The Trouble with Angels (Angels Everywhere #2)(6)

Leta Johnson, his secretary, leaped from her chair the instant he walked into the office. "You’re late,” she announced, following him across the room.

"I know. I apologize.”

"The committee’s in the conference room,” she said, and handed him a sheaf of papers. "I believe they’ve started without you.”

In times past, Paul might have been offended that the committee would see fit to begin without him. But, frankly, he was relieved and hoped that they’d completed the business at hand. It would save him the burden of having to sit through yet another endless, boring meeting.

Unfortunately it didn’t happen that way. An hour later the meeting adjourned and the two elders and three worship leaders were on their way out of the conference room. Paul stayed behind, gathering up the last of the paperwork. He looked up to find Steve Tenny watching him.

Paul offered the elder a warm smile. The two men had been good friends for a number of years. "How’s it going, Steve?” he asked conversationally.

"Great. Is Joe coming home for Christmas?”

The ache in Paul’s heart lightened at the mention of his son. "He’ll be here next week sometime.”

"It’ll be good to see him.”

Paul was counting the days. Joe’s arrival from college and the three weeks he was scheduled to spend at home was the one bright spot in Paul’s Christmas season.

"I imagine you’ll be getting together with Bethany.”

"She’s sure to have us over two or three times,” Paul agreed. His daughter was the apple of his eye. Now that she was married and living in Riverside, he didn’t see her as often as he would have liked. Both Bethany and Eric worked, so they led busy lives and he didn’t want to be a burden to them.

"I don’t suppose I could talk you into taking a few days off and going hiking with me.”

The thought tempted Paul, but with so many Christmas responsibilities, he hadn’t the time. "Sorry, I can’t now.”

Steve mulled over his answer. "You’re going to be fine,” he stated matter-of-factly.

"Sure I am,” Paul agreed automatically.

"It’s been difficult the last couple of years without Barbara, but you’ve risen above all that now. You’re doing great.”

Paul wondered. "Yeah,” he said, forcing a smile. "I’m doing great.”

The two men walked out of the meeting room together. Steve patted Paul across the back before he headed out to the parking lot.

Paul watched the elder leave and wondered how it was that a man he’d counted his best friend for fifteen or more years didn’t know him at all. Steve hadn’t a clue to what Paul was feeling, didn’t understand Paul’s deep sense of loss.

His wife of twenty-four years had died, and it felt as if someone had chopped off his right arm. They had been partners not only in life, but in the ministry. Together they had slaved to build this church from the foundation to the very top of the steeple. Together they had held every position in the church. Over the years Barbara had been the Sunday school director, the nursery coordinator, in charge of missions, the choir director, and just about everything else, including janitor.

With a heavy heart weighing down his steps, Paul reluctantly returned to his office. Leta handed him a pink message slip when he walked in the door. "It’s Madge Bartelli again,” she said. "Bernard phoned and said she’s in terrible pain.”

"Madge,” Paul repeated slowly. The parishioner was suffering from the same rare form of cancer that had claimed Barbara.

Why God would allow him to watch yet another woman suffer this way was beyond his comprehension. For the second time God had asked him to stand by helplessly, able to offer nothing more than a few trite words of comfort.

"I’m afraid Madge’s taken a turn for the worse,” Leta said sadly.

Paul nodded and entered his office, closing the door.

"You are going to phone her, aren’t you?” Leta asked from the other side.

"Yes, of course,” Paul assured her, and sat down at his desk.

"Bernard could use a few words of encouragement as well.”

And just where was he supposed to find that? Paul asked himself. Encouragement? He felt devoid of the ability to help his friends. His deep well of hope and assurance had dried up when he’d lost Barbara. He had nothing to offer and damn little of himself left to give.

It seemed his secretary stood just outside his door until she heard him reach for the telephone. Paul flipped through his Rolodex until he found the Bartellis’ listing and punched out the numbers.

Bernard answered on the second ring. "Pastor Paul, how good of you to phone.”

"How’s Madge?”

"Not good. Not good at all. She can’t sleep. Even the pain medication the doctor prescribed doesn’t help. I don’t know what to do for her anymore.”

"Have you tried reading to her?”

"Oh, yes. She tries to hide how bad it is, but I can see the pain in her eyes.”

Barbara had tried to disguise her agony from Paul as well. He didn’t think he would ever know the full range of suffering his saintly wife had endured. Bernard probably would never know, either.

"I realize it’s a lot to ask of you,” Bernard said, lowering his voice as if he wanted to be sure Madge couldn’t hear him. "But if you could stop off at the house sometime later today and pray with Madge, I know it would help.”