Raised by his religious single mother, he must prepare to deliver his first sermon, even if it means giving up a chance at first love.
The only thing Danny's father left him was a cryptic letter. In the letter, the ever-missing parent described the writer Rabelais as 'one smart frog.' He went on to quote: "Always run after the dog and you'll never be bitten; always drink before you're thirsty and you'll never be so." The letter was signed very simply: Ribbet. Ribbet. Ribbet.
Danny was a good boy. He had only consciously sinned once. That was to look for the quote in a book by Rabelais. He never found the exact words, but was so embarrassed by the gist of the text he decided to store the letter away with the rest of his feelings about his father; in permanent cold storage where his mother had suggested the man belonged. But he carried a heavy weight about his father's departure. He was sure his father was angry with him, that it was because of Danny he left. He told his mother about his fear and she cradled him in her arms and cried.
"Don't you fret about such things, Danny. Don't you fret."
Danny's mother was usually right about such things. She was constantly embarrassing him with her concern. He was, after all, on the threshold of manhood and she still told him to wipe his feet. She didn't want him bringing anything into the house from outside that might dirty the carpet. As a result, he didn't get to go out too often. She often said that if it would insure his safety, she would keep him in the house forever. It wasn't traffic or criminals that frightened her, she was more worried about the safe-keeping of his soul.
Had they been Catholics, this mother and her only son, she would have admonished him to become a priest. That way, she could be sure his body was never soiled by the world. Especially the world that had had its way with her. Once, at least.
Danny was of average height, though his slender build gave him the appearance of being taller. And he had beautiful blue eyes. His face would have been interesting, but it contained no flaws. His skin was similarly light and clear.
On his eleventh Halloween, his mother dressed him as an angel and sent him out trick or treating. Later, when she dried his tears, Danny explained that his friends had teased him, asking why he wasn't wearing a costume. She never gave those particular friends another chance at her son.
After high school, Danny attended a Christian College through the mail, receiving his Bachelor of Bible Studies via registered letter. The graduation ceremony consisted of his mother waiting until he arrived home from his job as church custodian before opening the letter. They toasted his success with a cup of hot chocolate. Two marshmallows.
Reverend Doberman took Danny on as assistant pastor, since he was now officially educated. The duties still involved janitoring, but as assistant, Danny was charged with passing out hymnals, tallying the collections taken by the deacons and collected the hymnals after every service. Oh, and he was to begin preparing a sermon. Just one. Danny was to think of the most important thing he wanted to tell the congregation and put it down on paper. Then, should he be called upon to give a sermon at the last moment, he would be ready.
Danny used to sit on the bank of the little pond behind the church and think about his sermon constantly. At that time, a war was in the offing and he considered concentrating his talk around the "Thou shalt not kill" commandment. He tore up the pages after realizing that his congregation was predominantly conservative. He didn't want to ruin his chance at ever becoming pastor right off the bat. Besides, there was surely something more important he wanted to tell them.
The country was also in the throes of a sexual revolution and he considered basing his sermon on "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife." As a young man with absolutely no experience in sexual matters, he didn't want to place himself above his congregation. Not only that, but he got the impression that most of the revolution involved single people, and he wasn't sure how to properly translate the revolution to married life. It dawned on him that, in the end, the position of pastor was really very political.
In his more radical moments, he considered Einstein's theory of relativity, privately, of course. The idea appealed to him, except that he knew nothing of physics. Darwin was out from the word 'go.' Topics loomed and disappeared as he went through his daily routine. "Render unto Caesar..." "Yeah, though I walk through the Valley of Death..." "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone..." "And God gave his only begotten son..." "Thou shalt not steal..." "Honor they mother and thy fa " That one stumped him. "Honor thy mother and thy father..." Any thy father?
Danny found himself thinking about his father. How did someone go about honoring someone who wasn't around to accept the honor? His father had run off when Danny was only six. The only memories he had of the man were sharp and angry. Shouting matches between his mother a man whose face was red and now indistinct. Danny's sole inheritance had been an incoherent scrawl, the message was even taken from another man's thoughts. Translated from another language even! If there was one sermon Danny was unqualified to give, this was it. He gave up thinking about his sermon. Sooner or later an idea would make itself known to him. He would just have to rely on divine inspiration, so to speak.
