing to film on her phone.

Carly was nearly hysterical, and grabbed onto the neck of the crew member who came to her aid. She thought she had witnessed the death of her friend. The man carefully worked her along to the scaffold, where he got her to the planking. She was unclipped by a man at the top, and slowly was half-carried and half climbed to the ground. As soon as she was over the edge, she could see Mikki hanging there, upside down, and not moving.

The men on the crew were all in action. They paired up on either side of the rope that held Mikki aloft, all along its run up the roof. A man at the top undid the clip from the cable, immediately clipping it to his belt. He then started down the steep slope, as the men fed the rope out hand by hand, slowly lowering the girl to the ground.

Mikki regained consciousness as her head was face to face with Gary, still upside down. Skid was on the other side, and the two men reached out and took her shoulders, so that in another minute she was horizontal, and then laying on the ground.

A few minutes later an ambulance squealed into the church lot, followed by a van with Stoner Photography on the side. Mikki was already on the stretcher when she saw her dad.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said. “I think I broke the good camera.”

“The camera be damned,” Bob Stoner said. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she said with a wan smile. “It wasn’t what I was planning, but I guess we proved that the safety measures were good. I’m a bit sore where this harness goes around my legs, and I think I blacked out for a bit.”

Bob got into the ambulance with his daughter, after handing his keys to Gary, who had two men drive his van to the hospital for him.

Just then Rachael came around the corner from the house, where she had gotten a lot of work done for Mrs. Winchester. “What happened?” she asked Larissa, who was still holding a shaking Carly.

“Mikki fell off the roof,” Larissa said.

“What?” Rachael shouted.

“She’s okay, but they just left for the hospital in the ambulance,” Larissa said.

“We have to go,” Rachael insisted.

“No, we have to go to school,” Larissa said. “We talked to her, and she says she is fine.”

“How did it happen?” Rachael said.

“Like this,” Carly said, somehow calming down now that Rachael was there. She replayed the video of the slide down the roof on her camera. Larissa followed up showing Mikki come flying over the edge, only to jerk to a halt, followed by the rescue.

“Wow. And I was right next door and didn’t have a clue. Bring those cameras to school. At least we will be able to explain to our teachers why Mikki is missing afternoon classes.”

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

Helen rose and looked out the window to watch the majestic Niagara Falls from her hotel window. Steve had wanted to take her on a honeymoon to remember, mentioning Paris, Rome, and Athens, but Helen had refused. She insisted that they be back for Sunday morning services. She wanted to honeymoon at Niagara Falls, where her grandparents had, so he had booked a week at Fallsview Sheraton, overlooking the falls.

They had driven less than two hours from the church to their hotel, and had a relaxing evening last night. It was not the first night they had slept together: Helen had considered herself married to the young constable since they had prayed at the painting. But it was the first time they were legally married, and that made it a bit special.

“What do you want to do this morning?” Steve asked from the bed.

“That,” she said, pointing out the window at the Falls. “I want to sit out somewhere where I can watch the falls. It is one of the Lord’s most impressive creations, and I want to experience it fully.”

So after a breakfast in the hotel, Helen and Steve walked along the pathway to a place where they could look down at the majestic falls. Helen sat down crosslegged in her jeans, and Steve sat directly behind her, letting her lean on him as she studied the falls.”

“Do you want lunch?” Steve asked a few minutes later.

“What? So soon?” Helen asked.

“It’s almost one,” Steve said. “You have been staring at that thing for nearly four hours.”

“I have? It is just so awe-inspiring,” she said. “But yes, I do need to feed you, although I would like to come back here tomorrow.”

“Maybe after lunch we can visit Ripley’s Believe it or Not, and the Wax Museums,” Steve suggested. “There are supposed to be a lot of things to do at Clifton Hill.”

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

The three members of the Vandereynd family rose from the prayer rails at the painting. It was the second time Lisa Vandereynd had prayed. The first time had ended her alcoholism. The first time for his husband Hans came when the painting had alerted him that his daughter Autumn had being trying to hang herself in the three-car garage of their bungalow. The second time had been with his wife, and it had made him realize that his devotion to his work as a contractor was destroying his marriage and (nearly) his family.

For Autumn it was a first time at the painting. She wore a turtleneck sweater that covered the rope burns on her neck. She rose from the painting feeling better than she had felt in years. The teenaged angst that had driven her to try suicide was gone. She understood things at a deeper level now, and decided that casual comments made by her classmates would no longer drive her to the depths of despair.

“I want to move,” Lisa said. “I want to move into this neighborhood. Can we?”

“I thought the bungalow was your dream house?” Hans said.

“It was,” Lisa said. “But my dreams are different now. Everything there is so new and modern … and tainted. I became a drunk there. My daughter nearly died there. I don’t think I will ever be able to go into that garage again.”

“Well, I definitely don’t want you to start drinking again. The bungalow is one of the nicest houses in the subdivision. We have a lot of equity in it. But all the homes are older around here. Do you really want an older home?”

“Actually, I do. We would have to fix it up inside, but some of these old houses are beautiful. I want to be a traditional wife in a traditional house,” Lisa said.

“Well, let’s ask this man if there are any houses for sale in the area,” Hans said, gesturing to Gary, who was doing a shift in the lobby.

“I overheard your conversation,” Gary said, “and it happens that just yesterday a man who owns two houses in the neighborhood told me he wanted to sell. They are rental properties, but could be made into a family home again. One has three units, and all are empty. The other is slightly smaller, with one tenant in the lower unit. The upper there is inaccessible at the moment, due to the stairs being condemned. I have a work party going out tomorrow to fix them.”

“Who is the agent handling the sale?” Hans asked.

“Actually, there is no agent,” Gary explained. “The owner was so rattled by the upstairs tenant nearly falling through the stairs that he just wants out of the property rental business. I guess the building inspector gave him a rough ride for letting the stairs deteriorate. Plus the upstairs tenant is threatening to sue. I do have the keys to the places, if you want to look.”

“No agent?” Hans mused. That would lower the price somewhat. “Yes, if you have time we would love to see the houses.”

Gary phoned into the shed to get someone to replace him in the lobby and then walked the family down to the first house. “This is the one with the bad stairs,” Gary said. “It looks like Mrs. Cassidy is awake downstairs. We can ask if she will let us look around. As a tenant she has the right to insist on an advance notice, but she attends our church, and I think she will let us in.”

“Gary, and some friends,” Mrs. Cassidy said as she came to the door. “What do I owe this pleasure?”

“Mrs. Cassidy,” Gary said. “Have you spoken to Mr. Hunt lately?”

“The landlord? No dear, why?” the older lady said.

“Well, it turns out that he is looking to sell his buildings. This family is looking for a place to buy. They wanted to look around.”

The three quickly made it through the building. It was small, although of course with the upstairs it might be large enough for the family, even though it would be less than half the space of the bungalow. They returned to the living room, where Gary was consoling a weeping Mrs. Cassidy.

“What’s wrong?” Lisa said, immediately going to the sobbing woman.

“Well, Mrs. Cassidy was not aware that the building was being sold,” Gary explained. “It is a bit of a shock to her.”

“I don’t want to move,” the lady sobbed. “I was hoping this could be my last home.”

“Well, I certainly won’t move you out of your house,” Lisa said. “We have another house to look at, but we certainly won’t buy this one, and evict you from your home.”

“No, but that just means that someone else will. Even if they do buy it for rentals, they are liable to raise the rents beyond what I can pay.”

Gary left the sobbing woman and took the family five houses down the street, and unlocked the empty house, one unit at a time. Hans’ professional eye could visualize the three units as a single home, and explained how the layout would work to his wife and daughter. Autumn made a claim on an upstairs bedroom that had a widow’s walk balcony over the front porch. Two other bedrooms upstairs could be merged into a master suite, with the kitchen behind being converted into a walk-in closet and master bath. There were two more rooms upstairs, which would become a guestroom and an office for Hans.

Downstairs small kitchen to the front apartment was back-to-back with the kitchen of the rear unit, and Hans suggested that they be merged into a large country kitchen. The front bedroom was originally the living room and could be restored to that function. The other unit had two bedrooms, and had a small bathroom at the rear. The front room would become a parlor or a library, mirroring the living room, and the room behind could be restored to a dining room with good access to the kitchen. The final room at the back was claimed by Lisa as her den. It had beautiful views of the large backyard, where Lisa said she would plant a garden next spring.

“I didn’t think you were into gardening anymore,” Hans said.

“I always was, but that neighborhood was snooty, and gardening was considered lower-class by the other women. Look, there is a garden behind nearly every house you can see from here,” Lisa said.

“Yes. The bones of the place are good. Much better than the other place. The new owner there will have a lot of work to bring it up to code. I think that the tenant is right: they will need to raise her rent.”

“That is so sad,” Autumn said. “I wish we could buy both places, and let her stay in her home. She seemed like such a nice old lady.”

Lisa looked at Hans: “Can we?”

Hans calculated. “With the equity we have in the bungalow, and a mortgage quite a bit smaller than the one we have we could carry both places. The upstairs there needs a lot of work, and a bit downstairs.” He turned to Gary. “You said you have men coming to work on the stairs tomorrow. Are they experienced in doing stairs? They can be pretty tricky.”

“One is a certified carpenter,” Gary said. “The other two will be just helpers. I don’t know if Stan has done stairs. I think he was a fence and deck man. Most of the top carpenters are working on the church roof this week.”

“Let me send one of my stairs guys tomorrow. If I’m taking the place, I want the repairs done right. I will pay for the lumber. And Gus can look over the rest of the place to see what needs doing up there. Let’s talk price.”

Gary told him what the current owner was asking, and Hans came back with a much lower price. He noted that the one unit was condemned and could take a lot of work to replace. He made his offer conditional on his man inspecting the upstairs apartment.

Gary phoned Mr. Hunt and put forth the offer. The man thought for about 12 seconds before agreeing, but only if the offer was outright, with no condition. Hans agreed: he felt he had a big enough discount to cover all the renovations that might be needed. Mr. Hunt was happy, claiming that he would finally be able to get a good night’s sleep. He offered full access to the apartments over the time before closing, so Hans could have men start the renovations.

“Can you start right away?” Lisa asked. “I know you have a lot of other jobs on the go.”

“Yes, but this is the home for my family. I know that my family comes first: now.”

“But first we have to head back to that old lady. We can’t let her fret all night about her house. We can tell her that she can stay there as long as she wishes, at the same rent,” Lisa said.

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

Rachael had spent the evening working on a special project. The Top Girl and Boy speeches would be tomorrow morning, and she had come up with an idea. Once she finished, she was ready for bed. Geoff and Maria had turned in early. The one downside to their day off was that on Tuesday Mike would be off, and that meant they had to go in for the 11 p.m. shift.

Dear Lord

Thank you so much for saving Mikki today. I know your hand was in that affair, and I don’t know what I would have done if Mikki was hurt … or worse. I owe you big time, and will work especially hard from now on to pay you back.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

A little slow. I was yanked out of retirement last week, but plan on crawling back into it soon. Anyway, I will try to keep going at a chapter a week or better: Dawn

TUESDAY, June 14, 2016

Rachael got up and headed off to school. The Top Girl and Top Boy speeches were to be given at an assembly this morning, and she wanted to support Carly, especially with the surprise they had been working on over the weekend. They had decided not to do the normal routine of giving a speech. I mean, there were only two more weeks of school, so any promises of things a new Top Girl could do were pretty hollow. It wasn’t like being elected class president at the start of term or anything.

But each girl (and the boys) got five minutes for their speech, which usually left the class totally bored, particularly after 10 girls and four boys finished.

But Rachael had come up with an idea (of course). Carly would sing a song. One of the Grade Seven boys played acoustic guitar, and would play. Carly would sing, and Rachael and Larissa would keep time on tambourines.

The lyrics were a kludge of an old John Lennon song, ‘Give Peace a Chance’. Rachael looked over the lyrics she had written.

Two, one-two-three-four

Evrybody’s talking bout

Mystery Meat, bongo beat on the street, nothing good to eat

Creamed corn, gravy porn, simmered all morn, hairnets worn.

All we are saying, is give peas a chance

All we are saying, is give peas a chance

Yo yos are no nos, Frisbees and scraped knees, paper wads and doodads

All we can eat are corn and beets, take your seats, football cleats

All we are saying, is give peas a chance

All we are saying, is give peas a chance

All we are saying, is give peas a chance

All we are saying, is give peas a chance

All we are saying, is give peas a chance

All we are saying, is give peas a chance

It wasn’t much of a song, but when they had practiced it on Sunday afternoon the others liked it. The catchy chorus was easy to remember, and repeated enough that the students could join in.

Rachael put her song sheet into her backpack and headed down to make breakfast for Bobby.

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

Mikki was at the construction site on Tuesday, carrying the new camera her father had bought her. He had been so happy that she was safe and well he didn’t even complain about the cost. In the shed Mikki found that her old camera was strewn across a workbench, with Chipper working on it. The lenses were toast, and a mirror inside was cracked. Two or three other parts were damaged, but the tinkerer/barber had already gotten the electronics back in business. He told Mikki that he had ordered parts from Nikon, and when they came in, he would reassemble the camera, hopefully so it was as good as new.

Skid and Gary were talking to a man in a suit outside when Mikki came up. “This is the girl who fell,” Gary said. “As you can see, she is fine. The harness caught her.”

“Mikki, this is Taylor Stone from the OHSA. He is investigating your short flight yesterday to ensure that all our safety practices are in order.”

“This could help,” Mikki said, holding out her iPad. “I made a little video from the footage the girls took yesterday. You might want to watch it.”

Mr. Stone did, and he watched the clips that Mikki had arranged into a story. It started off with Skid putting the harness on her as he gave his safety talk. The man in the suit was nodding his head as he watched. There was a short scene where Skid told Mikki about Tyvek on the roof. He paused the video.

“This is not a normal material used on roofs,” Mr. Stone said. “What will it do?”

“It is an idea of mine,” Skid said. “The extra barrier is fairly inexpensive, and I hope it will prolong the life of the roof, particularly on the sunny side.”

“We should send out an alert about it, cautioning about the slippery effect.” He then went back and continued the video, which quickly went into the slide and fall, and then Carly and Larissa’s shooting of the recovery operation from two different angles, intercut to show how the men on the roof helped lower the girl safely.

“That video is wonderful,” Mr. Stone said. “I wonder if I could get a copy? This would be a great addition to our training materials. You can talk about a person falling from a roof till you are blue in the face, and men will think it can’t happen to them. But to see someone, a young girl at that, go flying off the eaves … well, it really has an impact. I suspect that the training division will want to buy the rights to this. Heck, it might even make a good safety public service ad for TV.”

Mikki handed him a memory stick. “This has the edited version on it. If your guys want to get the raw footage, email me and I will send it. I’m not as interested in money: I just want to build a good portfolio for college and beyond.”

After a half hour more, where Mr. Stone went up onto the roof (in a harness) the OHSA man announced that the site was approved and work could get underway again. A half hour later and Mikki got the shots she wanted: the lumberyard sent over a truck with a huge crane attached to the back. The crane was positioned up to the peak of the roof, and then men on the truck started feeding bales of shingles onto a conveyor belt that ran up to the top, dropping the shingles in a pattern on the roof and saving the men from having to carry the heavy packages up the ladder manually.

Soon the nailguns were firing and the shingles slowly started working their way up that side of the roof. Meanwhile, more men were working on the other side of the church, where Skid’s fears came true: the sun had rotted those shingles, and an earlier layer beneath, and the men had a huge job in peeling the old ones away when they broke into small pieces instead of lifting the nails out like they had on the other side.

Mikki filmed all morning. She had wanted to go to Carly’s speech, but felt the video was more important. The men couldn’t reshoot parts she missed. But by noon she felt she had enough, and went off to school.

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

At school, Carly drew the 14th slot for her speech. As Rachael had predicted, most of the speeches were either ‘I’m cool, so vote for me,’ or pointless campaign type speeches complaining about the things that were wrong with the school when there was no time to fix them.

Carly got to the stage and looked out over a totally bored student body. The grades five and six were present, even though they couldn’t vote. Grade sevens could vote, but all the candidates had to be grade eight.

“Oh what a cheerful sea of faces. Well, I have no speech for you,” Carly said as she stepped up to the mic. That perked people up a little bit. The Grade sevens noticed that one of their own was on stage, carrying a guitar.

“Instead of continuing to bore you I thought a little song would break things up a bit. Unfortunately, my slot comes at the end of the show, so I guess this will be more of a wrap-up than a break. Anyway, my friend Rachael wrote this song, based on one by John Lennon, and made it relevant to Winslow School. I hope you like it.”

They loved it. By the third time the chorus was sung, the whole auditorium was singing along, including some of the teachers, who recognized the original song and were singing the unchanged lyrics. Rachael wasn’t even sure that some of them had noticed the change.

It completely changed the tempo of the event, and the students filed out of the room, many singing or humming ‘Give Peas a chance.’

On stage Rachael high-fived her friend. “You are so in, girl,” she said. “I wish they voting was today instead of Friday. The other contestants looked glum, and several of them congratulated Carly then and there.

The one big question was ‘what was on the menu for lunch?’ If they served peas, it would limit the effectiveness of the song. Luckily, it was carrots, and almost every student sang, “All we are saying, is give peas a chance,” as the lunch ladies scooped the vegetables onto their plates.

------ - -- --

Helen woke up in her honeymoon suite overlooking the falls, eager to spend another day admiring God’s wonder. After breakfast she and Steve went down to the same spot as before, and sat as they had before, with Helen leaning against Steve’s legs as she stared at the wonder.

After about a half hour, Helen raised her hand, and then moved it. Amazingly, she erased part of the Rainbow Bridge between the US and Canada. She erased some more, and more of the modern cities on either side of the falls disappeared. She erased the paved roads and walkways, the guardrails along the edge of the gorge, and then the cities themselves. When she was done, she was looking at the wonder as it must have appeared 250 years ago, when the area was still a wilderness and known only to the natives of the area.

She leaned back against Steve’s legs again after leaning forward as she erased. Suddenly he saw what she was seeing, and suddenly realized what the confusing hand motions he had noticed had done.

“What did you do?” he whispered. The roar of the falls continued, but the sounds of the city had vanished.

“I guess I made it as it had been before people decided that the Falls were a way to make money. It seems so much more spiritual this way.”

This time both of them sat staring at the wonder for hours and hours. They completely missed lunch, and then dinner, as the Falls seemed to feed and nourish them physically as well as spiritually. It was only when the sun set did they move.

Helen stood first, stiff but happy, and the erased items all reappeared, including the lights that now lit the attraction, diminishing the effects of the beautiful sunset they had just watched. Everything reappeared for Steve at the same time, and then reality crept back in. Both of them needed a washroom quickly. Luckily, one had reappeared just behind them.

After returning, they headed back to their hotel and ordered room service, speaking as little as possible. As they ate, Steve looked at his new wife. From the moment he had met her he knew she was special. She had claimed to be plain, but she appeared as the most beautiful woman on earth to him. Now he knew she was special, and he vowed silently that his entire life would be devoted to helping her with her mission on earth. Luckily he felt that his role as a police officer fit into that scenario.

That night, the two of them were still wrapped up in awe of what they had seen, and made the most beautiful love ever.

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

Rachael went to the bakery after school. Bobby now went there to check in, and occasionally walked home with his sister, but more often than not he left alone or with his friends so they could go bike riding around the town. Ingersoll was a small town, only about 12,000 people, so it was still safe for boys to be boys and go off exploring. Today Bobby went off with Marc and Luke Weller, the other boy who Gary had supplied with a bike.

Rachael went in, and found that Mike had not taken a full day off. He was experimenting again, and found that the newly retuned moulder/sheeter was capable of making flakier croissants. He planned to add the new product to the mix on Wednesdays, starting tomorrow.

Larissa, Carly and Mikki were all with her, and Mike handed each of the girls one of the rolls, still warm from the oven. Mikki, Carly and Rachael got wide eyes at the buttery light taste of the buns, but it was Larissa who reacted the most.

“These are wonderful,” she said. “They are Paris croissants. The kind you get at the sidewalk cafés along the Seine. I am taken back home when I eat this. You have to make them every day.”

“Sorry,” Mike said. “They take a lot of work. On Monday and Tuesday, with only one baker, we can’t spend the time. And Friday and Saturday are too busy. We could do them on Thursday’s too, but I think we should just make them a Wednesday thing. It is a slow day for sales, so having something special might pull in some more customers.”

“It will, it will,” Larissa raved. “When Mama tastes these she will be making a standing order.”

Mike then handed each of the four girls a bag containing eight of croissants to take home. There was also a bag for each of the other staff members, and one that Geoff would take to Grandma when he picked her up for dinner.

“Do you have something planned?” Maria asked Rachael.

“I have a couple chickens from Keri Peters, the egg lady,” Rachael said. “They are in Donna Jackson’s special marinade.”

“Can you make one more place? Mike is joining us for dinner.”

“No problem,” Rachael said as she and her friends headed home. Grandpa was on the porch, and all four girls gave the old man a kiss on the cheek, to his delight. The girls soon left, and Rachael brought Grandpa in to his chair in the living room, chatting with him from the kitchen as she made dinner.

After dinner that night Bobby was happy. He had gotten three chicken legs. Rachael and Maria cleaned up together, joking about the days not so long ago when they used to have battles over whose turn it was to wash up. Now it was a bonding time that they cherished.

Then Geoff called a meeting of the bakery partners, and included Grandma and Rachael to join them. “Mike spent the morning at that food services place in London again,” Geoff said. “Could you tell us what you found?”

“Yes. There is a good mixer there that is three times the size of the one we have now. If we had it, we could make bread and roll batches triple the current size. The problem then is baking them. Our little oven couldn’t handle that volume. So I checked and found there is a nice double rack oven there that would handle everything. The smaller oven would be good for backup.”

“Where will we put new equipment?” Maria asked. “We could squeeze in one more machine, but two?”

“Well, I was thinking that the flour stack could be moved to make room for the oven. We would have to store the flour elsewhere. I was thinking of a shed in the backyard here at this house,” Mike said.

“Why here?” Rachael asked. “There are two parking spots in the back of the bakery, and we only park the van back there. Why not use the second spot for a shed for the flour. It will make it easier to get more when we need it.”

“That’s a great idea,” Mike said. “I was thinking that your Dad would estimate how much flour we needed for a day, and load it into the van and bring it in with him. But of course there would be days when we need more, and driving down the street would waste time.”

“This is why we ask you to join in on these business discussions, honey,” Maria said, and Rachael blushed. It was just an idea that seemed clear to her.

“What would all this cost?” Geoff asked the big question.

“With $2000 for a nice shed, the mixer will cost $25,000, a third the cost of a new one. The oven is in bad shape, but that means we can get it for $5000, and have the Hobo Army work their magic on it. The big cost will be rolling racks for the oven. We need four, although six would be better. One pair in the oven baking, one pair for prep, and the optional pair for cooling down. If we don’t get three pairs, then we would have more labor moving things from the rack when it comes out of the oven. New racks are $4000 each, so that means $16,000 or $24,000. There are some in the used equipment lot, but I recommend against them. If you get a wonky wheel on a used unit the frustration it will cause will drive us nuts.”

Maria had been adding. “That comes to $48,000 or $56,000, plus what the Hobo Army charges us for fixing the oven.”

“That will be free,” Rachael predicted, “unless there are parts to buy. What if we just buy two new racks, and get the other four from the used equipment lot. I have a lot of faith in the Hobos, and if a wheel is wonky, they will fix it.”

“That would cut the cost down by … How much are used racks?” Maria asked.

“You can get them for $1000 a pair. Nobody wants them,” Mike said.

“So $42,000,” Maria said. “Can we do that, Geoff?”

“It would be tight,” the baker said. “But if we max out the line of credit and maybe get a $15,000 short term loan from the credit union we can make it.”

“Balderdash,” a voice away from the table said. “I can loan you the $42,000. I’ve got the money just sitting in the bank. They don’t even pay me interest on it.”

They all looked at Grandpa. “But it is so much money,” Geoff said weakly.

“So make me a partner. Silent partner, I think they call it. The money will be my buy in,” Grandpa said.

“We will pay you interest on the money,” Geoff insisted.

“You can pay me the same rate of interest as I paid when I bought this house 65 years ago: three percent,” the old man said in a voice that brooked no argument.

“That is too low,” Maria said.

“Three percent. If you argue I will change it to two percent.”

Rachael ran over to her grandpa and flung herself on him in a hug. “Thank you, thank you. Why are you so sweet to us?”

“And I want one of these hugs every day,” the old man said gruffly, although with soft undertones. “That is why I do this. I love you all. My life is worth living now. Before I was just waiting … for the end.”

That night after everyone left and/or went to bed Rachael kneeled at the side of her bed.

Dear Lord

Thank you for a wonderful day. It was so special to see Mikki fit and still eager to climb all over the church to get her pictures. And thank you for making Carly’s speech go so well. She … well, her mother really … has put so much into her becoming Top Girl. I hope she can. And thank you for giving us Mike. His croissants are wonderful, and seemed to transport Larissa back to France. And then he is working so hard to get the bakery successful. I’ll bet Geoff makes him a full partner sooner than they had scheduled. I hope Helen and Steve are having a wonderful honeymoon. I can’t believe they plan to be back for Sunday services.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

I initially thought that Rachael wouldn’t be in this chapter, but she managed to worm her way in: Dawn

WEDNESDAY, June 15, 2016

Helen woke early in her hotel, basking in the afterglow of the wonderful night she had spent with Steve. It would be another hour before the breakfast buffet would open, so she just lay there, hugging her new husband. Steve, a policeman, was super fit, but apparently she had worn him out the night before. Helen could feel the energy from the Falls, less than a mile away from her hotel room, feeding her soul. She hadn’t felt that on other mornings, but then other mornings she hadn’t viewed the Falls in their natural beauty.

A half hour later Steve woke in the arms of his wife, who he considered the most beautiful woman on earth. Eventually they got out of bed and did their morning chores before dressing and heading down to breakfast. They each ate a large breakfast, remembering how they had missed lunch and dinner the day before. They headed out to their spot overlooking the Falls and sat down.

Helen again started the hand motions that erased all modern elements from her view, and this time Steve saw things disappearing. Soon they were alone with nothing but the Falls visible, surrounded by a lush primeval forest. They watched in a trance for hours, until Steve noticed someone approaching from several miles away, along the banks of the river. Soon Helen noticed her as well. It was an older woman: a native in traditional buckskin dress, walking towards them. She fit into the natural wonderment of the view perfectly, and finally walked up to them. As she got close, her eyes widened, and she looked around. It was clear that she now saw the Falls the way the young married couple did.

“How do you do that?” she asked in wonder. “You are seeing the Falls in the way that Manitou created it. It is so beautiful. So powerful.”

Helen smiled: “I don’t know how or why? I just learned how to erase the city yesterday, and felt a connection. I think it is God: your Manitou, that is doing it.”

“It is a wonder. I feel it too. I am blessed.” Just then the city popped back into view. The woman was wearing a normal dress, not buckskins, although she was clearly native. “Aww, it is gone.”

“But we had it for a while. One needs to cherish what they have, not mourn what is gone,” Helen said.

“You are wise,” the woman said. “I am Lisa Powers, from Brantford way. I am honored to meet you. You are clearly blessed by Manitou.”

“We are Steve and Helen Winslow,” Helen said. “We are here from Ingersoll, not far from Brantford.”

“Actually, I am from the reservation at Oshwegan,” Lisa said. “I say Brantford because more people know that city. I go to Ingersoll often. There is a little bakery there next to the library that I adore.”

“I know that place,” Helen said. “The family that run it are in my congregation. I am the youth minister of a Presbyterian church just down the road from there.”

“That bakery makes the most wonderful things,” Lisa said. “And they are good people too. I went about a month ago, and this really beautiful blonde woman was at the counter serving another woman. I was next in line when this other woman came in and tried to cut in front of me. When the girl at the counter said she would wait on me next, that woman went ballistic, calling me a dirty squaw, and insisting that she go next, saying she ‘knew people’. The girl just ignored her.”

“That sounds like Maria. Her husband owns the place,” Helen said.

“Well, Maria finally kicked the other woman out, and apologized for her racist rant. She had no need to apologize. There aren’t as many people like that woman now, compared to when I was young, but they still are to be found. Anyway the food I got was wonderful, and she gave me a discount. I went back the next week with three friends, and now we phone in an order from the reserve each week, and take turns picking it up. We usually spend about $100. And she still gives us the discount.”

“Maria and Geoff are good people,” Steve said. He looked at his watch. “It’s just after lunch. Have you eaten?”

“No,” Lisa said. “I was just walking down the river towards a place to eat when I met you. Thank Manitou.”

“Please eat with us,” Steve said.

“I’d be honored,” Lisa said.

“No, it is us who are honored,” Helen said. “We have been enjoying this wonder of nature, and realize that once all this belonged to your ancestors. We are privileged to be able to share it with you.”

Over lunch in the hotel, the Winslow’s learned that Lisa ran a small weekly newspaper in Oshwegan with her three sons. She was to call one of her boys to pick her up that afternoon when her newspaper came off the presses in nearby St. Catharines. She agreed to accept a ride back with the Winslow’s, who decided to check out of the hotel early and head back home. A detour to Oshwegan was only a few miles out of the way.

As they started the trip to the reserve, Lisa asked Helen if she would give a little talk to the people of the reserve. The local Anglican Church had been without a minister for over three months, and some people in the community were feeling abandoned by the church.

“Well, I am not Anglican, so I can’t preach in their building,” Helen said. “But I could say a few words: perhaps an outdoor service.”

“That would be wonderful. There is a beautiful spot along the river,” Lisa said. She then made about six calls on her cellphone, asking people to come. It was near four p.m. when Lisa directed Steve to the spot she had chosen. To Helen’s surprise, the six calls had resulted in over 1000 people now standing on the banks of the mighty Grand River, the largest one in the area, not counting the Niagara.

Helen had spent most of the trip thinking about what she would say, and had a good idea for a topic. The Grand also seemed to be feeding her in a similar, but less intense way to how the Falls had. She had no fears of speaking to a crowd, due to her preaching, but was a bit unsure how it would be received.

The event started with a smudging ceremony, where an elder took a smoldering rope of sweet grass, and used an eagle feather to direct the smoke towards all the people, including the Winslows. This was followed by four men, two beating drums, and two singing in the traditional language. The singers shook rattles made of deer bones and antlers.

Then Helen spoke for over a half hour, and quickly felt a connection with these people. She told them about the Falls, and how she had seen them the way the original occupants of the area had. She praised the history of these people: the Iroquois Six Nations who had moved to Canada after the rebellion in the United States had left them unwelcome there. She spoke of Joseph Brant, the Indian leader who had founded the Six Nations reserve, and the city of Brantford. She mentioned the Grand River, and its natural beauty that provided their people with a transportation route for those who wanted to maintain a link with their past through canoeing and fishing. And she mentioned Manitou, the god to these people, and a source of comfort for them.

When she finished, there was a gentle restrained applause that was long, although not loud, showing the people had appreciated the sermon. There was another traditional song, and four young girls performed a dance in elaborate pow wow costumes.

Finally there was a period of nearly two hours when most of those present greeted Helen, shaking her hand and thanking her for her sermon. Apparently the Anglican ministers of the past ignored the history and the culture of the First Nations people, and tried to fit the people into their own world-view. To have a pastor who seemed to understand them, and Manitou, was a treat and a delight. Several hundred people asked her to come back and become their minister. Finally only Lisa was left, with three young men who she introduced as her sons. Helen had noticed that one had been taking photos as she spoke.

“That went well,” Lisa said. “There is a small dinner at the community hall, and we all would like you to attend. Can you come?”

Lisa hesitated. She had been hoping to make it to the Wednesday dinner at her own church, but she now felt a bond with these people. “I would love to come,” she said. “We can head back to Ingersoll afterwards.”

“I would be honored if you would stay the night at my house. Colin is the only son remaining at home, so there is ample room. Don’t worry. We won’t kidnap you, though many of the people here would like us to keep you.”

“I would love to be able to come back,” Helen said. “I feel a connection with all of you. I preach in Ingersoll on Sunday mornings. Perhaps in the afternoon, or another day: Saturday?”

“Saturday’s would be fine,” Lisa said. “Manitou doesn’t require us to meet on any one day. It is the way of the Anglicans that forced us to meet on Sunday. If you could come for an hour or so each Saturday morning, we would be so pleased. We could meet outdoors when the weather allows it. The outdoor service today was so perfect, and much more the way of our people. And we could use the hall when it is poor weather.”

They soon arrived at the hall, which had over 200 people sitting to a traditional Six Nations feast with venison, root vegetables, pemmican, and succotash. Lisa stood before the meal and announced that Helen would return on Saturday for a morning service, and loud cheers and applause resulted. Helen then thanked the band for its hospitality, and said she would return every week as long as she was wanted.

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

Earlier that morning Gary went to the Ford dealership in Ingersoll to get a part for an old school bus the Army was refurbishing. Gary wanted it to be able to fix the old thing up so that they could pick up people for services, as well as other uses by other community groups. They had already gutted the old, uncomfortable school bench seats, and two Army members with upholstery experience were building more comfortable seats like luxury buses had.

In the dealership Gary stood for over five minutes at the parts counter, with no one coming to his assistance. Finally he walked into the shop, where he saw three mechanics working on cars.

The nearest was under the hood of a pickup, and Gary asked: “Where’s Hank?” The mechanic, who looked extremely harried, just pointed to a pair of legs sticking out from under a sedan.

“Hank?” Gary asked the feet, and soon the feet rolled out to show the parts and service manager, with a wrench in his hand.

“Oh, Gary,” Hank said. “Sorry for this, but we are just slammed today. One mechanic just up and quit yesterday, and another one was fired for stealing tools from the other mechanics. It wasn’t a good time to let him go, but if we didn’t the other three guys would have walked. You don’t steal a man’s tools. Besides, I think he was on drugs. His work certainly wasn’t to our standards.”

“Ouch,” Gary said. “I just needed to get a couple parts for a bus we are working on. Can you spare the time?”

“I’ll have to. I only need another hour on this car, getting the muffler fixed,” Hank said. “The big problem is over there. He pointed out the door where a semi cab was sitting. Wouthers Trucking want that back tonight, and I have no diesel mechanic. I was hoping that we could land the company as a regular client: they have over 20 trucks. But with Perry skipping out on us without notice we are going to lose that account.”

“Maybe not,” Gary said, making a call back to the shed, and speaking briefly. “I might have a mechanic for you. There are a couple guys I know that are working on the bus. One is a diesel mechanic, one just does cars. They don’t have papers that they can show you, but both are licensed, or were. They’ll be glad to help you out, even though it means my bus will only get weekend work.”

“If they are good, there will be a lot of overtime here until we catch up. Your weekend work might only be on Sundays.”

“If it works for you that will be fine. I know that Boots is great on trucks. I think he said he has Mack training.”

“That unit is a Mack. Most of the trucks at Wouthers are. When can they get here?”

“In about 2 minutes,” Gary said. He could see the truck from the shed pulling in.

The men were interviewed within minutes. Stone slid under the sedan Hank had been working on, and immediately convinced the boss that he knew what was wrong and how to fix it.

Boots went out to the Mack, and brought it into the service bay. He can drive a semi at least, a hopeful Hank decided. Then the man popped the hood and listened to the idling engine. He turned the ignition off and went to Hank outlining the four or five things that needed to be done on the engine.

“Can you fix it by five?” Hank asked.

“More like six, maybe seven at the latest,” Boots said.

“Let me make a call,” Hank said, and dialed up the trucking company. The owner agreed to a seven p.m. pickup time. The trailer for the semi was being loaded today, and the cab was needed for delivery in the early morning to meet a scheduled delivery in Winnipeg.

“Get to work,” Hank told Boots. “If you can get that unit to Winnipeg and back, then you are hired.”

“When I’m finished tonight, this truck will be good for another million miles,” Boots bragged.

Gary got his parts: free. After he left, Hank was happy to finally get to the paperwork that had been piling up on his desk. An hour later Stone brought the keys to the sedan in, and immediately picked up the next order form, without asking. Hank smiled. The man knew his stuff, and the sedan muffler had been so quiet that Hank hadn’t even heard the car leave the shop.

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

Across town Benji Wilson was at the house that his boss, Hans Vanereynd had just bought. Apparently the stairs to the second floor were toast. He got to the location, and found two men standing with a pile of lumber around them, along with some tools.

“Are you the lads that are going to help me?” Benji asked.

“Yes sir,” the older man said. He looked about 35. “I’m Stuart Huckergale, though everyone calls me Stu. The young lad is Jason Yellowstone, but we call him Snickers.”

“After the candy bar?” Benji said. The 25-year-old nodded. It’s the only addiction I have left. He pulled a bar out of his pocket.

The stairs were a mess. The men had to brace them up just to be able to use them. Getting good stairs would take all day, Benji reckoned. Once they got upstairs, he took a quick look around the apartment, and then called his boss to report in. Hans wanted an idea how much work was needed up there. Benji suggested it would be a full week with a crew. And Hans didn’t have a spare crew.

At the end of the day, eight o’clock that is, Benji was able to report to Hans that the stairs were in, unpainted, but safe enough to allow the building inspector to remove the condemnation order on the unit. He got off the phone and addressed the tired men who had worked through the day with him.

“Well boys, I have good news,” Benji said. “The boss is happy. And that is always a good thing. And you are good workers. Stuart, you know your stuff, even if stairs aren’t your thing. The boss wants to offer you a job as a full carpenter. You will need to get your papers renewed eventually, but we have lots of work before that. And Snickers? We’d like to offer you a job as a helper. It will be minimum wage, and you will work as hard as you did today. But after a year, you will be able to enter the Apprenticeship, and eventually you could be earning $35 an hour, which is what we are offering Stu. Are you interested?”

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

In the early afternoon Gary was organizing his Army for the evening dinner. The chef was already working on preparing the food with this several helpers. Gary headed up to the lobby to check on it, and saw an eerily familiar face. It was a young girl of about 16, holding a boy of four in her arms. Suddenly the image clicked, and Gary turned towards those praying. Even from the back he could recognize the woman praying next to a tall man. It was Heather, his ex-wife. So the girl must be: “Cassie?”

The girl looked up, and stared. “Yes, do I know you?” Just then her parents came back from the painting, and the mother took the baby, telling Cassie she should go and pray. The woman looked at the man who had been talking to her daughter, and suddenly a light bulb went off for her as well: “Gary?”

“Yes Heather,” Gary said, reddening. “I am so sorry for all I put you through.”

“Yes, I should think so,” the woman said. “This is my husband Ernest: my common-law husband. This is Gary, my first husband.”

“Cassie has become as beautiful as you are,” Gary said, glancing at his daughter as she prayed.

“She holds a lot of rancor towards you,” Heather said. “As do I. If I hadn’t just prayed at that painting I’d probably be wanting to claw your eyes out.”

“I deserve it,” Gary said sadly. “I ruined my life. Our lives. I was saved though, by an Angel, and she helped me get a job here. I am the maintenance person for this church.”

“We heard about that painting,” Heather said. “I never expected to see you here though.”

“Ask about the papers,” Ernest said in an aside to his wife.

“Oh. We had divorce papers put together a few years back, once I regained enough confidence in men to want to make Ernest my legal husband. But we need your signature to make them official. We have searched for you on the streets for a few years. Will you sign?”

“I don’t really want to,” Gary said. “Being married to you was the best part of my life. But you have moved on, and I guess I have too. I wasn’t hiding from you. I was living rough for a few years. I will sign your papers. Actually, there is a church dinner here tonight. If you four were to come and bring the papers, I will gladly sign.”

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

In school that day, Rachael noticed at lunch the cafeteria staff had bowed to pressure, and were serving peas as the vegetable with the mystery meat. The hairnetted ladies also got some payback: whenever a student opted not to take a helping of the vegetable, they sang: “All we are saying, is give peas a chance.” Rachael smiled, and told Carly that this would help keep her speech alive for another day. There would be no singing on Thursday though: the advance-menu chalkboard announced that the menu for that day was Sloppy Joes, which did not include a vegetable. In fact, it was one of the favorite menu items, with many students who brought lunches opting to get the messy burgers. Only pizza days were more popular.

Friday the voting for Top Girl was to be held early in the morning, so lunch would not be a factor. Mr. Churchill told the girls that their video, along with that of the boys, would be shown at the assembly that morning. The girls (and boys) were asked to be on stage, so that they could ask any questions of the students. Rachael planned on asking Grandpa if she could bring his medal to class, so the students would have a chance to touch it and see it up close.

She also contacted the Legion, and said that they were ready for a showing of the video there anytime after Friday. The boys also agreed that their video could also be shown. Their show was only 22 minutes. With the long version of credits that the girls knew the Legion members would want to see, For Valor was 38 minutes long.

The president of the Legion said she would talk to the members, and find out what day they would show the videos.

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

Mikki and Carly came to the church dinner that night. They had both gotten babysitting jobs this weekend from their work at the nursery on Sunday, and hoped to make contact with more parents by helping entertain kids while their parents enjoyed a relaxing dinner.

Rachael saw Ali Weller and her children at a table with Gary. Luke and his sister Annette were both eating quickly to be able to go off and play, but Ali barely got a bite in, since her baby was crying.

“She’s been fussy all day,” Ali said, nearly in tears as Rachael approached with her arms out to take the infant. The moment the little girl was nestled into Rachael’s shoulder, she stopped crying, and gently sobbed for a few minutes. Ali got out a bottle, and Rachael sat down to feed the child, allowing Ali to finally eat her dinner.

Gary had half finished his plate of the gourmet meal the Chef was providing when he saw a family arrive, and he got up and went to their table. There were several copies of documents to be signed, and when that was finished, he shook hands with the man, and hugged the woman and her daughter, although the daughter returned the hug only tentatively.

“I wonder what that is all about,” Ali said.

“No idea,” Rachael said. “Those people are new to me, although the girl looks like she might be in my high school next year. Or maybe she has finished. I don’t remember her from middle school, although I didn’t hang with the older students when I was in the junior years.”

Gary led the family to the serving line, and then returned towards his table. But part way there, he veered off to where Bobby and Luke were playing some game on the floor. Gary took a knee in front of Luke.

“Luke. You are the oldest male in your family, so I have something important to ask of you,” Gary said. “I want to marry your mother, and I am asking your permission.”

Both Bobby and Luke’s eyes got large. “Would that mean you would be my father?” Luke asked timidly.

“Yes it would, if you will have me,” Gary said.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Luke nearly shouted, and ran and leapt on the man, nearly knocking him over. He turned to Bobby and excitedly said: “I’m going to have a Dad, Bobby. A real Dad.”

Bobby hugged him and congratulated his younger friend. First Bobby had gotten a father in Geoff, and now it seemed Luke’s luck had changed and he had a father too.

“Run over and get your sister, Luke,” Gary said. “I want you two there when I ask your mom. Don’t tell her why. Let’s make it a surprise.”

Bobby and Luke went over to where Annette was coloring. “Come on Annette, you need to come with me,” Luke said.

“I’m busy,” the little girl retorted, with her tongue stuck out as she concentrated on coloring within the lines.

“Gary wants you,” Luke said.

“Gary? Okay,” Annette said, handing her crayon to one of the other girls and getting to her feet.

The brother and sister then came over to their mother, who with Rachael, was totally perplexed by what they had seen. First Gary had kneeled in front of Luke, and everyone in the hall heard the cry of ‘Yes, Yes, Yes.” Rachael suggested that Gary might have offered hockey camp to the boy, while Ali was completely confused. That was something Gary would normally have spoken to her first about.

When the kids were there, Gary got down on his knee. The hall suddenly became completely quiet as people started to guess what was happening.

“Alison Marion Weller,” Gary said seriously. “I have just discovered that I am to become freed of my other marriage. I haven’t had a chance to get you a proper ring yet, but would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Ali said, not realizing she was mimicking her son’s words. She also flung herself at Gary, who was ready this time and caught her in a fierce hug. Suddenly there applause throughout the hall, along with some cheering. Gary was beloved by the entire congregation, and Ali was liked by many who knew her and the stress she had been under after her husband had divorced her while she was pregnant with his baby.

Rachael was still holding the baby with one arm, as it sucked on its bottle, but used her other hand to pick up a fork and clink it several times on a glass. Others picked up on the sound, and soon the whole church was clinking glasses. Ali and Gary didn’t need any more prodding: they immediately kissed long and deeply.

