Free All Dressed Up by Lilian Darcy Page B

Keoghs had most definitely
come from the wrong side of the tracks.
    She remembered
the ritualized, poetic phrasing of the Catholic prayers and
responses with a rote familiarity, but some of it was a little
different here, so she would find herself happily joining in and
then suddenly going off track from the rest of the congregation
like a musician squawking out the wrong notes.
    The service
moved her and sometimes she had tears in her eyes and she didn’t
like it. She didn’t like the way churches seemed to put God’s power
in harness. She didn’t like Mac’s minister clothes. God was surely
bigger than this place which smelled of old books and wood polish
and where the pews were by no means crowded with worshippers, so
why should it make her cry?
    She felt
tricked into the emotion. She had huge issues with God, in all
sorts of areas.
    Afterward, she
hung back while Mac talked to his parishioners as they filed out.
She would have found it stressful – so much greeting and caring and
remembering of people’s circumstances, all concentrated into the
space of a few minutes. At least as a realtor she got to space it
out, and it wasn’t expected to be so personal.
    How was
someone’s husband? Someone else’s mother was due for her visit
tomorrow, right? Mac seemed easy with it, tireless. She thought his
congregation lucky to have a minister who was so physically strong.
She wondered what they thought of his red beard, his arm tattoos,
his motorcycle, his sparkling, drownable blue eyes.
    “Good to see
you,” he said when she finally went up to him. They shook
hands.
    “I – I have to
admit, I didn’t come for the service.”
    “But you came
to the service, so that’s a plus.”
    Too late, she
realized that she had sounded as if she was flirting again, saying
she’d come to see him. Which she had. And in exactly the way he
thought. But of course she didn’t want to say that. Not straight
out. Not even with his blue eyes all lit up for her. “I came to see
if you still had the garment bag from Emma’s dress. We think she
must have left it in your change-room on Friday… the vestry… Did
you happen to – ”
    He nodded,
notching his enthusiasm down to match her practical and very
non-flirty problem. “You know what, I haven’t been in there since
Friday evening. I changed at home this morning. Give me a minute
and we’ll check.”
    Someone else
wanted to speak to him, a genuine parishioner, who had
organizational questions about the Fellowship Coffee Morning. She
was also apparently involved with the mothers’ club and the Bible
group, which was another of Lainie’s problems with God and church.
It shouldn’t need to be so structured. Mac shouldn’t have to work
so hard to convince people to come along. People should just eddy
through the place like a soft breeze, whenever they wanted.
    Or was this
impractical? Did it discount the realities of human nature too
much?
    The
parishioner left and all of a sudden there was nobody else around,
just Lainie and Mac. “Come this way,” he said.
    She followed
him down the aisle and past the altar to the little room at the
back. The garment bag was still there, and easily found, neatly but
puffily folded on the seat of the desk chair. The chair back masked
it from instant view. Lainie clutched it against her stomach and
said, “That’s a relief. I seem to be storing the gown for the time
being, so it’s best to have it in the custom-fitted bag.”
    “So Charlie
doesn’t have it? I’m sorry, I told Emma he did.”
    “No, I have it
now. I’ll call her or her mom and let them know.”
    “How are they
both doing, Emma and Charlie?”
    “I haven’t
spoken to them. Charlie’s back in the city. I guess Emma’s with her
family. I really want to call her, but – ”
    “I think she
has a few things to work out.” He looked as if he might have
something more to say, but nothing came.
    Lainie
wondered when he’d seen or spoken to Emma, to tell her that