Free At Home in Mitford by Jan Karon Page B

elderly patient of nearly a decade. “Uncle Billy, I’d sure like to hear a joke, if you’ve got one.”
    Uncle Billy grinned. “Did you hear the one about the skydivin’ lessons?”
    “I hope you didn’t get this from Harry Nelson,” said Emma, who didn’t like Harry Nelson jokes, not even secondhand.
    “Nossir. I got this joke off a feller at the Grill. He was drivin’ through from Texas.”
    Everyone settled back happily, and Miss Rose gave Uncle Billy the go-ahead by jabbing him in the side with her elbow.
    “Well, this feller, he wanted to learn to skydive, don’t you know. And so he goes to this school and he takes all kind of trainin’ and all, and one day comes the time he has to jump out of this airplane, and out he goes, like a ton of bricks, and he gets on down there a little ways and commences to pull th’ cord and they don’t nothin’ happen, don’t you know, and so he keeps on droppin’ and he switches over and starts pullin’ on his emergency cord, and they still don’t nothin’ happen, an’ th’ first thing you know, here comes this other feller, a shootin’ up from the ground, and the feller goin’ down says, ‘Hey, Buddy, do you know anything about parachutes?’ And the one a comin’ up says, ‘Nope, do you know anything about gas stoves?’ ”
    Uncle Billy looked around proudly. He would have considered it an understatement to say that everyone roared with laughter.
    “I’ve heard that bloomin’ tale forty times,” Miss Rose said, removing a slice of cheese from her pocket and having it with her coffee.
    Miss Sadie followed her host into the kitchen. “I’m just having the best time in the world, Father!”
    “You and me both!” he said, measuring out some more coffee beans.
    “I want to have you up to lunch soon. There’s something I’d like to talk with you about that’s been on my mind for a long while.”
    It was rare, indeed, for Miss Sadie to have anyone up to Fernbank for anything these days. “It’s not another find from your attic, is it?”
    “Oh my, no. It’s much more important than that!”
    “I’ll look forward to it,” he said, putting his arm around her frail shoulders. “You know, we’re supposed to hear something about our painting next week.”
    “Yes, I know. And I hope you won’t think this is awful of me . . .”
    “What’s that?”
    “I dearly hope it’s not a Vermeer.”
    He knew precisely what she meant. Although he’d never said it to a soul, that was his hope as well.
    “That was Papa’s painting. I remember when he brought it home and we hung it on the wall downstairs. We all stepped back and just stared for hours. It was a real painting from Europe! I’d dearly love to see it on the wall in Lord’s Chapel.”
    “And so would I,” he said kindly.
    As she went back to the study, Hal joined him, and the two men walked out to the back stoop. The air was balmy, and sweet with springtime.
    “Fine dinner, Tim.”
    “Thanks. It’s great to be back in circulation.”
    “Diabetes seems to be doing you more good than harm.” Hal sat on the railing and tamped the tobacco in his pipe. “About that job on the vestry,” he said, “let me put it this way: A hundred and seventy acres, a full-time practice, five dogs, two horses, fifteen cows, an old farmhouse that needs a lot of work, and an increasingly pregnant fifty-year-old wife.”
    “Enough said.”
    “The timing isn’t right . . . and those trips into town at night . . . You know I want to serve, I want to do something more. Just remember that I have in the past and I will in the future.”
    Father Tim nodded. “When you can, Hal. You know I’d like you to be our senior warden.”
    Hal puffed on his pipe and nodded thoughtfully. They heard a dog bark in the distance, and a train whistle. “You know that pony that got caught in the fence? We put a saddle on him today.”
    “Great news! That’s been on my mind.”
    As the coffee finished brewing, they went