Annette was more than a little confused, until her older brother said that this meant that Gary was going to be their father. She squealed in delight and immediately jumped in to hug Gary. He had spent a lot of time at their house over the past few weeks, and she loved the man, who often read stories to her and her bother in the big chair in the living room.

After the kiss was over, including a little kiss for Annette, Gary noticed that three people had approached. It was the Harpers: Ernest and Heather, and daughter Cassie.

“I think it is only appropriate that we are the first to congratulate you,” Ernest said. “May you have a long and stable marriage.”

“And the same to you,” Gary said. “This is my first wife, Heather, and the much better man she found to raise my beautiful daughter, Cassie. His name is Ernest Hudden and I am sure that they will marry soon.”

Then Cassie stepped up, and said: “Congratulations … Dad. I hope you find love with your new family.” Gary choked up at getting the title of Dad. He knew he could only be the second Dad to the girl, but it was more than he dreamed was possible after the way he had treated them while he was sick and alcoholic.

“Is he your Dad too?” young Luke asked. “Does that make you our sister?”

The teen tousled the boy’s hair and said: “I guess it does. I have one little brother now. It will be nice to have a bigger one like you. And your little sister is so cute.” Annette blushed.

Rachael handed her the baby, who surprisingly didn’t start to fuss. “She had the touch too,” Ali told Gary. “We will have to make her our number one babysitter.”

“I would like that,” Cassie said. “But we are family, so no money changes hands. I will do it through love.”

“You are such a fine woman,” Gary said proudly. “I wish … what had happened hadn’t … but your new father and mother should be proud at the way they raised you.”

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

That night Rachael prayed

Dear Lord

Thank you for so much today. You brought Gary together with his old family, and got him a new one. I think they are all going to be a big extended family. And Gary told me before the dinner that four of the army got jobs today. With Mike, that makes five in total. Not that there will be a lack in the Hobo Army. Eight more homeless people came in and prayed to the painting today, and have joined.

Amen

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

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

The story is nearing its end, but there are so many things to get in first. I think there will be 10 more chapters before school is out: Dawn

FRIDAY, June 17, 2016

It was raining steadily when Rachael got Bobby up, so she made him a hearty oatmeal breakfast, and then had him put his yellow raincoat on. She walked him to the bus, hoping it would stop: Bobby had ridden his bike to school recently, and while he was perfectly fine with doing that again today, Rachael did not want him sitting all day in the wet pants and seat that would result.

At the bus the driver stopped, and Rachael popped in, handing the driver a small paper bag. Inside was one of Mike’s croissants. They would have been a bit stale from Wednesday, except that Rachael had sliced up some left over ham, covered it with cheddar cheese, and zapped it in the microwave just long enough to freshen up the roll, melt the cheese, and take the chill off the meat. The driver took a bite, and her eyes widened. “This is wonderful. I was in rush today, what with the rain and all. I missed breakfast. Let me know if you ever open a restaurant. I’ll eat there every day.”

“Not likely,” Rachael said. “I only like making food for special people. Like you. Look after my little brother. He is precious to me.”

“They are all precious to me,” she said, taking another big bite before putting the roll down and closing the door.

This all left Rachael too late to catch her bus. Since she had stopped riding, the driver no longer pulled down her street, but took a shorter route. If she had time, Rachael could have walked around the corner to the other stop, but instead she just packed her backpack with a spare set of clothes and headed to the bakery and then school using an umbrella of Grandpas.

At school she changed into a different pair of jeans in the washroom, and hung the wet ones up in her locker, hoping they would dry by the end of the day. Otherwise she would have no change of clothes after riding Blacky tonight. It was her last practice before the races, and she hoped the weather would change before too long. She didn’t want to ride the horse in the rain. Not as much because of her own comfort, but because on a rough cross country course it was possible for a horse to slip or skid on bad ground and sprain something, causing a small injury that might cost him a race.

When class started, it was with an assembly. The Grade Seven and Eight students all got ballots for Best Boy and Girl, and the younger students also filled the hall. After the voting was done, the boys’ movie was played: ‘The Big Cheese’.

Rachael had seen bits of the video, and had actually colored in a hundred or so cartoon panels. The movie was super cute. Most of it was live photography of Ingersoll and the museum. But what made it was the cartoon character ‘Cheesy’ Neal had made, which appeared on the bottom corner of many scenes, making some cute or informative comment. It was halfway through the video when Rachael realized that her boyfriend Robert was doing the voice of Cheesy, although with a unique cartoonish voice.

The video received tremendous applause from the students, with the youngest ones especially enhanced by Cheesy. Then it was time for ‘For Valour’ the girls’ video.

This also received strong applause at the conclusion, although not as much as Cheesy had gotten. The students had sat quietly, and seemed to be reflective as the video played. A few had brothers who were in the action shots, and all seemed to pay attention through those scenes and the local shots as well.

After the movie the Q and A session was dominated by questions for Cheesy. Rachael had brought Grandpa’s Victoria Cross medal, and that did divert some attention to her side. About half the students wanted to touch the medal that the King had given to an Ingersoll man. Some didn’t care, which hurt Rachael a bit. She knew that these would be the ones who would ignore the veterans and Remembrance Day in the future. She consoled herself that maybe some of the ones who did touch the precious medal would be among those who Remember.

Mr. Churchill came forward as the assembly was filing out. “Who won Best Girl?” Rachael asked.

“You don’t get to know until Grad on the last day of classes,” the history teacher said. “But I can announce the grades for the videos. I viewed the others last night, and there were several Bs and a C grade for the other groups. I had planned on giving A+ to the girls, and A to the boys, but after watching the response to the showings today, I have decided that both groups get A+. I liked ‘For Valour’ best personally, but the reaction of the kids showed me that the cartoon movie was every bit as good, and you boys probably put in twice the work of the girls. I know how laborious cartooning can be.

“Neal,” he continued. “Mrs. Windross in the Grade 5 class wants you to draw her some Cheesy cartoons over the summer for her classroom next year. She wants to show the video to the students on the first day of class, and then have Cheesy as a class mascot to encourage the kids. She said she will be able to pay you a bit: hopefully enough to draw some stills.”

“I could do that,” Neal said. “Stills only take a few minutes. Even less if they are not colored. The kids could color them in art class. As for the film, I guess we can allow her to show it for her students every year.” He looked at the other boys on his team, and they nodded.

“Oh my,” Mr. Churchill said. “I forgot that you four own the copyright to the video. I will make sure it is not spread about freely. What about you girls?”

“We have decided to donate our film to the Legion,” Carly said. “They are showing it there tomorrow for the first time.”

By now the gym was empty and the shop class was putting chairs away under the stage. The eight students had to hurry off to class.

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

Luckily the rain had stopped at about 10 a.m. so at lunch that day the girls all headed over to the bakery plaza, along with many other students from the middle school. Technically they were not supposed to leave the school during lunch, but it was almost the last week and a lot of students were willing to risk it. The result was that they got to the new meat market just after a rush of high school students had left.

The specialty of the shop for the students was a hot dog lunch, with a choice from the medium to super hot and spicy mixtures, according to their desires. There were eight different condiments and seven different sauces to use, and some students got the works piled high for their $5. Pints and half pints of milk were also big sellers, especially for those students who had gotten a slightly hotter mix than they had expected.

Ruby was at the counter most of the time, unless someone came in for regular meat. There were two men from the Hobo Army volunteering at the counter for the hot dog section, keeping the line moving and the money coming in. Ruby reported later that they had sold out of three of the four hot dog types, and a total of 150-plus sales between the skippers from the middle school, and two rushes from the adjacent high school. She took in nearly $1250 during the day, and made a first-day profit.

Most of the students liked the meals, and there were a lot of kids claiming that they would be coming back on Monday, and right through to the end of school. After that, summer vacation would start, and smaller crowds would be expected.

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

Rachael rode the bus to the farm with Robert again, and when she got in asked Donna if she could put her still-damp jeans on the clothesline. Then she went straight to the stable planning to get Blacky, but was delayed. The twins were in the corral, and were gentling a new mare. They had given up their old habit of trying to break a horse, and were using Rachael’s technique.

Rachael immediately went into the ring and up to the timid new horse. Steve said that she was named Lady, and Rachael started speaking softly as she approached the mare. When she finally touched the horse, it shied for a second, then immediately calmed at her touch. Rachael checked her out, and found her in excellent health, but scared of her new surroundings and the new people.

“She’s had apples?” Rachael asked.

“Two,” Peter said. “One from each of us.”

“That is enough for now,” Rachael said. “Come closer now, Peter, and stroke her mane.” The boy did so, and as he did, Rachael fed her energy into the horse, pointing out that the boy was a friend, and had given her an apple. He would give more apples if she was nice to him.

“Now Peter,” Rachael said softly. “You go back and get her saddle. Stevie, you come up and meet her now. Calmly now.”

“A saddle? Already?” Peter said as he slowly backed away. Steve moved into position and started to stroke the horse.

“She is ready for it.” Rachael said. “I don’t know if you can ride her today, but she should be ready for the tack.”

Steve backed off as Peter approached with the saddle, and then went to get the reins and bridle. As Peter put the saddle on her back, Lady jumped, but Rachael just fed more calmness and confidence into the mare, continually telling her what a good job she was doing.

After Peter had cinched the saddle, he backed off and Stevie and Rachael put the reins and other harness on her. Soon she was comfortable with the gear, and the boys, and they were leading her about the corral, getting her used to them.

Inside the barn Blacky neighed out a complaint. He had smelled his girl and she had been ignoring him for some other horse. Rachael picked up a couple apples as she came in, putting one in her pocket, and gave the other to Blacky as a peace token for ignoring him.

She brushed him down as Robert put the saddle on the stallion, making sure that there were no nagging injuries from her rides by the various Jackson’s over the past week. Blacky was now comfortable with any of them, other than the twins, who still could not ride him.

Rachael pulled herself into the saddle, and rode out the back door of the stable, so they came out on the outside of the corral. “Keep walking her until we come back,” she shouted to the twins. “She might take a rider when she sees Blacky carrying me. We won’t be long.”

Blacky was interested in the new addition to the stable, and Lady had stopped walking to watch the big black leave the stable with the friendly girl on his back. He smelled so … enticingly different, Lady thought.

When Chocky and Blacky were out to Robert’s makeshift course, Rachael was confident that the track was dry enough to run on. It was not ideal, but a horse needs to learn to run on a muddy track. The footing was fairly stable, but it was going to be a messy run.

Rachael ran the track twice. She had initially only planned on one run, but Blacky seemed to want to take two laps, like they usually did. When they got back, Robert was laughing quietly.

“What’s so funny?” she snapped. “Was my time that bad?”

“No, you were only 20 seconds behind your average,” Robert giggled. “But I think you picked up at least an acre of the farm with you. Your back is covered in mud. From the back you can’t tell that you are blonde.”

Rachael reached up and ran her hand through her hair, or tried to. She wound up shaking clumps of turf and dirt out of it instead. Robert brushed off the back of her blouse, and some of the mud from Blacky’s withers.

“A long brushing for Blacky and then a shower for Rachael,” Robert pronounced.

“Well, you can help with the former, but not with the latter,” Rachael said.

They walked back to the corral, and when Peter saw them coming he opened the gate, while Stevie held a scared looking Lady. Rachael walked around the corral twice on Blacky, while Robert took Chocky into the stable. Lady stood stock still in the middle of the ring, only turning to keep the stallion and rider in her sight.

Then Rachael walked Blacky up to Lady, getting quite close. The mare was breathing heavily when Rachael leaned over to stroke her. She immediately calmed down. “Do you want to try a ride, Steve?”

“Yes, please,” the teen said. He slid back, and then put his foot into the stirrup, then swung his leg over. Lady started a bit, but Rachael kept feeding confidence into her, and soon the mare looked at her, then Blacky, as if to say ‘I have a person on me too. Aren’t I clever?’

With that they walked five times around the corral, with Lady and Steve following Rachael and Blacky. Then Steve slid off, and Peter mounted, again with the horse only starting for a second. This time Rachael was not touching the mare, but she still accepted the new rider. Again it was five laps around the pen.

“I would walk her again for each of the next few days. Have Robert and Blacky lead just like we did today. When you think she is ready, have Blacky go into a trot, and then see if she will follow. I think she will on her own, but make your normal leg pressures for a trot so she gets used to the signals. Now we have to go and brush them down.”

Robert and Rachael brushed down Blacky (Robert had already done the much cleaner Chocky) while Steve and Peter brushed down Lady in the next stall. The two horses gossiped with ninnies and neighs all the time while being brushed, clearly new friends.

After that all the boys were sent to the barn for a while. Rachael was a mess, but when Donna said that only her and Lisa were in the house, Rachael was able to strip to her underwear and dart into the downstairs shower without tracking mud through the house. Lisa was her attendant, getting some shampoo from the upstairs bath so Rachael wouldn’t have to use the men’s shampoo, and also getting the teen’s clothes from her backpack and the clothesline. During that time the younger girl got a few glimpses of Rachael naked in the shower.

“Do you think I will ever be as beautiful as you, Rachael?” Lisa asked wistfully.

Rachael smiled: “I’m sure you will be beautiful when you are 15. And even more beautiful when you are 18. You may be taller than me: your brothers are all tall, and so is your mom. You may not be as busty as I will be. Your mom is much smaller than mine is in that area. But it really doesn’t matter. You just need to know that you are beautiful, and not worry about what God gives you. The pastor at my church thought she was ugly, until she met a man who thought she was beautiful. They are married now.”

“Aw, that is a wonderful story. Do you think a man will find me beautiful someday?”

“I am sure of it. You are pretty now, and when your curves start coming in you will have your pick of the boys. The hard part for you will be to find a good one. Just think about your Dad, or your brothers. They are all good men: pick someone like them.”

“Even the twins? Yuck.”

“Even the twins. You don’t need to pick someone that looks like them, but someone who is like them inside. Hard working, honest, gentle, and faithful.”

Lisa stared at Rachael as she dressed. “I wish you were my sister, Rachael,” she said.
“All I get is brothers. That is a pretty top.”

“It is what I want to wear to the races next week,” Rachael said. “And if you wait, one day we may be sisters in fact, if Robert marries me. In fact, as long as Robert and I date, you can consider me your sister.”

“Really?” Lisa flew over to Rachael and embraced her in a tight hug. “Robert better not ever break up with you, or I’ll kill him.”

Rachael giggled, and then led her new little sister down to the kitchen to help with dinner. After, Maria came by with dessert from the bakery for the family, and to take Rachael home.

“Can you work for me tomorrow?” Maria asked on the ride home.

“Only for a few hours. I have to sing for John and Paul’s wedding tomorrow right after lunch, and then get ready for the video at the Legion. Why?”

“Bill Strong has interviews set up for his chef and manager tomorrow starting at 9. I really have to go.”

“I could go until noon, or 12:30,” Rachael said. “Why don’t you call Gary at the Hobo Army. Maybe someone there could do a fill in shift for you? It would also give you a backup person if someone is sick or needs time off.”

“That’s a great idea. I’ll give him a call when we get home.

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

Earlier that evening Chef sat in the car with two other members of the Hobo Army, outside the Women’s Shelter: “Listen you guys. This is important. These women are fragile. I picked you two to help because I don’t think you will flirt or try to get friendly with the women. They can hardly stand to be around men due to the beatings they have gotten in the past. Before I started taking food to them, they didn’t let men into the place. This dinner is a big step. Some of the women probably won’t even come down because of us.”

“The rules are that we never cross the halfway point of the room. That other side is their safe place. I don’t care if some knocks a platter on the floor. We don’t go over to clean it up. And never stare at the women. If you make eye contact with one, then smile and quickly look away. Staring can be aggression to them, and we don’t want to be aggressive. Our job is just to make them the best meal they have ever eaten, and to help them feel their lives are starting back towards normal.”

The men then gathered their food and supplies and headed to the side door to enter the kitchen. They wouldn’t go into the main area until it was time to serve the meal.

Dee, the counselor who worked at the home came into the kitchen, and pretty much repeated Chef’s message. None of the women came in, although as they worked there was a steady stream of younger visitors. Many of the women in the shelter had children, and they came in to watch the process underway. The fact that Chef always seemed to have a carrot stick, or celery bit close at hand also attracted them.

“They are cute,” Bruce said.

“Yes. Oh, there is my little set of Neapolitan ice cream,” Chef said with a laugh as three young children came and hugged his legs. “You wouldn’t know it looking at them, but they have the same mother. A pretty young thing who has been dealt a bad hand in her relationships. I call them Neapolitan because Mark, the young lad is vanilla, his older sister Ariel, is chocolate, and baby Tanya is my little strawberry. He picked the toddler up and gave her a hug.” The older girl was clearly from a black father, but they all were as happy as could be.

“Are my imps causing problems?” a slender girl with light brown hair asked from the doorway.

“Not at all Linda,” Chef boomed out. Dee then poked her head in, and rounded up the five or six kids still in the room.

“You kids can wait out here. Chef is going to be here for a while tonight,” Dee said.

“Tell you what,” Chef said as they were marched towards the door. “I brought a couple books from the library with me. While the boys are cleaning up, I’ll read you all a story, if your moms’ say it was okay.”

The men worked three hours, but finally had a wonderful smell filling the house. Some of the women who had planned to spend the evenings in their rooms had been lured down by the smells, although they clustered near the door, still fearful. The three men placed the dishes on the table, never getting too close to the middle of the room. Bruce and Adam retreated to the kitchen, while Chef took a position in the corner, as far from the table as possible. “Help yourselves,” Chef said.

About half of the women took places at the table, often with their kids on either side, with the other half of the residents sitting on the couch and other chairs further away in the room. Dee filled plates for those women who couldn’t bear to leave their corner. Chef followed his own rules, never making prolonged eye contact, although he did his glance-smile-look away with Linda more than once. Her kids really seemed to enjoy themselves, and often looked up happily at Chef.

When all had eaten, more and more women were looking comfortable after the gourmet meal. Some still clung to the corner near the stairs. One seemed ready to bolt upstairs at any time, when Chef announced that dessert was coming.

A crème brulee was brought out and its aromas seemed to keep the women on the stairs for a little longer. “Do you want to serve, Dee?” Chef asked. The woman took pairs of dishes to the women at the stairs first.

“Hell with this,” a brassy woman finally said. “I declare these three honorary women, and I’m happy to get some of that myself.”

That opened the floodgates, and most of the women at the table got up and took a dish on their own, and for their children: no longer afraid of the men who had just fed them. But many waited until Dee could get them a serving without entering into the room too far.

After dessert the two men went back to the kitchen to clean up, while Chef, as promised, took his library books and went to the corner as far from the stairs as possible and sat down flat on the floor. Almost instantly children flocked to him, with Mark and Ariel on either side, and Tanya squarely on his lap. There were nearly 20 children in total, and all listened raptly as Chef read the story, making voices for the characters. After the second book was finished, the first book was demanded a second time, and Chef complied. By then the other men had packed the car and were ready to go. There were many calls for another repeat story, but Chef told the little ones that he had to go.

“That went well,” Dee said in the kitchen. “There were a couple who ran back up to their rooms after the dessert, but a lot more stayed down and watched story time. It is important for these women to see good men interacting with their children, and hopefully one day, with them. Thank you for coming. Will you be able to do it again?”

“Definitely,” Chef said. “It will be another month before I get another check, but I still have something left of this one. I was wondering if we could have an ice cream night. I could buy one of those big drums of ice cream like they have in the parlors: maybe chocolate? We could do that in a week or two.”

“Definitely chocolate,” Dee giggled. “The favorite flavor of small children and hurting women alike.”

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

That night Rachael kneeled down.

Dear Lord

That was a cool day, Lord. I hope Carly wins the top girl contest. And everyone was surprised when the boys’ video got more attention than ours. Good for them. A+ for everyone. Well, except for those who didn’t do any work on theirs. Ruby’s place seems to be a big hit. And it looks like Blacky had a new girlfriend. Next time I see him it will be the night of the races.

Thank you for everything.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

This chapter is huge, for me. It is about double the normal length: Dawn

SATURDAY, June 18, 2016

Bobby spent the night in a sleepover at Marc’s house. They boys were close friends, and the Hafleur’s enjoyed having Bobby over. And the boy was gaining more than just friendship in his sleepovers: he was learning French. Mrs. Hafleur still was more comfortable with that language, so it was spoken in the house a lot. Conversations between Bobby and Marc’s mother used to require a translator, but lately they seemed to be developing a language of their own, a little French, a little English, and they could communicate. And the fact that all the games on Marc’s Playstation were in French made Bobby want to learn the language better.

Rachael didn’t get to sleep in with her brother gone. Maria had gone to the bakery at 6, and Rachael was expected at 7. Maria had gotten Gary to agree to send one of the girls from their old house at the same time. Rachael didn’t know those girls well, and wasn’t sure which would be coming to work. So when she got out the door at 6:50, she noticed a young woman in front of her house walking towards the bakery.

“Are you going to the bakery?” Rachael asked. This woman was the first one she had ever seen who was bustier than Maria. And not just by a little bit. She had dressed conservatively, but there was no concealing that bosom.

“Yes. I am supposed to work there today. My first day,” Jane Scott said a little shyly.

“Me too. Work, not first day. My parents own the bakery. I can only work till noon, so that is why Mom needed you. You’ll be working in the back, doing phone orders mostly.”

“You must be Rachael,” Jane said. “Gary calls you his angel. You really are pretty. I wish I were blonde, although most men wouldn’t notice. They can’t take their eyes off of these.” She glanced down at her breasts.

Soon they were in the bakery and Rachael showed Jane the computer system that had recently been built for taking phone orders. Luckily Jane had worked in a MacDonald’s as a teen, before falling into the clutches of Carlos Murrez, her former pimp. Thus she quickly picked up on both the computer and the cash register beside it.

Maria was prepping goods for the morning rush, but would take over training at 9 when the store opened so Rachael could help the girls in the front. Both Kyle and Doug were working, and had a hard time keeping from staring at Jane’s figure. Geoff came over to introduce himself, and did glance down a bit, but struggled to look the new employee in her eyes. The fact that his buxom wife was standing right there made it important to keep eyes up.

It was Mike who impressed Jane the most. He came over to greet the girl, and never looked below her eyes. His smile made her a little weak in the knees, and she smiled back at him. She glanced over to see him at work several times, and he was never staring at her the way the boys were. Like most bakers Mike was super fit, with large arms from carting around sacks of flour, and a muscular chest covered only with a thin white t-shirt.

Rachael caught her drooling a bit at the young baker, and put the pieces together. “He’s single, and a really good guy,” she told Jane.

“What? No, I couldn’t. I mean, who would have me with my history?” she said, looking away from Mike.

“He might,” Rachael said. “He is a good guy. He will look into your heart, not at your body.”

“He’s the first guy who’s looked me in the eyes like that since I got these,” Jane said.

“They are implants?” Rachael asked.

“Yeah. Three times actually. Your Mom’s look nice. Who did them?”

“God did,” Rachael giggled. “They are 100% natural.”

“Oh my, I didn’t think … I’m sorry,” Jane said, flustered.

“Don’t worry. It just means that I have to worry about mine getting that big,” Rachael said.

“Your figure is perfect,” Jane said.

“Yeah, but I’m not quite 15. We don’t know what we will get when we hit 18 or so. Why did you get three sets of implants?”

“Carlos paid for them,” Jane said. “We were so drugged up we would agree to anything. Mine were about the size of your mom after the second implants. Then that bugger got another set put in to make me two more sizes bigger. It made him a ton of money: not that I saw any of it. I didn’t have to walk the streets though. I had a regular clientele coming to the house for me.”

“Can you have them taken out, at least some of them?”

“I hope so,” Jane said. “I don’t think I could got back to natural. A B cup would feel odd to me after so many months this size. But a reduction will be expensive. Not just to remove the implants, but also to tighten up all the loose skin that will be left behind.”

“Well let me know before you have it done,” Rachael giggled. “I want to go to the beach with you and Mom in bikinis so I can watch the men go crazy.”

Maria came over. “One of the things you will get a lot of calls for this morning are Clouds. Mike, do we have any Clouds out that are cool enough to eat?” Mike came over, picking up a roll as he came. He tore it in half as he approached.

“Open wide,” he said with a smile, and Jane did, almost by reflex and Mike popped the warm roll into her mouth. He then popped the other half into his own mouth. Jane’s eyes went wide as she tasted the buttery creation, and had a big smile.

“That is incredible,” she said. “No wonder people have to phone in orders for them.”

“They have become one of our top sellers since Mike introduced them,” Maria said. “People love them for Sunday dinners, and we can’t make enough of them on a Saturday.” She turned to Mike: “Back to work, slave.”

Mike ambled back into the production area, and Maria explained: “That was a joke. Mike is a partner with Geoff and I in the business. He’s been a great asset since he started working here.”

“A partner?” Jane mused. She had only thought he was one of the employees. A great body and a great job: he would be a real catch for someone. Someone with a better past than hers.

Maria left a little before 9 for her meeting, and Rachael rotated between helping Jane and helping at the front counter. The phone had been ringing steadily since 8, and Jane quickly got into the swing of things. She might look like a bimbo, but there was a good brain in there, and Maria left feeling things were in hand.

Maria took a taxi out to Bill Strong’s motel, where there was a small meeting room set up for interviews. Bill had advertised, and had short-listed three candidates for chef, and another three coming in the afternoon for restaurant manager. As well as Bill and Maria, the senior accountant for the motel, and the manager of the local credit union were helping with the interviews.

The first chef candidate was a young red head named Lily Cowen. She was local, and had just finished the culinary school at one of the colleges in Toronto. She had good ideas, and showed a portfolio of her best creations from college. They looked impressive, and covered a wide range of styles, from French classical to Italian and Greek.

Next was a heavyset man of about 45, who had no portfolio. When asked which type of cuisine he specialized in, he claimed that he was an expert in all of them. His single page resume showed just one prior job, and that one of only eight months. The place name made it sound like a café, rather than a full restaurant. When Maria questioned him about it, he said that he was only working there temporarily, until he got a ‘good job’. He claimed that he could provide a list of prior employers, and listed several good Toronto places.

“You realize that we will contact all these places for a reference,” Maria said, and the man turned white as a ghost. He stammered a bit, then suggested that he could have the restaurants call Bill.

The third man didn’t have a chance. He just looked too slick to be believable. Maria asked him what the ingredients of a Caesar salad, and he came up with a list that was completely wrong. At that point Maria got up and stepped out of the meeting room for a moment. She returned as Bill was thanking the man.

The interview team then recapped the presentations. “I wouldn’t loan that last guy $5,” the credit union manager said. “He just feels like a con man.”

“The other man was no better,” Maria said. “You know that the ‘references’ that will phone you will be friends of his, not the actual restaurants. If he worked at Spiro’s in Toronto, it would have been as a dishwasher, not a chef.”

“What about the girl?” Bill asked. “She is super young, but looks to be well trained, and had very good marks at the college.”

“That can go two ways for you,” Maria said. “She might have a local boyfriend and want to stay in Ingersoll long term, or she might just be looking at this as a first job to use as a stepping stone to a better place in Toronto. There is no way of knowing. Also, you learn more in your first six months at a real restaurant than you do in three years of culinary school. If she had been working a year or two at two other places, then I think she would be fine. But I can’t see her having the presence to start out as a head chef.”

“But she is the best we have,” Bill wailed. “I really wanted to hire someone right away, so we could get some professional help in designing the kitchen.”

“Which none of these three can do,” Maria pointed out. “But when I stepped out, I made a call. I have a fourth candidate that might be the answer to our problems.”

She popped her head out the door, and saw Chef sitting in a chair in the lobby. “Please come in Chef,” she said, leading him into the room.

“Gentlemen, this is Chef, and I am embarrassed to say that I don’t know his proper name. He has been preparing dinners at our Church for the past several weeks, and the entire parish has raved about his food. He has real experience, although he was out of the loop for a few years. I think he will be a long term employee, if you hire him.”

“My name is Tyson Longstrom,” Chef said, “but everyone calls me Chef.”

“I had dinner at the Church last Wednesday,” Bill said. “That was fantastic food. What are your long term plans?”

“As Maria said, I hope to remain in this area, even if it means just working in a diner or café. I did my time in Toronto, working my way up from kitchen fodder to sous chef at the Sheraton. I am not proud of becoming addicted to drugs, and finally having to come back to Ingersoll where I could afford to live on assistance. Since my recovery I have been trying to pay back. If I get this job, I will insist on having Wednesday’s off, so I can continue to help out at the Church suppers. I also have a commitment on Friday evenings, but that is too important a night in this business. I think I can switch it around to a Tuesday night event though.”

“I was thinking Sunday would be one day off,” Bill said.

“Heaven’s no,” Chef said. “There is no Sunday buffet here in town. We should do a brunch. It will be a hit immediately: I bet it will do half the business we get the first week. But it will also get people coming here, and many will start coming back for a menu meal later. We should also do a supper brunch on Friday nights. Hopefully it will be a destination event for a lot of people. Filling the place just twice a week, with healthy crowds the rest of the week will make the place a success.”

“Who will handle Tuesdays and Wednesdays if you are off,” Bill said.

“One thing a good chef does is train his staff to be able to carry on when he is away. I have a couple of helpers at the Church I would like to bring along, but they aren’t even cooks yet. I would need a good sous chef that has some training and maybe some experience. He would be in charge when I am away.”

“Or she,” Maria said. “We interviewed a young girl just out of George Brown College in Toronto, but she is just too young and inexperienced.”

“I know the instructors at George Brown,” Chef said. “They turn out good students. All they need is a little experience in the field. How were her marks?”

“Excellent,” Bill and Maria said at the same time.

“They don’t give out top marks there for anything less than the best,” Chef said. “If I get this job I would like to meet her. Would she come to the Church next Wednesday as a volunteer? I could see her in action.”

“Well, you have this job if you want it,” Bill said. “In fact, if you want to start right now you can. Maria has suggested that a salary of $52,000 a year would be appropriate. I can start you two days a week at $400 until we get closer to opening, gradually building you up to five days a week. And there will be healthy bonus money if the place does well.”

“It will,” Chef vowed. “That is low money for a Toronto place, but perfectly acceptable for Ingersoll. And I will start immediately, if you want. I have a need for some funds for my Friday night project.”

“Great. Now we will have a quick lunch, and then there are interviews for the restaurant manager. I have ordered in KFC. I hope that is acceptable.”

“Barely,” Chef said with a shudder. “If nothing else, the catering for your events is going to start looking up once you get me a kitchen built.”

“Before we start, does Maria want to make one of her little calls to see if she can find a candidate to interview for this job?” Bill said.

“No, but I know someone at the Church who might work out,” Chef said. “Like me he is just trying to get his life back on track. I’ll give him a call.

The afternoon roster went quicker. The first applicant walked in, saw the credit union accountant, and immediately got up and walked out.

“He owes us over $40,000,” the manager said. “I’d appreciate if you could pass on his contact information. We need to talk to him.”

The next man came in and had experience as manager in the Stedman’s junior department store in town before it closed nine years ago, handling a staff of 24. Since then he has been an assistant manager at McDonalds, and felt that the combination of the two positions made him a good candidate for the job.

After he left, Chef noted “Working at a McDonalds is not a substitute for real restaurant experience. Other than staff management and scheduling, they are totally different. Everything at McDonalds is decided at head office. Managers there are basically just running through the steps that corporate dictate. There is no experience in dealing with the unexpected.”

“Again, a possible. Hopefully the next man, or your man from the church, will be better,” Bill said.

The next man came in, sat down, looked around the table, and then saw Chef. He blanched and quickly stood up and sprinted out the door. A minute later a car could be heard peeling out of the motel lot.

Maria had never seen the normally-jovial Chef look so angry. For several minutes he just sat and took deep breaths, trying to regain control over his emotions. “That man … that person … that thing worked with me at my last good job. He was restaurant manager there. He got me hooked on drugs. He became my pusher, and for several others that worked there. I have vowed peace to our Lord, but seeing him again made me want to do some terrible things to him. And he deserves it.”

Maria went out and found Moses Carter in the lobby, sitting in the same chair that Chef had.

“I am Moses Carter,” the man started, “although Chef and the rest of the guys at the Church call me Mo or MoMo. The Chef said you have a position here that might be suitable for me.”

“Yes. We are adding a family restaurant here in a few months,” Bill said. “We were lucky enough to hire Chef to be … well, Chef. He said you have some experience in food services.”

“I do,” Mo said. “I owned a small restaurant in London for six years. It started out well, but then my partner basically absconded with all the working capital. He was a lawyer, so it was all legal, but basically he screwed me out of my share in the business. I tried to keep it going but a few months later I had to shut the place down. I still owe the landlord $100,000 in back rent, and I intend to pay him back one day if I get on my feet. I fell into alcoholism as the restaurant was going down, but I have a handle on that now.”

“How big was your place?

“We sat about 40 when the place was full, and it was at first,” Mo said. “From what Chef told me, your place is going to be twice that size, or a bit more. But I should be able to scale my experience up. You just need so many wait staff per shift, and the busy periods will be the same in either case. I would love to get back into the field.”

“We are paying $52,000 a year once we open, with a good bonus if there are profits. We will offer $200 a day for any work before we open, and I do want you and Chef here tomorrow to look over the plans we have drawn up. I want shovels in the ground by July 1.”

“Do you have a construction manager?” Mo asked.

“No, will I need one?” Bill said.

“You will if you don’t plan on doing the job yourself. It will be more than a full time job though.”

“Can you take that on?” Bill asked. “I have other interests beyond the hotel, and I’ve only got about 10 hours a week for this.”

“You will need way more than that,” Mo said. “Look, why don’t we start on the daily pay plan you mentioned, and see how it goes? I suspect I’ll be full time before you know it.”

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

Rachael left the bakery just after noon, and was changed and at the church by 12:30, a half hour before the wedding was to start. The Hobo Army was out in full force, directing cars and providing valet service. There were a slew of John and Paul’s friends from Toronto in town. Inside the church, the place was nearly full, and probably would be by the time the service started. In the lobby Rachael found John and Paul, dressed in nearly identical navy suits. John had a red tie, and Paul and a patterned one that was mostly yellow. Pastor McNaughton was praying to the painting, as were many other people.

As she approached the couple, she saw that Gary was there, and he helped the pastor to his feet. The pastor moved off to make a phone call, while Gary joined Rachael with John and Paul.

“Quite a crowd in there,” Rachael said.

“Ah, our wedding singer is here. We can start anytime,” John said jokingly. The pastor ended his call and approached.

“I’m glad to see you fellows don’t get into all the hype and tradition of brides,” he said. “Bride can’t see groom on wedding day, something borrowed, something blue and all that.”

“And having a best man and maid of honor,” Paul said wryly. “Our attendants are both women: a maid of honor and her partner, who claims that she is Best Dyke.”

The pastor choked for a second, and then smiled. “Times are changing. Just go with the flow.” Then he looked at the grooms and said: “I have news. I don’t think I can officiate at the ceremony today.”

Paul immediately frowned. The homophobic bastard, he thought. Put us through the wringer thinking he is changed, and then pulls the rug out from under us at the last minute. “So there won’t be a wedding?” he sneered.

“Oh my dear boy, there will be a wedding. How can there not be? This church is full of love: for you, and between the two of you. I just won’t be able to officiate. I know I promised, but my boss just gave me the word. I’ve called Pastor Helen, and she is on her way back from Oshwegen, and should arrive in 15 minutes. She will officiate.”

“What has happened?” Rachael asked, surprised by the change. The pastor had been eager to conduct the first gay marriage in his church.

“I was praying,” the pastor said, “and I was told that Paul’s recently departed father wants to attend, and the Lord has given permission.”

Everyone was confused for a few seconds, then Rachael got it. “And if he attends, then it will be by taking your body over again. And he can’t do that if you are officiating, can he?”

The pastor looked at her with a smile, as if to say ‘Good girl, you figured it out.’ “Yes, exactly. I will make an announcement at the start of the ceremony, then go and sit next to Paul’s mother. Hopefully his father can visit for a few minutes.”

“Rachael, can I speak with you,” Gary said, moving off to the side.

“Sure Gary, what is up?”

“Well, a few of the Hobo Army found some instruments in the shed last week, and they have been repairing them. They are forming a little group, and wonder if you would do them the honor of letting them accompany you today: two guitars, a bass and an electric piano. They assure they are all in tune. Oh, here is Beth Anne.”

“I was kinda hoping I could sing with you, Rachael,” the tall blonde said. “Even just backup would be cool. I know you like Amazing Grace, and we could do backup for it.”

“Do you know I’ve Got You Babe, by Sonny and Cher?” Rachael said. “I wanted to do it, but it really needs to be a duet. If you could sing Cher, I could do Sonny. That would go well while John, Paul and their attendants sign the register. I was going to do Amazing Grace at the start of the service, and I was going to do Morning Has Broken as the men walk down the aisle together.”

“We can do those,” Beth Anne said. “We will need to set up right away, if we are starting at 12:30.”

“I think there is going to be a little delay,” Rachael said. “But set up at the front of the church. It will give the people something to look at, if nothing else. I’ll be down in a minute.”

It was a quarter to one when Helen rushed in and signaled for Rachael to start the first hymn. She sang the first few notes a cappella and then the band started, amplifying and enriching the music. Beth Anne’s voice provided a counterpoint to Rachael’s lead vocals, and Amazing Grace never sounded better to the girl.

Pastor Helen stepped forward but it was Pastor McNaughton who spoke first. “Dearly beloved. I was just telling the grooms how much love was in our little church today. You are all welcome here. I promised several weeks ago that John and Paul, our dearest friends, would be the first same sex marriage in this church, and that I would conduct the ceremony. Unfortunately something has come up, and I cannot officiate. I pass the ceremony over to my colleague Pastor Helen McFarland.” With that he stepped down and sat on the front row, next to Paul’s mother and sister.

With that Rachael started to sing Morning Has Broken, and the men took their cue to walk down the aisle. Rachael had never before had accompaniment like this, and had only sung duets with her mother. But Beth Anne had a perfect counterpoint voice to Rachael, and harmonized perfectly.

As Pastor Helen went through the ceremony, Paul glanced over at his mother and was surprised to see the pastor holding her hand. He nearly choked up at the realization that his father was here, and seeing him marry, and approving. He managed to get out the ‘I Do’ when needed, and only fumbled a bit putting the ring on John’s finger, then received the same.

“I now pronounce you partners in life. You may kiss the … groom,” Pastor Helen said. As the two men kissed, a shaft of light beamed down from the roof and highlighted the entwined heads, causing a delighted gasp from the audience. It seemed as though God was sending a sunbeam to congratulate the pair on their wedding.

Up at the back of the balcony Gary smiled. When the roof had been redone, Skid had come up with a shutter to the skylight. Gary merely had to pull one cord to open it, and another to shut it. It had the effect he wanted, as he pulled the second cord as the kiss ended.

After Rachael and her band sang I Got You Babe, Lulu, the Best Dyke came to the dais. “I understand that when you all got your invitations to the wedding, Paul and John made it clear that they didn’t want gifts. Apparently they intend to keep selling paintings in their shop, not toasters and small appliances. Instead, they asked everyone to think of a happy thought that they could put into a book to remember this day forever. If you would all head downstairs, you will find sheets and pens near the door. Take one and jot down your message, and then return it to desk. The pens are a souvenir for you to take home. Oh yes, I understand there will be finger food down there by the far wall. Enjoy.”

“Finally, I see a lot of you have prayed to the painting in the lobby. I can’t stress how important it is for you to stop there and pray, even if you are not a Christian. I’m a Dyke Wiccan, but spending 10 minutes there the last time I was here changed my life. I could feel the love pouring into me. Things that had been broken inside of my head since I first came out to myself were suddenly fixed. It made me whole again. I can’t promise that it will be as transformational for all of you, but you do need to give it a chance.”

Rachael had to hurry to leave the church just after 4 while a good party was going on in the basement of the church, in spite of their being no liquor served. Chef had been working all day Tuesday making finger food for the event, and Friday morning. He was away Friday afternoon and evening, but was back at it Saturday morning until he was called away at about 10, leaving his cooks to finish up.

Rachael walked home, and didn’t quite get there when the van from Stoner Studios pulled up. Mikki and Larissa were already there, and Mr. Stoner drove them to the Legion, which was already set up with about 250 chairs arranged around the biggest TV monitor Rachael had ever seen. Mikki and Mr. Stoner set to work hooking her laptop up to the monitor while Rachael and Larissa wandered around, finally finding the woman who was Legion president.

“Girls,” the woman said. “Anticipation for your video is through the roof. We initially thought we would offer a free viewing but when demand became clear we set a $10 charge, and it still sold out in two days. I’ve been dealing with sob stories from people who didn’t get a ticket in time, and seem to think that I can somehow pull more out of my butt.”

“That should give the Legion a nice little donation then,” Rachael said.

“Are you sure that you girls don’t need any of the money? I mean, it was all your work,” she said.

“You own the film now,” Rachael said. “Mr. Churchill, our teacher, apparently spent over $500 of his own money renting uniforms and buying special effects, so it would be nice if he could be reimbursed, but after that all the money should go to the Legion.”

“Well, even two thousand dollars will help. Our building committee is trying to raise money to pay for a new roof for the place. But with an aging and dwindling membership base it is hard. One good thing from your video is that it has drawn in 14 new members from the young men who acted in your video. They can only be auxiliary until they turn 21, but it is nice to have some young blood in the place.”

“If you need a roof done, contact Gary at the church,” Rachael said. “I understand there is a team of experienced volunteers (they did the church roof) who will do the work for the cost of materials alone. It might save you some money.”

“Oh goodness, I will. Anything that can save some money is appreciated.”

Mikki and Mr. Stoner now had the computer hooked up to the big TV, with the big Mac home page on the monitor. They left it like that, with Mikki watching to make sure no curious hands got on the connections while Rachael, Larissa and Mr. Stoner headed back to the house to get Grandpa. The old soldier was planning on making one of his rare appearances out of the house at the Legion. A big easy chair from the bar had been moved up to the hall, in the middle of the seating for him.

At home Larissa and Rachael helped Grandpa get ready. He could still get into his old WW II Staff Sergeant uniform: in fact, it was somewhat loose on him now that he didn’t have the muscle tone he had as a young man. But he still was proud to put on the old uniform, and he let the girls fuss about his hair and shoes, as well as the uniform. The last step was placing the Victoria Cross around his neck. By the time 6:30 came and they were ready to go, the rest of Rachael’s family had arrived. Maria made quick sandwiches for all, and they were ready to go right behind the girls and Grandpa in the Stoner van.

At the hall, the room was more than half full. People knew that tickets were in short supply, and had come early. When Larissa and Rachael led Grandpa in, one on either of his arms, there was a sudden silence, and then a raucous applause broke out that continued until the girls had helped the old veteran into his chair. He waved to the audience, and gradually the applause stopped, but Legion members immediately pressed around, wanting to thank Grandpa for his service, and to get a close-up look at the medal. Most of the Legion members were seniors, but even so none other than Grandpa had served in that war. But most of them had fathers who had served overseas, and had heard stories about the war when their fathers were still alive. They were excited to hear of Grandpa’s story in the video.

The result was that it was 7:20 before the Legion president was able to restore order and get ready for the showings. Mikki sat at the front to control the computer, but Carly, Larissa, Rachael and their families had reserved seats around Grandpa. Bobby proudly sat on his Grandpa’s lap, to the pleasure of both.

The show started with the boys’ video, which they had allowed to be shown. After it was finished, there was more than polite applause. It was not the same as the school assembly: people in a small town are always interested in stories about their community, but a cartoon documentary was not what the people had come for.

Mikki switched on the girls’ video a few seconds later, and the room was silent for the next half hour, with the exception of a small scream at one point during the battle scene. Rachael later learned that one of the mothers of the boys in the video was unable to restrain herself when she saw her son take a fake bullet to the head, and called out. But overall, there was silence throughout. When the credits rolled, the silence continued as familiar name after familiar name rolled across the screen.

Finally the last shot appeared: the Victoria Cross, with a caption beneath that read: “Buy a Poppy and Show that You Remember Them.”

For almost a minute there was silence, and then one person started to clap. Then several more, and a second later every pair of hands in the place was coming together in applause that far outdid that of Grandpa’s arrival.

