The Land Begins to Heal, Page 2

then.”

  It was 4:30 when Butch arrived at Dr. Gerald Land’s office. It was a smallish building in the older part of town. The exterior was painted a dull grey with cedar colored trim. A placard sparkled with the three names in a list. The lowest name was Dr. Jim Cook. The middle name was Dr. Robert James and the top name, in slightly larger font, was Dr. Gerald Land. Behind each name the frighteningletters D.D.S. announced the men’s torturous craft to all who entered.

  He walked into the reception area and made small talk with the woman at the counter and then was immediately shown back to Dr. Land’s office. The small white haired man rose from his desk and stepped around to his pastor and gave him a firm handshake. “It’s good to see you Pastor. Want a cup of coffee?”

  “No thanks. How are you doing these days? How’s business?”

  “Pastor, we’re doing just fine.” The dentist sat back down behind his desk. Butch followed cue and sat down in the high-back chair facing the desk.

  Dr. Land continued, “As long as candy companies and soda pop manufacturers still dominate the American food industry there’ll always be plenty of work for me.” He beamed a perfect smile and added, “Besides, I’m getting set to retire in 14 months. Gwen and I have our eye on an RV and a little red sports car to pull behind it. We want to travel a bit before we get too old to enjoy it.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Butch leaned forward. “Gerald, I appreciate your time, and I don’t intend to keep you. But I’ve come across something, well, odd and you can help me. It is a bit of a mystery.” Butch reached into the inside pocket of hisblue and yellow Gore-Tex coat and pulled out the business meeting minutes from November 1976, unfolded them, and slid them across the beautiful oaken desk. Gerald pulled black plastic rimmed glasses from his old fashioned lab coat and slowly cradled them onto his nose. He pulled the document closer to him and began to read.

  “I don’t know anything about any of this stuff, Butch,” he pulled the glasses off his face and laid them down on top of the paper, still opened. “We had only moved here to Sydney in 1975 and were very new in the church then and didn’t know anyone. I was fresh out of school. I don’t know anything about any of this.”

  “Don’t lie to me Gerald. You were there,” Butch’s face reddened.“I know you were there. The minutes of that meeting show that you made the motion to adjourn. The minutes also say the vote to remove Ransom Rainey from the church membership was unanimous. That means you voted to remove this man. Don’t lie to me and tell me you know nothing about it.”

  The two men stared at each other forever.

  “What are you trying to hide, Gerald? Why would you lie to me? Perhaps more to the point, why has everyone kept this from me and why is it never mentioned, even in passing. I thought that after pastoring this church for over a decade that I had heard just about every story from every bygone day and every significant moment. Now I see this and it probably shouldn’t be that big of a deal but something inside screams that it is and then you lie to me about it. What’s going on Gerald?”

  Gerald opened his hands in a wide gesture and said, “Leave it alone Butch, just leave it alone. That was almost 40 years ago. Don’t go digging up old bones now. Let it lie, okay. Just let it lie. All you can do by picking at it is rip open old wounds.”

  “Gerald, I can’t leave it be. So will you tell me what happened or not?”

  “I can’t, not right now.” Gerald exhaled.“Let me think about it, okay. I will tell you that it was a long time ago, it was very nasty business, and you don’t want to stick your nose in it. But let me think about it and pray about it. I need to talk to Gwen too. I’ll let you know by tomorrow. But in the meantime, make me a promise.”

  “I’ll not promise anything.”

  “Pastor, promise me you will not dig around anymore until you hear from me tomorrow. There are a lot of scars you could open if you go prodding around clumsily and blindly. Okay? Give me till tomorrow. Promise?”

  “Gerald, I will promise that. You have my word. I will wait until I hear from you tomorrow before I do anything else but you should know that I came into your office curious. I am leaving suspicious.”

  Butch picked at his mashed potatoes at dinner and hardly touched Lucy’s meatloaf. Finally, after the children went to bed, she asked her husband, “What’s bothering you? Did something happen at work today? You don’t seem yourself.”

