Here I Am. Send Me.--Chapter Twenty-One

Evelyn drives Chris while he does his pastor job and makes a decision about her feelings.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

When Evelyn got to her desk, she found a note on top of her computer: See me as soon as you come in. -Amanda. This was getting to be a habit.

Amanda was sitting in her usual position behind her desk. A gentle rap on her open door made her look up .from the computer screen.

"Evelyn. Come in. Close the door." Her boss's tone was serious, almost stern and closing the door was never good.

Evelyn sat in the painfully uncomfortable plastic visitor's chair on the far side of the desk from Amanda, who got right to it. "We've had a complaint filed against you and Chris Leighton... How is he, by the way?"

"He's pretty beat up but at home and recovering. A complaint?"

"Yes. A woman named Rachel Marshall. She says that you've been harassing her."

Evelyn nodded. This was not a shock. "We went to her church as a follow-up on Leyla."

"I don't recall authorizing that."

"Do we have to get authorization for every move we make?"

"When I tell you not to pursue something and you proceed anyway? Yes."

Amanda had her there. Time to cut the losses. "You're right. I should have probably checked it with you."

"We'll discuss your saying 'probably' later. She also said that you contacted several of her friends by phone and asked inflammatory questions."

"Inflammatory? There was nothing inflammatory. She's making that up."

"This sounds very much like an investigation, and we do not investigate. The police investigate. We just support and give them information."

"I gave them information. They're not doing anything!" Evelyn noted the slight turn of Amanda's head in reaction to her raise voice. "Sorry." She looked down into her lap.

"Could it be because there's nothing to do?"

This time she kept her voice and eyes down. "Something is wrong over there, and a little girl is at the middle of it."

"And you think she's in danger?"

"Yes! The gunmen at the school were calling her name!" Eyes and voice back up again.

"The gunmen. One of whom is dead and the other is being pursued by the police."

"Yes. But strange men have shown up at my apartment, and then Chris got attacked. Too many coincidences!" She was not going to keep her emotions in check, so there was no reason to even try.

Amanda spun her chair away and looked out the window, gathering her thoughts. Nearly a minute passed. Finally, she turned back. "If you were going to continue looking into this completely without my knowledge, what would be your next step?"

"I would like to drive out to Carthage and speak again with Josey."

"The girl's mother."

"And Rachel Marshall's daughter-in-law."

Another pause, but shorter. "You are verbally reprimanded for conducting an unauthorized investigation. Your next assignment is to conduct a follow-up interview with Josey to see how the diversion is going. If the discussion veers away from Josey's mental health, then I am unaware of it. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am. Josey originally requested a chaplain. May I take Chris with me?"

"Is he up to it?"

"I'll ask him."

"Don't overtax him."

"I won't."

With that, she signed herself up for three hours in a car alone with a man who was at the center of multiple conversations she did not want to have. But first, he had to agree to go.

She made her way back to her desk and pulled out her phone. It rang in her hand. The Caller ID said "Chris Leighton."

She paused to get her mental bearings before answering. "Hi, Chris!"

Before she could say anything further, he started. "Would you be able to meet me downtown on Broadway? I Ubered down here to pick up my car, and I may have physically bitten off more than I can chew."

"Are you okay?"

"Fine. I'm just sort of worn out. I didn't take any pain pills since I'd be driving. I think I jumped the gun a little on that."

"I'll be right down. Where are you?"

"Across from the Arena. It's the store with plywood in place of a window."

It took her fifteen minutes and a couple of wrong turns on downtown one-way streets to pull to the curb in front of the store. Chris was nowhere on the street. Her anxiety was just beginning to build when the door to the store opened, and he stepped out. He limped over to her car and slowly lowered himself into the passenger seat. A car horn sounded behind her as she blocked traffic.

"Thank you for coming."

"No problem. We'll get you home..."

He shook his bandaged head. "No. There's someplace I need to go. It's important. If it's not too much trouble."

"Where?"

"North Nashville. There's someone I need to speak with. I'll give you the address."

"Sure. Why not?"

He programmed the address into her phone, and then she was saved from any awkward conversation by his nodding off. He snapped awake long enough to grumble, "Sorry, I took my pills," and then he was asleep again. She followed the directions to a single-level red brick house, which at one time would have been called ranch-style but had morphed into mid-century.