A short question and answer followed: Larissa was not well known in town yet, so some thought she was a model hired to do the film. The questioner was amazed to find out she was only 15, and from town. She took the time to note her origins in France, and how much her people admired the Canadians for saving them from the Nazis. The UK and the US had done more than Canada, but the French were proud that a smaller country would come to their assistance in a time of danger.

Mikki was too self-conscious to answer questions about her editing, and especially directing the battle scene, so Rachael took over, noting how incredibly talented her friend was, and how she now hoped to attend a good film school after high school.

After the questions petered out, another crowd appeared around Grandpa. While people were talking the Legion president brought a man to Rachael.

“Rachael,” she said. “This is Colin Masters. He runs the cinema at the mall, and would like to make you an offer.”

“Our attendance is pretty sparse on Monday through Thursday,” the man said. “Most people watch the new hit movies on the weekends. I’d like to dedicate one of my screens to show your videos each hour on Monday and Wednesday, the week after next. We could charge $10 for an hour-long show. I bet some of the people here would come again, to see the movie on the big screen, not to mention all the other people in town who will want to see it.”

“First,” Rachael said, “you need the Legion’s permission to show the film, not mine. We have given them all rights to it. But the little opening video with the cartoons is not a part of the package. You will have to talk to the creators to get their permission, and negotiate terms. I can give you the name of the lead animator.”

“Oh, we will need that. Both videos together will run an hour. Anything less than that won’t be a theater experience. Your video is the more important one. We could give $2.00 for the cartoon, and then $7.50 for the movie. Would that work?”

“That only leaves you with fifty cents,” Rachael said. “Surely you need more.”

“That is how the movies work,” Colin said. “For a blockbuster, almost all the ticket price goes to the studios. We make out money on popcorn, candy and drinks. We can work out the same deal with you.”

“With her,” Rachael said, turning to the Legion president. “It is her movie now.” Rachael gave out Neal’s contact information, and then went back to Grandpa. She looked at her phone, and saw that it was after 9. The old man must be getting tired, even though he seemed to be glowing with the attention and praise he was getting. Rachael decided to step in.

“Folks,” she said loudly. No reaction. “Folks,” she said louder. Her little girl voice just didn’t carry through. But Mr. Stoner heard and he shouted: “Quiet! Rachael would like to speak.” That worked.

“I want to thank all of you for coming, and especially for the welcome you have given to Grandpa … Sergeant Verdun. But it is getting late, and some of us have to get up pretty early for church tomorrow. So I think we will have to call it a night.”

It still took another half hour for the crowd to say their goodbyes and for Larissa and Rachael to lead Grandpa to the van. They were home before 10, barely, and Rachael was able to get Grandpa and a very sleepy Bobby to bed.

That night Rachael had a lot to talk about.

Dear Lord

My, what a day. First, meeting Jane. I think Mike is taken with her. I wonder if they will become a couple. She is a lovely lady, and when she gets her enhancements reduced I think they will be perfect for each other.

Paul and John got married: whee. And Paul’s late father got to be there, thanks to Pastor McNaughton. And it looks like the Hobo Army is forming a band. A pretty good one, by the sounds of it. I will have to watch out, or they will want to pull me in with them. I just can’t. I barely have enough time in a day as it is.

And the video was a hit. The kids like Cheesy, but adults like ours better. Yay. Good for the boys if they can make a little money from their production. I wonder how many people will come see them at the theater? The Legion will benefit from our work, and that is all we wanted.

Thank you for a wonderful, though busy, day.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

This chapter was fun. See my note in the comments: Dawn

SUNDAY, June 19, 2016

Rachael went down to the nursery as soon as she got to church to make sure that there were enough staff. There were. Several of the girls had gotten babysitting jobs the prior Friday or Saturday nights, and all were eager to meet more parents, and get to be the favorite of more kids. Rachael headed back up to the church just before service started.

As she took a seat with Maria, she noticed Jane and Mike sitting in the back, with the baker holding the former hooker’s hand. There were a few sneers from other women in the church directed at Jane and her ample bosom, but Mike seemed to be chatting with her and reassuring her she was welcome in the church. Rachael smiled at the young couple as she walked past, and Jane smiled back, glad to be welcomed by at least one person.

Pastor Helen also smiled warmly at Jane from the front of the church, and then made an adlib change to her sermon, starting off with a welcome to ‘new members’ and noting that the church was inclusive to all, and that it was the sin of pride to feel that you are more deserving than others. She continued on that theme for several more minutes, until most of the women who had sneered at Jane became uncomfortable.

After the short sermon, Pastor Helen announced that there were guest speakers: three missionaries from Africa. This is the reason that Rachael was not in the nursery. She felt that as a church board member who would decide on the donations, she had a responsibility to see how the congregation reacted to the various speeches.

The first up was a young missionary of about 25 years old. He was building a church in Angola, and needed money to start construction. Up until this time he was preaching from the local schoolroom, a single room building that was empty on the weekends. He felt that it was important to have a separate building in the community to bring the people closer to God.

The second missionary was a few years older, and he already had a church building. He was now trying to raise money for a manse, a building where he could live. He presently lived in a small hut on the church property, but felt it was necessary for him to have a more western home, rather than the type of building all his parishioners lived in.

The final speaker was a few more years older, perhaps 35, and he immediately spoke with a passion lacking in the others. You could see that he considered his congregation to be ‘his’ people. Joshua Stillwater was married, to a woman about his age who was a nurse, and ran the only clinic for 80 miles around from their home. Even though they had been in Zambia for much longer than the younger men, they weren’t looking for a building. They had already spearheaded the building of a local school, and the missionary taught all grades up to Grade 10 during the week, as well as preaching in the same building on Sundays.

His project was to drill a well for his people in the village. The women of the village had to walk 15 kilometers to a place where the stream through a nearby ravine was accessible. He felt that the stream indicated that there would be water if they drilled, and he wanted a local source. Many women with young children had to take their babies with them on the long walk for water. Families with older children left the young with siblings, but this cut those children out of an education, although the missionary gave night classes in basic education to them in the evenings, as well as to the adults who wanted to learn.

He spoke of another project. The ravine over the stream meant that it took a 30-kilometer detour down to the watering place and back to get to the road to the market town. The only bridge over the ravine was two old ropes strung across. You walked on the lower rope, and held the upper one for balance. Doing this with a full load on your head was precarious, and loads, and occasionally people, dropped into the stream below. Each load lost would represent a week or two of work for the farmer, who generally had a yearly income of less than $60 in Canadian money.

The men of the village were almost all farmers, and the main currency of the village was livestock. There were two small cows owned by the headman, and many of the villagers had goats or sheep. He noted that many of his students left school at age 13 or 14, with the girls being married off, and the boys going to work in the fields. He recounted the story of a girl of 15 who was incredibly bright, and had potential to go to university. But her father had set a bride-price of four goats on her, and as soon as someone came up with the price, she would be married off. It appeared that either the headman, who was over 40, or his son, currently a boy of 10, would be the only ones who could afford the price.

Joshua had gone over the 10-minute time limit by at least 10 minutes, and Pastor Helen had to call an end to the talk so she could end the service in time for the next group to come in. She suggested that any people who wished to talk to the missionaries could do so in the lobby.

Rachel went into the lobby, and saw that only Joshua had a crowd around him. She went to the other two missionaries, and congratulated them on their work, and then moved into the crowd around Joshua. After several minutes listening to the passionate man answer questions, she got hers in: “What does a goat cost in Zambia?”

“Thirty dollars,” Joshua said. “For most families that is a half year of pay. Some girls have bride-prices of only a sheep or two, which cost $10 each. They tend to marry younger than Lullana, the girl I mentioned.”

“So if I raised $120, I could pay her bride-price, and she could stay in school?” Rachael asked.

“No, I don’t think that would work. If no husband appeared to take her home, then another man with the bride-price would make an offer, and she would have to go with him.”

“What if I brought her here? Like an exchange student? Would that work?” Rachael asked.

The missionary appeared to think for a moment, and then had a big smile. “I never thought about an exchange student. Although it would not be an exchange, since there is nothing for a student from here to gain in Kasaka. But if Lullana could be brought here, and get a Canadian education, she would be able to bring so much back to her people.”

“Don’t be so sure there can’t be an exchange,” Gary said from the spot he was listening in. “Maybe not a teenaged student, but one or two of the Hobo Army have experience in construction and could help you build your well and bridge. And you might want to contact the nursing school in London. Some of their students might want to spend a summer helping your wife.”

“Wow. What great ideas,” a pumped up Joshua said. “Can we talk later? I see that the other missionaries are speaking to the second service, and I should get ready for my spot.”

Rachael stood at the back of the church and watched the three missionaries repeat their presentations. Joshua seemed even more charged up than the first time, and at the end of this service Pastor McNaughton allowed the men to answer questions in the church itself. There was an even bigger crowd around Joshua this time. Finally, a half hour later the Deacon came forward and asked the missionaries to join them in the boardroom, which Gary had hastily recreated from the Sunday school room it had been a half hour earlier.

Rachael accompanied Joshua in and then showed him and the other two missionaries seats just outside of the room. The board took places around the table, and quickly a short discussion ensued.

“I think the way is clear,” the deacon said. “The mission in Zambia is clearly doing more for the community and needs our support. The others, building a church, or worse, a manse, are doing little to make the lives of their people easier. It is more a case of making their own lives easier. But this Joshua fellow seems to be a real firebrand. So the question is: what, if anything, do we give these gents?”

“Well, even the two deserve something, having come out from Toronto to talk to us. I think they should get at least $500 each,” Pastor Helen said.

In the end, two men were called in, and offered $1000 each for their missions. They both left with big smiles on their faces. Most churches were donating a hundred or two.

Then Joshua came in and was invited to sit down. He was grilled about costs for his various projects. He said he was aiming for $15,000 for both the well and the bridge, but noting that he would be doing one per year, and a two-year contribution would be most helpful.

“I think we are prepared to do that, in a single payment,” the Deacon said. “In fact, we would like to make a continuing commitment to Kasaka. Think of it as an unofficial twining of Ingersoll with your village. We will help you now, and we will help you in the future. We can’t be sure of our recent financial luck continuing, but we will support you with what we can spare.”

“And the Hobo Army has some funds of our own,” Gary said. “I haven’t asked, but I suspect we can send two men to help with your projects. When will you return?”

“With this kind of support I can cut short my fundraising,” Joshua said. “I think I will return in two or three weeks. I like the suggestion of talking to the nursing school, and want to make time for that.”

“And I want you to buy four goats for me,” Rachael said. “I want to pay the bride-price for that girl, and bring her to Canada to go to school. I only have half of the $120, but I will get the rest before you leave. I don’t know how we can get her here though.”

“The parish will pay for her flight,” the deacon said. “And a return flight each year she stays here, so she can go home and visit her family.”

“And I will personally pay the other $60 you need,” Gary said. “You were the Angel who saved me. Let me help you be an Angel for this other girl.”

At this point Joshua broke down sobbing. He cried for several minutes before he could apologize for his actions. “It is just so wonderful,” he said. “You don’t know how much you are doing for my people. There are 200 families, 1000 people, and you will transform their lives. When we got to Kasaka 10 years ago, 150 children of 1000 failed to live to their first birthday. With my wife’s help, that number is now down to 40, although she still cries over each one she loses. A pregnant woman walking 80 miles to the clinic is not ideal, but slowly we are making a difference. Now, with your help, we will change that ‘slowly’ into a ‘rapidly.’”

After the board meeting ended, Rachael went next door to see Mrs. Winchester. Rachael had not helped her pack as much as she wanted, due to school and her busy schedule, but she had brought Miriam Brown over to help. Miriam was the older woman that ran the house of ill repute that Constable Steve had shut down, and she quickly bonded with Myrtle, helping the older lady pack her goods.

Rachael had promised to help Myrtle move, and spent the next hour getting her to her new house in the nursing home, where Miriam was already busy unpacking boxes. Rachael continued for a while, until her family appeared in a strange vehicle. She hugged Myrtle, and wished her happiness in her new home, with a promise of a regular visit. Miriam stayed to finish the unpacking, and Rachael got into the recent model car, buckling into the back seat next to Bobby.

“Did you buy a new car, Dad?” she asked.

“No, it is just a rental,” Geoff said. “Although we will be needing a second vehicle soon. Now that your Mom drives, the bakery van isn’t going to be enough.”

“Although maybe not for a while,” Maria said. “Mike stopped in as we were getting lunch, and asked if he could get an advance of $10,000 on his salary. He has really fallen for Jane, and wants to help her get her surgery. I have a feeling she might be living above the bakery pretty soon.”

“That’s wonderful,” Rachael said. “I saw them in church and they make such a lovely couple. Although it looked like some people didn’t think so.”

“Mike told me that after the service some of the people who had glared at her came up to apologize. Apparently Pastor Helen’s message hit home for some of them. And the lady who runs the auxiliary came over and invited her to join. She wasn’t sure about that, but did agree to start attending the ‘Learn to Cook’ classes.”

“Moooom,” Bobby whined. “You said when we picked up Rachael, you would tell us where we are going.”

“Yes, and she hasn’t even had lunch,” Maria scolded, handing a wrapped sandwich back to her daughter. “And you haven’t eaten for nearly an hour, so I suppose you want one too?”

“Yes please,” Bobby said, eagerly taking the second sandwich offered.

“Bottomless pit,” Maria quipped.

“Conveyor belt,” Bobby retorted, with a giggle.

Rachael had to explain, and by the time she was done, Bobby had devoured the sandwich.

“This is where we are going,” Maria said, handing an envelope back to Rachael.

Rachael opened the envelope and saw a series of tickets. On top were four tickets to the Toronto Blue Jays game against Baltimore that night. Then inside were tickets to the CN Tower, the adjoining Ripley’s Aquarium and also tickets to the Royal Ontario Museum further uptown.

“Do you know what this is?” Rachael said, holding up a ticket with the Blue Jays logo on it. Bobby stared for a second, and almost whispered the words “Blue Jays.” Then he worked it out. “We’re going to see the Blue Jays? In real life? Yippee,” he shouted, bouncing around in his seat as much as possible with a seat belt on.

“And that’s why we didn’t tell you until we had your sister available to keep you in check,” Maria said. “The seats are in the outfield, just off the first baseline. Not the best seats in the house, but near the ground level, not the nose bleed sections.”

“You are the best mom in the world. And you are the best dad ever. And Rachael is the best sister ever,” an extremely hyper Bobby raved. Rachael pointed out to him the line on the tickets that said the game went to 7:10. It was now almost 3, and Ingersoll is over two hours outside of downtown Toronto, so they should arrive well before 6 and still have an hour to get to the Rogers Center.

“The other tickets are for Monday,” Rachael noted. “Are we staying overnight?”

“Yes. Your Dad got us two rooms in the Sheraton. We can park there, and then take a streetcar to the ballpark. Dad and Bobby will sleep in one room, with us girls in the other,” Maria explained.

“Nope,” Rachael said. “Bobby and I will share a room, won’t we Tiger.” The boy nodded. “He is still young enough that I don’t mind sharing with him. It will give us a chance to catch up on some reading … oh, did you bring any books?”

“Yeah, Momma told me to bring the Harry Potter we are reading,” Bobby said. “We can read till we fall asleep.”

“We always read ‘til you fall asleep,” Rachael laughed. “But I bet you will be worn out after the Jays game.”

“You can read in the morning,” Maria said. “Give your Dad and I a chance to sleep in. We want to go to the CN Tower at 10, and then the Aquarium until 2 or 3. Then we will take the subway to the Museum.”

For the next hour and a half Rachael kept Bobby enthralled in the back seats with a description of what they would do. After the ball game, he was most interested in seeing dinosaur bones at the museum, seeing whales at the aquarium, riding a train that went underground, and being in the tallest freestanding building in Canada (once in the world).

“You know,” Geoff said from the front. “Whenever I drive to Toronto I always play a little game, to see who can see the CN Tower first. We are getting close enough that someone might be able to see it.”

About 15 minutes later the tower was in view. Both Maria and Geoff saw it from the front seats but said nothing, and a few minutes later Rachael saw the tower, and pointed it out to Bobby.

“I saw that a minute ago, but didn’t know what it was,” the hyper little boy said.

“Well then you win the contest,” Rachael said, not wanting to take any glory from her bother.

“What do I win?” Bobby asked excitedly.

“You mean other than tickets to the Blue Jays, Aquarium, CN Tower, museum and rides on streetcars and subways?” Rachael laughed.

“How about a Blue Jays cap from SkyDome,” Geoff said.

“What is SkyDome,” Bobby asked.

“Oh, that is the old name for the Rogers Centre, where the team plays. I keep forgetting the new name,” Geoff said.

“A really, truly Blue Jays cap, just like the players wear?” Bobby said. “The boys at school will be so jealous when I wear it to play at recess.”

The family watched the CN Tower get bigger and closer as they neared the city. Soon they were on six and eight lane expressways, and the kids kept quiet to allow their parents to drive and navigate the big city.

Bobby had never seen so many cars at once, and Rachael felt an odd sensation. The shrinking Ron part of her had driven in Toronto many times, but those feelings were fading. Now she had a large dose of Rachael memories also finding everything new and different.

Finally they found the hotel and pulled in. They all carried luggage up from the parking garage, and Maria got them checked in. Then Geoff led them up to their adjoining rooms, which had a connecting doorway between, which the Bellhop unlocked. Bags we just tossed on the beds, as they needed to rush off to the ball park.

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

Back in Ingersoll Pastor Helen and Steve were just finishing their evening prayer at the painting. They stood up to find Gary in the lobby, looking concerned.

“Let’s talk downstairs,” he said. A few members of the Hobo Army were having their supper, but they found a quiet table away from them. Gary pulled out his phone, scrolled to a photo, and handed it to Steve. “We had men out cutting lawns after the church services ended. With only four working lawnmowers, we like to keep them going as much as possible. Normally the men cut the city-owned strip of land between the road and the sidewalk, and then go ask the owner if they want the rest cut. Most do.”

“The men found a house that was a real mess: grass nearly a foot high,” he continued. “They couldn’t get an answer at the door, and noticed that all the windows were covered in aluminum foil. They walked around the house, and when they came to the power service at the back, they saw that.” He pointed to the photo.

The picture showed the electric meter, but a hand pulling back a leafy vine clearly showed that the meter was being bypassed with a crude handmade connection.

“Was the meter moving at all?” Steve asked.

“Not a bit. And every window in the place was covered with foil. But in a few places there were tears, and you could see bright lights inside,” Steve said.

“A grow op,” Steve said. “Don’t let any men near that place. And please send that picture to my phone. I want to show it to the chief first thing Monday morning.”

“I think the guys have finished up that street,” Gary said. “Let me know if there is anything we can do.”

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

Rachael and her family waited less than five minutes at the streetcar stop outside the hotel. On a game day, service was good.

The streetcar went direct to the park, and was filled with people, so the family had to stand. Soon they were at the massive domed stadium and had to walk almost half way around to find the gate they were to enter at. A few minutes later they were inside, and found their way to their seats.

“I have to pee,” Bobby said.

“So do I,” Rachael said. “I’ll take Bobby.”

She did so, telling him to wait outside the ladies washroom for her when he was done. She knew that boys don’t take as long as women, and had heard horror stories of lineups in the ladies rooms in stadiums. But they were early enough that there were no lineups, and Rachael was out in only a few minutes. As predicted, Bobby was already done, and was waiting, a little scared at seeing more people then he had ever seen in his life, all streaming this way and that through the hall of the park. He held Rachael’s hand tightly as she led them back to the seats, where Maria was waiting.

“I have to go too,” she said. “Your Dad went for food. He shouldn’t be long.”

It was more than a half hour before game time, and the Jays were on the field warming up. Just as Geoff was approaching with a platter of food, one of the sluggers on the team hit a foul ball that Rachael saw tracking towards them. In fact, it was coming right at them. She stood up in front of Bobby to protect him, and then put out her hands. The ball hit them, and she felt a sting of pain, but held on to the ball.

“Wow, Rachael, you caught it,” Bobby enthused. “You have a real Blue Jay’s baseball.”

“No Tiger, you have a baseball,” Rachael said, handing the ball to her brother. She put her hands under her arms to try and reduce the stinging.

“Good catch, honey,” Geoff said as he started dishing out hotdogs and tacos to the kids. Maria was back a few minutes later, and she presented Bobby with his official Blue Jays hat, which the young fan promptly put onto his head. He then told her about the miraculous (to him) catch that his sister had made, showing her the ball.

“Look Bobby. There is Jose Bautista, the player who hit your ball to us,” Rachael noted when the Jays took to the field for fielding practice. Go down to the bottom of the steps and see if you can get him to sign your ball.” She handed him a Sharpie.

Bobby stood at the base of the seats for about 15 minutes, calling out to Jose whenever the player got close to the foul line. Finally, when fielding practice was over, the ball player trotted over.

“Are you the boy with that cute blonde who caught my foul ball?” the right fielder asked as he took the ball and pen from Bobby.

“Yes, that is my sister Rachael,” Bobby said. “She is the best sister in the world.”

“One of the prettiest too,” Jose said. “Too bad I already have a girlfriend.”

“She has a boyfriend too,” Bobby said. “Thanks for signing this.”

He ran up the steps to the seats after the ballplayer had run towards the clubhouse to get ready for the game. Rachael turned red as the boy repeated their conversation word-for-word. She then looked at the ball, and saw that Jose had written ‘For Bobby, best brother in the world: Jose Bautista.’

“Well he got that right,” Rachael said. He had also made a fan for life with the young 10-year-old. Bobby was on his feet cheering every time Jose came to bat and then when he struck out (twice) and grounded out (twice) Bobby would shout “That’s okay Jose. You’ll get it next time,” as though the player could hear him. Jose had a bad game, going 0-5 (the other out was a fly to deep centerfield that looked like a home run until the last minute). The Jays lost as well, with Baltimore scoring three runs in the top of the seventh after the Jays had made it 8-6 in the bottom of the sixth. That was when fans started to leave the park. Not the Barrons though. They remained until the last out, and then wandered out through the stadium, stopping to buy Bobby souvenirs, including a program (now at a discount that made it affordable) and a pennant.

Rachael noticed that one of the kiosks had Jose Bautista bobble-head dolls, and convinced Maria to buy one, in what turned out to be Bobby’s most prized possession for years to come. It would be displayed in his room, next to the signed baseball, until he went to college years later.

The leisurely exit worked out well for the family. With most fans leaving early, and then rushing to the streetcars, when the Barrons got to the stop, there were only a few dozen waiting, and the family got a seat easily. Bobby rode all the way to the hotel, and had his nose stuck to the glass of the window the entire trip.

Geoff got his little family off one stop short of the hotel, where there was a McDonald’s, and they went in for a cheap dinner after all the expensive food from the ballpark. They then walked to the hotel, and got to their rooms well after 10 p.m. As predicted, Bobby was sleepwalking down the hall to their suite, and Maria barely was able to get him undressed before he was sound asleep.

After Geoff and Maria went into the other room, Rachael kneeled down to pray.

Dear Lord

Thank you for the best day ever. My family is so important to me. I am forgetting how it was before I met them. That is a good forgetting. Bobby will remember today for the rest of his life. So will I.

And I had to work hard to not spend any of my money today. I need to save it to buy goats for Lullana. I hope she can come to Canada. Joshua made her sound like a special girl. Can you make that happen for me? I would really appreciate it.

I am so happy that our church can help all those people in Africa. Joshua is not giving them handouts, but a hand up. Doing things that will enable them to enrich their lives. Hopefully they will know that all good things come from you, Lord, and will honor you as I do.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Only a short chapter, but it sets things up for Shootout at the Oak Street Corral in the next posting: Dawn

MONDAY, June 20, 2016

Rachael woke up with a small body hugging her back. Apparently Bobby had woken up during the night, and had decided to crawl in with her rather than into his own bed. She loved the little guy, but he was getting a little old to be sleeping in the same bad as her. She got up and went quietly into the bathroom, coming out several minutes later to see her brother awake, and smiling broadly from his own bed. He held up his Harry Potter book. “Read?”

“Yeah, Tiger, we can read for a while. Momma and Dad won’t want to get up for another hour or two.”

She got onto his bed, sitting outside the sheets and the pair read, following their traditional method of Rachael reading a page, and then Bobby reading the next page. He was much slower than his sister, and occasionally she had to have him sound out a word, or explain what one meant, but overall she was amazed at how much better he was reading now. When she had started reading with him, he was at a Grade 2 or 3 level. Now he was reading at a Grade 6 level, and was nearly as good as some of Rachael’s Grade 8 classmates.

Much later Maria opened the door to look at her two children reading in bed. “Anyone hungry?”

“I’m starved,” Bobby said, jumping out of the bed. Rachael got up as well.

“Geoff ordered room service,” Maria said. “They just delivered it to our room.”

“Froot Loops,” Bobby called out. Rachael wouldn’t buy him junk food for breakfast, and she glared at Maria. “It’s a holiday,” Maria explained, and Rachael agreed to the slip in her brother’s diet.

There were eggs for the other three, although Bobby brazenly stole the bacon from first Rachael, and then his mother. He eyed Geoff’s, but the baker held his fork up menacingly, and said: “Just you try.” Bobby decided the four rashers of bacon was enough, and contented himself with his milk-sopped cereal.

Maria and Geoff were dressed already, while Rachael was in her robe, and Bobby was nearly naked in only his shorts. Maria took him to dress, while Rachael got her outfit for the day and took it into the washroom.

They were on the streetcar for the short ride back to the stadium, getting off one stop early at the CN tower. The weather at 10 a.m. looked a little hazy, so the family went to the adjacent aquarium first. They spent the next three hours in there, looking at the various exhibits and shows.

When they came out, the haze was gone, and they went up into the CN tower for its breathtaking views of the city and out onto Lake Ontario. They came down just before 2 p.m., and took the streetcar up to the subway line, where they went underground.

Mid-afternoon is probably the best time of day to ride the Toronto subway, especially for a group of rubes from a small town like the Barrons. In early morning or later in the afternoon it is rush hour, and even later in the evening the drunks and party people take over. But at 2:30 there was only a few people in every car, and the Barrons walked down to the end of the station to get on the first car, which no other patrons were on, as most preferred cars closer to the stairs.

This allowed Bobby to be able to run back and forth in the car as it ambled down the tracks, stopping at each station. He watched how the driver controlled the train from the small cubicle at the front of the car, while the guard at the other end of the train used her whistle to warn people to stand back.

He finally dragged Rachael to the very front of the car, where they could see down the tunnel. He was enthralled. Rachael: not so much. She could only see the dark and dank tunnel, and think: Here be rats.

“We get off at the next stop, kids,” Maria sang out from the middle of the car. So when Rachael and Bobby could see the lights of the next stop ahead in the dark tunnel, they headed back, just in time. In fact, they had to jump out of a set of doors ahead of the ones their parents used.

The museum was just outside of the station, so they were soon inside. Bobby found the dinosaurs first: it isn’t hard, with that exhibit just inside the lobby. The family travelled the entire multi-floor museum, with everyone finding different things to admire. Rachael and Maria split off from Geoff and Bobby, so that they could look at the Art Deco furnishings and old costumes, things that didn’t interest the boys.

“This has been great,” Rachael said. “It is so nice not being poor. I bet we had spent more money these two days than our family ever spent on ourselves before Geoff.”

“We planned this for a couple weeks,” Maria admitted. “Geoff wanted to bond with you kids, and we had the money in the budget. Then I wound up getting another $1000 cheque from Bill Strong for doing some interviews on Saturday. He has some good people working for him now, so I probably won’t do any more for him. That made it easier to afford all this without wincing.”

The two pairs rejoined after a few hours, and after Bobby had one more chance to see the dinosaurs, they headed back. Outside there was a stampede of people rushing to get into the subway station, so Geoff held up his hand and soon a taxi pulled up. The four got in, and rode quickly back to the hotel. They had checked out in the morning, but Geoff had paid a fee to allow him to leave the rental car until evening. They went directly down to the parking garage, and in a few minutes were on their way home.

“Why aren’t we moving?” Bobby asked a few minutes later, after they got onto the expressway.

“This is how rush hour traffic works in Toronto,” Geoff said. “Hurry up and wait.”

“Why do they call it ‘rush’ hour,” Bobby noted. “They should call it ‘slow’ hour.”

“And hour doesn’t fit either,” Rachael said. “I understand it is like this from 6 to 10 in the morning, and 4 to 7 in the evening.”

Later, when they had gotten past most of the traffic, and were only a half hour from Ingersoll, Geoff called back: “So Bobby, was it ‘Best holiday ever?’”

“I guess,” the boy said. “It was the first holiday ever. Can we do it again?”

“Sure,” Geoff said. “I love my little family, and want so much to have fun with you. In a couple years Rachael is going to be grown up, and then a few years later you will be too. Until then we need to make a lot of memories.”

“Blue Jays again?” Bobby suggested. “Or a hockey game! Toronto and Pittsburg. I could see Sidney Crosby!”

“Well, hockey would be difficult,” Geoff said. “Toronto is hard to get a ticket to, and against Pittsburg nearly impossible. Maybe if we went to Buffalo or Detroit: they are both close enough. But we could do other things. Camping or cottaging. The roller coasters at Canada’s Wonderland. The Science Centre in Toronto is good for kids. I wanted to go there this trip, but your Mom said dinosaurs would appeal more to you.”

“The dinosaurs were awesome,” Bobby said. “You are the best Dad ever.” Geoff smiled. Statements like that, plus the hugs he got from his kids when they finally got out of the car at home were the reason he loved being a Dad. He had hopes that Maria and he could have a child of their own one day, but he admitted that no child could be better than the two he had inherited. Hopefully he, she, or they could be just as good.

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

Earlier in the morning the town police chief looked at the picture that Gary had given Steve. “Definitely a grow op,” the chief said. “It would take our entire force to clean it up, assuming it is empty. But I got a memo a few days back … here it is. A fellow I went to police academy with years ago joined the OPP, and he has moved up fairly well. A good cop. They just made him officer in charge of a new mobile SWAT team that will be able to go out to trouble spots in the province. Let me give him a call. You head out to that house, and keep an eye on it.”

Steve parked his cruiser in the church parking lot and walked the two blocks to the grow op on Oak Street. He found Gary standing on the porch of the house facing it across the street. His policeman’s eyes noticed that repair work had been done on the porch, and was just waiting for paint. Apparently the Hobo Army had been doing work here.

“Hey Steve,” Gary said. “We have something new.” He gestured to a Hobo Army member holding a somewhat bulky device that was pointed at the house. “That is an early thermographic camera that was in the shed, and Chipper fixed it up. Just in time, too. Look.” The images stored showed that there were heat sources in all three levels of the grow op.”

“These red areas are lights at the top of the levels. Then below are these orange strips, which we think are the plants growing. But look up here, in the second floor,” Gary said. “There are two blobs up here. We think they are people. They don’t move much, but they do move around with that one room.”

Just then the chief pulled up in his cruiser in front of the house. “Maybe we don’t want a cruiser here, chief,” Steve said tactfully. “I parked at the church.” A light of recognition shone from the chief’s face as he climbed the steps to the porch.

“I could have one of the fellows drive it over there for you,” Gary offered, and the chief handed over the keys, who Gary handed to another person.

“It is illegal for someone not in the force to drive a cruiser,” the chief said. “So I am officially making you an auxiliary office of Ingersoll Police Force.”

As the man drove off Steve showed the thermographic images. The chief agreed that this was clear evidence of a grow op, and would enable him to get a search warrant for the next day. “We should keep an eye on the house until then. Does the owner of this house mind if we leave an officer?”

“Danko here has made some rapport with the lady who owns the home,” Gary said. “He cleaned up her flower garden, and did repair work on the porch and inside the house. She trusts him. I suggest we leave him to look after the place. If you need to leave an officer, you would need to cover three shifts until tomorrow.”

The chief agreed and swore Danko in as an auxiliary, and then let him lead them into the house to see Mrs. Berrilia. “Dolores,” Danko called out from the door. “I have some people who would like to talk with you.”

“Oh, more company,” the elderly woman said. “I must make tea.”

The police and Gary waited patiently until Danko and the woman made tea, and served it with cookies around a coffee table in her living room, which had a large picture window staring at the grow-op. She complained about the house, which she called a blight on the neighborhood. Of course, her reason was that they didn’t mow their lawn, which at a foot high was apparently ‘out of control.’ She didn’t know anything about the people who looked after it: they apparently had rented the house a year ago. Previously two different families had lived there in separate apartments.

She agreed to allow a person to spend the night observing, so long as ‘Danny’ was present. She considered him to be like a grandson.

“We’ll need a second man overnight,” Danko said. “I can nap on the couch as he watches.”

“Nonsense, Danny,” Mrs. Berrillia said. “I have a perfectly good guest room you can sleep in.”

Gary, the chief and Steve left soon after. “You are going to have to swear in a few more auxiliaries,” Steve said. “The second man at least.”

“And I’d like to keep a few men from the Army in the area,” Gary said. “Just to be safe, and to run back to the church if there are problems. We’ll keep a couple here, outside, on four-hour shifts. We can get a couple dozen more men out here quickly to support your officers, if you need.”

“That might not be a bad idea,” the chief mused. “We are going to get over a dozen men from the OPP SWAT team, and they should be here around 10 in the morning. We will have our warrant by then. Your guys could do traffic control into the area. But if the SWAT team requires it, we may want to evacuate the houses nearby. That can be a pretty manpower-intensive step, and having your guys do it in several teams will be a huge benefit. Where can we put all the people who evacuate?”

“The church,” Gary said succinctly. “There is room for several hundred there, and we have the facilities and the staff to feed them and keep them busy. Many of the area people go to our church, and we will welcome those of other faiths as well. The church is the voting poll for this part of town, so most of them are familiar with it.”

The men left Danko with the elderly lady, and headed back to the church. During the day Gary had some of the Army go down the entire block, and determine who was in each home. In most cases the Army had done lawn work or repairs to the houses, and knew which of the Army men had made contact with the people, so that it could be familiar faces that conducted an evacuation if one was necessary.

Back at the church the men built a map showing each house on the street, and Maple Street behind it. This allowed Steve and the chief to make plans for deploying officers and auxiliaries the next day. At about 2 Inspector John Bell returned from Woodstock, where he had been overseeing several minor court cases at the county courthouse. The Inspector would be the Ingersoll officer in charge of the operation, although in fact the OPP men would lead the plan. There were a few areas where local officers would be needed. For one thing, the warrant would have to be served by local officers. The three policemen spent several hours at the church, and joined the Hobo Army for their supper. Before the meal the chief swore all the available men in as police auxiliaries.”

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

That evening a tired Barron family returned home. Grandpa had insisted that he could look after himself, but Grandma had been driven over from her home. She spent Sunday afternoon and all of Monday with him to keep him company. She also ensured that he ate well, with dinners ordered in; as well as toast for breakfast, and sandwiches and some of Rachael’s soup for lunch.

Geoff went to bed soon after they got in. Tuesday was Mike’s day off, so he had to go in for 11 to start on the bread. Maria was going to go in early at 4 to help out. Doug was coming in at 2 a.m. since high school was out already for the summer, and the boy was hoping to get 40-hour weeks until September to help his family get ahead financially.

With Geoff in bed, Maria drove her mother-in-law home, but not until Bobby spent nearly an hour excitedly going through every step of their adventure. When Maria was finally gone, Rachael sent Bobby to take his bath, and then helped Grandpa into bed, with the old soldier admitting that he was glad not to have been on the trip: “I got tired just listening to everything Bobby said you all did,” he admitted.

When Grandpa was done, Maria was home and joined Geoff in their bed. Rachael joined Bobby, but they only read about ten minutes before the boy fell asleep.”

Dear Lord

Thank you for another great day. It is so nice to get back to sleepy old Ingersoll where nothing ever happens after a busy day in the city. So many people. I hope you can look after all of them as well as you look after us.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Shootout at the Oak Street Corral

TUESDAY, June 21, 2016

Constable Steve Winslow was up early. His new wife Helen got up with him, and made him a hot breakfast before kissing him as he left for the church at 5 a.m. He was the first there, although Gary showed up seconds later, looking as if he had been up all night. In a few more minutes all the team was present, except for Inspector John Bell.

“Sorry I’m late,” the Inspector said as he hurried into the church basement where the meeting was being held. My wife was giving me hassles again. I didn’t tell her why I was going to work so early, but she is sure something is up.”

“We have a problem,” Gary said. “The men in the house across the street reported that four more people entered the house at dusk last night, so there are six people in there. They also report that the original two people have not left their original location. I mean, wouldn’t they at least have gone to the washroom once in nearly 24 hours?”

Gary showed some thermo pictures of the house taken at midnight. “There are two persons in this upstairs room, and two more downstairs, as well as the original two. And there were reports from the men outside the house of some kind of scuffle between the newcomers and the original two. They said it sounded as though the new people were beating on the originals, who were crying out in pain for some time after.”

He scrolled to another image, this one taken from a normal cell phone. It showed the newcomers arriving. One, clearly a woman, carried nothing. Two others were carrying large duffle bags, and another held what appeared to be a large gun covered by a blanket. At some point on the way in, the blanket slipped, and the man from the Hobo Army had gotten a good shot of the gun before the blanket was put back over the weapon.

“Shit, is that an AK-47?” Steve gasped.

“One of the boys is a bit of a gun nut, and he claims that it is an AK-103, the newer version of the 47,” Gary said. “He said people in chat groups have offered over $30,000 to get one of the guns, but no one has seen one in Canada. Lots of Americans are willing to sell one at that price, but they are notoriously hard to smuggle across the border. Word is that there are none in Canada.”

“Well, it looks like there is one here now, and it is in Ingersoll,” Steve said.

“Theoretically the gun can fire 600 rounds a minute, but the cartridge of the type in the picture holds 30 rounds. Hopefully he only has the one cartridge. It only takes a couple seconds to change to a second cart, if he has one,” Gary said.

“All right,” the chief said. “This changes everything. Gary, I want your people out at 6 a.m., if not sooner, to evacuate the area. Send everyone here to the church. Can your staff make them a breakfast? I want that street blocked off immediately, if not sooner. Put a couple auxiliaries at either end to stop both pedestrian and vehicular traffic. We’ll park a squad car at either end to improve the police presence. They should be out of range if the idiots start shooting. My budget won’t allow for any new cruisers if we get those shot up.”

He turned to the Inspector. “John, you will be the on site officer in charge for our men. But you are to let Stan Sleniak, the OPP officer running the SWAT team, have full control. It will be his show. I’m going to phone him now and let him know the change in situation. Can you call the judge in Woodstock and see if that warrant can be expedited? Send an officer right now, and have him wait for it.”

“Or her,” Steve suggested. “Officer Cierra should be starting her shift soon.”

The team split up to make phone calls and issue orders. They reconvened about 15 minutes later.

“The SWAT team should be here by 8,” the chief reported first. “They are already on the way. Stan seems to think they can take out a man with an assault rifle, if his men are deployed correctly.”

“The judge is going in to work on the warrant,” Inspector Bell reported. “I seem to be cursed with upsetting women today. I got the judge’s wife out of bed, and she had some choice words for me when I asked to talk to the judge. Velma, officer Cierra, is on the way and should be back within an hour, if the judge issues the warrant. When I told him we had photos of a AK-103 going into the house he seemed to feel that the warrant would be a no brainer.”

“The Hobo Army is out in full force,” Gary said. “The street will be blocked off in minutes, and the men are going to any house that shows lights that indicate someone is up, and evacuating them first. The residents will be led to the church in whichever direction means they don’t need to pass in front of the grow op. At 6 a.m. the men will start waking people up and evacuating the rest of the area. And we still have two men in the house across the street. They will go into the basement if there is any shooting.”

“That should be safe, but I want them down there before we serve the warrant,” the chief said. “A bullet from an AK-103 will go right through most vehicles, and still have enough power to kill. There will be stray bullets going into that house. I don’t want to find any bodies in there when this is all over. I’m glad we decided to evacuate the houses behind Oak Street.”

“Steve noted that he had ordered cruisers for either end of Oak Street, and they would be in position and out of sight of the house.

Then it was hurry up and wait. First Constable Vierra came in with the warrant. It was written in her name, so she would be one of the team that serves it. Steve announced that he was going to be her backup, and neither the chief nor the inspector disputed this.

Shortly thereafter the SWAT team pulled up at the church, and 14 officers in black uniforms piled out of their sparkling new van, purchased and equipped for a cost of nearly $250,000 and put into service only weeks ago. This was the first non-training use of the team.

Stan Sleniak was in his early 50s, like the chief, and was still fit for a man of middle age. His hair was grey, and his face had lines of experience, but he was a man born to be a commander, and this SWAT team was his chance to prove himself. The chief walked him over to the grow op, with several of his senior officers, to take a look at the target house, which was still in darkness. They looked at the latest thermographic images. Stan looked at his watch: it was 8:05.

“We are going to roll at 8:30,” he announced. “I want your officers to stand behind trees out of sight of the house before then, and once we roll the van into position at 8:30 they should approach the building with all caution. I will have four snipers positioned behind trees to the west and east of the house. The door opens to the east, so your officers should stand at the west, the right, so that my snipers can have a clear shot into the house when the door opens.”

Steve nodded. Even though the warrant had Velma’s name on it, they both knew that Steve would be in charge at the door. They edged over to the tree closest to the door of the house. Oak Street had been planted with oak trees along the street when it was developed 140 years ago, and they were now huge, each one four feet or more across, providing room for several officers behind each tree. Most important, they would stop a bullet from an AK-103.

At 8:30 the SWAT vehicle pulled up in front of the grow op. Inspector Stan felt the presence of his vehicle would intimidate the bad guys. Eight men rolled out of the back, the others were already in position. Steve and Velma walked quickly and confidently up to the porch and stood at the right of the door. Steve rapped loudly at the door, calling out: “Police. Open up. We have a warrant.”

For about 10 seconds nothing happened. Then Steve had a feeling, and moved to the left of the door, pulling Velma with him. Seconds later all hell broke loose, with bullets fired from within the house tearing through the siding to the right side of the door, where the officers had stood seconds before. Steve grabbed Velma, and then dove over the porch railing, landing in the weeds that were growing wild there.

When Steve had moved, Inspector Sleniak cursed him as an incompetent who was jeopardizing the entire operation by not following the plan. But when the bullets started flying, and he watch the two officers dive off the porch, he realized that both would have died in that initial hail of bullets. With 22 bullets going to the left of the door, and then 6 more across the door itself, nearly splitting it in half, and then two lone bullets to the right, the dive of the two officers seemed to be lucky.

There was no action for the next few minutes, but after nearly 10 minutes Sleniak used the van loudspeaker to hail the house and offer the occupants a chance to surrender. The door to the house opened, and all SWAT guns aimed at it, waiting to see if the occupants would come peacefully, or something else.

It was something else. A man in a black suit with an odd helmet came forth, carrying a Toronto Star newspaper carrier bag over his shoulder. He stood on the porch and fired his AK-103 at the fan, destroying the speakers and causing Inspector Sleniak to dive to the ground as bullets tore through his van, going clear through both sides, and any of the expensive equipment in between, and then carrying on. The Inspector rolled on the grass and then moved behind an oak.

The man on the porch pulled off the empty clip and tossed it back through the door. Apparently someone inside would reload it. He reached into the newspaper carrier bag, and pulled out another clip. As soon as he had reloaded, he sprayed bullets across the van again, and then a minute later, again.

Steve lay in the grass, feeling Velma holding his shoulder. Neither spoke, or even moved. The shooter must realize they were still close, and he would look for them. They would have no chance, if spotted.

But the snipers from the SWAT team kept the shooter from concentrating on them by taking shots at him. Five or six bullets hit the man in the body, but bounced off. Steve realized that he was in some kind of body armor, and the sniper bullets could not penetrate. Steve could see bullets hit, and tear into the outer layer of cloth, but then bounce free. One bullet even hit his left cheek, and Steve heard a roar of anger from under the mask. The shot had not penetrated, but it must have hurt.

Soon a rhythm developed. When the shooter was reloading, the snipers at either the east or west trees would shoot at him. Then he would pour his next clip into the tree they were behind until it was empty. When he reloaded the clip, the snipers from the other tree would get off several shots, all totally ineffective.

After several iterations of this routine, the shooter pulled a fast one on the SWAT. He only fired 28 rounds and then paused as if to reload. When the snipers popped out, he fired the last two rounds.

