THE NASTY PREACHER -- Part X "The Best Laid Plans . . ."

Betty picked him up in her car . . .

RENDEZVOUS AT THE "BUNK HOUSE"

December 26, 2010

Was she planning on trapping him? That's what he thought. And he hated walking into a trap. He had done it before, and OUCH! It hurt real bad . . . .

He had originally thought to drive to the parsonage location in the old second car which he usually drove to work (a Ford Escort).  But then he thought, "No.  If I do that, she'll probably already be there, and that will be a temptation to us both.  I’ll just want to grab her, Lord!” he’d said out loud.  So he had asked for Betty to drive her car and pick him up.  That where there could be no chance of . . .  of “you know what."

THERE WAS THE TAYLOR STREET PARSONAGE

“Hi, Honey!” she called, as he opened the car door at the curb in front of the stoor.  “How was the morning?”  He got a quick and juicy “smack” from her before answering.  “Busy – which is good.  No big surprises.  A good morning, so far.”  She nodded and pulled away from the curb and headed toward the street.  “Thanks for packing a little lunch,” he said as he saw a small plastic box on the seat between them.  “You’re welcome,” she nodded.  “I bet Deborah will probably bring something too, since she knows it’s our lunch break.”  “The more the merrier,” he answered, noncommittally.  “You know the location?” 

BETTY LIKED THE NEIGHBORHOOD TOO . . .

“Four blocks from the church building on Taylor street,” she answered.  “1012 Taylor, I think.”
“Close enough,” he said as he took a bite of a well-made sandwich.  They were there before he finished the second half.  Another vehicle was already parked in the driveway.  “Guess who’s already here,” he muttered.
“Now, remember, Bob:  we’re not making any commitment to move here – although I must say, it does look like a nice place,” she acknowledged.
“No, I’m just going to look it over and suggest some repairs and upkeep.  That’s all.”
“It is a nice neighborhood too,” she added as they walked toward the door.  “You’re not changing your mind already?” he uttered in some surprise.

DEBORAH came to the door . . .

“Well, no, I just . . . .”  she didn’t finish her sentence as they were at the front door, which was opened except for the screen door. 

Bob knocked gently and sure enough a familiar female voice answered.
Her “come in!” was followed swiftly by her appearance in the front foyer, just beyond the door.  Bob couldn’t help but notice that her face fell just a bit when she saw that he had brought Betty.  He hoped she did not notice.

“I was just tidying up – doing some dusting, etc.” she said with a toss of her lovely, dark hair.  Betty flushed in embarrassment – her own beautiful blonde hair was bunched up in a lumpy pony tail.  And her simple pants and smock outfit was no match for the lovely low-cut brown dress with wide red belt.  “Naturally it accentuates her narrow waist!” she said to herself.  In another life, she would have hated Deborah for so blatantly flirting with her husband.  But she was a Christian and she knew what they had both already been through.  Besides she hadn’t felt real well since she had gotten up that morning.  Her usual breakfast of oat flakes and a banana hadn’t gone down quite so well.

THE BEDROOM was gloomy, but expectant . . . .

“How about a quick tour of the house – I think it’s a really nice, functional layout.  But I – we – value your opinion, of course!”  She walked them through the house showing them every room.  Some were dark, and clearly had not been cleaned in a few months.  “You can see at least we have some cleaning to do – for whoever comes next, that is.”

The tour lingered for just a moment at the master bedroom.  The bed was made and the room seemed cleaner than most.  Was it just his imagination that Deborah let out a big sigh as she looked at the bed – and then at Bob.  Once again, he hoped Betty hadn’t noticed.  But, of course, she had!  Fortunately Deborah couldn’t see her glowering in the room’s gloom.
“We have the electrical power shut off for this portion of the house – to save on utility costs of course.”  Bob nodded.

THERE was food on the counter . . . .

The tour ended in the kitchen.  Bob had already been making some mental notes in his head about what needed to be done.  When they got to the kitchen he saw a clipboard with several sheets of ruled paper on it and a pen nearby.  “That’s so you can make a list,” Deborah said with a flourish, stating the obvious. 

“Good idea," answered Bob; then added, "I want to prioritize things.  And I’ll need to walk around the outside and check the roof as well.  I want to be thorough while I’m here.”
“Of course – but maybe you would like to eat something first?  I brought lunch.” 

She looked at  Betty and smiled – clearly she had, after all, prepared for more than two people.  “It does smell good,” grinned Bob, feeling still hungry after only half a sandwich. 
“Excuse me!” said Betty, turning pail after detecting the odors of cooked food.  She was glad now they had already walked down the hall which held the main bathroom.  Betty found it again quickly and bent over the stool to vomit.  She turned nearly green as she emptied her breakfast – and then some!
“Honey?” asked Bob following her slowly down the hall.  “Are you sick, Dear?” 
Deborah shrugged.  “Men!” she said to herself.  “His wife vomits, and he wonders if she’s sick?!”  Then she had another thought and her hands went to her mouth.  “Oh, my goodness!!” she cried out loud.  “I wonder if she’s, if Betty’s --?”
“Betty, are you okay?” asked Bob, standing at the bathroom door.  She looked at him with a sick gaze.  “I think I’m fine – as long as you think it’s okay for me to be – er – pregnant.”

Betty suddenly felt sick to her stomach . . .

Now it was Bob’s turn to turn pale.  Deborah’s mouth was open -- in shock.  “Boy, God, sure has a sense of humor,” she mumbled, not knowing what else to say.  As to her big plans for Bob, she began to feel faint.  “Oooooohhhh!” she uttered with a swoon, dropping on the floor at the entrance to the hall.  Bob shrugged and went to his wife.
“Did I just hear her faint?” Betty asked, still kneeling by the toilet. 
“Yeah,” answered her husband.  “Deborah’s the kind of woman that hates to be outdone, I guess.”
“Not funny!” groaned Betty, leaning over the pot for one more heave.

LBC