“What about Reverend Hessel?”
“He was killed. During a robbery,” Dorothy jumped in.
“Oh.”
Well, how was I supposed to know? I really hadn’t seen anyone for weeks except my grandmother and her caregivers. I didn’t read theEagle, Mason Bay’s weekly newspaper. Nor did I watch the local9&10 News. Basically, if it wasn’t on my Yahoo! start page or on NPR I had no idea it had happened.
I can’t say I had any fondness for Reverend Hessel. I’d only met him twice. Once at a pancake dinner and then at the hospital a few days after Nana Cole had her stroke. I’ll never forget the way my grandmother’s eyes lit up when he entered her hospital room. She said a few garbled words, so I explained, “They’re optimistic about her regaining her speech. Maybe even fully.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” he said as he sat down on the side of her bed. Smiling, he said to her, “Emma. Dear Emma. You have nothing to worry about. God would never give you more than you can handle. You’re going to come through this with flying colors.”
He took her hand in his and asked, “Would you like to pray?”
She said, “ehsssh.” Which was actually a big improvement over the day before when she’d been saying “eggggg” instead of yes.
Reverend Hessel turned to me, but before he could ask me to join them in prayer, I said, “I’ll wait in the hall.”
Standing in the hallway, I started thinking about God not giving us more than we can handle. I didn’t believe it for a minute. I mean, what about the people who’d jumped out of hundred-story windows on 9/11? Did God think they’d just handle it? Or the people Jeffrey Dahmer killed? Or Jews being ushered into gas chambers? Seriously, I could spend all day coming up with examples of God giving out far more than people could handle.
Reverend Hessel stayed in the room with my grandmother for about ten minutes. Once I stopped making a mental list of horrific tragedies God could have chosen not to give us, I spent the rest of the time staring at the walls in the hallway. They were mint green on top and a dirty pink on the bottom. Every ten feet there was a painting of sandy dunes at a beach.
Not for the first time, I asked myselfwhy?Why would anyone think pink and mint green were soothing colors? I mean, did they really think you’d stand there thinking, ‘my loved one is dying, but the walls remind me of sherbet, so it’s okay?’
When Reverend Hessel came out he caught me off guard, and before I knew what he was doing, he had my hand in his and seemed not to want to let it go.
“If there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know.”
“Thank you.”
“I know church isn’t something you’re into, but we’re always there for you. God is always there for you.”
Instead of looking at him, I was looking at his shirt. I noticed that he wasn’t as pudgy as he used to be. I was tempted to ask if he’d been going to Weight Watchers, though he’d probably just tell me he’d prayed the pounds away. I realized he was waiting for me to say something.
“My grandmother seemed happy to see you.”
“She’s one of my favorites. So feisty. I’m glad the doctors are optimistic.”
“Me too,” I said, finally pulling my hand away.
Jan turned the burner off under the teapot. She got cups out of the cupboard. I glanced at Nana Cole, who looked a not-very-optimistic ashen gray.
“When did it happen?” I asked, about Reverend Hessel’s murder.
“Last Thursday,” Bev said. To my grandmother she added, “I didn’t want to tell you. I was concerned about your condition. I still am.”
“When is the funeral?” Nana Cole asked, her voice hollow.
“It was on Monday.”
“I missed it? Was it nice?”
“It was lovely.”
“Good. I thought Reverend Hessel was such a kind man,” she said. “It’s a shame. A terrible shame.”
“I don’t understand it,” Jan said. “I mean, I understand why Reverend Hessel would try to stop them, but why would someone steal from a church in the first place?”
“Well, for the money,” I said, stating the obvious. But then, quickly, it wasn’t all that obvious. “Wait a minute. You said, Thursday. Why would you steal from a church on a Thursday?” They each stared at me, clueless. I suspect they had trouble getting past ‘Why would someone steal from a church?’