There was a scream, and a policeman yelled out “Davis is hit.” Then a minute later the same voice called. “An arm wound. Tourniquet applied. He’s out of this one.”

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

Susan Bell was working at the local Tim Horton’s Cafe, where she was assistant manager. She was preparing for the rush of people coming in before going to work opening at 9 a.m., when one of the women coming in for the next shift mentioned that the radio station was reporting on a big police operation. She knew Susan’s husband was on the police, so asked what it was all about. Susan just turned on the radio and listened in horror as the local radio station’s one-man news force was reporting from the scene, or as near as she was allowed to get. A chill went down Susan’s spine. Her John was out there, and in danger. She had been trying to get him off the police force for years, after spending too many evenings alone at home as her children grew up, fearing the sight of two officers coming to her front door instead of her husband.

She went into the manager’s office, and announced that she was leaving.

“You can’t leave now, Susan,” the manager said. “I need you to look after the front.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t recall asking to leave,” she said tersely. “I told you I was leaving.”

“If you leave, don’t count on coming back,” the manager said sharply.

“No problem,” Susan took off her name badge and her visor cap, and placed them on his desk, turned and left.

She drove as fast as she dared to the church, and then tried to get up Oak Street, where the radio reporter said the action was.

“We have just heard a report of an officer being hit,” the voice on the radio said. “But there has been no action from the two EMT vehicles parked along side me. The police say it is unsafe for them to go to the aid of the officer.”

Susan shrieked as she heard that statement. She was sure that it was John who had been shot. He might be dead. She slammed on her brakes next to the radio station van, and jumped from the car, racing down the street.

“Stop. You can’t go that way ma’am,” a police officer called, not recognizing her. She kept running until a member of the Hobo Army took her down in a tackle. Then she heard another round of automatic bullets going off, and just broke down and cried.

“It’s not safe here,” the Hobo Army man told her gently. “But it would be a lot less safe to try and get back. Let’s just lay here until this is all over.”

“But John … my husband … is out there,” she sobbed. “He was shot.”

“I heard that the man who was shot is okay. It was an arm wound, and they put a tourniquet on him. He will be fine.”

John was only shot in the arm, Susan thought. But he could still die, if they couldn’t get the EMTs to him in time. Bleed to death. And there was nothing she could do to help. Except pray. So for the first time in 25 years, Susan reached out to the Lord.

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

At 8:30 Delores Berrilia was making tea and toast for breakfast for herself and her guests, when the man with the camera came down from upstairs. “It’s starting,” he told Danko.

“We need to go downstairs, Mum,” he said.

“To the basement, Danny?” she replied. “I don’t know why. It is dark and icky down there. It is much nicer up here.”

“Let me carry the tray down,” Danko said. “Weems will help you down the steps.”

They barely reached the bottom of the stairs when the first blast of gunfire went off. Then there was a pause, and Mrs. Berrilia was asking if it was safe to go back upstairs. Just then the gunfire started in earnest. A few minutes later a bullet hit the front window upstairs, and the old lady screamed as her picture window shattered. She jumping into Danko’s arms for protection.

Over the next half hour there were countless bullets hitting the house above them, and the old woman was terrified. Mrs. Berrilia’s cat had peered upstairs twice but the second time a bullet had hit the wall a few feet above him, and he tore down the stairs in terror, winding up on the lady’s lap. Petting the frightened cat helped calm the frightened senior, but she took most solace from Danko holding her. She felt safe with him holding her.

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

Constable Steve lay on the ground near the porch as the man above fired round after round. Constable Velma Cierra was next to him, partially covered by him as the assault weapon fired into the police SWAT van. The man with the gun needed to be stopped, and the sniper bullets from the SWAT sharpshooters seemed to be doing nothing. The man’s body armor was illegal in Canada. As was the assault weapon.

Steve counted rounds. It seemed there were 30 in a clip, and the man had many clips on him. But there was a few seconds of delay while he changed clips. Soon after the SWAT member had been hit, Steve listened until he heard the clicking that signified no bullets left, and rolled out onto the lawn, with his service revolver in position to shoot.

“Drop the weapon,” Steve yelled at the man, who glanced down at him. The man did seem to be armored, with a helmet covering all but his face, and numerous tears in the body armor where bullets had struck, but not penetrated. The man smiled as he clicked the new clip into place.

“Drop the weapon,” Steve yelled again, but the man just turned his gun towards the policeman. Steve prayed that a single shot from his gun would overpower the 30 rounds that were coming, or else his recent marriage would be a short one.

“Drop the …” He never finished the sentence as the assault rifle barrel rose and started to point at him. He fired a single shot from his revolver, and then another, aiming for the left eye both times. Astonishingly, both bullets went into through the small opening for the shooter’s eye, and then into his brain. The man dropped awkwardly, no doubt due to the body armor, and Steve heard a woman’s scream from the house.

Steve had his gun pointed at the shooter, lying on the ground when a woman burst from the door. She had a handgun and it was pointed at Steve. “You shot Marco,” the woman accused.

“Drop the gun,” Velma shouted. The woman glanced over at the other constable, who had her weapon out. Steve dove to the side. The woman on the porch had moved her gun towards Velma, but now directed it again at Steve, lying in the grass, trying to get his gun aimed at the woman.

“Drop the gun,” Velma screamed again. The woman didn’t, and suddenly Steve heard a shot, and saw a red rose appear on the woman’s forehead as she slowly dropped to the ground. “Oh God,” Velma cried out.

From inside the house Steve heard yells of “Don’t shoot. We don’t want to die.”

“Come out with your hands on your heads,” Steve yelled. He waved a ‘hold’ motion to the snipers.

Two men came out of the house. “The bitch started a fire in there,” one said. Velma trained her gun at the men as Steve pulled plastic restraints tightly over the men’s wrists.

“Nobody else in there?” Steve panted.

“Just the boys upstairs,” one man said. “They are toast by now,” the other said. “They were chained to the radiator up there. They ain’t getting out.”

Steve remembered the two heat sources in the original thermo shots. He ran into the house, taking the stairs three at a time as he noticed that the far wall of the room was completely in flame. This might not be a good idea, he realized as he reached the top of the stairs and turned right, in the direction where the heat sources had been. He almost tripped over one body, and heard another say: “We are chained. Help us!”

Steve had kicked a chain when he had stumbled over the unconscious body. He dropped to the floor, realizing that there was less smoke there, and found the chain again. It was not a heavy chain, just the quarter inch wire chain one might use to restrain a dog in a yard.

Steve got out his gun, and lay down to protect the boys behind him, and fired once, splitting the links. He pulled the chain free from the radiator. He could hear the conscious boy pull the chain out of his leg.

“Let’s get out of here,” Steve said. The smoke was getting thicker at the floor level now.

“Save Tyson,” the boy called.

“I got him. You head down the stairs. Just out the door to the left. There is a fire, don’t stop: just run past it and out the front door. I’ll be right behind with your friend.”

The boy left, and Steve picked up the unconscious Tyson, feeling some relief to hear the boy moan. He was alive, at least. He put the boy over his shoulder: he couldn’t weigh even 100 pounds. Then he started down the stairs.

Halfway down he nearly stumbled on the first boy, who had passed out on the stairs. Steve grabbed his collar, and kept going, aiming for the door, hoping he could stay conscious long enough to reach it. It seemed too far. Then he broke through into the light.

He wavered on the steps as EMTs rushed towards him, taking the boys, and then placing an oxygen mask on his face. He gulped in the pure air, and immediately got his balance back.

“Steve,” a sobbing Velma embraced him. “We did it. You saved me. You saved everyone.”

“No you saved me from that woman,” Steve said.

“Oh God. I’ve never pointed my gun at anyone in nearly 10 years,” she sobbed. “And now I killed someone.” Then she froze. She saw Steve’s new wife looking at her embracing her husband.

Helen walked up as Velma backed away. “It was nothing. Just a reaction to all the stress,” Velma confessed.

Helen lovingly stroked her husband’s chin as she walked by, and then wrapped her arms around the female officer. “You saved my husband’s life. I heard him say it. For that I am entirely grateful. Now we need to get you to the church. I know someone who can help with all the stress and pain you are feeling. You did nothing wrong today, and a whole lotta right. But I know you won’t believe that until you hear Him say so.” She turned to her husband. “You too.”

“Sorry ma’am, but we need to take him to the hospital,” an EMT said. “The first ambulance took the officer who was shot, and the next one will take these boys and your husband in. When the first one comes back, it will pick up these other two.” He gestured at the men who had surrendered.

“Then come to the church when you can, and bring those boys,” Helen told Steve before he got into the ambulance.

Velma and Ruth had only walked a few feet when they heard a low moan. It was Mrs. Berillia, who Danko had led out the back door when the shooting ended. She was staring at the front of her house, which looked like it was from a war zone, with dozens, if not hundreds of bullet holes piercing the front wall, and every window shot out.

“My house,” she moaned. Helen walked up and put her arms around the woman. She looked up. “Pastor Helen, look at what they did to my house.”

“The important thing is that you are alive, and it looks like Smokey is too.” The shivering cat was still in her arms.

“Yes, but he is so scared,” the lady said.

“Well, why don’t we take him to the church and get him settled down,” Helen said. “Does he like tuna? I think there are a few cans in the pantry.”

“He loves tuna,” she said. “Do you want some tuna, Smokey?”

Helen turned to look at the scene around her, to see if anyone else needed to go to the church. She saw Susan Bell standing next to her husband, alternately hugging and hitting him. She was glad to see that he was alive, and uninjured. Her fears had largely been created by her overactive imagination, but she insisted that John must retire from the force as soon as possible.

Helen put her arm around the shattered Velma, while Danko led Mrs. Berillia and Smokey back to the church. The ambulances on the scene had been replaced by fire trucks, with the entire Ingersoll volunteer company trying unsuccessfully to contain the blaze that now engulfed the house. A strong aroma of burning marijuana permeated the air. Newspaper and television reporters had now moved onto the scene, and the OPP were busy keeping them from disturbing the crime scene.

At the church Helen first took Velma to a prayer mat, and then sat with Mrs. Berillia, getting Smokey his promised can of tuna. The black cat ate happily from the saucer, and this calmed her down as well.

“I can’t go back home, can I?” the woman sighed.

“Not tonight, for sure,” Helen said. “And maybe not for a few days. But don’t you worry. Steve and I have a spare room in our house, several, in fact, and you can have your pick and stay there until everything settles down. Did you have insurance on your house?”

“Yes, I always kept that up,” she said. “I just hope there is enough. They did so much damage. So many bullets.”

“And luckily none of them harmed anyone we love,” the Pastor said. “Our service on Sunday will be one of Thanksgiving.”

“I feel so much better now,” Velma said as she approached them.

“He forgave me, and I no longer feel the pressure of having shot someone. It was something I had to do, and it was my job. He said it saved Steve’s life, and maybe others. That is what I do. I took this job eight years ago to help people, and today I helped. I feel good about myself.”

“He has a way of doing that for people,” Helen said. “I know you are not from this church, but I would appreciate it if you and your young man could come to my service Sunday morning. I want to thank you in front of the entire congregation for all you did. Jesus has promised me that one day Steve and I will sit on a porch swing with grandkids about us. He used you to keep His promise to me.”

“I would … we would love to come. This is such a pretty little church, and you seem so dedicated to helping people. I think we might even come more than the once.”

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

Rachael watched the television news with interest that afternoon after school. Word of the day’s events had gotten around the school from lunch on, and eventually the school let out an hour early once the school had been notified that the danger was past, so students and staff could go home and find out what was going on. Rachael sat with Grandpa, entranced in front of the TV as both the London and Kitchener television stations gave blanket coverage to the event.

There was no video of the actual gun battle, but several observers were able to explain it to the viewers. Gary, the police chief, the SWAT leader, and Steve gave one press conference. Another station got some comments from Velma, who was much more put together by then. She claimed Steve was the hero of the day, having saved her life twice: on the porch and then by shooting the bad guy. And she described his heroism in rushing into a burning building and carrying two unconscious boys out.

The boys were a story on their own. A year earlier the two had been selling themselves in the gay village area of Toronto when members of the gang abducted them. A massive manhunt ensued, and dominated the news in Toronto for several months, with the powerful Toronto gay community pressuring the police to find the boys. But there were no solid leads, and no one knew they had been locked up in Ingersoll.

The boys were chained up and made to work in a meth lab. When the gang came to check on them every other week, they had to have made an ever-increasing quota. If they were short, one of the boys was badly beaten. Only one, so the other could try to make the next quota.

They were in terrible conditions. Their only food was cans of spaghetti and macaroni, one per boy per day. Of course they both lost weight and were skeletal when Steve carried them out.

They had leg chains around one leg, and they had a 20-foot length that allowed them to work the kitchen for the meth lab, but not much else. They peed into the sink, and pooped into a bin in the corner that was dumped when the gang came to visit: if they had made quota. Otherwise it just built up over the weeks and created a horrible stench.

One boy was released from hospital, and although the networks wanted an interview, he was underage, and the police would not relate where he was staying. The other boy was in the hospital overnight. One reporter got as far as his room, but got no comments as he was still unconscious. That reporter got to spend the night in the Ingersoll jail, and was transferred to Woodstock for court the next morning. His station bailed him out, but the judge decided that his expensive camera and all its footage would be held until trial as evidence.

The whole family watched the coverage into the evening. Bobby was less interested, although he did sit through the interviews that Gary participated in.

“So who is more a hero,” Bobby asked at one point. “Grandpa or Constable Steve?”

“I can tell you this,” Grandpa said. “Steve Winslow and that lady cop were every bit as brave as we were in the war. For him to sit there while that brute fired his big gun off, and then make a plan to save his team: that’s what heros do. He deserves a medal just as much as I did. Maybe more.”

That night Rachael had a much different prayer.

Dear Lord

Thank you for saving all the local people today. It is insane what can happen when bad people get guns. Usually we just see this happening in the US, but today it was here, in our own little town.

Please let those boys be all right. They had been through a terrible time, and I hope they can recover from it. They deserve a break, and I am confident that you will provide them with something.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Another really long chapter. There are only five more chapters in this book, and then Part 3 will start, with only random days in Rachael’s life appearing sporadically: Dawn

WEDNESDAY, June 22, 2016

Constable Steve Winslow got to the police station at 8 a.m., much later than the prior day, but still two hours before his 10 a.m. shift. He found the chief at his desk, surprised to see him.

“I called you and Cierra to come in at 9, not 8,” the chief said.

“Yeah, but we had a house guest last night, and she is an early riser, or at least her cat is. I left Helen to do the hostess thing.”

“Oh, the lady whose house got shot up?” Steve nodded.

“Well let’s drive out to the site and take a look, then. I need to be back here at 9 though. There is an OPP SIU officer coming by then to talk to you and Cierra.”

“SIU? Special Investigation Unit? What for?” Steve asked as they walked out to the chief’s car.

“They have to investigate any case where a civilian dies as a result of police action,” the chief said.

“Civilian!” Steve said with a snort. “But I guess they have a job to do.”

“Yeah. Be prepared. I understand they can be pretty rough.”

“I’ve got nothing to hide,” Steve said. “And Velma has to be in the clear as well.”

“Yeah, but let them figure that out by themselves … oh my God.” They had just driven up on Oak Street, and parked as close to the police tape strung across the road as possible. There was a cruiser on either side, with an officer in one, and an auxiliary from the Hobo Army on the other.

“Hey chief,” the officer said, snapping to attention once he recognized the car. “Thought it was another yahoo coming by to look at the scene. They’ve been rolling by all night.”

The grow-op house was completely gone. A strong odor of marijuana still emanated from the smoking ruins. Two fire fighters were on scene, playing water over the ruins. There was a man from the town surveying the damage.

“We are going to have to condemn that house,” he said, pointing at Mrs. Berrilia’s home. “Too many bullets went into it to be structurally sound anymore. And we will have to take out all the trees that were shot at.”

Steve tried to imagine Oak Street without any oaks. “Not all of them, surely? I mean I can see the ones the snipers stood behind: there are hundreds of rounds in each of those two. But the others only have a few stray hits.”

“These trees are getting near the end of their lifespan,” the man said. “They may need to be taken down in a few years. In five or 10 years those bullet holes will be covered up, and the bullets inside will be two or three inches under the outer bark. Just deep enough to be deadly to the man with a chainsaw trying to bring them down.”

Steve could see his point. Right now a sawyer could know the bullets were there, and avoid them. In a few years, they would be a health risk. “What if someone was to dig out the bullets: not on those two bad trees, but on the ones with only a few shots? It would be nice to save some of the trees. They give the street such a nice canopy.”

“That would be a huge job,” the town worker said. “We don’t have the manpower to do that. Do you?”

“As a matter of a fact I do. I’ll have a man named Gary call you later today.” The man gave Steve his card and then left.

Steve and the chief also headed back to the station. “I guess Helen and I are going to have a house guest for a while. I hope Helen is up for telling her that her house is condemned. I don’t want that job.”

They got back to the station at 8:30, and the SIU man was already there. He met with the chief for just over an hour, and then came out to find Steve and Velma waiting. Velma had come in with coffee, including one for the OPP officer, who gratefully accepted it. He then took Steve into the waiting room. At the same time Inspector Bell slipped into the chief’s office. His wife was waiting in the staff room, and sneered at seeing the coffee cups: they were the brand of the place she had worked at until yesterday.

“Could you start by giving your full name?” the officer clicked on a tape recorder and recited the time, date and location. “I assume you have no problems with me recording this interview.”

“None at all. My name is Stephen John Winslow and I have been a member of the Ingersoll Police Department for the past 16 years. My current rank is Police Constable.”

“Can you tell me, in your own words, what happened yesterday morning?”

Steve described the events up to the point where they were standing on the porch, and he moved to the other side of the door.

“Can you tell me why you disobeyed your clear orders and moved to the wrong side of the door?” the investigator interrupted.

“I have a feeling: a strong one. It seemed to me to be the right thing to do.”

“But your orders were to stand on the other side. You disobeyed orders.”

“If I hadn’t, there would have been at least two dead officers on that porch yesterday,” Steve retorted. He took a minute to calm himself. The man was clearly trying to rattle him. He refused to lose his cool.

Steve continued, telling how he then pulled Const. Cierra off the porch and onto the ground, where they waited.

“Why didn’t you seek safety during that 10-minute lull?” the investigator asked.

“Because I didn’t know it was a 10-minute lull until it was over. At any time that man could have come out and shot at us crawling or running for cover. Staying put seemed safest.”

“What do you think was happening when this lull was going on?” the officer asked.

“I had no idea at the time, but in retrospect I think they were putting the body armor on the shooter.”

“So you could have burst into the room during that time, and arrested them without any violence?”

Steve just stared at the man in amazement. “There were four of them. One was probably holding an assault weapon with a magazine of 30 rounds. With all due respect, I don’t think that an arrest without violence was possible. Then or at any time.”

Steve continued without interruption to the point where he rolled out of weeds to take his shot.

“Why did you choose that time to act? You could have reacted sooner, and an officer would not have been injured.”

“Well, it took some time for me to work out a plan that had even a slim chance of working. I kept looking for a better plan, but none arose. Then, when the officer was wounded, there was a lull across the street. With the men on one tree trying to assist the injured officer, the men at the other tree couldn’t safely fire. I realized that soon he would remember the two of us on the porch, and look around for him. So when he emptied that last magazine, I decided to act.”

“And you took a million-to-one shot that luckily worked,” the officer said. “Continue.”

Steve only said a few words when he was interrupted again.

“Why were you not prepared when the woman came out of the house?”

“I had my weapon focused on the shooter, in case he was still alive. I didn’t immediately see the woman come out, and didn’t see that she was armed. Luckily Constable Cierra yelled at her, and she lost concentration. I dove, and was about to fire when my partner shot her.”

“Another lucky shot,” the man said.

“No luck. Velma is one of the best marksmen on the force.”

“And you are the best?”

“Yes, I barely beat her on most practices. We have a little rivalry. It encourages us both to go into the range and shoot at least every other week.”

“I see. How long have you and Constable Cierra been dating?”

That nearly made Steve blow up. He calmed himself and slowly continued: “We are not dating. I was married a week ago. I love my wife. Cierra is my partner, one of nearly two dozen I work with here in our small force. There is nothing going on.”

“But I have information that you and the constable embraced at the end of yesterday’s events.”

“She was shattered. She had never pointed her weapon at a living person, and she had just killed someone. She was distraught. I merely was comforting her.”

“Until your wife appeared on the scene,” the man said.

“Yes. And Helen immediately knew there was nothing romantic between the officer and I. In fact, Helen took over embracing Velma and comforting her. She is much better than I at that.”

“We will leave this for now. I still need to know why you left your partner alone with two dangerous men on the porch.”

“I had secured them both in nylon cuffs, and Velma had her gun on them. The officers from the SWAT team were approaching, with rifles at the ready in case the men resisted in any way. I learned that there were people in the house, and went in to rescue them.”

“That was not a very bright idea, was it? Running into a burning building. Why not wait for the firefighters?”

“Ingersoll only has a volunteer fire department,” Steve said. “Only the chief and the assistant chief are full-time town employees. The others are only paid an hourly rate when they are fighting a fire, or when they are training. Not a huge rate, either. Certainly they aren’t paid enough to risk their lives entering a burning building. I am. Putting myself in harm’s way is my job, not theirs.”

“So you carried two men down and to safety,” the man said, with nearly a sneer.

“They were boys, not men, and starved at that. They weighed less than 100 pounds each. And I only carried one. The other collapsed on the stairs, and I had to drag him out.”

“Why didn’t they flee on their own?” the officer asked. Surely one doesn’t stay in a burning building?”

“They were chained to a radiator in the kitchen they were in. I used my gun to shoot through the chain so they could get out.”

“So you fired your weapon a third time?”

“Yes. The Ingersoll Police Force does not issue bolt cutters or hacksaws to its officers. The bullet was the only tool I had that could cut a chain in a matter of seconds.”

“Weren’t you worried about a ricochet hitting the boys?”

“No. I laid down with my body between myself and the boys. They couldn’t be hit.”

“But a ricochet could have hit you. What if a part of the chain went into your eye?”

“I thought about that, and whether I could shield my face with my arm. But I had to see to shoot. If I had been hit, then I would have had to get those boys downstairs with a bloody face.”

“All right,” the investigator said. “I just have one question. Do you consider Velma Cierra to be cut out to be a police officer? Her reactions during this incident leave some question in my mind.”

Steve nearly exploded again. “Velma Cierra is as good a cop as any on this force. Yes, she is a woman, and she reacted like a woman in this situation. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t react like a cop. She shot a person to save my life. I would work with her over any of the men on this force. She had my back all the way.”

“Interesting reaction for someone who claims he is not her lover,” the investigator said. Steve balled his fists, and was about to attack this man for his slurs. Then he thought of Helen: calm, wise Helen, and held back.

“Look, if you interview Constable Cierra with the intent of making her cry, then you will likely succeed. But if she cries, that doesn’t make her a bad cop. She is tough when she wants to be, and a woman when she needs to be.”

The meeting was over, and when Steve left the room, Velma looked startled to see her partner with such raw emotion on his face. “Don’t let him get to you,” Steve told her as she entered the room. He is a prick. Be strong.”

Steve had been in the room for over an hour, but Velma came out in under 15 minutes. She had been in less of the action, so it made sense that the interview was shorter. The inspector went into the chief’s office.

“Did he hit you with that crap about us being lovers?” Steve asked.

“Yes, just once near the start. I had the perfect answer though,” Velma said. “Carter and I decided last night to get married. He’d like you to be the best man, and my sister will be maid of honor. We’d like Helen to do the ceremony. On Friday if she can: my sister insisted on a day to get a dress. It will only be our immediate families.”

“Congratulations,” Steve said, hugging her. Of course, that was the point when the SIU officer stepped out of the chief’s office. His eyebrows shot up.

“Just congratulating my partner on her forthcoming marriage,” Steve explained. The man smiled.

“I have just given my verdict to the chief. Neither of you will face suspension or dismissal. That isn’t to say that there is no further action on this matter. I am recommending that both of you be awarded the Ontario Medal for Police Bravery. Your chief agrees, and is quite eager to do all the paperwork that this entails. I am truly glad that neither of you were harmed in this event, and apologize for being so rough on you. It is my job, you see.”

A few minutes later, the investigator left to return to Toronto, and the chief called the two into his office. “Apparently provincial protocol is for two weeks paid recovery time for an officer involved in this type of event. You are both expected back here in two weeks. Although I have heard through the grapevine that Cierra might be looking for a nameplate that says Walton. Is that right?”

“Yes it is chief,” she said with a smile.

“You have a couple weeks holiday outstanding,” the chief said. “I will approve any or all of it to follow your leave. Have a great honeymoon.”

“One other thing,” he added. “The word is already out around the office that John Bell is retiring, effective Monday, which is the first day his early retirement is possible. He also has nine weeks or so of holidays, so tomorrow he will start those, until his retirement goes through. I had his wife Susan at my shoulder all the time Steve was in his interview, making sure I got the paperwork through.”

“We need to have a party for him,” Velma said.

“He said he would come in on Friday,” the chief said with a smile. “And Susan agreed, so long as he didn’t come in uniform, or carrying his weapon. I think she plans to burn all his uniforms in their patio barbecue.”

“Steve, can you stay a moment. Velma, let me know how many vacation days you want in the next day or two. I’ll do the paperwork.”

Steve sat down opposite his boss: “How the hell do you survive with three officers out. That’s an eighth of the force? With court time: how will you manage.”

“We can do it,” the chief said. “A hell of a lot of overtime, and I might even find myself taking the odd night shift myself for the first time in 20 years. But when you get back, then I have a proposition for you. I need a new Inspector, and I’d like you to take it on.”

“Me? But I don’t have the seniority, there are two other guys who should get first crack at it.” Steve protested.

“Jeb Kyle and Harry Rockland. They are both in their 50s. I hope to retire in seven to 12 years, depending on how things go. Both of them will be retiring then, or soon after. I want a strong, experienced Inspector to turn things over to when I leave. I think you are that man.”

“But won’t they be pissed off at me getting the job?”

“Jeb won’t be. He hates paperwork, and is weak on investigations. He’s just working his way until his retirement day. Harry might be pissed off. He might even look for another job, but at his age, I doubt he will get any offers. He’s a good cop, but has no managerial experience, and minimal investigative. Any force looking for a Detective or Inspector will want someone younger. Someone your age.”

“I don’t know,” Steve hesitated.

“Please think it over while you are off,” the chief said. “I really need you. Of course, town council will have to approve it, but you are the golden boy right now after yesterday. I’m sure they will approve it. I’ll name you Acting Inspector tomorrow and that will help sway them.”

“Well, if I take it, I’m not taking two weeks off,” Steve announced. “There is too much to do. We need to cover the shifts, first of all. And while Velma is going to be back soon, don’t count on it being for a long time. She is nearly 30, and once she is married she will start thinking about having a family. That means at least a half year doing desk work when her condition gets too far along, and then there will be a full year off after the baby is born when she gets maternity leave. And this could happen two or three times, depending on how big a family they want.”

“Shit,” the chief said. “We never had to deal with this when I started on the force. What can we do?”

“First, we support her 100%. It is her right, and worrying about it won’t solve the problem. We will have to hire some new people.”

“Hiring just became the job of the Inspector,” the chief said with a smile. “What will you do?”

“Well, we need to cover the shifts,” Steve said. “I’m probably going to have to be on days most of the time, except overtime. But I have an idea for that. We have several dozen auxiliary officers working for us as volunteers. If we could have one auxiliary and one officer, that should cover the union requirement to have two officers in a car from 10 p.m. until 6 a.m. We’ll have to get the union to agree. Do we have any money in the budget?”

“There will be some. Your salary won’t be as high as John’s was until you have 10 years in the job. I have no doubt you will get the merit increase each year, but the difference is more than a little. We could probably pay $20 an hour to auxiliaries. How many do you want? Four?”

“I’d like six, even if the hours are not fulltime,” Steve said. “The union won’t go for this unless they can see that it will lead to more full-time officers. I would like to send three men to a private school in London that has a compressed Police Foundations program. In a year they will qualified to go to the Police College in Aylmer. And we can use them for weekend night shifts. The other three will go to that school the following year. They won’t be promised a job when they graduate, like the first three, but they will have experience as auxiliaries and that should make them easy hires for the OPP or other forces in the area.”

“This is why I want you for the job,” the chief said.

“There is more,” Steve said. “For the union to buy this, we need to add another officer. It will be your job to convince town council to fork over another salary. We are going to need a woman officer when Velma is on pregnancy leaves. Sarah Jane Rockland is currently in her third year of the full Police Foundations course at Fanshawe College. She’d be an excellent candidate for the force, if her dad is truthful when he says she is a top student in the class.”

“And bingo, you get Harry on your side by giving his daughter a chance to work here. Brilliant.”

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

Rachael got home from school a bit spent, and flopped down next to Grandpa after giving him a kiss. “I really should get over to see Mrs. Winchester at the home,” she said. “I just don’t know when I will find the time.”

“Go now,” Grandpa said. “You can be there by four, and come back at 6 for supper.”

“Supper? I have to make supper,” she started to get out of her chair. “And I can’t walk over there in less than an hour.”

“I’m getting supper,” Grandpa said causing Rachael to get wide-eyed. “Don’t give me any of your looks. I can’t work in a kitchen, but I can still dial a phone. At least a real one, not one of those little toys you use. Do you want pizza or Chicken?”

“I don’t know,” Rachael said. “We eat pizza at the bakery a lot.”

“Chicken it is,” grandpa said dialing. “I’d like a cab here as soon as possible,” he said into the phone, giving the address.

“A taxi?”

“To get to the home. I’ll order dinner later. The lady said there was a car close, so you have about five minutes to get ready.”

“A taxi is too expensive,” Rachael protested.

“I told you about my deal with the cab company,” Grandpa said. “There is a $15 fee I pay each month if I don’t use a cab. And with you folks living here now, I hardly ever need a cab. And remember, the tip is built into the account.”

Rachael barely had time to get ready before the cab was there. In fact, she did her lipstick as they drove to the home. She booked the cab for 5:50 to take her home, and then got out and went to Mrs. Winchester’s room.

The lady was not there, so Rachael went into one of the main rooms, and found her at a table, playing cards with five other women, her age and a few years younger. Her face lit up as she saw Rachael walking in. Later Mrs. Winchester told her that one of the unofficial bragging rights for residents was from having visitors, and visitors that are not part of the family were worth double points.

Rachael was happy to wait for the game to end, but the ladies gathered up their cards and took up Mrs. Winchester up on an offer for them to go to ‘her patio’ and look at ‘her roses’. They headed down the hall, three of them in walkers, and two with canes. The third woman held the handrails along the side of the hall, and was tickled when Rachael took her other arm.

“Such a nice girl,” she heard from behind. “She isn’t rushing all over the place. She is going at our pace.”

When they got to the room, Rachael helped them all over the patio door, and to the benches the Hobo Army had set up around the patio, where they could all admire the roses, to the delight of Mrs. Winchester. Rachael darted into the kitchen and started a pot of tea. She had brought a bag of cookies, and some goodies from the bakery, and arranged them on a plate. She brought them out on a plate, and then asked each lady how they liked their tea.

“Oh darling,” one lady said. “You didn’t need to do that. We could ask the staff for tea.”

“Not with treats like this,” Mrs. Winchester said, taking a bite out of one of Rachael’s homemade peanut butter cookies.

The other women raved at the goodies, and vied to get at Mrs. Winchester’s dinner table, knowing that the lady would be bringing most of the left-over goodies for a dessert.

Rachael served tea, and the women were elated to have someone new to talk to.

“Did you hear about that shooting thing yesterday,” one lady said. “Thank goodness it wasn’t on this side of town.”

“My old house was only two blocks away,” Mrs. Winchester said.

“I used to live on that street, many years ago,” another lady said in a case of one-up-manship.

“That young policeman is a hero,” another lady said. “He stopped the shooter, and then went into the house to save two boys.”

“That was Steve Winslow,” Rachael said. “He dated my mom once. But now he is married to Pastor Helen, from the Presbyterian church.”

Two or three of the ladies, including Mrs. Winchester, said they attended that church, and talk turned to the church and the painting. Before she knew it, the alarm on her phone beeped, and Rachael had to leave.

“Do you all need help getting back in,” she asked.

“No dear, we all take dinner at the 7 o’clock sitting, so I think we will sit out here a while longer,” Mrs. Winchester said, reveling at being hostess to so many ladies.

Rachael went around and kissed each of the ladies on the cheek, to their amazement and satisfaction, and then sprinted for the lobby of the home, getting there just as the taxi pulled up.

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

It was early afternoon when Acting Inspector Steve Winslow was called to the station reception area. A woman in a business suit was standing there with a briefcase. She handed Steve a card announcing her as Melanie Cook, caseworker at the Oxford Children’s Aid Society.

“I understand you are holding two underage boys as a result of the events of yesterday. I have come to take custody of them,” she said.

“Well, we aren’t actually holding them,” Steve said. “One boy is being treated in the hospital, and the other is there now, keeping him company. The family we placed him with last night is with him.”

“Making a placement is the responsibility of the CAS, not the police,” the woman said snidely. “Just who is this family?”

“They are local business owners who have a farm outside the town,” Steve said. “We notified CAS last evening, and the manager there said we could temporarily place the child. I can personally vouch for the couple who took him in, and when I saw him just before noon today, the boy seemed extremely pleased with his carers.”

“That is my job to determine. I will head over to the hospital and meet the boy, and these people.” Steve decided that he didn’t want this woman running roughshod over the staff at the hospital, and also got a cruiser and drove over. He had placed an officer at the hospital earlier, since the two boys who could testify against the gang would be together, and might be in danger. When he arrived, he released that officer and sent him on patrol, planning to spend the next few hours in the hospital. He needed to interview both boys for his investigation into the grow-op anyway, and could kill two birds with one stone by providing security at the same time.

He arrived in the boy’s room just seconds after the CAS lady did. “Who is the person who looked after this boy yesterday,” she snapped.

“That would be me,” John, the painter of the picture in the church, said.

“And where is your wife?” the caseworker said.

“I guess that would be me,” Paul said. “We were married a few weeks ago.”

“No, no, no,” the woman said. “The CAS requirements are that only a stable family can foster a child. I cannot leave the children in the care of a same-sex couple.”

“Ma’am,” Steve interrupted. “I personally know these men, and they are one of the most stable families in Ingersoll.”

“But they are both men. There needs to be a wife,” she insisted.

“I am willing to be an at-home parent,” John said. “We have bonded with Elliot, and he seems to enjoy our home.”

“They are the best parents I’ve had in my life,” Elliot spoke up from the chair, where he had been holding the hand of Tyson, the boy in the bed. “I want to stay with them. I’ll even go back to school if they will have me. And Tyson too.”

“You can’t stay with them,” the woman said. “They will turn you gay.”

“Too late,” Elliot said. “I am already gay. I’ve known that for four years.”

The woman gasped, and then slapped his hand away from Tyson. “I suppose he is your boyfriend,” she said.

“No. But he is my best friend now. We are like brothers, and would like to stay together. We went through a lot over the last year, and want to keep in touch.”

“No, no, no,” the CAS woman said. “I will not place two gay boys in the same house. You won’t even be able to go to the same high school.”

“If you take us away from John and Paul, we will just run away again,” Elliot said. “We did it before. We will come back to them.”

“Elliot!” a female voice behind Steve screamed.

“Mom?” the boy said as a large middle-aged woman came into the room and enveloped him in a hug. “Dad? Cindy?”

“We thought you were dead,” the young pre-teen girl who had accompanied the adults cried, worming her way in between her mother and her brother to hug him.

“You need a haircut, Son,” the man said with a laidback smile.

“Well, they didn’t exactly offer us a chance to get to a barber,” Elliot said. “I’ll get one this week, I promise. But I’m not going back to that high school in Orangeville. I’ll run away again.”

“We can talk about this later. We are just so glad to have you back again,” the father said. “We will work something out. I got angry with you before, and I thought I lost you forever when you ran away. And then when you were abducted … the whole family went through hell. Eventually they said you were dead. We even put a memorial up for you at the cemetery next to Grandma.”

“That I need to see,” Elliot looked around with a smile. “I need to introduce you to everybody. That is Paul, and his husband John. I don’t know the name of the policeman, but I recognize his voice. He is the man who pulled Tyson and I out of that burning building.”

Elliot’s mom flew across the room to envelope Steve in her bear hug. “Thank you for saving my boy, and rescuing him. We saw it on the news last night. We were hoping against hope that it was Elliot you saved, but the police from Toronto didn’t confirm it until this morning. We all piled into the car and drove directly here.” She then looked at the CAS lady.

“I don’t know the bitchy woman’s name,” Elliot said. “But she is from the CAS, and sounds like she needs to chill out a bit.”

“Well I never,” the CAS lady said.

“With his parents and family here,” Steve said, “I don’t think you will have any interest in Elliot. We will notify you when Tyson is being released … unless he also has a parent appear.”

The CAS lady sniffed a few times, and then left the room. As she exited, a frail looking woman entered. “Is Tyson here? They said Tyson was in here.”

“Mom,” the boy on the bed said weakly. The woman gasped: “You’re alive. You’re really alive,” and rushed to the bed. Steve put out an arm to stop her.

“He’s been badly hurt, and as much as you want to hug him, you will hurt him. You can hold his hand though. Elliot had only let go of his friend when his family attacked him. He walked around the room and sat on the other side of the bed, taking Tyson’s hand as the sick boy’s mother took the other.

“I’m so glad to see you again, my darling little boy. We heard on the news about … everything last night, but the police wouldn’t say anything until this morning. Your Dad … well, you know him. He still is saying ‘My Son is Dead to Me’ but now I know it isn’t true. I don’t know what to do. I still love him, but I love you too. I know you can’t live with him … I just don’t know what to do.” She broke down weeping.

“Don’t cry Mom,” Tyson said, starting to weep himself.

“Maybe I have a solution,” Paul said from the corner of the room. “Elliot spent the night at our home, and we have fallen in love with him, just as his real parents apparently have. He hates the Orangeville school, the only one in town due to the bullying that took place before he ran away. Ingersoll has a fine school, and somehow it has avoided the normal bullying plague.”

“I suggest that both boys live with us on our farm outside of town. Elliot told us last night that he would go to school here, and convinced Tyson to agree earlier this morning. If you would each make us their legal guardians, we will look after them, and get them back on track in school. The boys are not lovers: more like brothers after all they went through, and they want to stay together.”

“And if you let them stay with us,” John continued, “we will have a big family dinner each Sunday, so you folk can come and visit. The boys need their families, or at least those who love them. It could be the best for them, rather than trying to go back into bad situations.”

“I will pay for Elliot’s care,” his father said. “Work out what you feel is fair, and let me know.”

“All we want is the boys to be happy,” John said. “We don’t need money. In fact,” he looked at Tyson’s mother, “we will be happy to send you whatever you need to come down on Sundays.” The woman looked grateful, and John knew his sense that she was hard up for cash was accurate.

“You are saints,” Tyson’s mother said, jumping up to hug John, and then Paul before sitting back down and taking her son’s hand again, as if worried that she might lose him again.

“If that is settled, then I will get a paralegal working on guardianship papers that even our friend from the CAS can’t break through. And I need to talk to each of the boys for … oh, an hour each,” Steve said. “Why don’t you all head down to the cafeteria for some overpriced and undercooked lunch while I talk to Tyson. He will need a nap after that, but I think that the nurses will allow his mom and his friend to hold his hands while he sleeps. He is probably not getting out of here until Friday.”

“What is wrong with him,” his mother asked.

“Several broken ribs, damage to his kidneys, damage to his spleen, and bruises all over his body. He is on painkillers right now, but they will be wearing off soon, so I want you all to leave now. I need to talk with him while he is lucid, so the sooner the room is cleared, the sooner I will be done and the nurses can ease his pain.”

Steve spoke to Tyson for a half hour before the pain got to be too much for the boy, and then he went and spoke with Elliot in a meeting room for an hour. As a minor, Steve could not refuse the request of his parents to listen, but after only ten minutes his mother fled the room in tears from listening to what her son had gone through. His father, however just got angrier and angrier as he listened to the entire story of the boys’ year in captivity.

When they finished, and Elliot had sped back to Tyson’s room, his father turned to Steve. “Thank you for killing that brute. I hope that you can make life hell for the other two of them too. Let me know if there is anything I can do. I am just so angry that people could do something like that to young boys. I didn’t accept Elliot’s confession of being gay, and handled it badly. But there is nothing like feeling you have lost your son to know that you can love him no matter what his orientation may be. Thank you for saving him. I think it will even save our marriage. Shirley blamed me on Elliot leaving, and when they started to say he was dead …” The man choked up, and Steve put out a hand to his shoulder.

“Just be there for the boy,” he said. “John and Paul are really good guys, and will be excellent role models for them. And if you keep contact, weekly if possible, it will give them another facet of attention that will help them heal.”

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

Rachael got out of her cab just as the man from the Chicken restaurant got back from making the delivery. She came into the house with it full of a wonderful aroma.

Just as they finished there was the sound of a car in the drive, and Geoff went to the door. “It’s for you Rachael,” he called into the living room. She got up and saw Pastor Helen at the door.

“Can we borrow you for a few hours, Rachael?” she asked. “Pastor McNaughton and I have a bit of a problem to solve, and we think that you could make a big difference with it.”

As they drove to the high school, Helen told Rachael that Miss Smith, her gym coach had been accused of being a lesbian, and some of the parents had called a special meeting of the school board to deal with ‘the problem.’

“What difference does it make if she is?” Rachael said. “I mean, you never would know it in class. She never goes into the changing room when the girls are there, and I have never seen her touch a girl inappropriately.”

“That is what you need to tell the board. We wanted a current student of hers to be able to tell the board just that. You know how some people are about gay people,” Rev. McNaughton said, not mentioning that until recently he was one of those people. But now he was putting his reputation on the line to help one of them.

At the high school, the gym had been made into a board room. The school board usually met in London, but this special meeting had been called by the local representative, who explained the ‘problem’ once the chair had called the meeting to order.

“I understand that at least one of the members of the faculty at the middle school is a lesbian,” the woman said. “She was seen in a restaurant in London inappropriately touching another woman. When approached, she confessed that she was in a relationship with that woman. According to the standard professional contract for all teachers, they are required to maintain high moral standards. Several parents have complained that having a lesbian, especially one teaching Phys. Ed., may be harmful to their children, all of whom are entering Grade 5 at the middle school in September.”

“The question in this case is whether or not Miss Smith has maintained high moral standards,” the board chair reported. “Do you have anything to say, Miss Smith?”

“No, sir,” the teacher said.

Rev. McNaughton stood up. “Well I have something to say in support of Miss Smith. I have known her since she was a toddler, and watched her grow up into a fine young woman who spends countless hours teaching our young people. Sport is the best way to teach teamwork, fair play, and countless other good traits that we want our children to have. Midge Smith had been exemplary in teaching these girls those traits.”

“Ha,” said the local representative. “You are just the pastor of some little rinky dink gay church, and you expect us to listen to you, with your little Lesbian pastor next to you.”

Pastor McNaughton was about to speak further, but an enraged Pastor Helen stood instead. “The Pastor speaks for the Presbyterian Church of Canada, and our congregation may now be the largest one in Ingersoll. He recently had a near death experience, and went right to the gates of heaven. There they told him that his hatred of gay people was a sin, and he has since repented. And I am no lesbian. I recently married the man who yesterday risked his life to save several others in an event that you all must have heard about.”

That stopped the crowd, including the board. They instantly recognized that she was talking about Steve.

“She isn’t teaching students. She is touching students,” a voice from the audience said.

“I hope you have proof of that, Madame,” Pastor McNaughton turned on the speaker. “That statement could be construed as hate speech at the worst, and slander at the least.”

“Who can say what happens inside those locker rooms?” the woman in the audience replied.

“I can,” Rachael stood up. “I have been a student of Miss Smith for the past two years. She doesn’t even teach your precious little fifth graders: only Grades 7 and 8. She never goes into the locker room while we are changing and showering, and I have never seen her touch anyone in any inappropriate manner. She is a great teacher. A little forceful sometimes, but she always gets her girls to do their best. And if someone was forcing themself on students, that would be a pedophile, not a lesbian. The two things are totally different, and only close-minded bigots don’t know the difference. I would love to have Miss Smith teach me again, although I am going into high school next term and won’t have the chance.”

