Bonus Epilogue
“All right, let’s put those muscles to good use.”
David deserved a medal for not rolling his eyes at Sydney, especially when she clapped her mittened hands.
Scratch that. He didn’t need more medals to stash away and ignore.
Still, he could think of better uses for his muscles.
They’d won basketball games, helped teammates out of the bus wreck, fought insurgents in the military, and participated in a few other activities that wouldn’t be received well by the church people surrounding him.
Carrying a couch? Low on the “good use” list, no matter how many times Sydney clapped.
Many Oaks Bible Church had been more-or-less homeless since one of the kids incinerated the place. Having a new building—even if it was a former preschool—was a big deal to members. Self-appointed move coordinator Sydney Roswell among them.
David squatted, fit his fingers under the edge of the couch, and waited for his best friend to do the same. Sterling nodded, and they rose in tandem.
“That goes in Anson’s office.” Sydney consulted a clipboard. “The second classroom on the left, all the way through into the office at the back.” As she eased the door shut behind them, she yelled, “Watch your step!”
He didn’t respond. Another medal for the drawer.
Sterling smirked.
The guy rarely spoke above a murmur and usually sent his sentences out to face the world alone. Most died on contact. But a few days ago, he said, “My church got a new building. Help us move in on Saturday?” If Sterling was two-sentences-serious, who was David to say no?
Besides, Marissa’s best friend, Blaze, attended here too. She was pretty serious about Anson, the youth pastor here, so by extension, moving this couch was one way of returning all the kindness Blaze had shown David over the years.
When David and Sterling came to the assigned room, they wordlessly turned.
Inside the room, Anson was screwing the legs onto a table.
He took the screws from between his lips and motioned toward the office off the classroom.
“Bookshelf construction is underway in there. You can leave the couch by the door. I’m not even sure it’ll fit. ”
David and Sterling did as they were told and set down the couch.
As David straightened, he heard a familiar voice muttering in the office.
He poked his head around the corner. Bookshelf pieces covered the floor of the rectangular office.
Marissa sat at the epicenter of the parts explosion, her curly hair whipped into a frizzy disarray that indicated she’d been running her fingers through it.
“Who thought this was a good idea?” he asked.
Her lips parted in a gaping grimace. “Blaze was helping, but she got called away.” Marissa struggled to hold a shelf in place while finger-tightening a screw that might hold—if she didn’t bust the pre-drilled hole.
Finding open spots on the floor was like navigating a Twister mat, but David maneuvered close enough to grab the shelf from his sister. “I’ve got this.” As her hold loosened, he lowered the F-shaped contraption to the carpet.
Sterling appeared in the doorway and stepped in far enough to offer Marissa a hand up.
Like a hostage being led to freedom, she took it.
Moments later, they were gone. David found the directions and sorted parts, vaguely aware of Anson leaving.
Components for not one but three bookshelves littered the room.
Marissa never should’ve been left unattended in there.
When he finally had all the parts in order, he worked on Marissa’s F.
“Pastor Anson!” Footsteps pounded in the hall, then a boy’s voice broadcast into the room.
“Guess who gets to go to college after all!” A red-faced freshman—a guess, but he had that look about him—waved a sheet of paper.
“Someone finally wants Carter.” The kid pivoted one way and another, like six-four Anson might materialize from nowhere.
He spotted David through the office doorway and lowered the paper, his shoulders dropping. “My brother got a scholarship. It’s a good one at a school with the major he wants too.”
“Sounds like the kind of thing he’d want to announce himself.”
“He’s off at a basketball tournament with his club.” The kid shrugged. “You snooze, you lose.”
David snorted. The kid had spunk. “I don’t know where Anson went.”
The boy slid the paper onto the table Anson had just assembled. Then he crossed the room and sat near the bookshelf directions. After cocking his head at them for a moment, he grabbed a handful of parts. “I’m Dylan. Who’re you?”
“What do you think you’re doing?” No way he trusted this punk with a screwdriver any more than he trusted Marissa.
The kid turned his head to an impossible angle, focused on a sideways label on one of the parts. “Helping.”
“What if I don’t want help?”
Dylan righted his head and grinned. “Needing help isn’t bad. That’s what my family’s counselor says.”
“Your family has a counselor?” And the kid wasn’t embarrassed enough to keep the fact to himself?
