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Yet still some of those beautiful windows needed work. A few of the glass pieces were scratched from vandals throwing stones, and the sills and edges were showing deterioration due to weather over the years.
The mechanism used to ring the old bell inside the tower hadn’t been functional for years, but because so many of the nearby residents didn’t attend church, the community had blocked all efforts the church board made to city council for funding to restore it as a heritage site.
The cement steps in the front had been chipped and broken in places, but that had been relatively easy for members of the congregation to repair, although the new cement didn’t match the original color or texture. The most important thing, though, was that the steps were safe. They were the only part of the building that met current earthquake standards. Still, Marielle thought the building looked stately, and respected it for its history.
Where they were now entering, however, wasn’t so regal. Like the rest of the humble neighborhood, the back of the church, where no one of importance usually ventured, wasn’t kept up. The windows were too high to be reached with ease—except by a special extended ladder—so they weren’t washed, and no one cared about the lower windows leading to the basement. The original back door had been made of wood, but many years before Marielle started to attend that church, vandals had damaged it beyond repair. Now a stark metal door, layered with different colors of paint to cover graffiti, took its place.
Just as Marielle pushed the big door open, Russ turned and looked at her car. “Are you going to get that roof fixed soon? I’d like to take care of it.”
“I don’t have time during the week. It will have to wait until the weekend. One of the parents of one of my boys works at an auto body shop. He said he’ll give me a good deal.”
“Okay.”
Once inside, Marielle locked her purse inside her desk and joined Russ at his former computer. “What do you have to do to it today?”
He turned in the chair in which he had seated himself, and she noticed that he winced with the movement.
“Not a lot. Today I’ll install the rest of the programs I brought, and then I’ll show you and everyone else how to use them.”
“I thought I should let you know, I don’t think I’m as good with computers as your boss thinks I am. My being here has more to do with my availability and willingness to do the job than my programming skills.”
“Apparently, I’ll be back tomorrow, but if you need more help we could get together on the weekend and I can give you a better tutorial.”
She had plans for the weekend with a girlfriend, but Marielle was almost sure that Lorraine wouldn’t mind. Lorraine understood what she was doing with the teen outreach program, even if she didn’t have time to participate herself. “That’s a great idea, thanks.”
Right on schedule, the teens began to arrive, starting with Jason, who was always the first. Marielle waited for fifteen minutes, and when all her core group was accounted for, Russ began installing the first program, showing everyone where to find the tutorials and help files.
This time, instead of standing back, Marielle stayed close by, also watching and learning. She wasn’t confident that she would be of much help if anyone needed anything, but she wanted to do her best when the time came.
“Hello? Russ? Are you in here?”
All heads turned toward the door to watch Russ’s boss enter.
“Grant? What are you doing here?”
Grant smiled. “I wanted to see the place, so I decided this would be a good time to bring a few more computers.”
“Now? You brought them already?”
Grant made eye contact with some of the bigger boys. “Yup. Four more are in my car. Who is going to help carry them inside?”
The teens made a beeline for the exit. The boys dashed outside after Grant; the girls stopped at the doorway to watch, whispered among themselves, then walked outside, too.
Which left Marielle and Russ alone in the room.
Russ ran his fingers through his hair as he stared at the empty doorway. “I didn’t expect this. I guess I won’t be installing the programs today.” He turned back to her. “The trouble is that I don’t know what’s been done and if they’re ready.”
The boys appeared through the door one by one, like a row of ants, each carrying either a monitor or a tower, the girls each carrying a keyboard and a mouse or bundles of cables. Grant brought up the rear, empty-handed. “That’s it for today,” he said. “Let’s get started getting everything hooked up.”
Marielle, Russ, Grant, and the teens began the job of connecting the cables and positioning the computers on the desks.
“Do I assume that my computer as well as these other ones have now been replaced at the office?” Russ asked as he untangled cable.
Grant nodded as he tightened a connection. “Yes. We got half today, the other half will be coming Monday. But don’t try to sneak in tomorrow. There’s nothing urgent happening at the office anyway. Jessie finally called in sick yesterday afternoon, and today she didn’t show up.”
Russ crossed his arms over his chest, taking in a deep breath when he pressed his arms against his ribs, confirming to Marielle, as if she needed it, that Russ really wasn’t in any shape to be going back to work.
“That’s odd,” Russ said. He turned to Marielle. “Jessie works for us on contract, so she doesn’t get paid for sick time. She tends to come to work when she’s sick, even if she should have stayed in bed.” He turned back to Grant. “Jessie must be really sick to stay home. Did she say what was wrong?”
“Actually, no. Yesterday she left a message on my voice mail, and she spoke really quickly. I tried calling her back, but I got her voice mail. I had expected her to call again today if she wasn’t going to be in….” Grant shrugged. “It’s not like her not to check in. I tried calling her again after the tech called, but I got her voice mail again. Monday we’ll be busy setting up the second set of new computers. That means you don’t have to be there. I’m not sure about Jessie. We’ll have to wait for her to call me back.”