  “Well,” he skirted, “you know, typical day . . .” he walked down the hall into his study hoping to dodge the conversation. He picked up a book. Lucy followed him and plopped down onto the leather burgundy chaise lounge that ran perpendicular to his desk. He pretended to read.

  She let the pretense hang for about five minutes, and then asked, “Are you going to tell me what is going on or do I have to call Mildred?”

  “You wouldn’t!” His protest was only half-serious.

  “You know I would, so you might as well open up to me Mr. Pastor Man.”

  Butch closed the book and placed it back on the desk. He swiveled his chair around, and mutely moved to the end of the chaise lounge and put his wife’s feet in his lap. Carefully he untied the shoelaces from her white red striped sneakers and let them crash to the floor in two successive plops. Then he removed her socks and began working her left foot with his knowledgeable hands. He worked the balls of her feet and then massaged the toes and made his way down to her heel. With his two thumbs he pressed the knots out of the arch and then worked the tops of her foot, rubbing the insteps in circular motions.

  The pleasure his wife felt was apparent as she smiled and relaxed in the luxurious moment.

  When he moved to the other foot to continue the therapeutic ritual he spoke.

  “I found something this morning. A letter. It is from the past, Lucy. Apparently about 35 years ago there was some kind of scandal at our church. Don’t ask me what kind of scandal because I don’t know. All I know is that apparently great pains were taken to cover it up and make it go away. The Lord is in this, honey. Whatever happened has spooked Gerald Land. Why he is scared, I don’t know, but I know fear when I see it. He didn’t want to talk about it and he lied to me and now I have to wait and see if he will tell me the truth.

  “I thought I knew everything there was to know about our church. I can’t believe there are any more skeletons in the closet, it just doesn’t seem possible.”

  He was silent again and tenderly continued to rub her foot. Lucy also sat in silence. Shewaited for her husband to process the day’s events as he spoke.

  “I guess I’m going to have to dig a little deeper to find out why they churched that man.” and then he hesitated, and started to speak, but didn’t.

  “What do you mean by churched?” Lucy said.

  “I forget sometimes I am older than you. Churched is a phrase that was used a long time ago to refer to someone who was kicked out of the congregation. People were churched,” he made air ellipsis around the word churched, “for doing something wrong. Sometimes it was serious like an affair but usually it was something silly like being caught playing cards or drinking a beer. Churches were very legalistic back then.”

  “Where will you dig, to find out why he was churched?”

  “That’s the thing. I don’t know. Our church doesn’t have a history of doing that, ever. We’ve never been a particularly legalistic group. I promised Gerald that I wouldn’t talk to anyone else about it until he got back to me. So I guess if he doesn’t help, then I can question some other people who were here back then, but only after Gerald talks to me.”

  Lucy sat up and scooted her bottom over next to her husband. “Somehow, I don’t think that will happen. I think Gerald will help you but you’re probably going to have to do something uncomfortable—something hard. If Gerald is still scared, as you say, that probably meanspeople who were involved are still in our church or are still hurting from it. Don’t be too hard on him, Butch. Ge
rald may have made promises long ago he is trying to honor. If anyone in this whole world knows what it is like to know a thing, and not be able to tell that thing to someone who probably should know, but it can’t be told, well that is you. How many times have you taken the brunt of someone else’s anger because you were protecting a weak or vulnerable person?”

  Butch grunted.

  “Besides,” Lucy said, “Gerald is a good man. He is a wise man. Twice he has served on the Board and he is one of your better Bible teachers. He has raised a great family, cares for his wife, and has a superb reputation in Sydney as a pillar in the community. A man like that will not make the wrong decision. You’ve got to trust him.”

  Butch put his hand on her thigh and smiled. “How did you get to be so smart, Lucy Gregory?”

  “From watching Jeopardy.” She leaned over and kissed him softly on the cheek. “You’ll probably have a long day tomorrow, so you need to get to bed. Come on,” she grabbed him by the hand and dragged him off the leather and stood him up and guided him to the bedroom.

  Butch dreamt he was a salmon, a massive salmon swimming in from the ocean on that one last trip, the final destined journey of fate. In his dream he dodged the predators of the sea. Barely escaping sharks, he swam into the greater cauldron of killer whales before being