The discussion continued for another half hour and absolutely no evidence was given that Miss Smith had done anything to merit her dismissal, although the opposition tried to use the morals clause to no avail. In the end the board voted 13:1 to allow Miss Smith to continue teaching at the board.

The woman in the audience who had slandered her then stood up and announced that she would be pulling her children out of the public school system and enrolling them in the Catholic system, where homosexuality was not allowed.

After the meeting Miss Smith came over and hugged all three of her supporters. “I thought I was finished as a teacher,” she told them. She turned to Rachael. “But it was your speech that made all the difference. It gave them the choice between taking the easy way out, and being bigots, or doing the honorable thing.”

“And it didn’t hurt when you said that if you were disciplined in any way you would take the board to court,” Pastor McNaughton said. “The loss of a few students will be way cheaper than a million dollar court settlement. Hit ‘em in the pocket book.”

“And the lady taking her daughter to the Catholic Schools might be interested in learning that at least one of the teachers there is gay,” Midge said. “They just don’t talk about it.”

---- -- -- - -

That night:

Dear Lord

Thank you for an interesting day. First a visit to Mrs. Winchester, who was so pleased to see me. I will have to go back and visit again, every other week, if not more often. She seems to be adapting to the home well, and making friends.

And then you saved Miss Smith, didn’t you. You put words into my mouth, and the Pastors’. We were just the tools in you getting things made right.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

I think this is the longest gap in my chapters, equaling when I was in hospital. No excuse this time. I will try to get the last three chapters out quicker: Dawn

THURSDAY, June 23, 2016

Acting Inspector Steve Winslow was at his desk before 8, working through a thick stack of paperwork dropped there by the chief when he left last night. Steve started with the shift schedule for the coming week, which he knew the chief especially disliked doing.

As Steve slotted officers into shifts, he thought about the union meeting last night, his last. He had been the president of the local, but his move into management meant that this had to end. Velma and all the other officers were present, except for the two on patrol, and the meeting was patched into their radio, so they could participate. The first item on the agenda was election of the new president, and Steve first suggested the older members, Jeb Kyle and Harry Rockland.

As expected Jeb immediately turned down the job, which involved a lot of unpaid work. Harry, who was still upset that Steve got the Inspector job instead of him, mulled it over, wondering if the extra work would be worth the chance of being able to use the union to make things rough for Steve. In the end, he also turned down the opportunity.

That was when Steve noted that Velma was willing to take on the role. The men on the force immediately jumped on the opportunity to make a woman do the extra work, and within minutes they had moved, seconded, and voted her in. Steve was not upset. Velma would do a good job.

He passed over the gavel, and the men expected him to leave, but Velma then announced that the Acting Inspector had a proposal to make.

Steve then went through the plan he that had been approved by the chief: having auxiliaries in the car on night shifts instead of a second officer. The men were not overly concerned. The main objection to solo shifts of years ago was the safety issue of having a driver alone in a cruiser at night. They saw no objection to using auxiliaries, so long as it meant there was someone else in the car with them.

Velma impressed the men by noting that this could allow the town to save money by having fewer officers, with lower-paid auxiliaries working. This job security issue was not something the others considered until she mentioned it.

“I would recommend that you approve the use of auxiliaries on a two-year trial,” Steve said. “There is one immediate vacancy on the force, due to John retiring. We also have two more potential vacancies in the next few years. If the city does not fill those promptly, then the union can retract their approval of this plan.”

“At least one of those future vacancies can be classed as definite,” Jeb said. “I am out of here the day my early retirement becomes possible.”

“The chief and I are also planning to approach town council to add a rookie officer next September,” Steve said. “I know of at least one local student in the Fanshawe Police Foundations course, and I would like to see her apply for the job. It is important we have more than one female officer on the force. I suggest that your recommendation make approval of an additional officer a requirement.”

Velma had written out a motion that covered all those bases, and this was quickly moved, seconded and passed.

Steve stayed around for the remaining article on the agenda: John’s retirement party on Friday. Jeb immediately proposed that Velma look after this, since she tended to organize all the station social events.

“I don’t think that will be possible this time,” Steve noted. “Velma will be getting married that morning. And I am also busy during that morning. You will need to choose amongst yourselves. And not just one man, a committee of three at least. Velma can give you some tips, but you guys will need to do the work.”

“I think three men will be enough to do the work of one woman,” Velma quipped, and then listened as the men argued their way in and out of the job. Eventually the three newest members of the force got the task.

“You might want to pull in some of the auxiliaries to help. It will be volunteer work for them, but they will probably be eager to help,” Steve suggested.

“I’ll ask Sarah Jane if she wants to help out,” Harry said of his daughter taking the Plice Foundations course at Fanshawe. “She is on summer break now, and any exposure to the inside of a police station is good in her program.”

“Have her stop in and see me,” Steve said, “we could get her into the auxiliaries, and give her some paid shifts this summer when you lot all take vacations. We might even be able to work out one shift a week after school starts, on the weekends, if she wants.”

“I think she will,” Harry said, suddenly glad that Steve had gotten the Inspector job instead of him. If he had been trying to get his own daughter on the force, it would have been a case of nepotism. But Steve doing it left him in the clear, and solved the fear he and his wife had of Sarah Jane having to head west, or up north, to start her career as an officer.

---- -- ---

Steve finished the schedule, placed in on top of the inbox, and then gathered the whole package up and dumped it on the desk of the chief, who had recently come in and was casually reading his mail.

“I did the schedule. The union has approved the use of auxiliaries, so I slotted them in for next week. As for the rest of this, you can work through it. I am off to Woodstock to interview those two men we pulled out of the grow-op. I interviewed the boys yesterday, and want to have a go at those two now. You can work through this stack,” he said.

“Gee thanks. Just when I thought I was going to be able to take it easy, you go and get into police work, and leave me with the paperwork,” the chief muttered, realizing that he was not able to just slough all the work off on his assistant.

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

It was a bittersweet time during lunch at school. This would be the last day that the cafeteria was open for lunch. On Friday school closed at 12:05. In Ontario the provincial government only paid grants to the school boards based on days in which the school was open for at least three hours. On Friday afternoon the teachers would be planning and setting up for the graduation ceremonies on Monday morning, which would also officially end at 12:05. There was also a graduation in the afternoon for the primary school students, allowing parents with children in both levels, like the Barrons, to attend both.

As the gang ate their last lunch together, they talked about their plans for summer vacation. In middle school, they were too young to get real jobs, although Rachael, Tony, and Mikki planned to work for their parents. Larissa also was going to help her mother in her French language reading program at the library. Carly was going away to camp, the same one her mother had gone to as a girl, although this would be her last year there, unless she came back as a staff member the next year.

Robert was working on the farms. He was assisting his brother JJ at the new farm, as well as helping out on the family farm. Being out of school just meant he would spend more hours on farm work.

Neal had been signed up for an art camp by his parents, and was looking forward to it. Leon had his grass cutting business to look after: he was up to 20 clients so far, and the grass would need cutting every week to 10 days in July, although in August it would drop back to twice a month. He hoped to earn enough money to buy a snow blower, so he could have a winter business.

Janice gained major kudos by noting that she would spend the entire summer in the family cottage on Lake Huron, and guaranteed that she would come back with the best tan of any of the kids going into high school.

That got the talk to what would happen when they all got back together in the fall. A letter had been handed out that morning that outlined the courses and requirements for the new school. In Grade 9 there were few options. You could choose between Auto Mechanics, Woodworking, or Home Economics. A surprising number of girls indicated a preference for Woodworking, while Rachael said she wanted to do Auto Mechanics, so she would know how a car works.

The only other option was in Phys. Ed. You could try out for a team, and get exempted from the classes. If you didn’t make the team, you had to participate in a house league in the sport involved. For the girls the options were Basketball in the fall and Gymnastics in the winter. For the boys it was Football in the fall (with soccer as the house league option) and Basketball in the winter. Several of the girls were going to try out for basketball, since they had so much fun in the last weeks of the term with Rachael’s coaching. She pretty much had to agree to try out, since she no longer needed to tend Bobby so closely now that he was moving up into middle school. He also had a grandma and grandpa to turn to if he needed an adult.

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

Steve got to the Woodstock Court House and jail at about 10 p.m., and found an OPP Investigator was already there. Apparently Sgt. Colin MacRoland had interviewed the remaining pair from the grow-op the prior day.

“I thought this would be handled by our department,” Steve told the sergeant. “The event took place inside Ingersoll.”

“True, but our SWAT team was there,” the sergeant said, “So the powers that be decided we would assist you in investigating. The little fag stenographer and I spent five hours yesterday asking questions, and didn’t get diddly squat from them. They are sealed up tighter than a drum. I’ll pass on your session this morning, but we will want you to let the fag take notes.”

Steve looked over at the “fag stenographer” and noted that he was thin and well groomed, but not overly flamboyant looking. Steve went to the clerk at the jail reception and asked that the men be brought to an interview cell, and that their lawyer be notified that he would be questioning them.

“They don’t have a lawyer,” the clerk said. “They refused one.”

This confused Steve. The charges were serious, and could result in significant jail time, and a lawyer should have been appointed for them. The fact that they were questioned without one present could make any evidence inadmissible in court.

Five minutes later Steve entered the interview room with a tray holding four cups of courthouse coffee in Styrofoam cups. He handed one to each of the prisoners, and one to the steno, who smiled in appreciation.

“You’re the guy who pulled those boys out,” one of the prisoners said, recognizing Steve.” We need to thank you. If those kids had baked like I thought they would, we’d be facing murder charges. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Steve said. “But I have to ask you why you have refused lawyers? These are serious charges, and you really need expert advice on how to deal with them. We really should have someone here for you now.”

“No damn lawyers,” the other prisoner spat out. “They are all shysters, taking your money, then leaving you to spin in the wind. I hate them all. We’re going to be found guilty anyway. Why bother?”

“I’d really feel better if you had representation,” Steve said. “There will be no cost to you. I know a gal in Ingersoll and she is fair and honest. She is a friend, but she will do her best to make sure you are treated fairly. Her job is not to get you off, and as you noted you probably aren’t going to walk from this one. But she will make sure you don’t have to serve more than necessary. Sometimes just asking can get a few years lopped off your time, if the right person asks for you.”

“Well, if you think it would be best, and we don’t have to pay,” the first prisoner said hesitantly. His partner just sniffed his agreement. Steve stepped out and made a call to Janet Renault and got her to drop the real estate closings she was working on to drive to Woodstock.

“Janet will be here is about a half hour,” Steve said. “Let’s just chat till she gets here. Then she will probably want to talk with the two of you for an hour or so.”

“Can I ask that we do some formal stage-setting first,” the steno said. “I would like to get names and titles of everyone here. The sergeant yesterday sort of skipped over that.”

“I am Steven John Winslow, Acting Inspector of the Ingersoll Police Department.”

“Butch Jones,” the second accused said.

“Butch? Is that your legal name,” the steno asked.

The man reddened. “No. It is Elroy George Jones,” he said curtly.

“Frederick Wilson Campbell,” the other accused said.

“Is that Frederick with a k,” the steno asked. He then read into the tape recorder: “The accused nodded yes. I am Tony Ralph Trigland, court stenographer of Woodstock Court House. You may proceed, Inspector.”

“Well, I don’t really want to get into any deep interrogation until the lawyer arrives,” Steve said. “Let’s just chat.”

“Yeah, tell us about what you did at the house,” Campbell asked. “You were like Superman, rushing into that burning house, and then dragging the kids out. We heard a gunshot. What was that all about?”

Steve explained how he had gone into the upstairs kitchen and found the boys chained up, and shot the chain free, bringing the unconscious boy down, and eventually dragging the other boy out as well.

“Hey, don’t blame us for the kid being banged up. That was all Marco. He was a real sicko, and seemed to get off beating the kids,” Fred said. “It was his idea to keep them chained up all the time. I set up the lab – I used to be a high school chemistry teacher – before those bastards hooked me on oxycodone. I set realistic quotas to keep the boys working, but Marco kept upping the quotas so he could beat them.”

The four sat in the interview room chatting for nearly an hour until Janet came and took her new clients to another room. Tony started packing up his equipment and looked up at Steve. “Are you gay?” the steno asked.

“No,” Steve said, surprised at the question. “Recently married, in fact.” He held up his ring finger.

“I saw that, but thought it might just be a decoy. It’s just that you treated me with respect, so I thought …”

“Sorry, no. But is there any reason why I shouldn’t treat you with respect? You seem to be doing an excellent job at your work. That merits respect.”

“All the good ones are taken, or straight,” Tony muttered. “But a lot of police seem to be biased against homosexuals. And you also are excellent at your job. You got more out of those guys in under an hour than Mr. Wonderful did in five hours yesterday. I’m actually going to have some notes to type up tonight.”

They left the room, and found Sgt. MacRoland chatting up the clerk of the court house. He left her, and came over to them. “Not much out of it, eh?” he said. “And now a damned bitch lawyer shows up. That’ll make things worse.”

“First of all, that lawyer is a personal friend of mine, and I object to how you are describing her. As well as how you described Mr. Trigland earlier. I found him competent and proficient, and not worthy of your denigratory remarks. And it was I who called in Ms. Renault. Any evidence obtained without a lawyer present could be disallowed in court, and could weaken the case.”

“But they refused a lawyer,” the sergeant protested.

“Never the less, an appeal judge could dump the case because they didn’t get their rights protected. That is if the trial judge didn’t halt the case in the first place.”

“Yeah, but it is a lot harder interrogating, when a lawyer is always interrupting and getting in the way.”

“Well, nobody said this job was easy,” Steve said. “We do it because we care, and if it means doing it right, instead of easy, so be it.”

The men met with Janet for nearly two hours. Part way along Steve went to a local deli, and ate lunch, and then had three more lunches packed up to-go. He took them to the jail and had the clerk take them into Janet and her clients. Steve would have taken them himself, but didn’t want to be seen as interfering with their interview.

The result was that Janet continued to talk to the men as the three ate, and by 1:30 they were ready for another session with the police. This time the sergeant joined in, and the six of them in the room made it a bit crowded.

The sergeant asked several questions during the session, and was greeted with silence in every instance. But the men were glad to answer Steve’s questions, although occasionally Janet objected to a question, forcing Steve to ask it in a different, less threatening way. He also managed to ask the same questions that the sergeant had been stonewalled on, in different words and with a different tone, and got answers, causing the sergeant to realize that perhaps it was he who was the problem, not the accused.

They spoke for three hours in the session, and then broke, with the men going to a short session with Janet before being returned to the cells.

“You’re pretty good at that,” the sergeant told Steve as Tony again packed up his equipment. “Been doing it a long time, I guess?”

“Actually I just was appointed acting inspector earlier this week. I did investigate a brothel case a few weeks before, but I’m pretty new to the game.”

“How the hell did you get them to open up like that?” the sergeant said. “You’ld ask the same question I asked five minutes earlier, and they spilled for you. Me, I get nothing.”

“I think the important thing was that I treated them with respect,” Steve said. “They are people just like us. Yeah, they did some bad things, and they are going to have to pay for those things. But it is not our job to determine what they pay. That is for a judge. If we do our job right, then justice will be served. And it is a judge who decides that.”

“Hurrumph,” the sergeant said. “Stick around kid. A few years of this and your dewy eyed innocence will evaporate like it has for the rest of us.”

Steve drove back to Ingersoll thinking about the OPP sergeant and his bleak outlook. He decided that he would never get so jaded. He had a wonderful wife and a wonderful life. He loved his work, and still considered it as helping people – To Serve and Protect, to use the motto of too many police forces, and too few police officers.

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

That night Rachael kneeled at the side of her bed, as usual.

Dear Lord

Term is almost over. I can hardly remember my old life. This one is so much better. I hope the summer will be as rewarding as the spring has. Thank you for all you do, Lord.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

The first of three chapters that deal with the races: Dawn

FRIDAY, June 24, 2016

Chef came to the women’s shelter at about noon, bringing in several tubs of ice cream. He found the women in the kitchen cleaning up from lunch, and the atmosphere was totally different from last week. He knocked at the kitchen door, and heard the warning “man at the door … no, it is only Chef.” Only two women scurried from the kitchen, while some of the others who had moved away came back, with smiles on their faces. Chef was safe. He had catered the best meal most of the women had last Friday, at his own expense, and now he was here delivering ice cream for a party tonight.

“Is there space in the freezer for five tubs?” Chef asked Dee, the counselor at the center. “Yes, and bless you for getting your hobo army to donate it. Now we can accept larger donations of food and keep it longer. It isn’t pretty, but it is keeping things cold.”

“Great. The guys in the army will be glad it is working out for you. They love tinkering with broken equipment, and making it work again. And when it is for a good cause it is all the better,” Chef said.

“Well you have been making this place better,” Dee said. “Some of the women are still terrified by men, understandable if you know what they went through. But with you and your cooks coming by last week, and then the donation of the freezer this week, they are making progress. A couple of them noticed the men patrolling the sidewalk in front of the house in the evening and into the night, and there was a bit of a panic until I explained that you had set that up to keep us safe. One of the girls was brave enough to take coffees out to them, and chatted with them for a while. Apparently she wound up getting an offer to accompany her to church on Sunday. A second girl went out with her the next night, and both of them will be going to church this weekend. A nice, safe place for getting back into the swing of dating.”

Just then Linda burst into the room, followed by her three little ones. The kids immediately swarmed Chef, who tousled Mark’s hair, and then picked up chocolate-skinned Ariel. Little Tanya just grabbed Chef’s leg, and didn’t let go, as their mother shyly watched her kids holding the man she wanted so much to hold herself. “What’s in the boxes?” Mark asked, looking at the ice cream tubs on the table.

“Ice cream,” Chef said gaily. “Chocolate, Mint Chocolate Chip, Death by Chocolate, Rocky Road, and Vanilla. “Do any of those sound good to you?” he asked Ariel, giving her a kiss on the cheek that nearly broke Linda’s heart.

“I likes chocolate,” the youngster lisped, holding tight to Chef’s neck.

“A real woman already,” Chef said, putting the pretty girl down. “Why don’t you and the other kids go find some books. I’ll read to you if you want. Only three stories though. You each pick one book.”

The kids immediately made a beeline for the lounge. Chef turned to Linda: “What flavors do you like?”

She steeled herself, and then said: “I like Chef most of all.”

Chef started. He was not used to be flirted with, especially by a woman as young and pretty as Linda. “You shouldn’t tease such an old man, sweetheart,” Chef said. “I’m 36 and you are what? 24?”

“Twenty one,” Linda said. “But I don’t think you are old at all. I think you are the best man I’ve ever met, except my father. No, better than even my father.”

“I’m old enough to be your father. You should be dating one of the other cooks I had here last week. They are closer to your age.”

“But I don’t want to date them. In fact, two other girls here have claimed them. Are you bringing them tonight?” Linda asked.

“I wasn’t planning to,” Chef said. “It’s only going to be ice cream and some pastries.”

“Oh, a couple of girls are going to be so disappointed.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Chef said. “I’ll make sure they come along.”

“They want to ask the boys to escort them to church,” Linda said. “Can you escort me?”

“I don’t know why you want a fat old man like me,” Chef protested.

“You aren’t fat,” Linda exclaimed. “You are big because your heart is so big. You love my kids. I can see it. And they love you. Can’t you love me too?”

Tears started welling up in the young girl’s eyes, and she sobbed once, and then twice. Chef’s resolve crumbled. He wrapped his beefy arms around the slender girl, and held her tightly. She had been about to run from the room, but instead just dissolved into his embrace, and the sobbing stopped.

“I do love you,” Chef said softly. “I have been dreaming about holding you like this for days.” He kissed her tenderly on the cheek, and then she turned and made it a full on kiss on the lips.

When they stepped apart, the girl said: “I thought you might not want me. I mean, I have three kids by three different men, and none of them have ever made me feel the way you do.”

“I would be honored to escort you to church on Sunday,” Chef purred. He looked up at Dee, who always wanted to be close when her girls interacted with men.

“It looks like we are going to have quite a few going to church on Sunday,” she said. “I’ll ask around, and see if any other girls want to go, unaccompanied.”

“If you, or they, want, I can get other volunteers to accompany them. They might not click as couples, but as you said, it is a nice, safe way for the girls to get back into dating. And all the men will know that if they decide to go further, and ask for a second date, they have to do it with your consent. I know that it is important for the girls that they go slow.”

“It is,” Dee said. “Now, if you could put that girl down I’d like to ask you something else. Run along and see if your kids have chosen their books yet, honey.”

With just the two of them in the kitchen, Dee spoke softly: “I have a problem, and you have been my go-to guy for solving problems lately. The house is full, but there is a girl in the hospital who was beaten by her drunken partner last night. They kept her there overnight, and she will be there tonight. She has two kids, and finally has decided to leave the brute. But we don’t have any room. I was wondering if you know of anyplace.”

“I’d take Linda and her kids in a minute,” Chef said. “But I am still living on a cot in the church shed. I’ll have an apartment in a few months, after I start working full time, but until then ... Besides: that is moving too fast.”

“I agree. But Linda is ready to move out now, thanks in a large part to you. But her welfare won’t cover an apartment alone, especially as she needs three bedrooms, ideally. Two would work while Mark is so young, but eventually he will need a room separate from his sisters. I wondered if you know of any single women who might be interested in sharing with a single mom and kids.”

Chef thought it through, and sadly shook his head. “No, I don’t know of anyone like that. But let me call my go-to girl on matters like this. I’m sure she will find something to help you out.” With that he rang Pastor Helen and asked her.

“Oh, I’m heading out to the reserve in a few hours,” she told him. “I don’t know of anyone right now, but let me give a call to my go-to girl. She might know someone.”

After Chef hung up, he put the ice cream in the freezer, and headed in to the lounge where every child in the place had gathered to listen to the three stories he had promised to read. Linda had Tanya on her lap, and had reserved a spot on the floor for Chef. He got down, and immediately had Mark and Ariel on his ample lap, holding their books. Other kids crowded around as the big man read the three stories, twice each.

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

Rachael had just gotten off the bus. It was the last day of work for the driver until fall, but she was not sad. When they had gotten to the farm, Rachael had pulled out a bakery box with three of Mike’s new cream puffs, the new Friday special at the Bread Barron. The bus driver had a look of ecstasy on her face as she finished the creamy delight, eaten while Rachael and Robert enjoyed theirs at the lane into the farm. “I’m going to miss you kids,” the driver said. “I have to get the office to move me to a high school bus next year. That was heavenly. What route are you on, Rachael?”

“Well, I will probably walk to school most of the time, at least until the snow hits. But I will still probably be coming out here on occasion. I think I’ll keep Robert here for another year or two,” she teased.

The banter continued as they walked up the lane to the farmhouse, when Rachael’s phone rang. It was Pastor Helen. She explained the problem that Dee was having at the house, and the need for somewhere for Linda and family to live, so the new girl could move into the shelter. Rachael had an idea almost immediately. Miss Lajoie, Bobby’s piano teacher, who lived next door to Grandpa and the Barrons. She didn’t get along with men, but would possibly take in a single mother and kids. She was alone in her big house, and had told Rachael that the upstairs had three bedrooms and a bath that were never used.

“Elizabeth Lajoie?” Helen asked. “I think that name is on the church rolls, but I have never met her. I don’t think she attends.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Rachael replied. She knew that Miss Lajoie was in need of additional income, and sharing rent and possibly food would help her, as well as giving Linda and her kids a safe place to live.

“I think I will head out now for a pastoral visit,” Pastor Helen said.

---- - --- - --

Miss Lajoie was surprised to see the young pastor at the door. Luckily she had no more lessons scheduled for the day, so she invited the woman in. Three hours later the two women were in tears, not having mentioned once the idea of renting out the upstairs.

As they had talked Miss Lajoie had quickly taken to the energetic young pastor, and started opening up to her. She went to some of the dark places in her life, when she was in high school, and a friend of the family had started molesting her. It had continued for nearly a year, and she was nearly suicidal at the end, when her parents finally found out.

The molester went to jail, and like so many others of his type, failed to live long in custody once the other inmates discovered his crime. But the damage was done, and Elizabeth quit school, and pretty much quit life. She just sat in the empty house for the next ten years and played her piano and other instruments. Music was the only thing that kept her alive.

Then, at age 26, disaster struck again. A drunken man speeding through an intersection killed both her parents. Another man had taken the loves of her life. She was alone, with a small inheritance and her parent’s house. And a phobia about being in public where men were.

After a few years, she realized that she was slowly working her way through the inheritance, and would need an income. A real job was out of the question, with the phobia. She hit upon the idea of piano lessons for children. That slowed the decline in savings, but only somewhat. She still needed money.

“Perhaps I have an answer,” Pastor Helen said. “There is a young woman with three children, a boy and two girls who desperately needs a home. She could rent your upstairs, and the income would help your situation.”

“A boy? How old?” Elizabeth asked.

“Five I think,” Pastor Helen said.

“That’s okay,” the piano teacher said. It would be 10 years before the boy started turning into a man, and she was able to handle boys of 15. To her surprise, she got along well with the 15-year-old boy who cut her grass in return for music lessons.

“Can I think about it?” Miss Lajoie asked.

“Not really,” Pastor Helen said. “I’m already late for my trip to Six Nations, and they want to be able to move in tomorrow. There is a lady in the hospital right now that will have to go back to her abusive boyfriend if they can’t make a room for her at the shelter.”

“I will do it then,” Miss Lajoie decided.

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

Rachael had a busy afternoon at the farm. The entire family was planning to camp out that night at the races, with the twins taking turns coming back to look after the farm. Mr. Jackson and JJ would also come home at milking times, but the rest of the clan was camping out in the field adjacent to the racecourse.

Through the afternoon there were countless trips in the pickup truck, containing tents and equipment. One tent was for Mr. and Mrs. Jackson, while another was for Rachael and Lisa, who was proud to not have to share with her parents. She took it as her growing up, while everyone else knew that her presence in the tent was as a chaperone, should Robert decide to visit.

Robert and whichever twin was not at the farm shared another tent, and JJ and Ruby also had one. There was also a large family tent where cooking could be done if it rained (knock wood). They would stay until after the last race on Sunday, and then head home. They also had to erect a temporary corral for Blackie and Dutchess. This was shared with another farm who had five horses for the various races. They too camped, not far from the Jacksons. Apparently supper tonight was to be a tailgate style barbeque, with Rachael contributing Clouds and pastries for the entire party. She couldn’t complain: she got steaks from Ruby’s and Mrs. Jackson’s fantastic cooking.

After they ate, Rachael and Robert went over to the corral, and got Blackie. Robert saddled the stallion, since Rachael wanted to test out the course for tomorrow’s race.

“We only have about an hour of good light left,” Robert noted. “You ride him first, and I’ll try to get a session in early tomorrow. “

“Your Dad will have to run him tomorrow morning,” Rachael said. “Why don’t the two of us ride double. Our combined weight is less then your Dad’s probably. Plus it will allow us to talk about the course as we ride. We will only be walking through most of the course, anyway.”

“I’m good with it, if Blackie is,” Robert said. The saddle was big enough for two, especially if they liked each other. Rachael mounted first, to Blackie’s delight, and then Robert scrambled aboard, confusing the horse, who had never carried two before. But Rachael fed some calming into him, but not much was needed. These were his two favorite riders, and he trusted them.

Rachael was in the front, with Robert nestled tight in behind him, which the girl found she really enjoyed. His feet were in the stirrups, with her shorter legs leaving her feet dangling, or nestled tight to the tops of his boots.

There were a few others out on the course, many of them running it full out. Of course their horses would not be running five races over the next two days, so they could give them a good workout on Friday. Rachael and Robert just walked the course, noting potential problem areas.

Rachael pointed out one to Robert. “There are briars on that corner,” she said. “It looks like the best line on the corner is tight, but I would want Blackie at least two feet out from those briars. He has a lot of heart, and will still win a race if he is scratched badly, but it would probably disqualify him from the other races if he is bleeding.” A vet was on site, and had to approve each horse for the race.

A little further on, they came to the first of the two gullies. It was actually a farm drain, the same one that created the second gully near the race end. There had been almost no rain over the last week, so the bottom of the gully was dry, except for a small trickle of water at the middle.

“Hop off here,” Rachael said. “I want to take the gully at a run. I think Blackie can take it in a leap. Most other horses will have to take it slowly down the gully. Even your Dad. I don’t think Blackie can leap it in one go with that kind of weight. We should be able to clear it. Watch where I take off, and land, and you try to match that in your race. If we can do this at the other gully, we are a cinch to win our races.”

Robert slid off, and then adjusted the stirrups to match Rachael’s height. He was pretty sure that she could make the jump without stirrups: she rode the horse bareback after all. But loose stirrups would bother Blackie, and Robert didn’t want to risk either his horse or his girlfriend.

Robert then scrambled down the gully, leapt over the water, and climbed out as Rachael rode back a ways to get up speed. She turned the horse around and saw Robert on the other side. She waved him over, since he was standing quite close to where she wanted to land the stallion. Then she took off.

Blackie was at full speed when they got to the edge of the gully. The stallion was happy. This was the way he wanted to run, not the slow walk he had done up to this point. At the edge of the gully Rachael leaned forward, the signal for him to jump, and he did. He landed a good yard past the edge of the gully, and ran clear for another few seconds until Rachael was able to slow him to a walk and turn him back towards her boyfriend.

Robert again adjusted the stirrups, and climbed back on behind Rachael. “You took that well. He cleared it with nearly four feet to spare. I’m sure that I will be able to jump it too. Dad will have to clamber down.”

As they talked, two horses racing each other came to the gully. One slowed and clambered down the side and up the other. The other, having seen Blackie make the jump from back on the course, attempted to leap the gully. His horse fell short, with his fore hooves digging into the side of the gully, and the horse and rider somersaulting over the rim. The rider was thrown, and the horse lay on the ground, mewling in pain.

Rachael and Robert were both off their horse in a second, and ran to the fallen. Robert went to the older teen rider, while Rachael went directly to the fallen horse.

She touched his foreleg, and immediately started pushing painkilling into the beast. Then she looked inside, and to her horror saw that both front legs were broken, a death sentence for a horse.

She immediately pulled on all the powers that had been given her, and started to mend bones and repair sinews.

It took several minutes for Robert to rouse the rider, and get him sitting up again. “I’ve killed Sprite,” he moaned, not wanting to go near his downed horse. Soon he was standing and walked back to the horse, leaning heavily on Robert’s shoulder. “Is he …” he said. “Did he break a leg?” Sprite was lying on his side, panting heavily, but no longer crying. He could feel that this girl was helping him, and his trust in her steadily increased.

“No,” Rachael lied. “He won’t race tomorrow. In fact, forever. But I don’t think you will have to put him down. Why did you attempt the jump?”

The young man sank to the ground and hugged the neck of his horse. “I saw you make the jump on your horse, and wanted to try for it. Clearing that could make the difference between winning, and just a good time.”

“Blackie is several hands bigger than your horse. Your attempt nearly cost you Sprite’s life,” Rachael said. She continued to mend bones, which had shattered in several places.”

“What are you doing?” the man said.

“I’m feeling for breaks,” Rachael lied again. She was nearly done. The bones would be weak, but the horse should be able to walk. If the site vet x-rays him, he will probably find small breaks, and will put casts on both legs, but he won’t feel the need to put the animal down.

“What happened, Ty?” an older rider called as he scrambled up the gully. Rachael immediately noticed the family resemblance. The new man was clearly the father of the younger man.

“They fell trying to leap the gully,” Rachael said. “I think Sprite might have some minor tears or breaks. He shouldn’t be ridden, at least until after the vet sees him. He should be walked back to the camp.” She stepped back, and the horse immediately scrambled to his feet. He had a severe limp now, and Ty and his father walked him back to the camp, taking a direct route that had a bridge over the gully.

Rachael was exhausted from her cure, and could barely get onto Blackie, although Robert did manage to help her aboard. His face was red for having had to put his hands where he did to boost her up, and he climbed up after.

They walked the next part of the course, and Rachael started to regain her strength as they pointed out tracks to take, and spots to break for turns and dips. When they got to the second gully they saw it was several yards shorter than the other. Sprite might have made this leap.

“I can’t jump again,” Rachael said, sliding off the horse. She immediately headed down the side of the gully. “You take Blackie back, and get him up to speed for the jump.

Robert didn’t have to adjust the stirrups, but sat still on the horse as he watched Rachael scramble down the gully, and jump the water. The girl had trouble getting back up the other side, and Robert was about to dismount and go help her when she finally made it to the top of the other side. She crawled to the edge of the track, and sat there, breathing heavily. She waved Robert to go back and make his run.

Blackie cleared the track easily. “I think a lot of riders will try to make that jump,” she said, slowly getting to her feet as Blackie returned. Your Dad might even be able to make it, but I’d warn against it. Blackie will have run the course twice already, but he will have two more runs to make.”

“There won’t be any skinny riders in the over 45 class, so I suspect he will be able to make it in a scamble, Robert noted.

“Wait. Look over there,” Rachael said, pointing to a tuft of grass in the gully, near the far side of the course. Run over there and see if it is solid, and how big it is.”

Robert dismounted, and scrambled back into the gully, then stood atop the tuffet. It’s pretty solid, he said, jumping up and down. It’s four feet wide, and five across.”

“Perfect,” Rachael said as he scrambled back to the horse. She still didn’t have the strength to mount, so Robert had to help her up again. “Don’t get used to putting your hands there,” she teased, “at least not for a couple more years.”

“Come on, Rach,” he moaned with a red face. “I’m only trying to help. Although I have to admit it feels pretty nice.”

They walked back to the camp, and Robert offered to wipe Blackie down. Rachael was exhausted, but didn’t want to abandon her friend, so she wiped down his legs, scanning to make sure that there were no injuries or weak spots.

Finally she staggered off to the tent she shared with Lisa and crawled into her sleeping bag. She turned on her side, facing the tent wall, to pray.

Dear Lord

Thank you for allowing me to be there when Sprite went down. He is one of your creatures, and he didn’t deserve to die because of a stupid mistake by his rider. I hope you can convince his owners to pay to have him saved. I know there are a lot of horsemen who will consider a horse that can’t race to be a waste, and have him put down. I wish I was rich enough to buy him. He is a pretty horse.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Day two at the race camp: Dawn

SATURDAY, June 25, 2016

Rachael woke early. The summer sun rises well before 6 a.m., and the girl crawled out of her sleeping bag at that time, listening to the chorus of birds singing the morning in. She felt entirely refreshed after her exertions to save Sprite the evening before. Lisa was still lying in bed. Rachael wondered how such a small girl could snore so loudly.

She went to the portable outhouses that had been set up for the races. One of the benefits of being first up was that they were still clean from the overnight maintenance. Then she headed over to the corral, and fed the horses: not just Blackie and Dutchess, but the horses of the other farm. When all six horses had feedbags on, she started mucking out the corral, raking the manure and straw to the side, and then laying out new straw. She was just done that when she heard a familiar voice.

“You’ve almost finished my morning chores,” Robert said cheerily as he grabbed a wheelbarrow and a shovel, and started scooping yesterday’s filth into the wheelbarrow. “You went to bed pretty early last night.”

“Yeah, I was beat,” Rachael said. “I feel better now though.”

“You missed the excitement last night. There was a meeting and they moved the races around. We still start with the ponies and then the powder puff, but they moved the under-16 to Sunday. Some of the men want to race the same horses in the over-45s and the open, so they moved the over-45 to the third race today.”

“So Sunday will be the under-16, under-20, and the open?” Rachael said.

“Yep. So we have to decide who rides what on Sunday. You should run the open for us, since you are smallest and Blackie will be tired with three races in a day. I guess that means that I should ride the under-16, and you can ride the under-20,” Robert said.

“That’ll be interesting,” Rachael noted. “I mean, what are all those 19-year-olds going to think about racing a 15-year-old girl.”

“They’ll think better of it at the end of the race when they watch you cross the finish line first. And think: in the open it will be farm owners and guys over 20 racing you.”

When they were done cleaning up the corral, they headed back to the camp and started the breakfast. Rachael started mixing a huge tub of pancake batter while Robert put sausages and bacon on the barbeque. He used one side, and Rachael placed a griddle on the other side and started making pancakes for her and her boyfriend.

They had almost finished eating when the smells of bacon started luring people out of bed. Most of them stopped at the grill, and sniffed the meats before rushing off to the outhouses. Peter snagged a slice of bacon as he left, tossing it between hands as he ran off. Robert and Rachael were done eating and back at the grill as people from the two families came back to find that hot pancakes and a plate of meat were ready to choose from as the young couple made more. Cook duty lasted a full hour, with little Lisa last to come to the table. She was nervous. Her race would be at noon, and she had never raced before.

Mrs. Jackson came up and hugged Rachael at the end of the meal: “Thanks. This was normally my job. And you even managed to get a trainee to help you. Good work.” She led a team to clean up and wash up, letting the kids leave. Lisa walked with them as they explored the site. Since early morning people had been setting up booths and rides. It was all supposed to start at 10 a.m. Robert and Lisa were used to the various booths, and explained them to Rachael.

“That one is the 4-H booth,” Robert said. “I have a shift there during supper time, so I might miss Dad’s race. It is the best place to eat. There are food places that travel with the rides, but the food there is not as good. We usually only get candy apples or cotton candy from them. The 4-H makes almost half of their yearly budget from the profits of the races.”

“That row of booths are the games,” Lisa said. “Dart balloons, hit the milk bottle, ring the bell, fish bowl, crown and anchor and spray the clown.”

“It looks like the same rides as last year,” Robert said. “Merry-go-round, Octopus, tilt a whirl, airplanes and cars for the little kids, and a big slide.”

“Are there that many people coming?” Rachael said. “I thought it was just the farmers.”

“No, the whole town comes out,” Robert said. “I’m surprised you never have been.”

“Well, we were pretty poor before Geoff,” she said. “And we didn’t have a car to come out into the country anyway. Mom and Dad will probably be here tomorrow.”

“I’m sure they will be. This is sort of the early version of the fall fair. There are more rides and booths at that, but this is cool. All the service clubs are here, except the Legion. They had to drop out a few years back, because they couldn’t get enough people to man their booth. They sold a killer chicken on a bun. The Lions do that now, and donate 10 percent back to the Legion.”

“The Optimists run a pony ride for the little kids,” Lisa said. “I used to ride that every year, until I got Dutchess. I rode Robert’s pony at home, but it was still cool to come here and ride. Some town kids only get a chance to ride the ponies here and at fall fair.”

“I’ll have to make sure that Bobby gets a chance to ride,” Rachael said. “Even if you have let him ride Dutchess at the farm.”

“The Rotary run a bingo tent, and the Kiwanis have a beer tent,” Robert said. “I’m still too young for either of those. No doubt the twins will try to sneak in. It’s hard though … the servers are all people from town, and they know who is 19 and who isn’t.”

“Minor hockey dads look after the parking for tips, and the mothers have a booth selling pie slices,” Lisa added.

“Look, it’s Gary from the church,” Rachael said, waving and calling the man over.

“Hi kids,” the church manager said. “You are out early. Come to watch the races?”

“Actually, all three of us are in the races,” Rachael said. Lisa beamed with pride at being included as a rider. “What are you up to? Are the Hobo Army running a booth?”

“Not this year,” Gary said. “But we have the bus fixed up well enough for a test run, so we are offering free rides to the races from a few spots in town. The radio is sponsoring us, giving us free promotion spots, so I’m out here scouting out the area. It looks like we will be dropping people off there,” he pointed, “where they are setting up the radio station remote truck. The first bus should be coming in at 9:45, so I will wait until it lands in, and then head back on it. The first bus will probably be empty going back.”

Even before 10 the booths started opening up and Robert tried to win a prize for Rachael at the milk bottle game. He spent five dollars without succeeding. Then Rachael took a try. She knew the secret of the game. The bottles have huge weights in them at the base, so the only way to knock them down was a square hit at the very tops of the bottles. In a minute she had knocked down three bottles.

The man approached with a small stuffed animal. “You know the trick,” he said softly. “I’ll trade this in for one of the big prizes if you don’t tell anyone else about it.”

“I wouldn’t tell anyway,” Rachael said. “You have to make a living, just like anyone else. I’ll take the small prize.”

The man pulled it back, and then reached up and snagged a huge stuffed rabbit, handing it to Rachael.

“Thanks,” she said, and turned and handed the animal to Lisa, whose eyes went wide. It was nearly as tall as her.

Robert wound up having to carry it back to the camp. “Good throwing, son,” Frank Jackson said as they walked into the camp.

“It wasn’t me,” the boy pouted. “Rachael got it. I just wasted five dollars. She is good at everything.

“I’m going to call him Thumper,” an excited Lisa said. “’cause every time I carry him, his ears thump me on the head.”

“Well it is time that we get Dutchess ready,” Frank said. “Your race runs at noon, and they will start whether you are there or not.”

Rachael insisted on accompanying the group to the corral to get Dutchess and her small saddle. Lisa had a riding helmet. They made their way to the starting line where several other ponies and riders were waiting. Rachael rubbed Dutchess down, while feeding her energy and confidence.

Robert saddled the pony, while Mrs. Jackson strapped the riding helmet onto Lisa. Then her father lifted her up onto the pony. It was still a few minutes to 11:45, when she could go to the starting line. Rachael leaned in and gave her a hug, and found that she was shaking.

“Are you afraid?”

“Yes,” Lisa said. “This is my first race ever, and I’m worried I won’t do well.”

“Well, today is my first race ever too, but I’m not worried,” Rachael said.

“You must be very brave,” the little girl said.

“Nope. It is just that I really love and trust Blackie, and I know that he will do his best. We might not win, but as long as we work together as a team, we will do alright.”

“I love and trust Dutchess too,” she said. “I feel better now. Thanks Rachael.”

With that the family walked her to the start line as a group, with her father being the member of the family allowed to stand with her until the start. The rest went to the temporary bleachers that had been put up.

You could see the entire pony track from the bleachers. The pony course was much smaller than the horse track, a simple half-mile oval. There were no gullies, jumps, or other obstacles to confuse the young riders. Both boys and girls raced together.

At noon sharp the starter fired his pistol and the horses took over in a rather ragged order. Dutchess didn’t lag, and soon Lisa was up near the front. Frank came back and stood in front of the bleachers.

When Lisa was in the backstretch, she was in the lead, although a boy a year or two older was close behind. As she turned the corner and was running towards the bleachers, it was hard to see who was in front. When they turned into the front-stretch, Lisa was a head behind, and Rachael decided she had to get down to the ground to be close to the girl at the finish. She didn’t notice that the rest of the family following her down.

Dutchess put on a valiant push at the finish line, but the other pony finished a nose ahead. When Rachael got to the pony, it was spent and Lisa was crying.

“I wanted to win,” she said. “Everyone else is going to win, and I am the only loser.”

“You don’t know everyone else will win,” Donna Jackson said as she held her daughter close. Rachael reached in and stroked her face gently, wiping away a few tears: “I think you did win.”

“What? No, that boy beat me,” Lisa protested, but her sobs had stopped.

“You came second, and there will be a ribbon or something for that,” Rachael said. “And that boy was quite a bit older than you. He has probably lost several races in the past, and this might even be his last year on ponies. Even if it isn’t, he can’t run that pony again. You and Dutchess did wonderful for a first time, and I bet you will win for sure next year, or the year after. You are a good team, and one day you will get the trophy.”

“I will?” the girl said with a smile. “I will! Next time we will win.”

The awards after the race were held and Lisa actually got a small cup as runner-up. She shook the winner’s hand at Rachael’s urging: the only competitor to do so. The boy congratulated her and told her she had run a great race, and that he would watch for her to win next year, as he would be too old to race again.

Rachael and Lisa rubbed Dutchess down, and the smaller girl got her an apple as her prize for running so hard. Rachael checked, and found no injuries to the pony, other than some tiredness. “You’re next,” Rachael told Blackie, giving him an apple as well. “We’ll be back for you in an hour.”

From 12:30 to 1:30 the family explored the midway, with Lisa going on some rides with Robert. Rachael was a bit too tense to enjoy herself, but after riding the Zipper with Robert, Lisa came back announcing that she was done with “scary rides” and wanted to go on the Merry-go-round. She got in line, and Rachael and Robert were standing outside the fence when they saw Chef on the ride, with Mark riding a horse on one side and little Ariel on a unicorn on the other. Rachael looked around, and they saw Linda holding her baby Tanya not to far away.

