The training of Rev. Tom Coleman was much more time consuming than Desmond had anticipated. Desmond had worked alone for years and found the constant presence of another person very tiring. Rev. Coleman became his shadow accompanying him everywhere he went learning the position “on the job” as the board referred to it.
Desmond found the young reverend to be a very nice and caring person. He was eager and attentive, but somewhat subdued for his age. Rev. Coleman preferred doing things formally, and refused to use first names even after they had worked side by side for a couple of weeks. Desmond thought it rather silly to continue to call the young man Rev. Coleman all day long. Yet, Desmond reasoned, if that’s what it took to make the young man comfortable, then so be it.
All day long Desmond spent his time teaching Rev. Coleman everything from book keeping to preparing materials for the printer. After learning the more technical “behind the scenes” aspects of pastoral life, Desmond took him around to visit the parishioners at their jobs and homes.
Many of the parishioners were uncomfortable with meeting the new reverend with Desmond present, and seemed unsure of who they should look at while speaking. Most people directed their eye contact and statements towards Desmond, only giving their attention to Rev. Coleman when he spoke or when they had a question specifically for him.
One of Desmond’s duties was to observe and evaluate Rev. Coleman’s pastoral skills in many areas from counseling and listening, to effectively leading a group in worship or song. Desmond was asked to give Rev. Coleman feedback regarding his strengths and weaknesses on a daily basis. Though Desmond felt each pastor should develop their own style, the formal and proper young reverend made sure Desmond scheduled critique time each and every day.
Instead of criticizing Rev. Coleman, Desmond chose to compliment the young man for his many strengths. Desmond’s plans to circumvent the expectation that he be critical were sabotaged by the young Rev. Coleman who attended each review with a note pad. The sole purpose of the note pad, Desmond soon recognized, was to write down all Desmond’s suggestions and criticisms.
During a review session Rev. Coleman would stoically accept any compliments and blankly stare at Desmond until he found an opportunity to write something down. What Desmond found most unnerving was the young reverend’s habit of tapping his pencil on his note pad when he went a few minutes without receiving any input worthy of being written down.
Unwilling to be judgmental, Desmond structured all of his critical comments as observations and suggestions. Most of his observations surrounded Rev. Coleman’s becoming looser and less stiff with people. Yet, Desmond had his doubts how effective such advice could be when given to a man who refused to call his co-worker by his first name.
The only times Desmond saw the reverend’s stiffness subside was when he visited with the elderly or the bedridden. When people were old, suffering or in physical discomfort Rev. Coleman would become very friendly and engaging. His bedside manner was quite impressive as he had no difficulty lifting the spirits of even the most depressed individual.
Yet, his humor vanished and the stiffness returned the moment he talked to anyone else. In fact, Desmond could not even remember the man laughing or even smiling when not busy comforting the sick or aged. Desmond had never met a man who could be so engaging and comforting to the elderly, and so stiff and at a loss with anyone else.
His visits with the children at the schools were downright painful for Desmond to watch. He could not even imagine what suggestions he could make to alleviate the young man’s discomfort with their playfulness and joy. Rev. Coleman was not a sad or depressed person, but just an uncomfortable one. The astounding kindness and compassion so apparent when he visited the bedridden was lost in the formality he brought to every other social situation.
At work the only time Desmond was free of his dour little shadow was when he took time to care for the church. He cherished the time he spent maintaining and sprucing up the church and its grounds. Yet, with all that he had to teach the young reverend his time alone was quite limited.
Desmond was finding it difficult to live up to the vow he made to himself on Christmas eve to find new friendships and loves. He did his best to make himself more available to others even attending a new year’s eve party and staying way past midnight. Though he was open to finding new people to share with, the hunt was proving to be a very difficult one. Desmond was beginning to think that it would be almost impossible for him to find new companions in town. In a bold attempt to test out this theory Desmond spent a recent Saturday afternoon at a winter carnival in a nearby town. He did indeed find good conversation with a few interesting women, but he still left feeling awkward and somewhat out of place.
The lack of substantial progress in the social arena did not deter him from his commitment to explore new relationships. He planned on, and even looked forward to attending a few community events around the county over the next month or so. Desmond, though eager to make the acquaintance of new friends, felt it would be beneficial to remain patient. Forcing new relationships, he decided, would prove as fruitless as trying to force the mending of old relationships.