The stopping of the engine awakened Chris, and he looked around.

"We're here already?"

"The wonders of modern pharmaceuticals."

He opened the door. "You can wait here. I won't be long."

"You're not passing out on my watch. I'm coming with."

He didn't argue. She made her way around to the car and pulled him up from the seat. Unsteady on his feet for a moment, he steadied and took a step toward the house. When he wobbled, she placed his left arm over her shoulders and felt his weight settle onto her. They made their way up a weedy brick walk that led up to the concrete front stoop. The grass between the bald patches in the yard was just beginning to grow in early Spring but did not yet look untended.

Chris reached forward and knocked on the door. Nothing happened. He knocked again, and nothing happened again. Chris pounded on the door with the bottom of his fist.

He called out. "Dalton! I know that you're in there. Your car's in the driveway."

Footsteps could be heard inside, and the door opened. An elderly African American man with a stooped posture, grey hair, and a grey beard looked at Chris. "What happened to you?"

Chris shrugged. "I had a work accident."

"It looks more like a butt-whoopin'."

"You could also call it that."

The old man turned and walked back into the house. Chris and Evelyn stayed on the porch until the man spoke over his shoulder. "Are you coming in, or what?"

They followed him in and shut the door behind them. By the time they caught up, he was standing in the kitchen. "Can I offer you something? Water?" He looked again at Chris. "A full-body ice pack?"

"I'm fine. They gave me pretty good pills at the hospital."

The elderly man turned to Evelyn. "And who might you be?"

She held out her hand. "Evelyn Dunham. I'm kind of Chris's driver."

"You have a right pretty driver there, preacher man."

There was nothing to say to that. Evelyn broke the brief silence. "I'd like a glass of water. I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name."

"I didn't throw it. It's Dalton Edwards. My friends call me Dalt. Preachers call me Dalton." Another look at Chris. He put some ice cubes from a tray in the freezer into a glass and filled the glass from the tap.

"Thank you."

Dalton looked back at Chris. "What do you think you're doing, just dropping in without warning? I didn't think folks your age did that anymore. I thought you just texted everything."

"If I had texted you in advance, what would you have done?"

"I would've left until you were gone. Or at least hid the car."

"And that's why I broke Gen Z protocol."

"So, why are you here?"

Chris didn't pause. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine. You can leave now."

Evelyn joined in. "I'm not finished drinking my water." That would give them a couple of minutes.

Dalton looked closely at her for the first time. "It's not hard to figure out which one of you two is the smart one."

"Dalton, you haven't been to church in over a month."

Dalton leaned back against the counter, trying to straighten a back that would never be straight again. "Why would I go back there? That was Dotty's place."

"A lot of people loved Dotty there."

The old man laughed. "You don't lie, preacher. I'll give you that. But no one in that place has any love for me."

"I wouldn't say no one."

Dalton started to speak. Stopped himself and then said, "Not many, then. Not many at all."

"But everybody loved Dotty. You have that in common with them. That's a pretty wonderful thing to share with people."

"Dotty was the nice one."

Chris smiled. "Don't I know it!"

"Like I said, preacher. You don't lie." He stepped over to a small table and sat in one of the wooden chairs. It squeaked as it took his weight. "I had some family come over. I guess they thought they were comforting me. They tried not to mention Dotty's name as if it would upset me. I sent them on their way."

Chris and Evelyn stayed silent, waiting.

"Who would want me around? She was the best part of me. She was the best part of my life. No. She was my whole life."

"And now she's gone."

"And now she's gone," Dalton agreed.

"I guess a man could follow that logic to the point where he thought his life was over." Chris watched the older man's face closely.

"I guess he could."

"What would a man do who had come to that conclusion?"

Another long pause before Dalton said, "You tell me."

"I'm afraid that you're thinking of killing yourself."

"What if I am? What's it to you?"

"I'm one of the ones who love you, Dalton. There aren't many of us, but we're here."

"What if I don't love you?"

"That's not required."

"Is this the part where you start talking to me about God?"

"Sure. If that's what you want to talk about."