“Hi Linda,” Rachael said as she dragged Robert along. “You got Chef out.”

“I did,” the shy girl said. “We spent the morning moving into the new apartment. I guess we will be neighbors, although Tyson said that he is hoping to find a place where we can live as a family. I really hope it all happens. Nothing in my life has worked out for me, but I really, really want him. He is so wonderful.”

“Chef has had a hard life too,” Rachael said. “It was when he found the church and got off drugs that he turned himself around.”

“Yes, he told me that there was a painting at the church I was to pray to tomorrow,” Linda said. “I just hope it all works out.”

“It will. Look at him with your kids. He clearly loves them like a father. I think that one day he will be walking Ariel down the aisle. And then Tanya a few years later. And he will make sure that both of them marry good men. Wait and see.”

“Oh I hope so,” Linda said. “I really, really hope so.”

After Chef got off the rides, Robert recommended the good food at the 4-H booth. Lisa and Robert each had a hot dog, but Rachael didn’t want to eat so soon before the race. Chef and his new little family weren’t aware that Rachael was racing at 2, but promised to be in the stands.

Rachael and Robert went back to get Blackie. Robert had to saddle him, and Rachael put the other tack on. She continued to flow positive thoughts into the horse, and kept him calm, even when they were lining up at the start. Robert held his reins prior to the start.

“The pony ride is over, little girl,” said a sour-faced woman of about 45. “This race is for women, not little girls.”

“Now Doris,” a younger and friendly woman said. “Be nice. You aren’t afraid that the girl will beat you, are you?”

“Her? And that half-grown colt? Not likely,” Doris said with a sneer. “Just keep away from me, girlie.”

“Okay,” Rachael replied sweetly. “How far ahead of you should we stay? Ten lengths? Fifteen?”

All the other women laughed uncontrollably at Rachael’s comeback. All but Doris, who just fumed and swatted at her horse to move to the right, the shorter route to the first turn. Rachael just moved to the left, where there would be clear sailing for her stallion to run.

At the start Rachael and Blackie got a fast start, and had a half-length on the other women at the first turn, even while taking it widely. Choosing the outside line at the first turn put them on the inside at the second turn, and from that point on they were ahead by an increasing distance. At the first gully crossing, Blackie leapt across, and most of the other women had to scramble down and up the sides. Doris tried to leap, as she had seen Rachael do, but her horse balked at the edge, throwing the woman. She went clear into the little stream, which broke her fall and probably saved her from injury. But it did mean she was caked in mud when she walked her horse back to the starting line.

She was back at the start when the horses next became visible. Or at least Rachael and Blackie were visible. No other horses were in sight.

“That girl cheated,” Doris complained. “No way she got around the track that fast.”

“We have been getting reports by cell from each of the marshalls around the course. They have all reported her in the lead by increasing amounts. There were no shortcuts taken.”

Doris just sniffed as she and the crowd saw Rachael heading to the final gully. She went wide, and to Robert’s surprise she went down into the gully, using the tuffet to make the leap in two jumps. Then she came home, letting up on Blackie to save him for his next race in the over-45s. The horse was not happy about it, preferring to run full blast for his favorite rider.

It was more than a minute later that the second place horse appeared, in a group of about five, and then four minutes later when the final horse came across, apparently limping a bit.

Rachael had already rubbed Blackie down and Robert had covered him with a blanket by the time the final horse arrived, so Rachael ran over and started to try and find out what had happened to him. She eased the pain, and then got the horse to lift a hind leg. Rachael used her special vision to find a small stone under the frog of the hoof. She pried it out with a small tool and then applied some healing to the hoof.

“What are you doing?” an elderly male voice said. Rachael looked up and saw the vet for the races approaching. She held out the stone: “This was under the collateral sulcus of the left hind hoof. I think he is fine now.”

“That will be for me to decide,” the vet said, looking over the horse, which was fine now, and no longer limping. He wondered at the young girl using veterinary terminology as if she knew what it meant.

Rachael then got her trophy, more than a foot high. Lisa insisted on carrying it back to the corral as Rachael and Robert walked Blackie back, getting congratulations from family and friends.

“Good race, honey,” a familiar voice said. It was her mother: with Geoff and Bobby on his shoulders.

“You came,” a surprised Rachael said. “Who is looking after the shop?”

“Mike is working some overtime,” Geoff said. “We weren’t going to miss your first race. Jane came in to take your Mom’s spot. We are all proud of you.”

“You’re like Annie Oakley,” Bobby said from his high perch. “Just without the guns.”

Rachael fed Blackie his apple, and then spent an hour with her family at the midway. She introduced her Mom to Linda, who was glad to meet her new neighbor. The timid woman was less familiar with Geoff, but her anxieties eased when she saw that Chef and Geoff got together well. And Bobby immediately took up with her son Mark, and the two boys ran off to explore the midway.

At four the last race of the day was the over-45s, and it would be Frank’s turn to ride Blackie. When Rachael had run the course, Robert had pointed out where she jumped the tuffet, and told his father that was the line to take.

The race went just about as smoothly as the others. Frank was in mid-pack when they got to the first gully, and he had to fight to keep Blackie from attempting to jump it again. This time there was well over 100 more pounds on his back, and he wouldn’t have made the jump.

But he only slowed to a trot and quickly scrambled down then up in the gully, giving Frank a chance to catch some of the horses who were slower climbing. He left the ravine in third place, and managed to make up the gap on the leaders over the backstretch. Blackie did not like running behind other horses. He was a leader.

At the second gully, Frank moved into the proper position, and let Blackie leap for the tuffet. The horse stumbled a bit as an edge of the tuffet gave way, but got out on a second jump. The other leaders had scrambled down and up, and were several lengths behind, allowing Frank to run Blackie in without pressing. The whole family and friends were there at the finish to congratulate both horse and rider.

“Not bad for an old man,” Frank crowed as he took handshakes from the men and kisses from the women.

“Blackie isn’t that old,” Rachael quipped. “Oh, you mean his passenger.” She showed she was only teasing by kissing the man on the cheek.

Lisa had an even bigger trophy to carry back to the camp. There was another tent. Geoff had borrowed one from Gary, and he, Maria and Bobby were going to spend the night at the camp. Maria told a concerned Rachael that Grandma was spending the evening looking after Grandpa (and sleeping in Rachael’s bed).

Dinner that night was at the 4-H tent, and even Chef and Linda joined in. Rachael had seen her father slip Chef a loan of $40 to cover the meal and more treats for his kids. Tanya in particular fell in love with cotton candy sold at the races, and wore almost as much across her face as inside of her mouth. Rachael gave three twoonies to Bobby, and he led the older two kids over to get a candy apple each.

Chef’s new family rode the Hobo Army bus back into town, wisely getting onto one of the earlier ones with tired and sleepy kids. The last bus was supposed to go at midnight, but three more runs had to happen after that to get everyone home that had come that way.

There was a dance that night, and riders got in free, but Rachael could only take two dances with Robert before they had to turn in. During that time they changed the plan again, with Robert going to run the first and third race of the day on Sunday, and Rachael running the second. After all, it would not be fair, or good for Robert’s male ego, if his girlfriend won three trophies, and he only got one.

Lisa was in the tent, snoring loudly, when Rachael climbed into the sleeping bag.

Dear Lord

Thanks for a wonderful day. It may be the best ever, as Bobby says. And tomorrow should be the same. Thank you for getting Chef and Linda together. You wouldn’t think they are right for each other. He is big, and older, and she is so tiny and pretty. But he needs someone to care for, and she has a ready-made family for him to love. And she simply adores him. Thanks for having Mom, Dad and Bobby here for my race. It means so much to be able to share it with them, even though I am starting to think of the Jackson’s as a second family.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

The penultimate chapter in this book. I hope you all like it: Dawn

SUNDAY, JUNE 26, 2016

On Sunday morning a line of men sat on the porch of the women’s shelter, all wearing Hobo Army uniforms. One at a time timid women came out of the shelter and met the men who had agreed to accompany women to the church. There was no kissing among the couples: they were all too early in the relationship. But if a woman offered her hand to the man, then they were kissed on the hand, impressing women who had been forced from their homes by violent and Neanderthal men. The sauve, diplomatic touch of the men melted away many of the fears the women had about men. These were not merely men: they were gentlemen.

Soon there were only two men remaining on the porch, and the others headed off down the street towards the church, with about half of the women holding the hand of their partner, and all were smiling. Dee came out and told the remaining men that the women who had agreed to go to church with them had second thoughts, and decided to stay in the safety of the house. The two men surprised her by saying a second service was in two hours, and if the women wanted to think about it longer, they would wait, if the women were interested in that service. Dee went back in, and told the two women, who were amazed. The men in their earlier life always wanted things according to their schedule, and cared little was the woman wanted. To have a man let a woman decide – to be in charge – was new to them.

Fifteen minutes later the men were invited into the shelter, and sat in the parlor, speaking politely and in a non-aggressive manner with the women, explaining about the church, the painting, and Pastor McNaughton, who would be presiding at the second service. Soon the last two women were eager to go to the second service, and pleased at the way they were being treated.

Chef was not one of the ones at the shelter. His date, Linda, lived with Miss Lajoie in the house next to the Barron’s. He did get a kiss from Linda as he arrived, and hugs galore from her three children. Miss Lajoie had weighed the option of accompanying Linda and her kids to church along with the Barron’s. In the end she was unable to do so, even though she was starting to get comfortable with Chef, who had offered to cook a Sunday meal in her kitchen for her and Linda’s family.

Chef, with his new family, and the Barrons walked to church together with Miss Lajoie waving from the porch, wondering until the last minute if she should join them. In the end, she made her mind up to join in next week, when Rachael would be back.

At the church the Barrons came in at about the same time as the group from the shelter, and the girls from there gathered around Linda and her kids, gossiping with the latest news from the home, and asking Linda how it was living in a real house. The men from the Hobo Army all stood respectfully to the side, with none of them pushing the women to enter the church. It was Maria who finally said they all should go in before the seats all filled up.

The plan had been that the women would have a chance to pray to the painting before the service, but there wasn’t time. All the women got a glimpse of the painting at the end of the lobby, but instead of praying they went to their seats and sat next to their accompanist, feeling like a normal person for the first time in years.

Bobby took Linda’s three children down to the Sunday school, and Geoff and Marie sat with the women from the shelter. Pastor Helen had reserved a section for the women, so they would not have to sit near men they didn’t know, and with two couples not arriving, there was space for the Barrons.

At the service Pastor Helen’s sermon on Taking a Second Chance hit home with the women, along with many other congregants who were at a period of change in their life. The women were shy and quiet in the early part of the service, but during the latter part of the service, their voices rang out loud and clear in the concluding hymns, showing they felt more comfortable.

After the service, all the women went to pray, and it took from a half hour to nearly an hour for each woman to make her peace with the Lord. At the painting the Lord evaluated the couples, and 8 of the 12 women were told that the man who had brought them to church this day were worthy of their love, and could become permanent mates. The other four were told that they were safe with the men with them, but that they should date others to find a man who they could spend the rest of their life with.

It was a happy group that walked back to the shelter, with eight of the couples holding each other closely, and the other four holding the hand of the man they came with. As they walked home, they met the other two couples, and again had to stop and gossip, with the 12 women who had attended the first service telling their friends that they had to pray. It was a life-altering moment, they said, with the prayers bringing love and normalcy back into their lives.

Meanwhile Rachael was at the camp, and she and Robert again made breakfast after tending to the horses. They had an additional guest that morning: Pastor McNaughton had gotten up early and headed to the camp. Rachael had told Pastor Helen that she was going to have to miss services on that Sunday, and the two pastors had decided to offer a non-denomination service at the camp on Sunday, with Pastor McNaughton preaching at the camp at the same time Helen was at the church.

The service was near the finish line, with most of those attending sitting on the bleachers. It was not only the town’s people in the seats, but over half of those operating the rides and booths also came. For some it was just a curious way to kill some time, but for the Christians in the group it was a special service for people who could seldom get to church on a Sunday due to their jobs. Talk after the service was to see if there could be a way to repeat the practice at other stops in their circuits. They did corner the pastor after the service and asked if he would do the same thing for the fall fair, when most of them would return to town. Naturally, he agreed.

Pastor McNaughton’s sermon was about how events like the races and the fall fair build a community. He noted that God was clearly in favor of them, since he had provided perfect sunny, warm, and dry weather. He prayed for good weather through the rest of the year, which impressed the farmers present, since many of them relied on good weather to have a good harvest. In the end everyone left the service smiling and at peace.

After the pastor headed back into town for his regular service, things at the camp ramped up with the booths opening at 10, and the races slated for noon, two, and four. At six the booths would close, and start to pack up for their next stop.

At noon it was the under-16 race first with Robert on Blackie. He had no problems outdistancing the field. The second gully was the only concern. The tuft of earth they had jumped from in the early races had been completely obliterated by riders trying to use it in the Senior’s race the day before. Robert was able to leap the gully in a single jump, while others had to make the scramble. Robert was nearly a minute ahead of the next horse in the race.

In the two o’clock race it was Rachael’s final turn to shine. She was the only woman in the under-20s class, and heard more than a few comments about how she should stick to the Powder Puff race. She didn’t taunt her opponents, knowing that losing to a middle school student would be hard enough on the high school boys and college freshmen that made up the rest of the field.

Her race was simple and clean. She had a slight lead at the first gully, but Blackie leapt it easily. Most horses had to scramble through it, but one other horse made the jump as well. That meant he would be able to make the second gully, which was shorter. So Rachael put her head down and willed Blackie to more speed, and was 15 seconds ahead at the second gully. She leaned into her horse as he leapt the gully, and seconds later the other horse also cleared it.

Rachael’s game plan had been to ease up on Blackie over the last part of the race, but the other rider was not allowing it. He gained time on the big stallion, and for the first face since the ponies it was a close finish, with Rachael barely taking first.

“Good race,” Rachael congratulated the other rider as they trotted to cool their horses down. “You have a great horse there. I probably weigh 80 pounds less than you do, and that may have made the difference.”

“Yes, you are a regular little jockey,” the boy said. He was one of the college students. “I was hoping to win this one, because next year I will be 20, and will have to win the open. Are you running in that one today?”

“No. My boyfriend is, on this horse. You may have spoiled it for him. I was hoping to ease up on Blackie here near the end. You made that impossible. Good luck next year.”

Rachael spent most of the next two hours working on Blackie. She did have to stop for the victory celebration, with another huge trophy being carted back to the camp by a proud Lisa. But for the rest of the time Rachael was rubbing Blackie down, making sure that he was ready for the final race. There was a problem just before the race, when the camp vet came over. Robert had just saddled Blackie and climbed aboard.

“You can’t run that horse again,” the man said. “Three races in just over four hours is too much for any horse.”

“On what grounds?” Rachael asked. “He is healthy and full of energy.”

“He is exhausted,” the vet said. “Look at his head down, barely moving.”

Rachael put her had on Blackie and willed him to rear up on his hind legs, dancing on two legs in a circle. Robert had to hold on to keep in the saddle. “Does that look exhausted?” Rachael demanded. “He is full of energy, and ready to run.”

The vet looked at the prancing horse, which had continued to dance after going back to all fours. He sighed and said: “Okay, he can run. But don’t say I didn’t warn you if you damage the horse.”

Robert got into the starting line up. Rachael was sure that Blackie was as fresh as possible, and kept feeding him energy until she had to step back for the starting gun. It fired and Blackie was off as if it was shot at him. By the first gulley he had a good lead, and he was the only horse that made the jump, with several others trying and failing. Luckily none of them were injured. This left Robert with a half-minute lead at the second gully, and he jumped it easily and was able to cruise to the finish line without pressing the stallion. No other horse was in sight as he crossed the line.

The final celebration was chaotic. The open had never been won by a rider as young as Robert, and no horse had ever run in, let alone won, all five races. This time there were two trophies awarded. Robert got the open trophy, and Frank proudly carried back the trophy for the best overall farm in the competition, the first time the Jackson family had ever won.

“Where am I going to put all those trophies?” Donna asked Rachael as she led Blackie back to the camp corral. “They would need a trophy case clear across the living room. Unless you take your two home. Would you do that?”

“They aren’t my trophies,” Rachael said. “They are Blackie’s. I only rode on his back for two of the races. You should get the men to build a trophy case in the stable. There is a lot of room there, and it really was Blackie who won everything.”

“That’s a great idea Rachael,” Donna said.

The Barron’s had arrived at noon after church, and had watched all three races, cheering Blackie on. Once her horse was settled and rubbed down, Rachael took Bobby out to the midway, spoiling him as only a big sister can. Geoff had slipped her a twenty, and they used it on rides, games, and junk food. A twenty doesn’t go far on a midway, and part way through Maria added a second twenty.

The midway closed at six, and a contented Bobby announced that the races had been “the best fair ever.” They headed back to camp where Robert and the boys were tearing down the tents. Rachael and Bobby brought Blackie and Dutchess to the horse trailer and loaded them in for their ride back to the farm. Bobby had to rejoin his parents, but Rachael rode in the cab of JJ’s pickup as it hauled the horses back to the farm. She easily got both horses unloaded, and into the stables, where she gave Blackie another rubdown. She vowed to continue getting to the stables at least once a week through the summer, even though she no longer needed to practice for the races.

JJ drove her back to town after unhitching the wagon, and then headed back to camp to see if there was need for more work on the cleanup. Rachael offered to come as well, but JJ noted that there wouldn’t be any space in the pickup cabs for another passenger.

At home Bobbie engulfed his sister is a huge hug, thanking her for the camp, as if it had been her idea to hold it. They then went over to Miss Lajoie’s. Bobby’s main interest was in visiting the dogs, but Rachael was more interested in getting to know Linda’s kids, especially the baby. By missing church, Rachael had missed her time in the nursery, and she realized how much she missed caring for the babies.

Chef announced that Barron’s were invited to his dinner, with Miss Lajoie agreeing. Linda had told her about church, and had convinced her to attend the following week. At one point Miss Lajoie noticed that there were two men in her house: Chef and Geoff, and she didn’t mind. Then Grandpa came over, and it was just more merriment. Kids were running around, and Miss Lajoie had started wondering if she might have children of her own. The dinner was huge, and everyone was having a wonderful time. Miss Lajoie sobbed to herself, realizing that now she had a family of her own, with these wonderful neighbors, and Linda’s kids and boyfriend. It was something she had missed, and seeing it all happen again in the little house she had spent her entire life in, warmed her heart.

Rachael had to hand over Tanya to clean up after the meal, with Maria and Geoff helping, in spite of Chef’s claim that they were guests. The big man instead sat in the living room where he now had four children on his big lap, with Bobby crowded in as Chef read several stories from Bobby’s library books. Bobby explained the library to Chef, and the man decided that tomorrow he would take Linda and the three kids to get books of their own for him to read to them.

Later that night Rachael kneeled at the side of her bed.

Dear Lord

It seems that I am always thanking you. But you do so much for me, and for all the people around me. The camp at the races was fun, but mostly it was fun being with family. Both my own, and Robert’s, who are starting to be a part of my family. And learning what happened at church today. You are helping some severely broken women heal. Look at Linda. She is so in love with Chef. And he loves her back, and her kids. Mark is fun. He’s only half Bobby’s age, but they get along so well. It will help Bobby to be a big brother to the little fellow. Luckily there are two dogs in that house. I wonder if Linda and Miss Lajoie will let the two of them walk the dogs. And even Miss Lajoie is looking better. She used to be terrified of men, but Chef and Dad seem to help ease that. I hope she goes to church next week, and prays at the painting. It should help her.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

The last chapter (but see the note at the end): Dawn

MONDAY, JUNE 27, 2016

Both Rachael and Bobby were fairly giddy when they got up for breakfast. It was the last day of school, and only a half-day for Rachael. Bobby would have his simpler graduation ceremony at 1 p.m. and then an early exit from school. Rachael’s ceremony was more elaborate, and would run from 10 ‘til noon. Both Geoff and Maria had gone to work even though Monday was normally their day off. They owed some hours to the other staff that had covered for them on Saturday when they had been at the races.

Bobby was up early, so Rachael decided that it was time for him to learn a bit about cooking. She decided to make French toast, and had him do most of the work under her direction. They used four eggs, and a bit of cream to make a mixture for five pieces of love bread. With so many out of the house on the weekend, it was starting to get stale, something normally unheard of in the Barron household.

Grandpa was up, and he would only have a single slice, or one and a half. Bobby needed two, and Rachael would have the rest. The young boy was quite proud of his cooking, although not enough to eat the one slice that he had burned slightly on one side when he wasn’t paying attention. He took two good slices, with maple syrup. Rachael and grandpa each got a good slice, and a half of the charred one, although Racahel scrapped off most of the carbonized bits.

Bobby needed a solid wash-up after eating the meal he had made “all by himself” and once Rachael approved, he put on his Sunday best. It was his graduation day, after all.

Rachael also dressed neatly in a tartan skirt and a white blouse that tended to minimize her growing bust-line. Her hair was still shorter than Bobby’s and she combed it quickly, as well as doing his.

At school there were no classes. The kids gathered in the cafeteria for an hour to chat, and then paraded into the gym, which was set up like an assembly, with the Grade 8s at the front in alphabetical order, and the other grades in class years behind. There were chairs on the stage, for all the teachers of the Grade 8s, plus the principal and vice-principal, who was also a Grade 6 teacher. At the back, parents of the Grade 8s were seated, and to Rachael’s delight she saw four familiar faces. Both Maria and Geoff were there as expected, and as a surprise Bobby and Grandpa were present to see Rachael graduate.

After all the students were in and settled, the staff walked out onto the stage wearing their caps and gowns. The students in middle school did not wear caps and gowns, but the faculty had all graduated from university, and proudly wore theirs, adding some gravitas to the event.

The ceremony started with O Canada, and then the principal called forth teachers for class awards. Rachael was surprised when Larissa won the French award, since she hadn’t been in class the full year. Robert won the science award: he already had decided to be a veterinarian, and worked hard on that subject. Mikki was amazed to get the award for best History student, no doubt due to her film. The math and English awards went to students who were not among Rachael’s close friends. But then Ms. Smith got up and announced that Rachael Barron was the recipient of the Phys. Ed. award.

Next the diplomas were awarded, with students streaming across the stage, shaking hands with the principal and vice, as well as all the teachers. Mikki’s father was present taking a photo of each student as he or she got the diploma. As Rachael passed Mrs. Cathcart, the elderly teacher whispered: “It was a pleasure to have you in my class, Rachael. You nearly won top English student as well, but Sandy had a full year of good work, and yours was pretty much done in two months.”

After the diplomas were awarded, special awards were given out. The Valedictorian gave a somewhat trite speech, and then the Top Girl and Top Boy awards were announced. When Carly was called up as Top Girl, there was a scream from the back. “My Mom,” Carly said as she passed in front of Rachael. As she walked up to the stage to get her plaque, the Grade 7s started chanting “Give Peas a Chance” and the younger students picked up on it.

Finally, Ms. DeBoer got up. “Normally we would close the ceremony now. But this year the faculty decided to institute a new award. We had a student this term that turned herself around from an unmotivated slacker into one of the best students in the class. Our first Most Improved Student is Rachael Barron.”

There were cheers from most of the school as Rachael went up to the stage. She had made close friends with many of the Grade 8s, and some of the Grade 7s, and the younger grades respected her for always having a smile and friendly word for them as well.

Her award was a bouquet of roses. Rachael accepted them, thanking Ms. DeBoer, and suddenly had an idea. She asked the principal if she could speak. The microphone was adjusted for her shorter height, and then she cleared her throat.

“Class of 2016. It’s been a good year, hasn’t it? Once I got my act together I started to learn that our teachers are not the enemy. They want nothing more than to see us succeed. And we have a great group of teachers up here on stage, and the ones from the younger years are just as good, although I have to admit that I didn’t make their jobs easier when I was in those years.”

“But the Grade 7s of this year are not going to get the same great team of teachers that we had. I understand that Ms. Smith is moving up to high school, so you will get her in two years. But Mrs. Cathcart is retiring. She has taught at Ainsborough School for many years. In fact, I bet she was an experienced teacher when most of our parents were here. I would like to re-gift these roses to her, in thanks for everything she has done for the students this year, and for all those years before.”

Rachael walked across the stage and placed the bouquet on the lap of the elderly English teacher, who had tears of joy running down her face. She struggled to her feet and hugged the girl. “This is why I recommended you for Most Improved,” Mrs. Cathcart sobbed. “You are the sweetest, best student I have had in all my years.”

With that Rachael skipped down off the stage, and Mrs. DeBoer took over again.

“Nothing I can do or say will ever top that, so I declare graduation over,” she said, and directed the students to leave for their summer holidays. That didn’t need saying twice, and it was difficult for the teachers on the floor to keep the students moving out orderly. Finally it was the Grade 8s chance, and most of them just went back to greet their families, and the teachers came down from the stage to mingle as well.

Mikki’s father had a photo area set up, and Rachael managed to get photos with all her teachers as a group, as well as single pictures of her with each teacher. Other students followed over and did the same, to the point where Mikki would later report it as the most lucrative event her father had ever done.

After the pictures, Maria hugged her daughter. “That was beautiful, Rachael: giving your prize to that teacher. She will remember that for the rest of her life. And I will remember it for the rest of my life. My beautiful daughter, doing the most beautiful thing imaginable. I love you.”

“I am proud of you too, sweetheart,” Geoff said. “But we need to get Bobby over to the primary school now, or he won’t graduate and will have to take Grade 4 over again.”

“No way,” Bobby shouted, and started pulling his mother and sister to the door. They hurried on, while Geoff and Grandpa followed at a slower pace.

They made it the short way to the other school in only a few minutes, and Bobby was sent along to his teacher while Rachael sat in the back with her parents and Grandpa, admiring her middle school diploma and PE award. “We’ll have to get some frames for those, and for the one Bobby will get,” Geoff said.

But in the end Bobby won two awards. As well as his diploma he received the award as Most Improved Reader. When he got back to his family, he showed the award to Rachael. “This should have your name on it too,” the boy said. “It was you helping me to get better at reading that did it. You showed me that reading was fun.”

“No Bobby,” his sister said. “You are the one who worked hard to get better. It is your award.”

That evening Rachael kneeled down as usual:

Dear Lord

It has been a wonderful two months. My life now is more full than it ever was before. I can only thank you for that. You showed me how helping others can be rewarding. Thank you for giving me the idea to pass the roses on to Mrs. Cathcart. She was so touched. Now it is summer time. What should I do next?”

Update from Dawn

Yes this is the end of the second book. But it will not be our last visit to Ingersoll. There are still stories that I need to cover. I just won’t be visiting Rachael every day of her life. And for those who liked the little prayers at the end, I don’t plan to have one after most, or any of the future chapters.

Things we still need to cover are:

Bobby goes to hockey camp.

Lullana comes from Zambia as an exchange student

The girls go to Cannes to show their video

Rachael gets stabbed (we hinted at this in the teasers a few months ago)

The first day(s) of high school

The Hobo Army takes over a failing dairy farm

And any others that come to mind as we go along.

Then there will be a new series that I have rolling around in my mind. Stay tuned.

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

The little yellow bus is back. This is one of the additional stories that I plan to offer at about once a month: Dawn

July 4, 2016

There was chaos in the Barron household on Monday morning. Luckily Maria and Geoff had the day off, so Rachael had help getting Bobby up and ready for his first day of Hockey Camp. For the next two weeks, the boys needed to be at the local youth arena by 8 a.m. Marc Hafleur drove in with them, since today was the first day Larissa and their mother were doing their French classes at the library.

Today the entire family, other than Grandpa, was going to the arena. For the rest of the week, it would be just Rachael going with her brother. One of her parents would drive them at 8, and pick them up at 4:30. The boys would get two full four-hour sessions at the camp, with a half-hour lunch. They would not be on the ice for both sessions, however, with half the time being strength and conditioning training in the gym. This allowed the group to be split into two sections, with Atom and PeeWee ages (9-12) in one group and Bantam and Midget (13-16) in the older group.

They got to the arena at 7:30, and learned that the younger players would be on the ice first. Marc had a bag of brand new equipment. As a goalie Bobby had been told equipment would be provided. Sam Weaver, the former NHL journeyman player who ran the camp, met Bobby and looked a bit surprised. "You are a bit smaller than I was expecting," the man said. "But I think the equipment we have for you will fit. We only have the two sets, and the other goalie picked the smaller set."

Sam helped the family get Bobby into his gear. It was almost laughable. The pads rode up to almost his stomach, instead of mid thigh. The chest protector looked like one of those bulky ones that baseball umpires wore in the 50s. The helmet and face mask was at least an inch too large for the boy's head, and the blocker and glove were also too big.

"You can't go out like that," Maria insisted. Too-large equipment would be unsafe in a real game, and probably here in camp too.

"Please Momma," the boy entrapped in the too-large equipment begged. "I really want to do this. Please let me play."

Then Sam handed him a goalie stick that towered over his head. "We have his goalie stick in the car," Rachael said. "Can someone get it? And Mr. Weaver? Is it possible to adjust the equipment at all?"

"I think so," the man said, and he started making changes, tightening all the belts to their smallest positions. The result was that the equipment was still too large, but Bobby could at least move around in it. He could barely skate though, and when the boys (and one girl) went onto the ice, he was unable to keep up with the others, including the goalie.

But when drills started, and he was in the net, the lack of mobility was no longer as much of a problem, and he was able to stop more than half the shots made by the boys his age (Atom) and nearly half of the shots by the PeeWee players, who were one or two years older. He had a huge grin on his face the entire time.

Maria, Geoff and Rachael sat in the stands and watched, as did one or two other parents. At one point, another man came and sat with them. "Which boy is yours?" He asked, "or is it the girl? She isn't bad."

"The goalie," Rachael said. "The one at this end."

"Isn't that equipment a bit too big for him?" the man asked.

"Yes it is," Maria said. "Geoff and I were talking about buying some for him that fits."

"I am the coach of the local PeeWee team," the man said. "Frank Scott. I like to come to the camp to see the new boys, and whether any should be invited to our training camp in August. Your boy has good reflexes, but you can't tell how good he is when he is wallowing around in Bantam-size equipment."

With that the man darted off, and came back several minutes later with a full set of goalie pads. "These are from the Atom team locker, and will fit your son much better than what he has on. I don't recommend parents buy goalie equipment for their boy: it costs well over a thousand dollars, and you can seldom get more than a year out of it when they are growing. This is our backup set, and I can loan them to you, or the camp, for the next few weeks."

With that he went down to ice level, and spoke to Mr. Weaver for a bit. Then Sam had the boys do skating drills for a few minutes, and an excited Bobby came over to change equipment. He was talking a mile-a-minute about the experience, and was on a high from the activity. In a few minutes he had changed into the Atom gear, and was back on the ice. You could see as he skated to the net that he was more mobile and able to skate better. The shooting drills then continued.

Now Bobby was stopping almost anything sent his way from the Atom players. And he stopped most of the pucks from PeeWee players. Mr. Scott whistled at one particular save.

"You boy will definitely make the Atom travel team, probably as the number one goalie. In fact, I want him to try out for my PeeWees as well. I'm pretty sure he will at least make the backup slot, and by the end of the season, he might be the number one goalie. He won't be officially a Peewee till next year, and I bet he will be the number one goalie for us that year."

He watched the boys play for a while, then spoke again: "Do you know who that big boy is? He definitely will make my team this year."

"That is Marc Hafleur," Rachael said. "And he is Bobby's age. So still an Atom."

"The Atom team might make it to the provincial finals this year then," Mr. Scott said. "I'm going to try to get Marc on my team as an underage player this year too. And next years, when they both are PeeWees, that team should go to the provincials too."

Geoff looked as proud as if Bobby was his natural son as he sat in the stands with Maria, watching the boy play. There were a few seconds of concern when a PeeWee slapshot caught Bobby full in the mask, knocking him to the ice. But his main concern was whether he had stopped the puck, and when he saw it next to him, the smile on his face seemed even bigger than it had been.

The boys got off the ice at a few minutes to noon, and Sam skated over to the Barrons. "I wonder if you folks would mind letting Bobby skate the afternoon session as well. It will be against older boys, but we only have one goalie in that age group. He is a Bantam, and I'll have him facing the older boys. Bobby will only have Bantams, and a few Midgets who aren't up to the same level as the others."

"Those boys are teenagers, aren't they?" an alarmed Maria asked.

"They are," Sam said. "But Bobby is a far better goalie than the other one we had this morning. If he wants to improve, facing older boys is one of the best ways to do so. I think he will get a lot more out of being on the ice than doing the conditioning training."

"Please Momma," the youngster begged.

"Okay, but if you get hurt, then all bets are off," Maria said.

"I won't," Bobby bragged. "I just have to stop all the shots."

"Well, don't be stopping any more with your face," Maria said. "I almost had a heart attack when you went down."

"But I stopped it, didn't I," Bobby crowed.

"Go on now," Sam said. "No sense taking your equipment off like the other boys. Just your skates. Then go get your hotdog in the gym.

Because he didn't have to take off his equipment, Bobby was the first of his group into the gym, which was full of the older boys, who had been doing the conditioning training. He got into the rear of a line snaking out from the kitchen at one end of the gym, where a harried woman was serving hot dogs and milks as fast as she could.

Rachael walked up to the woman and asked: "Can I help?" The woman just nodded. "I can't pay you, but I'll give you a free hotdog after we get through this. You hand out the milks."

Rachael got behind the counter, and the line started moving quicker. A few boys wanted two dogs, or two milk, but the lady told them to come back for seconds after everyone had been served. The second helping would cost them though, as the camp only offered one free hotdog and one milk.

After all the boys were served, the woman was so grateful for Rachael's help that she offered hotdogs to Rachael and her parents, as well as free seconds for Bobby, who took advantage of the extra food. As a goalie, he was moving around a lot, while other players stood idle on the ice for long periods as other boys took the drills. He had worked up a good appetite.

The half-hour lunch break was over, but Rachael stayed another half hour to help the lady clean up the kitchen. After lunch the younger boys moved the tables to the wall, and used push brooms to sweep the floor before starting their conditioning training. The older boys went to put their equipment on. By the time Rachael go back into the arena, the boys were back at shooting drills.

Bobby was doing well with the older boys. He looked tiny now compared to the first group, who had at least half the boys his age. Now most boys were four years older, and some looked like men, older than Rachael. As Sam had promised, most of those were at the other end of the ice, with only a few at Bobby's net.

At first Bobby was letting a lot of shots in. These boys were better able to raise their shots, and with Bobby so short, he wasn't able to protect the top of the net from high shots. Sam had ordered the boys not to use slapshots, which were harder to control, and also more threatening-looking to Rachael and Maria in the stands.

As the session went on, Bobby started stopping a few more shots, including the high ones. He learned to jump up and let a shot bounce off his shoulders, or snag a shot with his glove. He was still only stopping one shot in five, but Rachael noted that the goalie at the other end was doing no better. Of course he was facing the better players, and the coach down there was not yelling as much when a player used a slapshot, but Bobby was holding his own.

At the end of the session, almost every boy on the ice, from both ends, came by to slap their sticks against Bobby's pads: the eternal 'good job' message from hockey players to a good goalie performance. The young boy basked in the approval he was getting.

The next two weeks went fast. Rachael started going into the kitchen at 11 to help set up for lunch, as well as cleaning up. The woman working there, who apparently worked the concession stand in the arena during the winter, offered her a regular job, although Rachael had to decline, not wanting a job to interfere with her activities in school.

At the end of the two-week camp, Bobby was invited back to the second camp, due to another goalie shortage, at no cost. He gladly accepted, and then Rachael had to get her parents to agree. It was not a hard sell. It was clear that the boy loved the camp, and was making friends, including with boys older than Rachael. Marc was signed up for the second camp as well, so the routine of going to the arena continued all through July.

In late August Bobby attended two tryout camps. He made the first string goalie position at Atom, with Marc becoming the team's top defenseman. Mr. Scott also named him second-string goalie for the PeeWees. When the season started, The Atom team won its first 12 games, with Bobby getting four shutouts. The streak was broken when the other goalie was given the start, letting in four goals in the first period. Bobby played the rest of that game, and let in only one goal, but the team lost 5-4.

The PeeWees played four games before Bobby got into net, winning two and losing two. Marc was the fifth defenseman on the team. With his size, he didn't seem out of place among boys three years older, although he played a more defensive game, not making the end-to-end rushes that so often led to goals in the Atom games.

In the fifth game of the season, the first-string goalie let two goals in early in the first period, and then took a slapshot to the head. Bobby was called in to replace him, trailing 2-0, but held the opponents from scoring again. His team tied the game in the middle of the third period, and in the last minute Marc let a shot go from the blueline that caromed off two opponents and then went in.

After that game the team alternated between goalies, and just made the playoffs. Mr. Scott made Bobby the playoff goalie, and he started every game, winning the first series, and losing the second series four games to three, with Bobby unable to play the final, due to a conflict with the Atom team.

As Mr. Scott had predicted, the Atom team had dominated their league, with Marc the leading scorer for the team, and the league, in spite of playing defense. They won the league playoffs, and went to the provincial championship series, winning four games to two, with Bobby in net for all six games. The team also won five tournaments that year, while the PeeWees won one tournament and lost two, although reaching the finals in one.

Bobby had a cheering squad with him for all games. Maria and Geoff went to every game. Geoff even bought a new van for the bakery which was able to carry seven boys when it was set up with seats. They travelled to every game, and Rachael went to 90% of them, unless there was something urgent at school.

By the end of the season, in early May, Rachael's goal from a year earlier for her brother was met. He was now buff and popular as a local hockey star. But the most impressive thing was that he had taken over Robert's unofficial position in the middle school, preventing bullying of any of the younger or smaller students.

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Many tears were shed in writing this chapter. Tissue alert. Two boxes may be needed: Dawn

Rachael was sitting in the stands at the arena, watching Bobby play goal at the hockey school when she got a text from Mikki. ‘Can you talk?’ Rachael texted back ‘Yes’ and a second later the phone rang.

“What’s up, girlfriend?” Rachael asked.

It was clear that Mikki was super excited, and it took her a few seconds to calm down enough to talk. “We are going to Cannes,” she finally said. “The Legion entered our movie into the Cannes documentary festival. Not the real Cannes … that was in May, but a special festival for beginner’s documentaries only. And they want to send the four of us to France for a week. With Larissa to guide us, we will get to see France like a native. We might even be able to stay longer than a week, if we spend it with Larissa’s uncle, then go to the festival later. It runs the middle of August.”

After that, Mikki had to stop to take a breath. “That sounds awesome, Mikki,” Rachael said. “Have you spoken to the other girls?”

“Larissa, cause she is from there,” Mikki said. “I called you next. Now I need to call Carly.”

“I’m with Bobby at the hockey camp right now,” Rachael said. “When it is over Marc’s mom is driving us home. We’ll go to your place then, about 4:15. See if the other girls can meet then and we can make plans.”

There was not much planning done before Rachael had to head home to make dinner. Mostly it was four excited girls jumping around, as Larissa told them about all the cool places they had to see, and things they could do. The Eiffel Tower, the Left Bank of Paris, the Louvre, Versailles, the Juno Beach Memorial for D-Day.

That night Geoff and Maria agreed that Rachael could go, and Geoff suggested that she get $1000 in spending money. Rachael had been hoping for $200. With the airfare and one week of hotel paid by the Legion, and the other week spent with Larissa’s family, there didn’t need to be much money spent. But Geoff insisted that she needed that much, which was still less than $100 a day if they stayed two weeks. He noted that most of the places the girls had talked about had admission fees, plus meals, souvenirs and gifts. Rachael was glad she had a Dad now, and ran over to wrap her arms around him to thank him.

That night Rachael dreamed vividly of Paris. The four girls were on the top of the Eiffel Tower when her cell phone rang. Rachael answered, listened, and then hung up. The excitement on her face a minute ago had disappeared. Mikki noticed and asked what was wrong.

“It is Grandpa,” Rachael said, trying hard not to cry. “They took him to the hospital. It doesn’t look well.”

The joy fled from the faces of the other girls as well. They had grown to love Grandpa as well. “I have to go home,” Rachael said.

“We all should,” Mikki said.

“No. The Legion spent a pile of money to bring us over here. I will go home. You guys stay and do the festival. It is probably a false alarm.”

The dream moved to another scene. Geoff and Maria were at the airport. Maria was dressed in black, and Geoff wore a suit. As Rachael finally got through customs and ran up to them, their faces showed grief.

“I’m so sorry honey,” Maria said as the sobbing girl flung herself into her arms. “He didn’t make it. He passed last evening. He asked for you several times. Bobby and we were there at the end. Bobby is with Marc tonight. I’m so sorry you couldn’t get here in time.”

Her own sobs jerked Rachael awake. She threw on a robe, and rushed down to her grandfather’s room. Opening the door as quietly as she could, she looked in. For a moment she worried that he was too still lying there. But then she saw a slight movement. He was breathing. That wasn’t enough to prevent another huge sob.

“Is that my princess?” Grandpa said softly as the sobs awakened him. “What is the problem, sweetheart? You are crying.”

Rachael sat on the edge of his bed, and explained the dream she had.

“I think that is one of your special dreams,” Grandpa said. “When I have one and see Marie in heaven, she is quite excited that my time to join her is getting close.”

“Oh no,” Rachael sobbed again. “You can’t leave us. We need you. Bobby needs you. We want you.”

“I know it is hard to let go, honey,” he said. “But Marie has been waiting for such a long time. And you really don’t need me. Bobby has a dad now, and between Geoff’s teaching and the memories of his time with me, I’m sure he will grow into a fine young man. And you, my princess, will definitely grow up into a fine young woman. There is nothing more that I wish than to see you get married one day, but that could be as much as 15 years from now, and I don’t want to be here this long. But when you do marry, you can be sure that Marie and I will be there, watching our little girl in pride.”

Rachael just sobbed again, as Grandpa continued. “If you want I will try to get them to delay things for a few weeks, so you can go to Paris with the girls. Marie won’t be happy, but she has waited for me for so many years, I think she will wait two more weeks.”

“No Grandpa,” the girl said. “And it is so like you to say that. But you are right. It is your time. It is Marie’s turn to have you with her again. I won’t ask you to take that away from her. But I will not take the trip. I want to be here with you as much as possible … until the end. I guess we shouldn’t say anything to Bobby … he would want to drop his hockey camp to spend more time with you. We will only tell him near the end.” She leaned down and hugged her Grandpa as he lay in the bed, and the sobs came back with a vengeance. She finally got up, and knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep again, started baking biscuits. Before they were in the oven Grandpa also got up, and sat on the hard kitchen chair rather than his recliner as she made him coffee, and later served him hot biscuits.

That day at school, before classes, Rachael gave the bad news to the girls. “But it was only a dream, right,” Mikki protested. “It may not come true. You have to come with us. Or none of us should go.”

Rachael saw the alarm in Larissa’s eyes at the possibility of her getting a free trip to her former home vanishing. Carla also looked upset at the idea.

“Don’t be silly,” Rachael said. “You three must go. The provincial Legion has bought the tickets already. Have Mr. Churchill join you. He did so much for the film as well. And he can act as a bit of a chaperone.”

“Well, Mom and Dad were not too happy at the idea of four 13-year-old girls visiting Paris on their own, even though some of the time we would be with Larissa’s family,” Mikki said, and Carla nodded. She had heard the same complaints.

“You guys go. Take lots of pictures,” as if Mikki could stop herself from that. “It will be almost like I am there when you send them to me.”

The girls flew out several weeks later, and Rachael, true to her word, had spent a lot of time with Grandpa. Midway through the first week in Paris Mikki got a text from Rachael. “Grandpa in hospital. Not looking good. Will text if anything happens, have fun.”

Bobby was now done hockey school, and was devastated when he saw his hero lying on a hospital bed with tubes and wires running in and out of him. Rachael softly explained that the man may not ever return to the house, and the little boy wailed in grief for a few moments, and then stopped when he saw that he was upsetting Grandpa. So instead Bobby took a chair next to the old man, and sat and read to him, while Rachael sat on the other side holding his frail hand.

The kids spent the entire visiting hours with Grandpa, with Geoff and Maria taking turns driving them in and picking them up, and visiting as well.