His feelings of loneliness had decreased greatly since the holidays, but his hopes for reconciliation with Rachel continued to plummet. Desmond was taking pride in how much improvement he was making accepting his current situation. He was spending much less his time thinking of Rachel or reminiscing about the past. He thought of himself as a man on his own, and no longer as man deserted by his family.
About three weeks earlier, approximately a week after New Year’s day, Desmond’s hopes of Rachel’s return temporarily skyrocketed. The cause for this sudden surge of optimism and hope was in a short letter he received from Rachel.
Dear Desmond,
I hope you were able to find some joy in the passing holidays. We thought of you very often during this time and wondered if you set up a Christmas tree this year.
The Christmas season was very hard on Mark and Becky. I think they missed Andrew more than ever on Christmas day, I know I did. Yet, I think the worst is over for Becky, who has been doing much better since the holidays. Mark, too, has seemed happier over the last few days.
Just wanted you to know we were thinking of you, and to wish you a belated Merry Christmas. I also felt you would want to know that Rebecca is doing much better. Take care of yourself.
Love,
Rachel
When Desmond first received this letter he was certain its purpose was to break the ice. He immediately wrote an extremely enthusiastic letter to Rachel. In his response he asked many questions, and even outlined topics of conversation he felt important they discuss.
Over the next few days Desmond carried her letter around with him everywhere he went. He read the letter well over a hundred times until his optimism completely subsided. After the first few readings he began to notice many things which told him Rachel was still not intending on returning.
He wondered how he could have missed the distance, hesitation and coldness of her letter. How could he have read any real change of heart into the letter? All the signs were there. First, she called him Desmond, and not Desi. Then, she never commented on or answered any of the questions he had asked in the many letters he sent her. In fact, Desmond noted, she didn’t even admit to reading or even receiving the letters.
When re-reading the letter he found it contained no warmth or affection, not even anything personal. Desmond took no stock in her ending the letter with the word love. She ended every letter, even a confrontational angry one that way. After reprimanding himself for being so blind and childish, Desmond placed the letter in one of the old shoe boxes in the basement.
The excitement fostered by the surprise letter turned out to be no more than an emotional blip in Desmond’s new life. In the long run, the letter bore further testimony to Desmond that he needed to move on with his life. If Rachel were to return it would be on her time and terms. His life, therefore, needed to move on independent of her.
His new attitude towards Rachel was evidenced in only mustering up one letter to send her over the last two weeks. Desmond was himself surprised at how little he was thinking of her of late. Shortly after putting the letter away, he also soon stopped carrying around her memory everywhere he went. Rachel’s presence no longer accompanied him, but now had become a visitor stopping by only during the most familiar of situations.
After spending a busy morning with Rev. Coleman, Desmond now found himself free to take care of the church. He had already finished shoveling snow outside and found it very invigorating. Coming inside he began the long overdue task of oiling the squeaky folding chairs. After working through about eight stacks of chairs Desmond began to feel his back stiffening from the length of time he was spending hunched over a shovel and numerous chairs.
Taking a break from this rather tedious undertaking, Desmond walked around the church placing the appropriate number of hymnals in each pew. Starting from the front and working towards the back Desmond took his time as he counted, straightened, and replaced hymnals. When he completed the task, Desmond stood for a minute at the back of the church admiring the simple beauty inherent in such organization.
Though he had no intention of remaining a caretaker at First Christian for the rest of his life, he entertained no current plans to leave the position. Since he continued to derive pleasure and satisfaction from his labors at the church he was quite content to stay on as caretaker for an indefinite time period. In fact, Desmond looked forward to the weaning of the young Rev. Coleman so he good devote his full energy to the up-keep of the church.
Desmond’s short break from his chores was interrupted by the sound of one of the back doors to the church being opened. Turning around to identify his visitor Desmond was blinded by the contrast of the bright winter’s daylight with the darkened church. Desmond’s heart pounded with anxiety at the familiarity of the silhouette outlined against the intense light formed from the midday sun reflections off pure white snow.
Struggling to see his visitor, Desmond vainly squinted into the light. His questions were answered when he heard a timid and somewhat nervous voice say, “Dad!”
“Becky!” Desmond called out to the shadow walking forward. Unable to adjust his eyes to the light, Desmond held out his hands for Rebecca to take hold. The tapping of her heels across the floor ceased as the silhouette of his daughter, instead of taking his hands, leapt into his chest.