'What if I don't love Him, either?"

"That's not required, either. He still loves you."

"If He loved me so much, He wouldn't have taken my Dotty away. And then you people talk as if I should be happy about it. She's in a better place. She's not in any pain anymore. You try to make me feel guilty because I'm not celebrating her life. I'm mourning her death."

The room was silent as Chris pulled out his phone and opened his Bible app. It took a moment of typing and scrolling before he found what he was looking for.

"Jesus had a friend named Lazarus. Lazarus died. When Jesus came to the village where his friend had died, this is what happened:

When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come with her also weeping, He was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. "Where have you put him?" He asked.

"Come and see, Lord," they answered.

Jesus wept.

Chris looked up from his phone. "Jesus mourned his friend, and he also mourned all of those who were hurting because of the loss. He felt the pain and He cried. There is no guilt in feeling this pain. We all feel it, and we miss Dotty. And we miss you. Come back to the church on Sunday and let us all hurt together."

A lone tear made its way down Dalton's cheek. "I'll think about."

"Dalton, before we leave, I was hoping that we might say a prayer."

"What do you want to pray about?"

"You tell me."

"Me? I don't have anything to say."

"Then don't say it. Feel it."

"It's nothing but anger."

"That means your prayer has already started."

Some silent communication was shared between the two men. Evelyn pulled two cards out of her wallet. "This is my number. Call me if you need to talk. And, if you can't get in touch with me, the second number is for the Crisis Hotline. Please call before you do anything that you can't take back."

The old man took the cards. "Thank you. But I'd just as soon call the preacher man here."

Chris smiled. "If you can't get me, call Evelyn or the Crisis number. I don't want to lose the chance to see you again. I'm hurting enough."

Dalton nodded and walked them to the door.

Evelyn and Chris made their way to the car and pulled out of the driveway. Once they had made their way to Briley Parkway and Evelyn could turn off the map app on her phone, she turned to Chris.

"I can see why you needed to do that."

"He's been in bad spirits since his wife passed a few weeks ago. He was never much into church. We never saw him without Dotty. If the church doors were open, she was there. Everybody loved Miss Dotty. That woman could bake like nobody's business. My favorite was 'Cobbler'. She said that she got tired of seeing people shove the peaches over to the side of the plate and so she just left them out. It was a tradition at the church potlucks."

Chris stopped and smiled at the memory before continuing. "Her funeral service lasted for hours. Everybody wanted to stand up and share a memory about Miss Dotty. We all had them. Dalton came to church a few times after the funeral. It was like he was trying to keep living the life that they had shared. But he hasn't been there in a couple of weeks. I stopped by once before, and we visited. But tonight, I was worried about him."

"Did he call you?"

"No."

"Then what made you so worried that you might have reinjured yourself getting out here?"

"There are two ways to explain that. One would be that I have been picking up on nonverbal clues the last few times he and I spoke, and that my subconscious mind has been processing them, and that tonight, that processing told me it was important for me to get to him."

He paused, waiting for her question.

She gave it. "And the second?"

"The Holy Spirit."

"I guess now is the part where you convince me that it was the Holy Spirit."

"No. God can use either method."

As they drove, Evelyn waited in dread for him to bring up the morning's awkwardness. Instead, he fell asleep again. Which gave her time to think, which may have been worse. When they arrived at his house, she went through the routine of pulling him out of the car, placing his arm across her shoulders, and helping him into his house. He wasn't putting as much weight on her as he had the day before.

"You seem to be walking better."

"Yeah. I'll be off for at least a week from the security job, but I'm going to try and get back to my church duties tomorrow and back at CDC on Monday."

"About that. Are you up to going out to Carthage tomorrow to visit Josey?"

"On Saturday?"

"We're just barely operating in any approved capacity, so it was easier to get a regular visitation than an official interview."

He nodded. "If you're driving, I should be able to make it."

"I made an appointment for eleven o'clock, so I'll pick you up at nine."

He lowered himself onto his sofa and let out a long sigh.

She leaned down over him and kissed him quickly on the lips. "I like the way your hair smells, too."

Before he could say anything, she bolted from the house. That was becoming her 'go-to' move. They would have plenty of time to talk about things the next day.