It was Friday evening, while Maria was in to pick up the kids at the end of visiting hours that alarms started going off. Rachael looked down, and saw that Grandpa was no longer breathing. She pressed the call button, although it wasn’t necessary. Several nurses rushed into the room, with one ushering the family out. Before she left, Rachael turned over a card on the old man’s wrist that said “DNR”. When the nurses saw that, they stopped abruptly. The abbreviation meant: Do Not Resuscitate.

In the hallway one of the nurses led them to the chapel. Bobby had started wailing once he realized what had happened, and clung to his mother, sobbing. In the chapel all three kneeled at a prayer bench, and looked up at an interdenominational painting of Christ and prayed, with Bobby between Rachael and his mother.

The prayer was long, and satisfying. All three got a feeling from above that they knew was Grandpa, and he was happy and young, with his arm over Marie’s shoulder. Rachael jolted when she felt another hand fit into hers on the side away from Bobby. She opened her eyes and saw Pastor Helen sitting next to her.

“Our painting told me to come,” she said softly.

“We should go to it,” Rachael decided. Her mother and Bobby, who now was only sobbing gently, also got up. They found Geoff at the counter, doing paperwork, and after giving him a hug, left him for the church. Rachael rode with Helen, and the others went with Maria.

At the church it was now past midnight, so there were spots available for them to kneel. Once they had kneeled, Rachael almost immediately found herself transported to outside the familiar gates. Looking around she saw that Helen, Maria and Bobby were with her.

“Grandpa?” Bobby said as he looked at the man who was now only 25 or so on the other side of the gates.

“Yes son,” the man said, and Bobby recognized the voice and started to run to the gate. Something made him stop a few feet short. “No hugs today, Bobby. But you might feel hugs from up here from time to time.”

“When Rachael and I read each night, can you be there?” the boy said. “So I can be reading to you?”

“I will make a point of it,” he said.

“And I have been there for the past few months,” the young woman said. “Looking in on the two young children who were making my man so happy. We will always be there looking out for you.” She turned to Maria. “And I finally get to meet my adopted daughter and near-namesake. You are a wonderful woman for looking after those children, and my Pierre, so well.”

“Thank you,” Maria said. “And I want you to know that you two will always be in our prayers and our hearts.”

They chatted for about 15 minutes, and as they talked all of the visitors began to feel peace. Grandpa was gone, but they could still meet him here through the painting when they needed to. Eventually they felt themselves being pulled back to the church, and when they got there they saw Geoff had just arrived. He had tears in his eyes, and was surprised to find his family smiling.

“We met with him,” Rachael said. “He is happy. And young again. He must have been in constant pain in that old body. I’m glad we could let him go. He wanted to stay, so I could go to Paris. But Marie had waited so long, and she knew when his time was. To have been forced to delay for even two weeks would have really hurt her.”

Geoff drove back to the bakery, and Maria took the kids home, lying down next to Bobby until he fell asleep. It was nearly two a.m. Rachael went into her own room and then texted Mikki. The girls would soon be getting up, and today was the day of the festival. She thought about not telling them until after, but realized how upset that would have made her. “Grandpa passed peacefully at a few minutes past 11 (our time) Friday. Mom, I and Bobby were all there with him. He is in a better place, and is so happy there. Do not cry for him.”

In Paris less than an hour later Mikki opened her phone and found the normal dozen or so text messages. With the time difference, texts were a big part of keeping in contact. When she got to Rachael’s, she let out a small cry, and then started to sob.

Larissa and Carly immediately woke up, and she merely passed the phone to Carla, who also sobbed and then handed it to Larissa, who was even more affected than the others. To her Grandpa was the man who liberated her country, and drove the Nazis out. She knew others had helped, but he was one of the last to survive, and the fact she had gotten to know him so well in the filming, and the many other times when she had chatted with the old man in French made her feel that he was a relative: her own Grandpa.

“Should we go on with the competition?” Mikki asked.

“We must,” Larissa said forcefully. “The film is about him. It is a tribute to him. We will do it to honor him.”

“Someone should tell the audience that he has passed,” Mikki said. “At the end?”

“Definitely at the end,” Larissa said. “I will tell the audience in French, and then one of you can do it in English.”

“Not me,” Carly said. “I would start to bawl in front of all those people.”

“I guess I will have to,” Mikki said. Then she had an idea. “Or Mr. Churchill could. He could do a better job than me.”

The three girls all wore black to the festival, where their film was one of three finalists. Mikki was hoping for second place. One film had been good, but no better than theirs. The chance of first place was out of the question. She had seen a film called “L’Automne” in the preliminaries, and it was magnificent. She had learned five or six techniques that were beyond her in watching it.

In the evening their film was the third to be shown. First was the one Mikki thought would win, and she hoped that the viewing order would not be duplicated by the awards. She also noticed a couple more techniques as it was shown and mentally catalogued them. The second film ran next, and Mikki was not sure that they had a chance for second. Finally their film ran.

At the end, Larissa and Mr. Churchill took the stage, as arranged earlier with the organizers. The panel needed time to collate their scores anyway, so there was no delay.

Larissa spoke first, in French: “Mesdames and Messieurs, it is with tremendous sadness that I must relate that Monsieur Pierre Verdun, star of our film, passed away in Canada this morning at the age of 97. He was one of the men who saved France, one of the last, and I will miss him tremendously.” With that she broke down in tears, and put her head into Mr. Churchill’s shoulder as she sobbed. He took the microphone from her and ended her speech with a simple “Merci,” and then repeated the message in English.

The two headed back to their seats, with the auditorium in an uproar. To learn that the man they had just watched for the past hour had passed on affected the largely French crowd. Like Larissa, they considered him a hero of their nation.

The emcee came out several minutes later to announce the winners, and the audience finally settled down. The film Mikki thought they could beat was announced as third place and she smiled. Then the announcer said that second place would go to “L’Automne.” Mikki was stunned for a second, and was charging past the irate looking crew of that film while “For Valour” was announced as the winner.

The emcee handed her the mic, thinking she wanted to thank the panel for choosing her film. Instead she said: “Ladies and Gentlemen, please excuse me for speaking in English. I feel a great injustice has been done as a result of the news of M. Verdun’s passing. I don’t think a sympathy vote should decide the competition. I know L’Automne was a far better film than ours. I insist that the judges recast their ballots based on the quality of the film, not sympathy. If this is not done, then I will insist that For Valour be withdrawn from the competition.” She then switched to French. “For Valour Non, L’Automne Qui.”

She then left the stage, seeing that now the crew from L’Automne were happier. Her speech was translated to the judges, and several minutes later a slip of paper was handed to the emcee. “The judges have accepted Miss Stoner’s request, and ask if she will accept a joint first place for L’Automne and For Valor.”

Mikki looked at the other crew, and they smiled and nodded. Mikki stood and said from the floor. “I agree, so long as the two films are always listed in that manner, with L’Automne first.”

The emcee agreed, then repeated the sequence in French. The applause was thunderous. Many in the audience were film experts, and knew that L’Automne was by far the best film. A tie, with L’Automne getting first mention, placated them.

There was a banquet after the awards, and after a few moments, the adjoining table for the crews of L’Automne and For Valour were pushed together and the two crews started chatting with each other. L’Automne was also a school production, although at a college level, and their teacher and Mr. Churchill were soon discussing education. Larissa was translating for Mikki, who was picking the brain of the director of L’Automne on the various techniques she had noticed. And Carly was not left out. A tall and very handsome French boy from the film crew started flirting with her, and in broken English and broken French they were soon conversing happily.

When the banquet ended, the emcee came to the table and announced that there were press waiting in the hall, and the teams should join him there. Apparently the presentations were filmed each year, and this year the cameraman had immediately posted to YouTube a video of Mr. Churchill and Larissa’s speeches, the initial announcement, Mikki’s threat, and the final announcement. Apparently the video went viral in France during the banquet and newspapers that never covered the film festival with more than a paragraph, if that, were clamoring to get a story. The girls talked for nearly an hour. Larissa did most of the talking, since her French was immaculate. She broke down several times talking about Grandpa, and there is nothing a telecast crew likes more than a crying woman, especially one as beautiful as Larissa.

Mikki had to break away to get some screen captures of Grandpa from the film at the request of the media. She got five or six shots, and posted them to Instagram, giving the address to the news people.

The girls didn’t get home until midnight, when they thought to text Rachael, posting the link to the video. They knew Rachael’s French was good enough to translate the French bits.

The next morning the girls woke up to Mr. Churchill knocking at the door. When they were decent, he came in and dropped a dozen French Sunday newspapers on a bed. Every one had a picture of M. Verdun on the cover, often filling the page. Larissa translated the headlines, which were generally on the theme: “Hero passes as documentary is presented”. She read a few of the stories aloud, and realized that Mikki was a bit of a hero in the country for refusing to take first place over a better film. It was often touted as “the Canadian Way” or “With Canadian humility.”

The girls were warned to dress nicely since there were more media in the lobby, and it took another half hour for them to get out onto the street, where they were now recognized by passers by, who congratulated them, as well as offering condolences.

While the girls slept Rachael had accompanied her parents to the funeral home. She had thought to call the head of the Legion, who joined the Barrons.

The woman told the funeral director that every member of the Legion would be at the funeral, as well as everyone involved in the film, and many of the hundreds who had viewed it. In short, the funeral home would not have enough space for the funeral. She offered the Legion hall, which still would be too small, but at least was twice the size of the largest room in the funeral home.

Four visitation periods over two days were set up in the largest room at the funeral home. During these visitations the four Barrons stood and greeted those who came to pass by the closed casket, with the Victoria Cross sitting atop it. Grandpa had donated the medal, along with his uniform to the Legion several weeks prior, and a display was being developed for the town museum, but it was recovered for the funeral.

The visitations were scheduled for 90 minutes each, but there was a line of people out the door for the entire time. In fact, the afternoon sessions lasted almost until the evening ones were to start, and at one point in the first evening the lineup ran all around the block as almost everyone in Ingersoll seemed to want to pay their respects. The mayor was there on the first night. It seemed that the funeral director knew his business, because the mayor said that the arena would be available for the funeral, with seats on plywood covering the ice surface.

Pastor Helen stood with the family through the entire visitation periods. She and Pastor McNaughton were going to adjudicate together at the service on Wednesday.

The service in the arena went beautifully. The hobo army provided usher services, and the girls from the house sang beautiful hymns. Rachael spoke for the family, explaining how they had met Grandpa, and then Bobby had come up to the casket and placed an apple on top, then fled back to his mother in the front row, tears streaming down his face. Marc stood up and gave thanks from the people of France, even though the French ambassador had driven down from Ottawa to attend. He came forward to present a medal, that was draped around the apple. The mayor spoke for a short time, giving the condolences from the town. The premier of the province of Ontario was next, and finally, to Rachael’s surprise, the Prime Minister of Canada spoke.

Apparently when news hit Canada that France was agog over the story on Sunday, it became big news here as well. Clips from the news conferences in Cannes were carried here, since much of what was said was in English. Rachael had spoken to the media several times in the day between the visitations while media swarmed around the small town. She spoke only on the grounds that the family would not be bothered at the funeral.

After all the speechifying was over, the pallbearers: six of the newest members of the Legion, all actors from the film, loaded the casket into the hearse, while the Barrons went into the limo. At the cemetery, a private service was held, although apparently some of the dignitaries thought that they were family, and came. The Premier learned that there would be no cameras at the cemetery, and decided not to come, but the mayor and Prime Minister both attended.

At the interment Bobby was called to toss in the first handful of soil onto the casket, again running back to his mother in tears. Rachael was next, and then came back to take the crying boy so her parents could toss in their handfuls. The mayor and the Prime Minister followed. Pastor Helen gave a lovely reading that the graveside, and noted that she personally knew that Grandpa was in a better place, and happy there in the arms of his long deceased wife.

Rachael was amazed that the Prime Minister spent nearly a half hour with them at the cemetery, getting Bobby to stop crying with an invitation to visit him in Ottawa and to see the big war memorial there. Rachael noted that there was A Book of Remembrance in the Peace Tower of the Parliament Buildings, and said she would like to see that too.

After the funeral, it was nearly five when the family approached the house. A strange car was in the lane, and Geoff pulled his new SUV in behind it. Maria called Steve, knowing that sometimes burglars would break into a house when they knew people were at a funeral. The front door of the house appeared to have been forced, so the family sat in the vehicle until Steve and another constable pulled their cruiser up in front of the house.

The police entered first through the broken door, guns drawn. The constable came out a few minutes later, and waved for the family to come in. Constable Steve was kneeling, holding down an irate man in handcuffs who was screaming that he owned the house and had every right to be there. When he saw the family come in, staring wide-eyed at their ransacked home, he changed his focus. “Where is it? It is mine? Where is that medal?”

Rachael caught on first. “You mean the Victoria Cross? It is not here. Grandpa gave it to the Legion three weeks ago.”

“He gave it away?” the man slumped. “It is worth over a million dollars. It should be mine. Why are you calling him Grandpa? He had no children. I am his grand-nephew. I am his heir.”

“Well, he adopted me several months ago,” Maria said. “And that makes my kids his grandchildren. And this home was sold to me last month, so you have no right to break in. The reading of the will is happening Monday at 4 p.m. You are welcome to attend.”

“That is if he is out of jail by then,” Steve said. “He is headed for Woodstock Jail. It is too late for him to see a judge today, so he will probably spend the night there.”

The nephew did get out in time for the hearing, and was dismayed to learn that the entire estate, nearly $100,000, was left to the Barrons. Half was for a trust to go to Bobby and Rachael’s education. The other half went to Maria and Geoff, including wiping out the loan grandpa had made the bakery.

Grandpa named twelve other descendants, including the nephew, who said that most of the others were already dead. Each got $100, barely enough to pay for the man’s gas from Toronto, let alone the hefty fines he later got for breaking into the house and damaging so much. But their inclusion in the will meant they could not contest it on the grounds that ‘he forgot them.’ The nephew’s trial on the break and enter charges was two months later. After his trial he went to the museum, and found that the Victoria Cross exhibit was up. He went back to his car, got a tire iron, and brought it back in to smash the display case and snatch the medal.

The noise meant a museum curator rushed in to see him leaving, and got a license plate number and description of the car. It was phoned to the police, and a cruiser was waiting for him as he was about to enter the freeway to Toronto. A 10-minute chase ensued, with the cruiser eventually forcing him off the road. He was arrested, still clutching the medal, and taken back to Woodstock Jail. When his second trial came up, several months later, he received a jail term of seven months.

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

The girls in Cannes tried valiantly to get back before Thursday for the funeral. It was not to be. The French government had a series of honors it wanted to present to Grandpa posthumous, and wanted the girls there during the next week. In that time they attended several banquets. Several French television stations acquired rights to air the documentary from the Legion in Toronto, and two of them asked for the girls to be present to give commentary during those days.

As a result, the girls flew back on Friday. The following Wednesday, they attended another banquet, this one at the French embassy in Ottawa where pretty much the same awards that were given in Paris were given again for a Canadian audience. Rachael was there as well this time, and got to introduce the girls to Canada’s handsome young Prime Minister. Bobby had spent the afternoon with him at the War Memorial, since his press staff thought video of the great man showing history to a young boy would catch the eye of the media. It did, and Bobby was on more stations that day than the girls at the banquet were.

Earlier that day Bobby had a greater honor. Rachael and he were in the Peace Tower just before 11 a.m. and admired the great book, which then was showing names of men who had died early in 1941. The Prime Minister had arranged that Bobby would be the person to change the page at 11 a.m. A parliamentary constable, who normally would turn the page, put a white glove on the boy’s hand, and then held him up so he could carefully turn the page. Maria and Mikki were there too, to ensure that photos were taken.

With the banquet over, they spent the night in a hotel, courtesy of the French embassy. That gave the girls a chance to see Ottawa. Mikki had been before, and Ron had been there, but Rachael had to make it seem this was her first time in the nation’s capital. Larissa even got an hour in Hull, the city on the Quebec side of the river, where everything was in French. (Although Ottawa is a largely bilingual city.)

They arrived back in Ingersoll late, and Geoff took the girls home while Maria, Rachael and Bobby went back into their restored house. A The Hobo Army patrol had watched the house with its broken front door over the first night, while the Barron’s spent the night at Bill Strong’s motel. Another large contingent had shown up early the next day.

An insurance adjustor arrived early, and agreed that their policy would cover all the repairs and replacement of the many damaged items. The nephew has even sliced pillows open looking for the medal, and had thrown drawers to the floor, breaking many of them.

The Hobo Army had the house livable by the end of the day, although most of the furniture was missing pieces. Sunday and Monday were Geoff and Maria’s days off, and since hockey camp was finished, the entire family went shopping in Ingersoll, and then London, to order furniture. Much of it arrived on Tuesday, when Rachael stayed home to get everything moved in, with the help of two Hobo Army men to assemble it. Things that could not be brought in that day were scheduled for Friday, when Rachael would be back from Ottawa to look after things again.

In a few days, the family was back to a normal routine, although the house seemed sad without Grandpa in it.

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Here is the September installment of A Second Chance. There will be several more appearing monthly. First day of high school next month: Dawn

The Barron family was in the arrivals area of Pearson Airport in Toronto. Rachael was holding a colored drawing of the Zambia national flag, and Bobby held a sign reading ‘Lullana’. The flight from Paris had arrived 20 minutes ago. Lullana had to fly to South Africa, then up to Europe, and finally over to Toronto. She must have been in the air for over 24 hours, counting layovers.

And that is when everything went to hell.

Three border security agents, two men and a woman, one walked up to the family, and asked Geoff: “Is your name Ray Barron?” Confused, Geoff said “No”. “Is it Shel, or Sheldon?”

No, my name is Geoffery Walter Barron,” he said.

“Alias then,” one agent murmured to the other. “Are you here to meet a young lady named Lullana D’Tabe?”

“Yes we are,” Geoff said with a smile. “Is she here?”

“Please turn around sir, and place your hands behind your back.” Geoff complied, and handcuffs were placed on his wrists. “You are being held for suspicion of human trafficking. Please follow us.”

“What? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, they all say that. Come with us,” the men each took one of Geoff’s arms and marched him away.

“We need to go with them,” a suddenly frantic Maria said.

“No you don’t. In fact you are safe now, and he can’t hurt you again,” the female agent said.

“He has never hurt me,” Maria protested. He is my husband. We are just here to pick up an exchange student who will be studying in Canada for the school year. What is going on?”

--------

Several hours before, a very tired Lullana was sitting in the rear of a jumbo jet. She had been amazed at the plane at first. Each leg of her journey had been on a bigger and bigger plane. The ride to Johannesburg had been on a small propeller-driven plane. Then the ride to Paris was on a larger jet, and finally the Air Canada jumbo jet to Toronto was bigger again. But after a few hours in the air on each plane, she became bored, and was quite happy when a stewardess on break sat down next to her on the final leg.

“Do I need to speak French in Canada,” the girl asked, having seen the announcements at the start of the trip given bilingually.

“It depends on what part of the country you are going to?” she glanced at Lullana’s ticket. “No, you are going to Toronto, and almost everyone there speaks English.”

“My native tongue is Bemba, but we learn English in the school,” the girl said.

“Really? Languages interest me,” the stewardess said. “Can you speak a few words of it?”

“Ishina lyandi niLullana,” Lullana said. “It means “My name is Lullana.”

The waitress then had to dart away, but a half hour later she had another lull and sat next to the girl.

“So who are you going to see in Canada,” the pretty hostess asked.

“Oh, I am going to meet Ray-Shel Barron,” Lullana said. “They sent my bride price of four goats with the missionary, and I want to go see my new family. The missionary said they were very nice.”

The attendant was gob-smacked. Did this young girl, a teenager, say that she had been purchased? She immediately left and went to alert the captain, who radioed ahead to Toronto to alert them of a potential crime.

---- -- -----

In the holding area Geoff was completely confused by the questions he was being asked. He had all Lullana’s entry paperwork … or more to the point, Maria did, and she had been taken somewhere else, adding to his worries. When he asked to have someone either bring Maria too him, or at least send someone for the papers, the men scoffed, claiming they had no interest in forged papers.

Instead they asked how many other girls Geoff had brought to Canada in the past, and when he said none, there were more scoffs. He was continually asked about Ray, Raymond, Shel and Sheldon, which they referred to as his aliases. He was told that Lullana had identified him as having paid a bride price and he was illegally importing her to Canada.

They demanded he show his passport. “I can’t. I didn’t bring it with me,” Geoff said.

“You can’t travel without a passport,” the agent said, as if it were important.

“But I am not travelling. I am only picking up an exchange student. This is all a big mistake,” Geoff protested.

“Oh sure, they always are,” the agent sneered.

_______ _____ ___

The agent with the rest of the family was having better luck. The agent with them actually listened, and with all the papers Maria was carrying, she was starting to think this might just be a misunderstanding. She explained the situation that the airline had relayed in, and suddenly it clicked for Rachelle.

“I am Ray-shel Barron,” she said suddenly. “The girl must have an accent, and be speaking my name that way. I did pay her bride price, but not to marry her. I have a boyfriend, and am not into girls. I paid for four goats to get her father to allow her to come to Canada. She can learn so much more here. We hope she can do four years of high school in Ingersoll, and then four years of college. Our Presbyterian Church is sponsoring her trips back and forth, and my family is looking after her living expenses.” Maria was nodding the entire time.

“And you are legally Mr. Barron’s wife?” the agent asked Maria. “Yes. We have been living together for several months now, but we legally got married two weeks ago. I don’t have the marriage certificate with me … we didn’t think it would be needed. I can give you the number of the pastor who married me though, if you want to call?”

The agent did, and phoned Helen, finding her at home. She confirmed the marriage.

The woman agent then went into the other room, and related her findings to the men. They only glanced at the paperwork, declared it a forgery, and suggested that the call to Helen was a ruse. They were bound-bent that they had a human trafficker in custody and would only see evidence that supported the claim, and not what didn’t. The Ray-Shel/Rachael explanation just went in one ear and out the other. They would not allow Maria to see her husband, insisting that she and Rachael were victims of Geoff, and declared that Rachael and Bobby were too old to be Maria’s children. They said that he must have coerced them into claiming that.

Meanwhile, as soon as Helen got off the phone, she and Steve rolled into action. Helen got the church copy of the marriage license, glad that the church now had a secretary who was so efficient. Then they took off to Toronto in Steve’s cruiser, travelling at 90 miles an hour with lights flashing, all the way to the airport, which is far enough out of Toronto so that traffic didn’t delay them. They arrived 90 minutes later, and tried to find their way to the Barrons.

During this time, the female agent had gathered up the “forged papers” and went to her superior, who was also into the mind-set of the male agents, thinking they had a human trafficker. Then the woman took a big career risk, and went to her boss’s boss, the director, telling her about what she had learned.

Steve and Helen entered the room where Geoff was, and he looked relieved to see people from Ingersoll. Steve showed his badge, and Helen got out the wedding license. Another forgery, the men said, and then looking at Steve’s badge, one noted that: “We intercept dozens of these every week. No doubt some get through.” He then took the badge, and tossed it in a trashcan. He then handcuffed both Steve and Helen, calling them ‘suspected accomplices to human trafficking’.

That was the point where the director walked into the room. She sent the female agent off to bring the rest of the family to the meeting room. She ordered her agents to explain their findings, looking more and more disgusted at the lack of real evidence.

“What is it about these papers that makes you think they are forgeries,” she asked.

The older agent finally looked at them for the first time. “Uhm, the logo here is a little off, and the signature is wrong.”

“Did you compare them with known copies,” the woman said sternly. “No, we didn’t get around to them.”

“I have one here from the front desk. Compare them.”

The man gulped, and looked for some time. He then did the same with the visa, the educational permit, and the sponsorship forms from the church. “They all look genuine.”

“So with that, the only evidence you have for having this man in cuffs is … a suspicion by a flight attendant who spent a few minutes with the girl. Is that right?” She then turned to Steve, then Helen, and finally back at Steve. “I know you. Your face is familiar.”

“A mug shot?” the younger male agent said hopefully.

“Shut up,” the director said. “No. I saw you on television a month or so back. You were involved in a grow op in a little town to the west. You were commended for killing a man who injured a SWAT officer, and then saved three boys from a burning building.”

“Only two boys,” Steve said. “And I really am the Inspector of the local police department. You can find my badge somewhere in that trashcan.” He pointed. The younger agent fished into the can and brought out the badge, which wasn’t damaged from its temporary discarding.

“I thought it was one of those forgeries that are always coming in from China,” the older officer said.

“And how many of the forgeries are for Ingersoll Police, or any other rural force, for that matter?”

“None, ma’am,” he said.

“And did you look at the paperwork under the badge? It is signed by the same Solicitor General that signed yours. Compare.”

The men fished out their badges, and compared. “They look the same,” the younger agent said.

Leave your badges on the bench, but give the Inspector his back. And get him out of those handcuffs, and …” she looked at Helen.

“His wife. Helen Winslow, junior pastor at Ingersoll West End Presbyterian Church. I brought the marriage certificate of Geoff and Maria.”

“Who is Maria?”

“That is me,” Maria said as she was brought into the room with her children. She rushed over to Geoff and hugged him. At first he was still handcuffed, but then he was released and was able to put his arms around her.”

“These are?” the woman looked at Bobby and Rachael.

“I am Ray-shel Barron,” Rachael said. “It was my name that caused all of this mixup.”

“Your name and some really shoddy investigation,” the woman said, turning to her embarrassed agents. “Would one of you go and get Lullana? I wish to meet this girl.”

Five minutes later a thin girl was led into the room. Rachael was astonished. She was used to having beautiful friends … Larissa was a former fashion model. But Lullana actually looked prettier. She was tall and thin, with smaller breasts. She was wearing a lighter dress, and you could see that her legs, arms, and face were a darker black than most North American blacks. And the skin was flawless, without a blemish. Her black hair was curly, but less than an inch long. She had gorgeous deep brown eyes.

Rachael held up the flag she had made. Over the past three and a half hours, it had gotten rather tattered looking, but Lullana recognized it. “Ray-Shel?”

“That’s me,” Rachael said, and seeing that the girl was shy and timid she decide to embrace her. For a few seconds the taller black girl was stiff, and then she melted into Rachael, sobbing: “I was so lonely. They kept me in this little room. A couple times people came to ask me questions, then they left me alone. I don’t like Canada so far.”

After the girl stopped sobbing, Rachael introduced her family, starting with Bobby.

“You are very pretty,” he said, the perfect statement, causing Lullana to smile, and immediately like the boy.

“This is my mother, Maria, and my new father Geoff: best baker in Ontario.”

“Welcome to our little family, Lullana,” Maria said. “We will do our best to make you like Canada really soon now.”

“I am liking it better already,” the black girl said.

“And these two are Steve, the Inspector for the Ingersoll Police. And his wife Helen, pastor of our church.” Lullana tensed up at seeing Steve, but Helen immediately embraced her in a hug.

“In Kasaka the police only come when there is trouble,” Lullana said tensely.

“Here the police help people,” Rachael said. “Steve is a good guy and came all the way here on his night off to help us. He is a hero too: he pulled two guys out of a burning building not too long ago.” This let Lullana relax and enjoy the hug.

Soon they were escorted to the luggage carousel to pick up the girl’s single bag. The woman agent accompanied them: the other two and their manager were kept in the meeting room to be grilled over, and to see if they would be allowed to pick up their badges.

On the ride home Lullana sat between Rachael and Bobby and described her trip. Bobby had never been on an airplane, and asked many questions, and the girl quickly relaxed, noting that Bobby reminded her of her eight-year-old brother, who was always wanting to learn more.

“Maybe we can get him to come to Canada too, when he is older,” Rachael suggested. Lullana’s eyes went wide.

“That would be so wonderful. If both of us can learn here, and take it back to our people, it would be so good. The Canadian men, and the young girls who came to the clinic to help last month, know so much. Our men can build things, but sometimes they fall down. Your men … the hobos … know so much, and build things the right way.”

“The nursing students will be coming home in a couple weeks, but next summer they will be there for four months. You will get to go home at the end of June, for two months, and then come back,” Rachael explained. “But in between we are going to have so much fun.”

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

The next morning Lullana was up with the sun in spite of her long flight, which was still pretty early in late August. In Africa it would now be nearing noon. Rachael had spent the night in Grandpa’s room, which had been empty since his passing. She decided that she would move into that room, and give Lullana hers. She felt honored to be in his room, and last night he had visited in a dream and told her he would love for her to share his room, since it make him feel closer to her.

Lullana was sitting on the couch when Rachael came out (it was handy having a small bathroom ensuite.) Last night when they finally got home, Rachael had shown Lullana the bathroom upstairs, and how everything worked. The girl even took a shower, which amazed her as much as the indoor toilet did. Rachael had to go into the bathroom to show her how to towel herself dry, and was again amazed at her wonderful skin tone.

Then, wearing a borrowed robe, Lullana, Rachael and Bobby all gathered on Bobby’s bed, where Rachael realized that the girl would need help in reading, and intended to repeat the readings.

Now, it was breakfast. There were almost two weeks before school started, and so much to do. Lullana was surprised when Rachael made a full breakfast for her, and the family, with eggs, bacon, toast, and hash browns. Lullana said it was more food than they got back home all day.

Lullana had come in on a Monday: Geoff and Maria’s day off, so Geoff was gone before the girls got up. They were early enough to catch Maria, and Rachael made up three plates for her to carry to the bakery, so Geoff, Mike and Maria could have a good breakfast there.

After the kids finished washing the dishes. Lullana got a tour of the kitchen, where she was amazed at how much food was in the fridge, freezer, and pantry shelves. Rachael was a little amazed as well. When it had been just the three of them in the old house, there never was so much food. She had forgotten how it was to be poor.

Bobby had already disappeared to find his biking friends, to get the most out of the scant remaining summer vacation. Rachael and Lullana unpacked her suitcase, and Rachael knew there was a need for a shopping trip. For one thing, heavier clothes would be needed for fall and winter: boots and even shoes. Lullana was used to wearing sandals.

After her things were packed in Rachael’s closets, they carried Rachael’s things down to Grandpa’s closet, which Maria had cleared out several weeks ago. Rachael also took down several of her photos, including the one of her and Robert, the BFF shot with Mikki, and her sleepover photos.

“Don’t worry, you will soon have some of your own to put up, Lullana,” Rachael said.

“Oh no,” the girl said. “That is much too expensive. We can’t get used to all the Canadian luxuries.”

Rachael laughed. She pulled out her phone, and took a shot of Lullana and showed it to her. “See, it is that easy to make a picture in Canada. And Mikki is a professional photographer, or nearly so. She would be upset if she couldn’t take photos of you.”

“Is that what I look like?” Lullana asked. “I had my picture taken for my passport, but that was only my face. It is interesting to see yourself like this.”

Rachael closed the door to the closet, revealing the full-length mirror on it. “Look there. That is you.”

Lullana stared into the mirror for nearly 15 minutes, moving about and seeing her reflection move about as she did. Rachael got into the picture a few times, and the girl was astounded, especially when she stood next to the mirror, and it looked like there were two Rachaels.

Thus it was nearly 10 when they got out, and headed down Mikkis. Carla and Larissa were both there, waiting eagerly to meet their new classmate. Once there Mikki went into photographer mode, taking Lullana down to the basement studio where she took some pictures of the girl alone, and some duet pictures with Larissa: the contrast between the beautiful girls made an excellent composition.

She also took BFF pictures with Lullana and Rachael, Lullana and Carla, Lullana and Larissa, and had Rachael snap the shutter of one with her and Lullana, after she had set up the camera and poses. Lullana would soon have numerous photos for her new room.

While all this was going on Rachael mentioned that Lullana was short of clothes and a shopping trip was in the works, and did the other girls want to come. There was a chorus of ‘yesses.’ Then Larissa noted that she had some clothes that were too small for her, and suggested that Lullana try them on.

So the gang headed over to Larissa’s, where Lullana tried on dozens of outfits, including some from fashion shoots in Paris. The black girl was just thin enough to get into the older clothes. She wasn’t as tall as Larissa, but the difference was mostly in Larissa’s super-long legs, so skirts, shorts and dresses tended to fit perfectly. It was only jeans where the difference showed up.

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

Lullana was fitting well into the family by Friday, with the girl helpful around the house, even to the point of making a Zambian feast for supper on Thursday to show off her culture. But Friday was Rachael’s day to go to the farm, and Donna came in to pick up the girls at noon. In return they helped make lunch for the men in the barns.

When the men came in to eat, and meet the newcomer, Lullana kneeled down in front of an amazed Frank Jackson. She asked for his blessing as the headman of Ingersoll. She had seen the huge farm and the many cows coming into the barn for milking, and assumed that Frank must be rich beyond imagination: perhaps a King.

Rachael had to tell her that the Jackson's were an average farm family. “A bit above average,” she said with a smile, “but nowhere near rich.” Wealth in Canada is determined by money, not livestock, with the richest people having no cattle or other animals at all, she explained.

Rachael then noticed Steve, one of the twins, was acting oddly. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off Lullana. When Rachael suggested that Robert and the girls would go for a ride on the horses after the dishes were done, Steve quickly invited himself along, although he seldom had ridden with Rachael in the past.

On the ride Steve saddled Lullana’s horse and helped her mount, then stayed close to the girl, who didn’t really seem to mind the attention. After the ride it was Steve who showed her how to brush down the horse. Before running off to the barns to help with the afternoon milking, Steve cornered Rachael as she was finishing up on Blackie.

“Rachael … uhm, your friend? Do you think I could ask her out to the movies tomorrow night? She is really beautiful, and I really like her.”

“I noticed,” Rachael said with a smile. Lullana was actually two years older than the Grade 9s, but was being placed in the Grade 9 class to compensate for the different education in Zambia. This made her only a year younger than Steve. “I’m okay with it, so long as you remember that she is pretty fragile, in a new country, a new world, really. Go slow with her, and if you hurt her I will personally make your life hell.”

“I could never hurt her,” Steve said. “I mean, she is sooo beautiful, and sooo perfect.”

The two went to a movie Saturday night, and Rachael stayed up until Lullana was home. When she got in, Rachael could easily see that she was a taken by Steve and he was with her. Rachael had peeked through the blinds in Grandpa’s room, and saw that Steve only kissed her on the cheek when he dropped her off. When Rachael came out, Lullana still had her hand on the cheek where she had been kissed.

Rachael made her run through the date step-by-step, starting with dinner in a Chinese restaurant, where Lullana found the food interesting, and occasionally similar to food back home. Then they went to the cinema, another first for the African girl. Steve was smart enough to choose a romantic-comedy instead of an action movie, and Lullana was enthralled watching the giant characters on the screen.

Apparently, halfway through the movie Steve had put his arm around the girl, and she really liked that, once she got over the surprise, and eventually cuddled right in with him. This allowed him to whisper explanations of some of the jokes in the movie that she missed due to cultural and linguistic differences. Finally, she admitted that he had kissed her cheek at the door.

“Will he want to do it again?” Lullana asked nervously. “I really, really like him.”

“If he calls tomorrow or the next day, it will mean another date. You should let him take you next Saturday. Just tell him you want to try McDonald’s for dinner this time. It is much cheaper than Wang’s. He will appreciate you not spending all his money,” Rachael said.

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

Sunday was church, of course, and Lullana went with the Barrons. Helen had asked that she say a few words to the congregation who was helping fund her stay, and Rachael had helped her prepare a short speech before she went on her date Saturday. As it was, the girl was so nervous that she begged Rachael go up to the front of the church with her, and help her through her speech. There was a tremendous applause from the congregation when they finished, and after the service many people stopped to chat and welcome her to Canada, making her feel wanted and appreciated. That, along with a short prayer to the painting, made her certain the long trip to Canada was worth it.

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

The girls went shopping on Monday, the last one before school (actually, the next Monday was labor day, a holiday, so no school and no shopping). Lullana had gone grocery shopping with Rachael in her first week in Canada, and was completely blown away by the amount of food in a single store. She was much more comfortable when she went the deli, meat market, and bakery, but still found it amazing that so much could be stored in even the smaller stores of the strip mall.

But the mall in London was even more amazing to her. (Maria drove all the girls there on her day off). The building was huge, and contained so many stores. Maria bought new clothes for both Rachael and Lullana, and the other girls had money from their parents to buy back-to-school clothing. Lullana needed the most, since all she had was thin sundresses, fine for summer, or year round in Africa, but woefully insufficient for the cooler fall weather that was coming. Rachael didn't need quite as much, but Maria bought her almost as much as Lullana – Maria had been waiting a long time to be able to treat her daughter with the money she now had. Maria also picked up more clothes for Bobby, who was growing. He had refused to come shopping, so she had to guess at his new sizes.

At the end of the day, the exhausted girls were dropped off at their homes, and then the Barron's took Lullana home, where Rachael and her filled their closets, working together one closet at a time.

That evening Lullana knelt the way Rachael had told her:

Dear Lord

Thank you for bringing me to Canada. I have not prayed to you before, but Rachael prays every night, and I think I should to. You have given me so much. Canada was scary at first, but it is such a rich country. I think I found a boyfriend. He called on Sunday afternoon and asked me to the movies again next Saturday. He sounded relieved when I said I wanted to go to McDonald’s for dinner. Rachael is so smart. She is a great friend, and her Mom has bought me so many wonderful clothes. And they eat so much rich food here. I hope I don’t get fat.

Amen

Finally, we are back. I have been so lazy lately. Hopefully I can continue this at a weekly pace: Dawn

Chapter 69 – High School

Tuesday, Sept 6, 2016

Rachael and Lullana headed to school at 7:00. Homeroom was at 8:00, and the schedule they had received said their homeroom teacher was Ms. Smith in Room 212. Ingersoll high was on the same block of land as Wislow Public, Bobby’s old school, and Ainsborough Middle School, where he would start Grade 5 today. However the primary and middle schools started at 9 a.m. while the high school started at 8, so that the same busses could be used for both. Thus Bobby was now going to have to get up on his own. The girls stopped at the bakery and got hugs from Maria and Geoff before heading to school.

Tony was sweeping when they passed by, and hurried to be able to walk with them. The other students would be coming in the busses, which would probably be coming in 20 minutes. Rachael realized that they could have waited a bit longer before coming. She had taken Lullana to the school a week ago to get registered and to explore the building, which was 10 times bigger than any she had been in, excepting airports.

To use some time up Rachael and Tony pointed out various places in the school, and had Lullana seek them out, to help build her confidence. Truth be told, neither Tony nor Rachael was that familiar with the building, and trailing after Lullana helped them recognize the locations in the building.

Eventually they got back to Room 212. Tony was in Room 216: there were seven grade nine classes, so all their friends were split up. Mikki was in Room 217 but Larissa was in 212 with Rachael and Lullana.

“Hello Rachael,” Ms. Smith said as the girls entered. Rachael could see her assessing Lullana as a possible member of her basketball team. Lullana was thin and fit, and taller than Rachael: about 5’6”. “Who is your friend?”

“This is Lullana, our exchange student,” Rachael said. The teacher looked down her attendance register. Just then the first bell rang, and other students started filling the room. Rachael put a book on the desk to her left, saving it for Larissa, while Lullana sat in front of her.

The room was full by second bell, and Rachael recognized Darla, along with another six students from her former school. Ms. Smith, knew all those of course, but she took attendance and Rachael tried to associate as many of the new names with faces as possible.

“Welcome to Ingersoll Collegiate,” Ms. Smith started, “Like you I am new to this school: I taught phys. ed. to some of you in the last two years at Ainsborough Middle School. I hope to have some of you girls in phys. ed. this year. I am also coach of the basketball teams. I’m sorry, but I won’t be teaching any of the boys, unless you wind up taking Women’s Health, which I also teach to Grade 10s.”

“You will report to home room here for five minutes every day for attendance. Today will take a bit more time because you will receive your lockers. Grade 9s share lockers, and I have taken on the task of matching partners with students from your past school, so you might know your locker mates better. If you absolutely cannot share with the person I assigned, then you should go to the office at lunch or your spare. She then handed out locks and numbers. Lullana and Rachael shared, as per the arrangement made when Lullana registered. Larrisa and Darla also shared.

As people figured out their locks, the tall blonde teacher continued to speak. “The next thing that happens this week is the class elections. Each class will have one representative in the school parliament. You will sit on either the athletic committee or the social committee as well as the full parliament. All the main positions are filled by senior students, and were elected in June. Getting elected to the class position in Grade 9 is a good way to work your way up to the chair positions. Tomorrow I will accept nominees and Friday we will vote. Candidate speeches will be on Thursday.”

“And I want to take a personal minute here. Girl’s basketball tryouts are in the small gym after class today in your gym suits. Please show up if you are interested. If you don’t make the school teams, you will get to play house league, and I can promise you that it will be way more fun than Phys. Ed. classes, which will become spare periods if you are on a team.”

The high school was on a three-day calendar, unlike the two-day one in middle school: and English was the first class. In each class there was a similar routine. The students would stand and introduce themselves, giving a short biography of their special interests. Darla, looking especially cute in a plaid skirt and mohair sweater, lied a little, saying she was new to the local schools, which she was in a sense. No one from her country school seemed to recognize her, to her relief. Darrel had not been popular in that school, and relating that gawky, shy boy with the cute girl just wasn’t possible.

The students also got their textbooks in each class, as well as a list of class rules and a brief idea of what they would be learning over the year. This meant that they had to go to their lockers between classes or carry all the books.

On a Day 1 Lullana and Rachel had French in period two, then Computer Studies before lunch. After Lunch they had Math and final auto shop. Other students had different schedules, based on their options. Each subject was taught twice in the three days, and the girls had one spare, right after lunch on Day 2. Mikki was in Math and Computer Studies with them.

At lunch all the Ainsborough Middle School students gathered together around two tables in one corner. Robert was only in Auto Shop with Rachael, and his brother Steve had come over from the Grade 12 tables to have lunch with Lullana, to her pleasure. They had dated twice, and gone to church together once, and the African girl was head-over-heels for the Canadian farmer, who reciprocated her feelings.

Mikki and Tony were also together and Larissa and Mark Russell seemed to still be together. In fact many of the movie couples were together again, although not all.

“Are we doing the movie thing at the library again?” Tony asked.

“I do have the room booked, starting next week,” Rachael said. “But I’m starting to wonder about it. There are seven grade 9 classes: that’s 240 students. It wouldn’t be fair for us to just let 24 attend. Plus some of our gang might meet and want to date kids from the other schools, and that could make too many to fit in the hall. I need to think this through a bit.”

“Okay. Just let me know a week ahead so we can order popcorn and drinks,” Tony said.

The rest of lunch was a buzz of students telling about their summer activities. Rachael had tried to claim she did nothing of note, but Steve, and then Robert interrupted telling about her success at the farmer races.

Several girls asked Rachael about working at the church on Sunday’s in the nursery: word was out that all the girls who had kept up over the summer were busy most weekends babysitting and making good money for a young teen. She took names and later made a schedule so that girls would only work one of the services.

After lunch Lullana, Mikki and Larissa followed Rachael to math class, where a quick look through the text convinced her that she would have no problems with the algebra covered this term. Trigonometry and Calculus were where Ron’s math training had ended, but Rachael was determined to master them in Grades 11 and 12 when they came up.

The last period of the day was Auto Mechanics, and the teacher, a portly man with a slight beard that verged on scruffy seemed surprised to have two girls in his class. Home Ec is down the hall, girls, he said, turning his back.

“Yes, but we were looking for Auto Mechanics,” Rachael said. “Is this the right place?”

“Girls again!” the man muttered. “Two tried out last year, but dropped out because of the mess. Tearing apart lawn-mower engines is a lot messier than baking cookies and sewing aprons.”

“Well, I can already bake and sew, so Home Ec. isn’t going to teach me as much as I hope to learn here,” Rachael shot back. “I’m not planning to get married until my late 20s, so I suspect somewhere between then and now I will need to cut a lawn, or change the oil in my car.”

“Glad to have you aboard, girls,” the man said. “My name is Mr. Henderson and if you stick with the course I guarantee you will be able to run a lawnmower, and fix it, and do simple maintenance on a car. Although I have always found that cute girls like you have ways of getting a tire changed without touching a tire iron.”