Angela was an assistant for the printing company that produced the church programs every week. Her typing was impeccable and fast. Her lifestyle was not so impeccable, though just as fast. Deacon Winters, who owned the company, defended her employment by pointing out her typing speed publicly, and her other attributes privately.
Now, Danny was either at home or at the church all the time. He had no way of knowing any of this. As far as he was concerned, Angela was just another friendly typist at the printer's. He wasn't aware of the secrets behind her wide, pretty smile. In that regard, he may as well have been eleven again. The secrets behind her smile were no secrets at all. Some, more malicious gossips said her name was both in the Farmer's Almanac and Guinness Book of Records; listed under reaping and sowing.
One Thursday afternoon Danny delivered the program for printing. Deacon Winters was out to lunch and Angela smiled as she read over the information.
"I see you're having a potluck dinner at the church in two weeks." She looked up dreamily at Danny. "I haven't been to a potluck in so long."
"Why don't you come, then?" he asked brightly.
"I couldn't. I don't know anybody at the church."
"You know Deacon Winters," Danny countered, an idea forming in his mind.
"That's work. I wouldn't want to sit all alone."
"You could come with my mother and me."
Angela looked at him closely. So closely, Danny began to wonder if he had left something unbuttoned. Then she smiled, wide and pretty.
"You know, that sounds like a wonderful idea."
"Wonderful," Danny repeated. "Shall we pick you up?"
She shook her head. "I'll meet you there."
That night, as she bathed, Angela inspected the faint stretch marks across her abdomen; reminders of two long stays in California extended vacations so to speak. The prospect of showing up at the potluck on the arm of the church's 'angel' was both funny and frightening. The mother was more protective than a she-wolf. There was bound to be trouble from that quarter. And several members of the congregation were intimate acquaintances. Her smile grew wider, losing some of its prettiness.
When Danny told his mother of the arrangement, she grew pale.
"Are you all right, Mother?" He asked solicitously.
"Yes." She caught her breath before he could notice any further distress. "Do you think it's a good idea? Inviting her, I mean. She's not even a member of the church."
Danny frowned. He had never thought of the church as a select group, like a country club. His mother frowned. She didn't want to bring out the 'savior' in her son by making too much of this event. By trying to save this Angela, he might ruin himself.
"You're right, dear," she smiled. "I think it's a wonderful idea, your inviting her to the potluck."
Danny smiled back. His mother was such a good Christian woman.
Angela met Danny and his mother outside the church. Danny was pleased she was early. His mother's greeting was polite, no more. As they entered the foyer, Danny suggested a tour, which Angela immediately agreed would be nice. His mother coughed, but watched them go as she stood there helpless and reddening.
They explored the whole of the church, upstairs and down. The rest of the congregation had arrived by the time Danny showed Angela the last room. He left her sitting with his mother and took his place next to Deacon Winters in the back by the doors to the sanctuary. Danny was so excited, there was an electricity in the air that seemed to have affected everyone.
The service was a blur, and over ten minutes early. Reverend Doberman, who normally enjoyed lingering over points at the evening service, seemed in a minor hurry. The organist fought valiantly to keep up the with congregation's musical alacrity.
When he finished counting the collection, Danny hurried downstairs to find Angela serving food alongside his mother. The sight of the two of them, standing side by side, dishing out food to the hungry worshippers did wonderful things to Danny's insides. The way Angela filled the plates, her smile so wide and pretty, made her appear to be the happiest person in the world. Next to him, of course.
He sat between his two 'dates' as they ate. Chicken had never been so flavorful, vegetable, never so wholesome. His mother sat quietly ate to his right. Her face held a new, healthy color. Several of the men, including Deacon Winters, seemed to have undergone the same rejuvenation. Reverend Doberman seemed especially brighter, his words spilling eloquently as he went from table to table. Danny couldn't have been happier. He felt a spiritual awakening with a picture of Angela standing beside him as he went through his life, as they would go through their lives together, and he had been inspired toward an understanding of his role in life as never before. Suddenly, everything made perfect sense, and he couldn't wait to tell her.