“Yeah. I mean, mostly, she’s for my parents, but they dragged us—me and my brother—along a couple of times.
” He lined up a shelf and a sidewall and wiggled his fingers as he scanned the screws.
“She’s all right. I mean, things are a lot better now.
You ever see a counselor?” He shot a self-conscious glance at David.
He didn’t believe in lying, so he said, “A couple times.” He also didn’t believe in baring his soul, but this kid seemed more interested in unloading than in learning anyone’s secrets.
He watched Dylan work for a minute. He was better at following the directions than Marissa. David ventured out for the drill Anson had abandoned. With the power tool, he finished Marissa’s bookshelf in no time and stepped over where Dylan worked on the second shelf to begin assembling the last one.
“This place is pretty nice, right?” The kid blindly pulled screws out of a bag as he looked into the classroom.
The entire place smelled like a kindergarten craft supply cabinet.
Stains blotched the ceiling tiles, moisture clung between the panes of the windows, and the floor should’ve been replaced a decade ago.
But Sterling said the former preschool was only a temporary home for the church, until they rebuilt.
“Beats the burned one.”
“Yeah.” Dylan’s head bobbed. “That was an accident. I was just … you know how some people light candles when they pray for people? It seemed like if there was something I could see, my prayers would mean more. I guess it wasn’t a good idea, though.”
David’s shock came out in a loud laugh before he checked it. “You’re that kid?”
The boy’s eyes bugged. “You didn’t know?”
“I’m just here because a friend asked. You burned the old place down?”
“Not on purpose.”
“Right.” David directed his focus to his work. He probably shouldn’t find it so entertaining that this goofball set the church on fire. “How many candles did you light?”
“Just one … at first. Some wax got on a railing, and I was going to clean it off, but then I realized I could stick the candle bottom to the puddle and the candle would stand up. Then I didn’t have to hold it anymore, so I started setting up other candles.
I just didn’t realize how close some of them were to the flowers and how close the flowers were to the banner thing and … .”
“Went up quick, huh?”
The boy threw his hands up. “So quick. And do you know how hard it is to get a fire extinguisher to work? Like, shouldn’t they be easy?”
“You’d think.” David had never had occasion to use one.
“Anyway, everything got really bad really fast.”
“That’s how it goes.”
“Huh?”
David sank another screw. “In my experience, bad things are bound to happen.”
“Good things are too, though, right? I mean, I was praying about my parents when I lit the candles, and they’re doing a lot better now. And the church has this building. Plus, I’m not in jail.” The kid lifted his hands, as though to say ta-da.
David chuckled. “Living the dream.”
“Are you being sarcastic?”
“Nope.” But he couldn’t keep from grinning. “I’m glad you’re not in jail. Try and keep it that way.”
“Yeah.” Dylan nodded earnestly and picked up another shelf. “That’s definitely the plan.”
This kid was a riot.
Sydney leaned into the office. “If you guys are all set with your stay-out-of-jail plans, there’s pizza in the sanctuary.”
Dylan jumped to his feet and ran.
“Coming?” Sydney lifted an eyebrow.
“I’m not leaving this half-done.” He zipped another screw into place.
She settled against the doorframe. “You know we could use you in the mentoring program at the community center.”
“Never been a fan of being used.”
“How about this? You could use your talents to help kids at the community center.”
“Which talents?”
“I heard you with Dylan. You didn’t freak out or judge him. Some kids really need a listening ear. And hey, the more of them who don’t end up in jail, the better.”
He scoffed. “Avoiding jail isn’t much of a life goal.”
“You could help them aim higher.”
“Yeah. Gather ’round, kids.” He motioned with the drill. “Let me tell you all about how to avoid jail and become”—he paused for effect—“a waiter.”
“This is a small town, David Hunter.” Her tone reminded him of his senior-year English teacher. “I know you, and you can’t pass yourself off as a waiter to me. You’re a hero.”
She knew about the medals then.
He glared at her from his spot on the floor.
He didn’t have the height advantage or a clear path to the exit, but he refused to let being cornered defeat him into surrender.
There was a lot more to a person than their name or their medals.
If she thought he was a good role model for kids, she didn’t know him at all.
Sydney pushed away from the wall. “See you around.”
Not if he could help it. Eventually, her rose-colored glasses would break and she’d see the truth. David Hunter was nobody’s hero.