“Oh Daddy!” Rebecca said while burying her head deep into his chest. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“Me too, darling”, Desmond voice cracked with emotion, “I’ve missed you so very, very much.”
No more words came to either. Silently, locked in a long embrace they stood rocking gently back and forth. The long silence was broken by a series of long sobs from Rebecca. Desmond clutched on to his daughter tighter as he shed his own tears in quiet.
Once her tears had subsided Desmond peeled himself away to get his first good look at Rebecca. Her long blond hair had been cut short making her face look a little fuller. Her blue eyes, so long the center of his universe, looked lovingly up to him. Oh how he had missed those eyes.
Desmond touched her face as if to make sure that the vision before him wasn’t some sort of cruel mirage. His desire to talk to his most precious daughter was matched by his fears of saying the wrong thing. His desire to tell her how much he loved her, was tempered by the fear of it scaring her away.
“I’ve read all your letters,” Rebecca admitted while sniffling. “Thank you for sending them. They’ve been so beautiful! I could never tell you how much they’ve helped me over the last few months.”
“I’m glad you liked them,” responded Desmond with soft pride. He set out one of the folding chairs for her, and took one for himself. “I was so worried that you never even saw them. When did your mom let you read them?”
“The very moment they arrived she handed me my letter, saying I should read it when I was ready.”
“Didn’t she read it first?”
“No,” Rebecca sighed, “she didn’t think it was right to read my mail.”
“That sounds like Rache,” concurred Desmond managing a weak smile. “Does she read the letters I write her?”
“I guess so,” Rebecca said while thinking over his question. “She’s never talked about any of your letters, and I’ve never seen her reading one, but I can’t imagine her not being curious.”
“Is she still angry at me?” Desmond pressed on anxiously.
“Dad,” Rebecca began in a firm tone, “please don’t put me in the middle of you two.
Desmond nodded in agreement to Rebecca’s request. They both smiled at each other at the awkwardness of the entire situation, and then while turning her attention towards the church she said with a flash of irritation, “they really don’t intend on taking your church away from you do they?”
“It is still mine to clean,” Desmond said trying to make light of the matter.
Rebecca whirled towards Desmond and angrily protested, “Just who do they think they are to say that you’re unfit to lead this church? You have done more for this community than the last five or six pastors before you.”
“Have you met the new reverend?” Desmond asked in a peaceful tone intended to calm Rebecca’s fervor.
Rebecca’s eyes flashed with anger and her nostrils flared as she completely ignored Desmond’s question to continue on with her protest. Desmond, though touched by her loyalty, made many valiant attempts at subsiding her anger. Yet, even after she had fully expressed her frustration at the way her father was being treated, her body remained tight and unyielding.
The tension and indignation finally left her when attempts to defend her arguments turned into testimonials from out of the past. Her entire presence relaxed and became more tender with each example of the care her father put into his work. Desmond remained quiet, choosing to bathe in her words of pride.
In conclusion she told Desmond that “everyone” she knew was against the board’s decision. She told him not to give up hope, and that his supporters were not going to allow the board to take his parish away from him.
Desmond smiled at her determination and offered, “Would you like to go sit in back where it’s comfortable and have something to drink?”
“No!” Rebecca shot back nervously. “I really need to be going,” she talked on as she stood up preparing to leave. “I only stopped by to say hello. If I stay you’ll want to talk about Andrew and so many other things I’m not ready to discuss…”
“But, when will I see you again!” Desmond shouted out in reflex.
“I don’t know,” Rebecca’s body coiled up as if cowering before being struck. “I…I…I really don’t know. Today, I wanted to see you. I needed to see you. Yet, tomorrow may be very different… I’ll come back and see you when I’m ready,” Rebecca claimed as she made her way to the door.
Cautiously following her towards the back of the church Desmond’s voice became sad and plaintive as he beckoned her, “I love you Becky! I miss you deeply!”
“I’m sorry daddy, but I just can’t stay.” Rebecca nervously offered as she placed her hand on the door. “It was wonderful to see you, and I promise I’ll be back soon. I love you!”
Desmond felt his body drawn to her’s when he heard those words. His lurch forward to embrace her was stopped suddenly by the bright light streaming in as the door opened. His daughter immediately shrouded in light left his eyes with the same anonymity in which she entered. He watched her figure walk away in the piercing storm of light which narrowed as the door closed.
His heart sank deeper than it ever had before. With his head buried in his hands Desmond murmured, “I love you Becky. My little baby girl.”