Danny walked Angela to the car when the potluck was over, her arm hooked within his as if in unspoken gratitude. She inserted the key in the car door and then turned to him.
"You know," she said hesitating, "You took quite a risk tonight."
"Risk?"
She looked into his flawless face. It had been part of her plan to expose her past to him, perhaps in revenge, perhaps to further, no initiate his education.
"What risk?" Danny was mildly agitated. "You mean by inviting you to the potluck?"
His blue eyes seemed almost more beautiful than the bare moonlight. His skin was light and clear. She knew he was poor, tied to his mother, surrounded by a congregation that no doubt planned to exploit his innocence. Standing next to him, she suddenly realized he wasn't as tall as he appeared to be, and she liked him even more for that.
"Just because you aren't a member of the church?" Danny laughed gaily. "A church isn't like a country club, you know."
Angela smiled, wide and pretty. "You're right, of course." She took his hand. "Thank you for a lovely evening."
"Will you come again, sometime?" Danny's courage was limitless.
"I don't think so." She shook her head ruefully.
"No?" He deflated slightly. "Why not?"
"They'd never forgive me."
"What do they have to forgive?" Danny was perplexed.
She took his hands in her. "Danny, you are a wonderful person, very unique in this world, in this community. That makes you rare and very special."
"But that's not fair. I don't feel rare or special."
"I know you don't."
"Then why won't you come to church with me again?"
"Someday... maybe " then she paused. "No, I'd only be kidding myself, and you." For a moment she looked like she was going to say something else, but the moment passed. "Thank you for tonight." She kissed him on the cheek and slipped into her car.
He watched as she started out of the parking lot. She paused at the curb, her head down as if she was praying, or maybe crying. He couldn't tell for sure. But he did feel, in the moment she had paused, that she had felt some of the same things he had felt.
Driving home with his mother, Danny was quiet. He pulled the old car into the driveway and pulled up the hand brake.
"You know, Mother, Angela said she didn't think she'd come to church again. I wonder why?"
"People have different ways, son." She spoke cautiously.
"But she seemed such a part of things." There was a new note in his voice that touched his mother. It was the first time she ever seriously considered he would really become a man.
"Son," she took his hand. "You wouldn't be the person you are if you didn't see it that way."
That next Thursday, Danny could barely contain his excitement as he took the program to Deacon Winter's shop. When he arrived, a different assistant met him at the counter. He looked behind her at several women sitting at desks.
"Where's Angela?" Danny coughed, his throat closing slightly. "I hope she's not sick."
"Angela doesn't work here anymore," came the indifferent reply.
"Where did she go?" He could hardly breathe.
"She's probably pregnant again," came a snickering voice from behind the counter. Danny looked in the direction of the voice. An older woman saw him staring and glared back defiantly. Danny dropped the program information on the counter and stumbled out blindly.
Three years later, Reverend Doberman told Danny in private that he would be retiring soon. The Reverend was going to put Danny's name forward to replace him. Did he have a sermon prepared so the congregation could judge his ability?
Yes. A man learns a lot of things in three years. Even if innocently.
Danny sat next to Reverend Doberman on the podium. He looked out with an uneasy satisfaction on the full house before them. His mother sat three rows from the front, wearing her best dress. He didn't see Angela on his first scan of the crowd, but then he spotted her in the very last pew. He smiled. She had gotten his note. The hymn ended and he stood.
"To begin, I would like to thank all of you for coming this Sunday. It comforts me that you have shown such confidence in my untested ability as a speaker. It's a warm day, so don't worry about nodding off. I won't be hurt."
Several titters of laughter rose from the congregation and he felt better.
"In deciding on a topic for my first sermon, I discarded many themes because of my lack of knowledge and experience. I was amazed at how little I discovered I knew. You'll notice, though, that I chose "Honor thy father" as my topic. The commandment reads, "Honor thy mother and thy father " and while I don't wish to dishonor my mother by not including her, I thought it might serve all our interests to concentrate on the latter."