“Thank you,” Rachael said, as she and Lullana took seats in the small classroom adjacent to the garage area. Soon boys, who seemed to have problems concentrating on the teacher rather than the cute girls in the front row, filled the room. There were no dirty hands at the end of the class, as the teacher spent most of the time explaining the class. Apparently most of the time the students would be taking lawnmowers apart and making them run again. There would also be cars brought in that the Grade 10 classes would be refurbishing. The Grade 9s would learn to change the fluids on those, and replace tires.

“How many of you can get a non-working lawnmower by next Monday,” the teacher asked. A lot of hands went up, and Rachael urged Lullana to raise hers. “Lets go the other way,” he said. “How many cannot get a mower.” Now there were about six hands.”

“Less than half, good,” Mr Henderson said. “We can have those of you who don’t get a machine to share with others. It isn’t ideal, but it can work.”

Rachael raised her hand and the teacher called on her: “I know where we can get lawnmowers. Maybe not six more, but a couple. Do you want me to ask?”

“Yes, please do,” the teacher said. Other girls just seemed to cause problems in class, but these new ones might be different.”

After the final bell, Rachael and Lullana headed to the small gym, where they found Mikki, Larissa and most of her team from last year there. As Lullana shyly changed into her gym gear, Rachael noted more than one girl sneak a peak at the exchange student and her miraculously flawless black skin.

Soon the girls were lined up in the gym and were surprised to find a dozen older boys shooting baskets.

Ms. Smith came out and blew her whistle: “Is everyone out here? Let’s head outside. The senior boys basketball team are practicing here, and the big gym has all the younger boys for tryouts.

Muttering, the girls headed out the doors. “Endurance is a key for basketball, so we will start today with a little running. We will do some gym work … later, when I can get some time booked. Today we will do some running. Four laps on the track. It’s a mile. Follow me.”

The lanky teacher started running to the track, and Lullana, of all people, was soon after her. The girls who had been with Rachael in Middle School looked to her, and she just shrugged and started to run, and they followed. Finally the other girls started running after and by the time Ms. Smith and Lullana were at the halfway point on the track, everyone was running.

Rachael was a good 100 yards behind the blonde teacher and the black girl, who loped along at an easy pace. Lullana ran everywhere back in Africa, so she had no problems keeping pace with the teacher. Rachael had to motor hard to gain ground on them, but slowly shrank the distance. Larissa kept pace with her for the first lap, then fell back slowly, but was far ahead of the others, who were starting to be lapped by the end of the first lap.

Rachael ran wide on the second lap, and started to catch up when the teacher and Lullana had to weave around the runners they were lapping. Eventually she caught up with the leaders on the start of the fourth lap. Lullana hadn’t broken a sweat, but Ms. Smith was looking much more spent. She had never had a student close to beating her in a race, and now she saw there were two of them just behind her.

As she ran Rachael wondered why Lullana hadn’t passed the teacher. Then it hit her. Ms. Smith had said ‘follow me’ so that was what the girl was doing. And suddenly Rachael realized that her teacher’s competitive streak would not handle it well if one of two of her students bested her. So Rachael, slowed down a bit and ran side by side with Lullana, letting Ms. Smith set the pace.

At the end of the fourth lap, the teacher finished first, although Lullana and Rachael were a yard behind. All three slumped on the benches, and panted, although Lullana was not breathing all that hard.

“Will we run longer races?” she asked innocently. “Back home I had to run five or ten miles sometimes.”

Rachael felt a tingle, and suddenly was no longer so tired. She stood and saw Mikki going by at the start of her third lap. Some girls were still on their second lap, or walking. Rachael caught up with Mikki and Carla, who were running together. “Come on guys, you can do it.”

“Will you sing at my funeral?” Mikki panted. “I’m going to die out here doing this.”

“Don’t be silly.” Rachael laughed as she ran alongside. “Don’t you realize just how much weight you are losing? Pfft, pfft, calories are dying and falling away in your sweat. You do this run a few times this week and by Christmas you will wearing skinny clothes.”

“I already wear skinny clothes,” Carla panted. “So why am I doing this?”

“By Christmas you will be the prettiest girl in the class and Leon will be so crazy in love with you it will hurt. Him, not you. Come on, finish this lap and I’ll get Ms. Smith to stop it.”

That comment seemed to fire the girls up, and they continued to run. Rachael moved, first to the girls she knew, then the new girls in her class, and finally to the others. She came up to a group of about 24 who had given up and were just walking the rest of the first lap.

“Come on you guys,” she called. “Keep running. I know Ms. Smith and if you walk across the finish line she will make you run the rest. If you run from here to the end, or at least jog, I will talk her out of the last laps.”

Having the end in sight inspired the walkers and some started to run, and others to jog to the line.

“You still have more laps,” Ms. Smith shouted, but Rachael ran up to her and stopped in front of her. “No, that is enough. They are out of shape, and killing them won’t make them fit. Next time we run I promise we will do better.”

For several seconds the teacher glared at the student who was usurping her authority. That glare was supposed to make a teenager back down, but Rachael just stared back. Finally a smile appeared on Ms. Smith’s face and she said: “Still being the teacher, eh Rachael? You better make the team and be a leader there as well. You win this one. And thanks for letting me finish first. You and Lullana both had enough left in the tank to leave me behind. I’m going to have to start running again.”

She looked around, and saw that there were at least 50 girls lying on the grass, panting heavily. Another 20 were sitting on the benches. Only Rachael was standing. Ms. Smith had not expected this many to try out for basketball.

“All right girls, we have all had a good run. There will be more, but I promise they won’t hurt as much as it hurts now. Oh, it will still hurt, but less. And since you all lived through this, you will live through that. Now let’s all head up to the showers. First ones back get the hot water.”

That comment just lead to groans, and Lullana and Ms. Smith started running to the showers, with the African girl quickly taking a lead. Rachael stayed back and encouraged the girls to follow. Soon she was jogging back with the last group.

Lullana had showered and was out watching the senior boys. Of course, Steve Jackson was out there, trying out. He was pretty poor shooting, having never played the game before. But he was tall and muscular and just had to get his shot down to make the team, which was not that strong this year.

After Rachael showered, she told Lullana where the stairs were. The run had just taken a half hour, including the shower, and all the girls were up in the balcony to the large gym, where the boys their age were working out. Robert was there, along with the boyfriends of so many of the other girls, and once the boys saw the audience, they started working harder. Eventually their coach, who was definitely not in shape for a mile run, sent the boys to their showers.

The busses were gone, but Steve had one of the farm pickups, and the four crammed into the cab, with Rachael and Lullana both close to their boyfriends. The ride to the Barron house was quick: they could have walked, but why pass up a snuggle with a squeaky-clean boy?

After the truck sped away, Rachael and Lullana went into the empty house. They started making dinner for the family, and it was almost prepped when Bobby came in, full of news about his first day in middle school. He ‘made the sallid’ and then took off to join his friends on their bikes.

Shortly after six Geoff and Marie came in, snuggling together and smelling of bakery. Bobby returned and they sat down to dinner. The chair at the head of the table sat empty, to honor grandpa, with a poppy sitting where the plate normally would be.

Geoff and Maria didn’t have to go to bed early. Mike would start the bread, and Jane would start the early prep. They both lived above the bakery in the tiny apartment, and the former hooker couldn’t believe her luck in landing such a man. Mike had paid for her first operation, and she no longer looked so grotesquely large. Jane had told Rachael that she was still a mess there, with folds of excess skin, but an operation next year would clear that up. Now she was slightly smaller busted than Maria in her uniform, and loved working in the bakery.

After Bobby was finally convinced that he should go to bed, a half hour later than usual ‘since he was now in Grade Five’. Only a reminder that he had a hockey practice tomorrow got him moving. And he had to have a half hour reading Harry Potter, with Lullana on one side of him and Rachael on the other. Lullana’s reading was improving and she had gotten the first Harry Potter book from the library and was reading it alone to catch up.

After Bobby was asleep, and Lullana went upstairs, Rachael kneeled at the side of the bed.

Dear Lord

Thanks for such a wonderful first day of high school. I know someone up there made it so I could run like that. And all my classes are easy, although I know that trig is coming down the road. Tomorrow my first class is Phys.Ed., and that will be a spare since I am trying out for the team. I wonder if I should go anyway, and help Ms. Smith out.

Thank you for putting me here. I hope I can do what is necessary.

Even better than one chapter a week. I am starting off with one chapter per day of Rachael’s life, but plan to spread the chapters out later: Dawn

Chapter 70 – Class Parliament

Wednesday, Sept 7, 2016

At their stop in the bakery Rachael and Lullana got more than hugs. Wednesday was croissant day, and Rachael got a bag with two dozen in it. Both girls left the shop with a roll in their hand, and when they got Tony he got one as well. They arrived at school a minute or two before the buses arrived, and Rachael was able to hide her stash in their locker. They went outside to meet their friends as the buses came in, and then headed to homeroom. It was kind of cute to notice people stopping in the hall near the locker, and sniffing deeply of the bakery smell.

In homeroom there were few announcements, but Ms. Smith said that it was time to get nominations for the class election on Friday. A girl from the back stood and said. ‘I nominate Sapphire Jewison.” Sapphire was from the other middle school and apparently had been one of the A-list girls there. Ms Smith asked if anyone would second the nomination. After a long pause, Rachael raised her hand and seconded.

Then Larissa raised her hand and said: “I nominate Rachael Barron.” Immediately six or seven other students spoke out to second her.

“Any further nominations?” Ms. Smith said. “No? Then I declare Rachael and Sapphire the candidates. The vote will be Friday. Posters are not allowed in this election. Each candidate will give a campaign speech tomorrow in homeroom of not more than three minutes.”

After that it was first period, which Rachael’s schedule listed as Phys. Ed. She walked the hall along with Ms. Smith. “I have a spare this period, due to trying out for the team. Are we getting the gym today?”

“I’m afraid not, Rachael. The boy’s coach has taken all the after-school slots for the next month. We will steal some balls and shoot on the hoops outside in the parking lot, once the cars leave. I don’t know how we will manage when it gets too cold outside.”

Rachael and Lullana had math after their spare, which they had spent in the gym helping the smallish class. Rachael’s gentle training helped some of the girls get the feel of the ball, and her joyous enthusiasm made the class fun for the girls.

Math was still easy for Rachael, but Lullana was having trouble with the concepts of variables in algebra, so Rachael helped her, and a boy sitting near them, get over the concept. Lunch was the next period, and Rachael handed Lullana her lunch, and said she would get to the table in a few minutes.

Rachael walked up to the table the basketball team ate at and approached the tallest girl, who was still shorter than Larissa. “Who is captain here?” she asked. A shorter girl sitting next to the tall one said. “I am, and only team members can sit here.”

Rachael opened the bag of croissants and used a napkin inside to start handing out the rolls to the girls, who seemed to go into foodgasms when they bit into one. “I don’t want eat here,” Rachael said. “I am trying out for the junior team, but will probably still eat with my friends even if I get picked. What I am here for is to complain about the gym allocations. It seems that the boys get it all the time.”

“Yeah, last year we had to start coming in early to get a gym, which sucks, because you have to get up before 6 to be there for 7, and you wind up with shower-head for the first class.”

“That isn’t fair, and this is what we are going to do …” Rachael explained her plan and the eyes and smiles on the faces of the team got wider and wider as she told them what they could do. At the end every girl was in favor and said they would do their part if Rachael could lead the others.

Rachael went back to her table, and doled out the rest of the croissant’s to her closest friends. Robert was the only boy to snag one. Mikki and Larissa both considered the rolls treats, and knew that they had to stop at the bakery to pick up the orders that their mothers had made.

“I have to go to the bakery after class,” Carly said. “School is over at 2:30 … will there be some left?”

“Maybe,” Rachael said. “They are always gone by three, even with the bigger batches Mike has been making. What you should do is call the bakery and make an order. Then you will be sure to get some.” Carly and another four girls all went to their phones as Rachael dictated the number. Carly and Becca got through: there were only two lines to the store. The others got busy signals and had to wait until the first ones were served.

After lunch the girls had Science, and Ron’s years of university anatomy made the Biology class simple. Again, she helped Lullana, who had never really thought about what happened inside the body. French was next, and the African girl had never taken the language, so was behind even the Canadian students who had slept through the French they had taken: an hour a week in primary school and then an hour a day in middle school.

With five minutes left in class the girls packed up and left early: Lullana would have to finish her papers as homework. Larissa and five other girls were on the basketball tryout group, and they followed Rachael to the girls change rooms. When they got there there was already a dozen girls changing, and more kept coming in.

Leaving early meant the girls were changed and ready to go when the bell rang and the phys. ed. classes left the floor. Larissa started passing out balls, and the girls practiced dribbling and shooting. Rachael went to the small gym and found that the senior girls were there, with a dozen members of the senior team, and seven junior team members: grade 10s who had been on the junior team last year.

Rachael started working with the girls in her class, and Larissa was doing the same with others on the bounce pass. A few minutes later the first confused boys came into the gym, and found no balls to play with, and little space with over 50 girls shooting.

Then the rotund male coach came in and blew his whistle. None of the girls stopped, confusing the man who was used to being in charge here. He blew again and again. Rachael walked up to him.

“You might as well put that away,” she said. “You are not our coach.”

“You girls need to leave,” the man said. “The gym is for the boys. You can work out in the parking lot.”

“Nuh-uh,” Rachael said. “The boys got the gyms yesterday: we get them today. You can take the boys out for a run. Ms. Smith did a mile in just over 5 minutes. See if you can beat her time.”

“I don’t run. The boys run,” the coach blustered. “And your Ms. Smith is in for a world of hurt if you don’t leave now. Just put the balls back on the rack. You are wasting time for my boys. Hopefully the seniors are working out in the small gym.”

“If they are, then they are working with the girls,” Rachael said.

“What?” Rachael wondered if that was actual steam coming out of the white hairs that grew out of the man’s ears. “My boys need the practice. They represent the school.”

“And the two girls teams don’t?” Rachael asked. “I heard that the only games the teams won last year was by the junior girls.”

Just then Ms. Smith came into the gym with Mrs. Donner, the principal who was holding a sheet of paper. They stopped at the door, watching the action, until the male coach saw them, and he stormed over to them, with Rachael following behind.

“These girls are keeping my boys from the gyms,” the man raged. “They aren’t scheduled, but they have taken over.”

“Just when are the girls scheduled?” the principal said. “Ms. Smith has given me the gym schedule you made and every slot has been allocated to the boys. The provincial mandate is that there should be equal access to facilities for all. Your schedule does not follow that principle.”

“I am the Athletics chair, so I make up the schedule. Girls aren’t important. They can work outside, I always give them four balls when they need them.”

“Four balls out of what? Thirty? How is that equal access,” the principal said. “Take your boys outside. Ms. Smith said that the girls ran four laps yesterday. Your boys will probably gain from doing the same.”

The coach continued to fume, but saw he would get nowhere with the principal. So he eventually led his boys out to the track. Ms. Smith thanked the principal and then headed to the small gym to get her seniors going. She knew that Larissa and Rachael would keep the tryout groups in order.

When she returned 15 minutes later Larissa was teaching layup shots and Rachael had the slower students, letting them to be comfortable with the ball through gentler passes. Ms. Smith just stood back and tried to assess the students. There were five vacancies on the junior travel team. Many of the girls that had been with her last year at the middle school were better than the others, but some of the others could be trainable if they were sufficiently athletic. Larissa and Rachael would make the team for sure. And the black girl who had run her in the ground was working with the slower girls with Rachael. She had no ball sense, but could learn, and since she was clearly a friend of Rachael, she might make the team as a sub. There was a tall girl with Larissa that seemed to be struggling. The coach went over and brought her over to Rachael’s group.

“We thought with her height she would be best with Larissa,” Rachael explained. “You are right, she needs to work on ball skills with my group.”

After showers, the girls came out and headed home. The boys came in from their run early, and Rachael went up to the Jackson brothers.

“Thanks a lot, Rachael,” Steve said as he got a hug from Lullana. “Four laps of the track: half the team didn’t make it even though we teased them that the girls had done it yesterday.”

“Well, to be fair a lot of the girls didn’t make it yesterday.” Rachael admitted. “We don’t need a ride home today. We are walking with a lot of girls to my house for a study hour or two: She pecked Robert on the cheek and asked: “Did you do the full four laps?”

“Your boyfriend finished first,” Steve laughed. “I figure he thought he was chasing you.”

“Well, don’t you ever challenge Lullana to a race,” Rachael said. “She is faster than our teacher. You will never catch her.”

“I would let him catch me,” Lullana said softly with a smile.

The boys left after another squeeze and then the girls looked to see that 10 girls were standing at the door to the change room, staring.

“What hunks,” one girl said. Where can I get one like that?

“The one guy is in Grade 12,” another noted. “Isn’t he a bit old for a Grade 9?”

“Lullana is older than we are,” Rachel explained. “Steve is older than her, but not by so much. Robert is our age. But he is mine, and don’t you forget it.”

The girls walked in a group to DaSilva’s, a new place to several of them. Rachael bought a sack of apples and a bit of garlic bologna. Then they were to the bakery, where picking were slim. It was past 3:30 after the practice but there were still some goodies. Rachael picked up the loaf of Love bread and dozen Clouds that she had on order, and handed Clouds out to the girls, who got the wide-eyed look of amazement that most people felt when they first tasted the buttery rolls.

At the house the girls first worked on the French paper. Technically they were supposed to have the paper completed before leaving but had snuck out, so Larissa and Rachael helped the others finish the paper, and then drilled them on some of the other things that were covered.

While Larissa was working on the French paper in the living room with the girls, Rachael went into the kitchen and made bologna sandwiches with Love Bread. When she served them, the girls all raved about the taste, and Rachael decided that her ploy to find more customers for the bakery had worked.

“Is that why so many of you girls bring your own lunches?” asked a girl name Kerrie. “That pasta they served today in the cafeteria was like mush.”

“The salads they serve there are okay sometimes,” Rachael admitted. “But I prefer to make my own and know what I am getting. And a sandwich and salad makes a healthy lunch. Mikki and I have been eating smart since last spring, and we are both a lot thinner now.”

“I can’t believe you were ever chunky,” Kerrie said. “You seem so fit. Not skinny like some girls, but kinda … athletic.”

After the French work, and the sandwich, Rachael suggested that they take a break and jog over to Veteran’s Park, which was nearby. There were some moans about the idea of running, but Rachael pointed out that tomorrow the boys would get the gym and they would be running again, and practice today would make it easier tomorrow.

As the girls ran, Larissa and Rachael shouted out words in French or English, and the girls had to shout back the corresponding word in the other language. As a result, a half hour run also helped reinforce their French. A side benefit was that concentrating on translations kept them from feeling so tired from running, and the half hour was much less taxing than they thought it would be.

When they got back, and all had a good drink of water they went through the Math work, since many of the students had left that class early as well. Rachael did most of the tutoring herself on this, since none of the other girls was excelling in Math. Rachael wondered if she should bring some of the original nerd boys to the next session to help.

Over half the girls were able to take the city bus home, but four lived where there was no service, so when Geoff got in he drove them home in the bakery van. That gave Rachael time to start a quick spaghetti dinner, with Lullana’s help.

Bobby turned up in time to toss the salad, and then ate a rushed dinner. He had his first hockey practice at the arena that evening. Of course the entire family was coming to watch.

Technically it was tryouts for the travel team. Boys who didn’t make that team would play in house league. But Bobby was the only one trying out for goalie. Another boy, who didn’t skate well, was co-opted into the back-up goalie position. While the other boys were doing skating drills, Bobby showed the back-up lad how to best defend the net.

When it came time to have a mini-game at the end of practice, Bobby and Marc were on different teams. Marc was the only player to score on Bobby, whose team won 3-1. The coach told Marc, Bobby and the back-up goalie that they had made the team. He wanted a second practice the following week before choosing the other players.

Back at the house it was nearly bedtime for Bobby and his parents. Rachael bribed the boy into taking a bath before she and Lullana crawled into his bed to read Harry Potter with him. Rachael had the African girl read some of the pages, and noted that her reading was improving.

“Dear Lord”, Rachael said later. “Thank you for another wonderful day. I am meeting more girls, and I think the French lessons will help them. I know the running will. And thanks for making Bobby enjoy hockey so much. I bet he will be a real hunk when he grows up.

It’s been a while since my last posting, so I will recap a bit. The girls are in high school now, and Rachael and Lullana are both trying out for the basketball team. (Lullana is the African exchange student and lives with the Barrons). As well, Rachael was nominated for the class representative in the student council: Dawn

Chapter 71 – Speeches

Thursday, Sept 6, 2016

Rachael rose earlier than normal on Thursday, and considered what she would say in the speech for the class election tomorrow. She didn’t write anything out: she preferred an adlib speech to the ‘read it from a sheet of paper’ speech most Grade 9s would attempt. Instead she made a list of some of the things that she wanted to accomplish over the coming year. She would talk about the items on the list

She made breakfast for herself and Lulanna, and one set aside for Bobby, who now relied on an alarm clock to get up in time for school. In nice weather he rode his bike to school, and only took the bus in rainy weather.

The girls headed to the bakery to visit Maria and Geoff, and to get some sweets for their lunches. Rachael thought about bringing in treats for the class, but decided she wanted to with the election without bribery.

In homeroom Ms. Smith settled the students down quickly, so each girl would have a full three minutes for her speech. Since Sapphire had been nominated first, she would get the first speech slot. As Rachael had guessed, she read it from a sheet of paper.

Fellow students, I ask you for your vote tomorrow,” she started reading. “My name is Sapphire Jewison, and I attend Trudeau Middle School last year … the best school in town.” At this a few of the former Trudeau students cheered, but most of the students who had gone to Ainsborough Middle School frowned. “I was one of the most popular girls in school last year, and I intend to do that as well this year. The students at the other school called my opponent Pepe Lepew apparently. She doesn’t seem to smell too badly this year, but then it is still early in the year and we are all wearing our new school clothes; although it seems she gets her clothes at Goodwill instead of the better stores in the malls in London or Kitchener. Finally.

I want to point out that she and that other girl seem to be together at all times. I don’t think this class wants to elect a lesbian.”

Rachael was floored. Her opponent had not put forth one solid proposal for the class, but instead had attacked Rachael personally. She looked at Ms. Smith, who was also barely containing her temper as she glanced at Rachael to reply.

“I had a bit of a speech prepared,” Rachael started. “It listed some of the things I wanted to do to make this year fun and profitable for all of us. I had nothing negative in it about Sapphire. But instead I want to go a different route. First of all I am not going to deny or claim to be gay. I know gay people in this school, both staff and students.” Here it was hard not to glance at Ms. Smith, which might have outted her. “There is nothing wrong with being gay. If God made you that way, how could it be wrong? As for Lullana and I, we are not together more than other good friends. Sapphire and Kerrie hang out together all the time: does that make them gay? I don’t think so. It seems that gay is a bad word to middle school and high school students. One of the things on my list is to try to get a Gay-Straight Alliance started in the school. We need to support everyone in the school, and to make this a safe, caring place where we can all learn and grow into adults, without regard to our orientation. To conclude, I want to tell every student in this room that I will support him or her and help in any way I can. It is my life mission to be friends with everyone and help whenever I can.”

Rachael sat down, and was surprised when some of the students started to applaud. Eventually everyone was clapping when the bell rang for first class. No one had applauded Sapphire’s speech.

On the way out, Ms. Smith pulled Rachael aside until the others had left. “Congratulations on your speech, Rachael,” she said. “I was so mad when that girl finished her diatribe. You answered her eloquently and clearly. And I was so proud when the others applauded you. It make me think that I might reveal my orientation to the students.”

“Or better yet, you could volunteer to be the faculty advisor to the GSA when I get it started. I plan to do it, whether I win or not.”

Science was next, but there were several students missing at the start of the class, although most trickled in during the first few minutes. But it was almost 15 minutes later when the last five came in, led by Carly.

“Sorry sir,” she told the teacher. “There were six nominees in our class for class-rep, so our speeches took longer than other classes. It won’t happen again.”

“I hope not,” Mr. O’Malley said. “But I guess there is only one election day per year, and this year I just happened to get a Grade nine class in first period. The other grades all had their elections at the end of last term. Good luck to those who are running.”

Computers came next, and then it was shop class. Mr. Henderson wanted to know how many students could bring in lawn mowers to fix and only six students raised their hands. Rachael was one of those, having phoned Gary at the church the prior night to see if she could get one.

“Only six in a class of 24?” Mr. Henderson complained. “I guess it is a sign of the times, with people throwing broken things out rather than fixing them. But I can’t have four students per mower. Two is ideal, three in a pinch.”

Rachael waved her hand, and the teacher finally called on her.

“My church has a storage shed and I called the caretaker last night. He said there are five mowers in there that his guys haven’t gotten fixed up. So that is four more we can get. He just needs to know when to deliver them.”

“Great. That makes 10. We can work with that. Can he deliver them tomorrow at the start of last period? And any others who have machines can bring them in then as well.”

“Well, if any of those guys need help I’m sure Gary will pick them up at your house and put them on his truck,” Rachael said. “Just let me know before the end of class.”

The bulk of the class was about tools and machine safety which both Rachael and Lullana found interesting. The African girl had little exposure to tools, since there were only a few hammers, saws, and axes in her entire village.

Following shop was lunch, and Rachael wanted to eat quickly so she could talk to students in her class: campaigning. But a few minutes after she sat down next to Lullana, Steve came by. “It’s all over the school that you two are lesbians,” Steve said.

“Seriously?” Rachael said. “It was just a smear from our campaign speeches this morning. I can’t believe that anyone believes that.”

“Stuff like that spreads like wildfire in a town like this,” Steve said. “There is only one way to end it.” With that he picked up Lullana, who made a small squeal. Then he kissed her deeply. “Not a lesbian,” he announced at the end, and the whole school started to applaud.

Robert was next, and was more polite, offering Rachael his hand. “My turn,” he said, and started kissing her deeply. Rachael’s knees went weak, but Robert held her up as he gave her the longest kiss they had ever had. This time the clapping started as the kiss was underway, and built until a teacher came over to break them up.

“Also not a Lesbian,” Robert said loudly as Rachael sagged back into her seat.

The result was that when Rachael went to the various tables to campaign, there was a ready start to the conversation. Students in her old class were mostly at her table, and she expected most would vote for her. But when she went the three tables that had students from Trudeau Middle School, she was able to tell the students about some of the events that she hadn’t been able to mention in the morning: movie night dates, a charity starve-athon, and raising money selling baked goods at the basketball games.

The third table she went to had Sapphire at it. Kerrie was the only other one from her class at it, although there were several others there from the a-list last year that were in other homerooms.

“I guess you’ve pretty much shot down my Lesbian thing,” Sapphire said. “Good idea.”

“Actually the boys came up with that on their own,” Rachael said. “Although I guess I have you to thank for the best kiss of my life.”

“Yeah, it looked like you two were about the spontaneously combust for a moment there,” Kerrie said. Rachael then went into her spiel about the things she wanted to do. After she finished explaining movie night and starve-athon, Kerrie asked “But what about the GSA, that Gay Straight Alliance? That sounds interesting.”

“I’m going to do that whether I get elected or not. Any student can form a club if they meet the requirements, which mainly seems to be getting two staff advisors,” Rachael said.

“That’s boring,” Sapphire pronounced. Rachael wasn’t sure: Kerrie had a look of interest in her eye. Perhaps she actually was gay. At any rate Rachael smiled at all the girls, and shook hands with Sapphire before she left, wishing her good luck.

The afternoon was light, with Phys. Ed. and then English. Only about half the class went to Phys. Ed., since it was still optional until the basketball team was selected. Rachael wanted a chance to use the gym to practice her free throws, and of course Lullana went with her.

After English classes were over they would have basketball tryouts. They hadn’t worked up much of a sweat in the gym, so they didn’t change out of their gym suits for English. This allowed them to get out to the gym before any of the boys were there and the two girls snagged eight good basketballs, knowing that the boys’ coach would have left them with the underinflated old ones.

Ms. Smith was out next, with the first few of the girls. “Ms. Smith,” she asked, “Do you think we could only run one lap this time? That’s all a lot of the girls were able to do Tuesday, and a single lap will allow us to work on technique more. And we won’t be too wasted to practice our shots.”

“All right, since you seemed to have snagged us some of the good basketballs,” Ms. Smith said. “Only one lap, so make it count.”

This time Lullana led the way, outpacing the teacher, who seemed to become more and more irate at being bested. Rachael was keeping pace with the teacher, so she commented: “You know, Lullana ran all the time in Africa. It is easier than walking for her.”

“Yes. And I know the Ethiopians and Kenyas are great runners too,” the teacher panted. “But I really hate losing.”

When Rachael crossed the finish line, she again turned around and started back up the track, encouraging the other girls to finish. She ran in with the last four girls again who had started to walk in. She let them walk a bit, and then got them to run. They didn’t notice that she was making the walking bits shorter and shorter.

The other girls were back at the nets arranged around the parking lot. To Rachael’s dismay, the girls were shooting underinflated balls. Apparently the boys had come out and swapped out the good ones with the duds.

“You, you, and you four,” Rachael said, pointed out several girls as she strode into the gym. She walked up to a boy, grabbed the ball he had, tested it, and decided it was a good one. She tossed it to Lullana, who bounced back the old ball. It only bounced twice before dying in the middle of the court.

She then went to a second boy and repeated the process. The third boy had an older ball, but better than the ones the girls had, but she handed it back to the boy. Another boy was robbed of his ball when the boys’ teacher came out. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“Just getting back our balls,” she shouted back. Talk to the principal if you want. Now the boys were trying to keep the balls, and the last two were difficult to get, with the boys holding them firmly from her. So Rachael decided to play dirty. She pulled out the shorts of one boy and looked down. “Pretty sad,” she muttered as the boy dropped the ball and tried to pull his shorts back. Of course the ball dropped, and Rachael fired it to another girl.

She just started at the last boy, and he just handed her the ball, not wanting to be embarrassed like the prior boy had been.

Rachael carried it out to the parking lot, where Ms. Smith was running the girls through layups and free throws on the six baskets around the lot. With eight good balls the girls were able to get in a good workout over the next hour.

Midway through Rachael noticed that the four girls who had walked in were still lying on the grass, ‘recovering’. She walked over to them. “And it was Rachael who talked the teacher into only one lap. I’m voting for her tomorrow for sure,” one was saying as she approached.

“Don’t you guys want to take some shots?” Rachael asked.

“Not really. We aren’t going to make the team, anyway,” one chubby girl said. “We just want to get out of Phys. Ed. by getting on the house league teams.”

“Yeah, but if you practice a bit you will be better when you start house league,” Rachael said. “And playing basketball is a good way to lose weight. I’ve lost about 20 pounds in a half year.”

“And got a hot boyfriend,” another of the girls mentioned. “Can you lose weight from playing?” That idea seemed to have perked up their interest.

“Well you won’t gain any,” Rachael said, pulling the girls to their feet. “You need to eat smart. We started eating salads at my house, and that made it easier to not eat so much. Even my little brother lost weight.”

Rachael then started tossing the ball back and forth with the girls, getting them used to it, and then they spent the last 10 minutes taking shots, badly. The result was a lot of running after the ball: better exercise than lying on the grass.

Ms. Smith glanced over at Rachael more than once as she worked with the girls. The little blonde was a natural teacher, she realized.

After showers Rachael got a ride to the bakery with Steve, Lullana and Robert. The boys had set up a double date for Saturday night: just a cheap trip to McDonalds. Rachael only agreed to go if the girls could treat the guys. She felt a need to reward the boys for their plan to convince the school that they were ‘Not Lesbian.’

At the bakery both girls worked for an hour cleaning pans. Geoff would pay them minimum wage for the time they worked, to allow them money to pay for their date.

To get a full hour in, they worked past six, and Maria said she would look after making dinner.

After dinner, the family enjoyed an hour together, with Rachel helping first Bobby and then Lullana with their homework. Bobby wanted to read before bed, and Rachael and Lullana lay on either side of his bed, all taking turns reading Book Three of Harry Potter. Lullana was getting better at reading, and had even checked out book one of the series at the library, which she was reading on her own to catch up.

That night Rachael kneeled beside her bed:

Dear Lord

I hope that I did well today. It seems there is some prejudice against gays in our school, and I hope the GSA can fight that. Basketball was fun. I wonder if I will make the team? I probably should have spent more time showing off for coach, but those girls really needed motivating. And I suspect you planted the idea in Steve’s head, so thank you. I really, really like kissing boys. Especially Robert.

Amen

Chapter 72 – The election

Friday, Sept 7, 2016

As the class entered the homeroom, Ms. Smith was at the door, handing each student a ballot as they entered. Rachael looked at hers, which had her name and Sapphire’s in black boxes, with a circle beside the name in white to mark the ballot. Once the entire class was in and seated, the teacher explained that you mark the ballot with an X next to the name of your choice and then fold the paper so the names are hidden on the inside. Most students in Grade 9 had never voted before, so this was a learning event for them.

When the ballots were marked, Ms. Smith collected them and took them to her desk, where she sorted them into two piles. It was quickly apparent that one pile was much larger than the other. Finally she stood and announced: “The new class representative to the student council is Rachael Barron.” She then placed all the ballots into a manila envelope.

The class moved to their next class: English for Lullana and Rachael. As she worked her way to the class, many students stopped to congratulate her. Part way along she met Carla, who announced that she won her class position, and later Mikki showed up, and she had also won her class vote.

“Three for three, that is pretty sweet,” Rachael said. “Four for four,” a deeper voice from behind said. It was Robert. “I won too.”

In English she got a silent alert on her phone, and saw that it notified an email from the Grade 11 Civics teacher, one of the two faculty advisors for the student council. It congratulated her on her election, and said that the council meets on Fridays after class. There was a long PDF file that explained the rules about the council. She managed to skim through a bit of the 60-page document during her first two classes. Luckily the third class was computers, and she was able to open the document on the screen and read it while the class was doing other things she was already familiar with. I mean, why on earth would the teacher think that DOS commands were necessary in 2016?

At lunch she and the other election winners got more congratulations, and she looked around to pick out the three winners from Grade Nine that she didn’t know, two boys and a girl. After lunch she went to see Sapphire.

“Coming over to gloat?” the girl said bitterly.

“No, actually I’ve come over to ask your help,” Rachael said.

“And why would I want to help you?” Sapphire snapped.

“Well, I got some information from the student council, and apparently each class gets three representatives: the one who was voted in, and one each for the athletics committee and one for the social committee. I offered the athletics position to my friend Larissa, who is big into basketball. I wondered if you would be interested in the social committee. It organizes and decorates for dances and stuff like that.”

“What? Seriously?” Sapphire said excitedly. “That is the main reason I ran for student council. Organizing dances and stuff. Why would you offer it to me? Especially after I was so mean to you yesterday.”

“Well, you did come second in the vote,” Rachael said.

“Yeah. I saw Ms. Smith counting the ballots just like you did. Almost everyone voted for you. How do you make friends so fast?”

“By being nice to everyone, I guess. So are you interested?”

“Sure. And thanks. You are pretty cool, Rachael.”

The rest of the afternoon went pretty fast, and soon it was time for the student council to meet in the library. The older classes had met before, but for the seven Grade Nine reps it was their first meeting. A pretty Grade 12 girl, who looked almost like an adult, was the president and welcomed the new members. She pointed out the Vice-President Social and Vice-president Athletics, as well as the secretary, who was busily taking notes, and the treasurer. All were from the two senior years. She noted that the social and athletic committees meet on Wednesday and Thursdays respectively, and said that it was expected that each rep would appoint at least one classmate for those committees, if not two. The elected rep would also be allowed to go to the committee meetings if they wanted, and would have full voting rights.

The rest of the meeting went fairly quickly. First the secretary read the minutes of the last meeting, held in June, and then the treasurer gave her report, noting that last year the council had spent $200 more than was raised. She said that the events of the coming year would have to make a profit, or at least break even. The VPs then made reports, with the VP Athletic noting that they would need to raise funds somehow to pay for the school teams to go to tournaments and away games. The VP Social said she wanted to have at least one event every month, with May Prom and dances for Valentine’s Day and St. Patrick’s day already on the calendar.

Finally the president adjourned the meeting, and Robert, Carly, Rachael and Mikki went to the back of the library, where Lullana was reading a book. The five then walked to the bakery, where they each got a treat. Mike had been experimenting again, and had some delicious donuts: he had taken Rachael’s idea from the spring and had lemon, strawberry, blueberry, and vanilla filling in hole-less donuts covered in icing sugar.

“These are great,” Mikki said. “I am going to be so fat if I hang around you guys.”

“I don’t know,” Carly said. “You look like you have lost some more weight this summer.”

“Yeah,” Mikki responded. “Another 10 pounds. Tony’s Mom says I am skinny.”

“You know,” Robert said, “what if we sold these donuts at school, to raise money for the council. We could sell them for $1.25 and make a quarter each.”

“I bet if we buy in bulk Dad will give us a deal, and we can make even more money. I’ll talk to him tonight,” Rachael said.

The girls walked home and for the last block to the new house, were accompanied Elizabeth Lajoie, who was walking her dogs. She had three kids following her, with Ariel holding a leash and Mark pushing his sister Tanya in a stroller.

“I thought the dogs were Bobbie’s job,” Rachael said when they met the tiny piano teacher.

“Oh he took them out earlier, with Mark and his friends,” she said. “But I needed a break, and they can always use more exercise. All that food you folks have been buying means they are getting a bit chubby. Plus the kids need to get out.”

Rachael bent down as Larrisa and Mikki continued walking. She felt the dogs, and found that they were indeed getting chubby.

“I think we need to put them on a diet,” she said. “How much are they eating now?”

“Two cups of the dry food every day, and a can each on Sundays. Not to mention when the kids are playing with them and give them treats. I don’t want to scrimp on them: they are my darlings.”

“Yes, but you want them to be healthy. If they get fat it will shorten their lives. Which days does Bobby feed them?”

“Most days, except Sundays,” she said.

“Well, we’ll tell him to cut them down to 1.5 cups a day,” Rachael said. “I won’t have you doing it, because if they look at you with their puppy eyes, they are sure to convince you to give them more.”

When they got to the houses, little Mark took the leashes. “Is Ali around?” Rachael asked.

“No, she is at the new restaurant,” Miss Lajoie said. “She is a waitress while Chef is cooking.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Rachael said. “They opened this week. Has Chef proposed to her yet?”

“Just last night, at the restaurant,” the piano teacher said. “Apparently everyone eating there applauded when she said yes.”

“So will you need a new roommate when they move out?”

“Oh I hope not. I love those three little ones so much. But with Chef and Ali both working nights, they are in no rush to move out. They are paying me to babysit, so the piano lessons are not so important anymore. Between the rent and the day care, I am doing quite well. Although I would tend those three for free: they are such good kids.”

“I think Dad is taking us there tonight for the buffet,” Rachael said.

* * *

Lullana froze when she entered the restaurant. This had happened once before, when Rachael had first taken her to the big supermarket. But that had been packaged food. Now she was looking at the huge buffet of prepared food on tables against the wall. Chef was standing behind a large roast of beef, with a ham next to him, and then a bird that looked like a chicken, but three times as large. All that food would feed her village for a week, she thought.

“Is everyone taking the buffet”, Ali asked as she led them to the big table Geoff had reserved. The entire family was there, Maria and Rachael, and Bobby, whose eyes looked as big as Lullana’s at the sight of all that food. Grandma Barron was there too, along with Mike and Jane from the Bakery.

They put their bags and jackets on the chairs and went up to the buffet, where several other people were working their way down the line. You picked up a warm plate from the stack, and just started filling it with food. Lullana recognized most of the plates, but still mostly copied Rachael in what she scooped onto the plate. There were mashed potatoes, fries, roasted, and scalloped ones, and the girls selected the scalloped. Then came the veggies, with corn, peas, carrots, beans and tomato slices. Lullana took corn. It was different from the corn from Africa: with bigger kernels and sweeter. In August they had enjoyed corn-on-the-cob at the Barron’s dinners and barbecues several times, and Lullana loved eating it, with butter. The kernels on the cob were big and arranged into straight rows, without the gaps that corn back home had. This corn was just the kernels, but Lullana still had to have it.

There seemed to be no limit on what you could take, so both girls took several sides, with Lullana also taking peas and carrots. Then they came up to Chef, who asked what type of meat they wanted: beef, ham, or turkey. Rachael asked for a bit of beef and a bit of turkey. Lullana could see that Bobby had chosen a huge turkey leg. She asked for beef, and then carried her heaping plate to the table, picking up a roll she recognized as a “Cloud” from the bakery. It was somehow kept warm in the dispenser it was in.

At the table there was little conversation at first, but a cacophony of silverware dancing across plates. Bobby was using both hands on his turkey leg, until Rachael made him put it down while he ate some of the other food on his plate before it got cold.

Finally both Mike and Geoff got up and went through the line again. The women started to chat as the eating frenzy slowed.

“That is Hunter,” Rachael said to Jane, pointing to a tall, slim man who was acting as maître d’.

“He’s nice-looking,” Jane said. “Is he the one that is seeing your neighbor Miss Lajoie?”

“Yes. He took her to church for the first time last week,” Rachael said. “Chef brought him to the house last month to do some mending of the woodwork. He is a finish carpenter. A good one too: we had him to our house the following week.”

“That first day, Chef had offered him a meal along with money for his work, and Miss Lajoie was a bit scared of him. But after the meal he helped her with the dishes, and then they all played Monopoly with the kids. Miss Lajoie held little Tanya, Linda’s baby on a chair. I guess watching Hunter with the other little kids softened her.”

“He came over the next week for dinner after fixing our place up, and presented Elizabeth with a single Rose, and she just melted. He is over there all the time now. The next week he made her this beautiful jewelry box, with a rose carved into the top. She admitted to having no jewelry, and he said ‘A pretty lady should have pretty things.’ Now he brings over something every time they meet. Not expensive stuff, but little things like earrings or a charm bracelet. She wore it all to church last weekend, and it looked wonderful.”

“How sweet,” Jane said. Just then Linda came by pushing a dessert cart. Bobbie’s eyes went wide and he selected a chocolate pudding with three chocolate chips on top. The women all claimed to be stuffed, but make a selection anyway. Lullana took a vanilla cake, Rachael had a brownie, Maria took a Nanaimo bar from the bakery, while Jane took a crème brulee. None of the women took more than a small bite from their dessert, and then sampled bites from the others. Finally Bobbie devoured the remainders, to his great pleasure.

The family headed out to the van while Geoff paid Bill Strong at the till. There were people waiting for a table at the door, so Linda and Hunter quickly cleared their table, and pulled the three tables apart so that another three groups could come in.

“I guess Bill is doing all right, for a first week,” Geoff said. “He said that it was slow for the first days of the week, but tonight has been packed. We will have to do this again, in a month or so.”

“And maybe you and Mom can do a date night on Monday,” Rachael hinted.

“And I’ll have to take my special lady on my day off,” Mike said, looking lovingly at Jane.

“Yeah, right,” Maria said sarcastically. “When have you ever taken a day off?”

“Soon,” Mike said. “Now that I have someone to go with.”

In the back of the van Rachael whispered to Lullana.

“You didn’t tell me how your date went on Thursday? Is Steve still the one?”

The dreamy look in Lullana’s eyes said more than the simple nod she made. “He took me to that new place: Hawt Dogs and More. I really, really like hot dogs: little sausages in a big bun that tasted like the bakery. But it was the stuff they put on it. First a red sauce, and then a yellow one. Green relish and fried onions, it was so pretty I didn’t want to bite in. But when I did, wow.”

“What did you have to drink?” Rachael asked.

“Oh, that was even more wonderful. Steve called it a strawberry milkshake. It is like liquid food. Ice cream you can drink. I loved it. We also shared a little plate of potato sticks with that red sauce on them. It was good too, and Steve said there is a version called poo-teen that we will try next time.”

“You should treat him next time,” Rachael suggested. “We are both working in the bakery on Saturday mornings, so you will have money of your own next week. We are each working eight hours, from seven to two. You should earn around $100 a weej after taxes are taken off.”

Lullana’s eyes went wide at the thought of so much wealth. “I need to send the money back home to Momma. It will help her so much. I wonder how I can get it to her?”

“Well, the church sends money to Pastor Stillwater on occasion. You could have yours included in that and I’m sure he will pass it on to your mother. But you don’t need to send it all. You should keep back $25 or $50 a week, for dates and to buy clothes and other things,” Rachael said.

“I will have to think about that,” Lullana said.