There was an uneasy shifting in the room. Danny looked up, cleared his throat, and continued.
"My own father contributed nothing to my life, except life itself. He was missing, so to speak. But he did contribute to giving me life." Danny studiously kept his eye on the page, not wishing to see his mother's face at that moment.
"My father never spanked me, never praised me. He wasn't there to play with catch with me, to help me with my homework." Danny looked out at the crowd. "And yet, he participated in all these things as much as I did. He gave me life, and for this I honor him.
"My mother cared for me, fed me, dressed me, held me when I had no one else to turn to. For this, I honor her. Yet, there is an analogy here that cannot be dismissed lightly. God, our heavenly father, is rarely apparent in our everyday lives. By virtue of our existence, though, he is apparent in all that we do. He gave us life on earth. He entrusted us to this earth this physical mother to care for us, to feed us, to give us a place when we have nowhere else to go.
"It is only our belief in God that recreates the whole family of life the Trinity, if you will of mother, father and child. Those who turn their eyes away from God, lose the father. Those who look only for God, lose sight of the mother. Those who look to themselves only, become orphans wholly.
"As I stand before you today, I realize that I am a child to all of you. To all and to none. Because of my innocence, I am as the not-yet-born, a spiritual orphan. Jesus told the crowd that was about to stone a prostitute, 'Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.' He was asking the impossible. To live is to sin. It is an unavoidable fact, given the distance from our heavenly father. But this idea degrades our physical existence. Our earthly mother, this planet that supports us, deserves no blame. We are shaped from this earth mother's materials, and these materials are without blame. But, surely there must be blame it must attach itself to something, someone." He put down the sheaf of papers and looked out at the congregation.
"The only conclusion I can come to is best described by paraphrasing the Psalms. 'Yeah, though I walk through the Valley of Life, I will fear no evil.' Or perhaps better, 'Yea though I walk through this Valley of Earth, I will create no evil.' We are given purpose by living. If we fear, we commit the sin of lacking faith. It is only through our earthly judgments that evil exists. We create evil by recognizing it as such.
"Several years ago, I watched an evening unfold. A drama, if you will, that seemed to bring people to life as if charged by some electricity some special spirit. I didn't have the experience to see the fear in people's faces. I didn't have the astuteness to recognize their embarrassment. I was simply amazed at how brightly life shone, shimmering magically in the faces of those involved. I mother."
Danny paused, trying to control the quivering in his voice.
"I told him I had tried to be a good boy," Danny smiled, "I mean a good man, so that he would be proud of me if and when we saw each other again." Danny tried very hard not to look in his mother's direction. He settled his glance on Angela who smiled her support. He blinked and continued again. "I heard from the man I thought was my father. He said he was sorry, but I had made a mistake. He wasn't my father, but he was proud of me anyway.
"Then he wrote that I shouldn't worry about being 'good' for somebody else. I should live my life for me, do what I felt was right and let other people think what they may because they would anyway. Finally, he told me he wished me luck in finding my father, that the search was a good one, but not to be too disappointed if I was unsuccessful in my quest, because through my effort, I would eventually see that I had a piece of my father inside of me all along. Through that piece, I would be able to discover what was important about my father in my life.
"Is that so much different than our search to understand our heavenly father? Are our prayers so different than my letter to a stranger I hoped was my father? And was his answer so different than what God may tell us of our needs and hopes? When we ask the right question of the wrong person, or the wrong question of the right person, in the end, is God still not present in the process, guiding us past our earthbound judgments toward a higher, more spiritual experience?
"Three years ago, I asked the wrong person to the right potluck and discovered that my life with all its apparent 'goodness' was incomplete." Danny paused, he found Angela in the back and sharpened his gaze toward her. Her eyes held steady with his. "I sent another letter to the man who wasn't my father two weeks ago. I asked him how long it takes to fall in love with another person, how long you should know them before you know you are in love, how long you should be together before you could ask them to marry you. He wrote me back that knowing the other person wasn't as important as knowing yourself, that you could see another person once, and not see them again for say, three years and if you were sure in your own heart, then the rest would take care of itself."
He watched as Angela bit her lip, she seemed like she was going to cry. He knew what she was afraid of, and what he needed to do next.
"In my heart, I have been in love with a person I met only once. In discovering that, I'm afraid I have to tell you that I can't be your minister." He heard his mother's short, startled exclamation, but kept his eyes on Angela. Her eyes opened wide as he silently asked the question he had been wanting to ask her for three years. Almost in wonderment, she nodded her head 'yes.' Danny closed his eyes, hesitated for a moment, then looked up smiling.
"You really wouldn't have liked me as your minister, I seem to talk too much."
With that, Danny walked down from the podium, made his way down the aisle toward the last pew. There, he took Angela's hand and bid her rise. She tucked her arm in his as he turned to face the congregation, their heads swiveled to watch his exit.
"I think a hymn would be appropriate, don't you?" Then they left through the double doors.
The congregation that sang the last hymn was subdued. Many were confused by the young assistant pastor's words, and even more confused by what they had witnessed. Others were uncertain as whether or not to be angry. Still others were charmed by the delivery, the whimsical earnest, child-like demeanor of the young man and his romantic proposal to the young woman.
Outside the church, in the parking lot, Angela turned to face him. "Are you sure you want to do this? You don't know anything about me all the trouble and"
"Yes I do," Danny said, putting his fingertip to her lips to quiet her, his bright blue eyes boring into her. "I know that you quit your job three years ago to keep me from falling in love with you."
Her eyes narrowed as she smiled at back him. "How do you know I didn't quit to keep me from falling in love with you?"
Danny face reddened. "I didn't think... did it work?"
"We'll never know, now will we?" She took his arm and they walked several yards toward the car. "What about your mother? She wanted you to become the minister here."
"I know, but I realized some time ago that she was just plain afraid of losing me, more than wanting me to become a minister. To tell you the truth, I was more worried about your reaction than hers."
"Why?"
"Because I knew she was going to lose me after today, anyway."
"You mean if I had said no?"
"Yes."
She fell silent for a moment. "You know, as far as I'm concerned, you don't have to choose between me and her. I would like her to still be a part of our lives. If she still wants to be, I mean."
Now Danny was quiet. She looked into his eyes and saw they were wet with tears of love and gratitude. She kissed his eyes and her folded his arms around her. She melted into his embrace.
"You know," she murmured against his shoulder, "Someday I'd like to meet that fellow you thought was your father. Where does he live?"
Danny laughed. "You liked him, huh?"
"Sounds like a nice person, and he is kind of responsible for getting us together, after all."
"Hmm, would you be terribly upset if I told you he doesn't exist?"
"You made him up?" Angela pushed back look at him, amazed. "Why?"
"It has to do with something my real father wrote to me before he left." Danny smiled that smile that had first caught her attention. A deep warmth invaded his look. "I knew that I loved you, and I was pretty sure you loved me. But I also knew you thought I was just a goody two shoes, who didn't know what was what." He chuckled. "Maybe I was, but I knew that as long as it looked like I was under my mother's thumb, or belonged to this church lock, stock and barrel that you'd never understand that I really did know the score."
"Why you "
"Well, you have to admit it did make for a great first sermon, even if it was my last."
"We'll see about that," she replied coquettishly as they reached her car.
He opened the car door for her and closed it as she got in. He walked around to the passenger side, paused and looked up into the sky, searching the clouds drifting in the vast blue. He closed his eyes and mouthed the words, 'Thank you.'
Sometimes a prayer is just like a letter, the same way some fathers are invisible, but not entirely absent. Danny smiled as he heard the frogs croaking in the pond behind the church.
Soldier's Gap is a non-traditional mystery with literary elements. The high school principal is brutally murdered, but Deputy Sheriff Dave Jenkins's search for meaning and love is a much more significant theme.
"Murder isn't usually this fun
The only thing Danny's father left him was a cryptic letter. In the letter, the ever-missing parent described the writer Rabelais as 'one smart frog.' He went on to quote: "Always run after the dog and you'll never be bitten; always drink before you're thirsty and you'll never be so." The letter was signed very simply: Ribbet. Ribbet. Ribbet.