Russ didn’t respond, but as Marielle watched, his face paled.
She leaned toward him. “Russ? What’s wrong?”
He lowered his head and pressed his fingers into his temples. “I thought I was over this headache, but I can’t seem to shake it.”
Grant stood, hovering as Russ remained seated. “Which is another reason you need to take some time off. I did a little research yesterday, and recurring headaches is a common side effect of a serious concussion. Consider yourself off for a week on medical leave. The accident happened on Monday, so you’re off the rest of the week.”
“But—”
Grant raised one hand to prevent Russ from arguing. “I mean it. I’ve been watching you work your tail off every day, and I don’t know offhand how much vacation time I owe you, all I know is that it’s a lot. You say you can’t remember what happened, but I wonder if part of the reason you feel like that is that you’re overstressed. I don’t want you coming in to the office until next week, and until then I want you to only spend a couple of hours a day here if you feel up to it, and that’s it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to take my son to a ball game tonight. You can handle it from here, right?”
Grant apparently didn’t expect a response, because he didn’t wait for one. Marielle wanted to call out after him that his expectations could have been one of the reasons Russ was overworked and overstressed, but she remained silent. It wasn’t any of her business.
Russ leaned to one side, reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of white pills. “Where can I get some water? The doctor said to take these if the headache came back, and wow, has it ever come back.”
“There’s a fountain over there, by the washrooms.”
Russ stood, then sank back into the chair. “I can’t take these. I have to drive home later.” He returned the pills to his pocket, then returned his attention to the computer as he began the process of putting it back together. The tightness in his face showed how he was trying to fight the pain.
“You don’t have to do this. It can wait until tomorrow.”
He winced as he lowered himself to his hands and knees. “I’d rather do it now and get it over with,” he said as he crawled under the desk. She heard a sharp intake of breath as he leaned all the way to the back to connect the keyboard to the tower. “Besides, I’d rather not drive in traffic with a headache like this. It will pass.”
He backed out slowly, then returned to the chair. His face was even paler than it had been earlier.
“Would you like to lie down for a few minutes? I’m not exactly sure what to do with the program, but I can follow the prompts and call if something happens.”
“I’m fine,” he said, although the way his hands were shaking told her otherwise.
“You still don’t remember what happened that day, do you?”
He stopped his work and turned to her. “No, I don’t. I just keep seeing Jessie’s face, almost like in a fog, not clear but I know it’s her. Everything else is blank. I remember sitting at my desk, and getting up for some reason that keeps evading me, and then the next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital with the nurses and a doctor hovering over me. The doctor told me that holes in a person’s memory sometimes happen and just to give it time, but that’s easier said than done. It bothers me.”
“I can only imagine.” As much as she didn’t think too highly of his overwork ethics, she didn’t want him to suffer. Memories of his face and his expression as he lay on the hood of her car still haunted her. A number of days had passed already, and she knew he was fine—or at least better than the alternative.
He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”
Marielle smiled. “I think it’s because I have an honest face.” Aside from the fact that she liked helping people, all her life, people had found her easy to talk to, which made a difference in her work as a volunteer counselor—especially with the youths. They trusted her because she did her best, without being pushy, to help the youths take a straight path as they chose the direction they would go into adulthood. Russ was an adult, but regardless of how she personally felt about someone who was a chronic workaholic, he was there in front of her. If he needed someone in a difficult time, she would do the same for him as she would for anyone else.
“Yes, you do,” he said, smiling, as he reached for a loose mouse.
“If you want, I can pray with you about it. I believe in miracles, and I believe that you being here is a miracle in itself.”
“No thanks,” he muttered. “I’ve used up my quota of miracles.”
Marielle’s breath caught. “Surely you don’t believe that.”
He held out one hand. “Can you pass me that cable over there?”
She stared at him, and when nothing more was said, she handed him the cable. He couldn’t have been more clear about not wanting to talk—or pray—if he’d slammed a door in her face.
He made his way down the row of computers, one by one, reinstalling operating systems. Each time he left a chair, one of the youths slid in to finish off the process or report on the progress.
As he worked, he chatted pleasantly with all the youths, although it was quickly apparent that the boys were interested in the computers, and most of the girls were interested in Russ.
Six o’clock came before Marielle even realized it. “That was the fastest three hours I’ve ever spent here,” she said, looking up at the clock on the wall.
“Is that how long you run the drop-in? Three hours every day?”
“Yes. It’s meant to be a place for them to go after school. We also run on Friday evenings, so they won’t get into trouble.”
“You come here Friday night, too?”
“Yes. We try to get volunteers to help, but most of the time it’s just me. I wish we could run the center on Saturday, but I just can’t do it all by myself and we can’t get enough people to commit. The Sunday school uses this room on Sunday morning, but when the service is over, I open it up for the youths for an hour. That’s the only time they’re allowed to play online games here. I picked Sunday because they have to respect the Sabbath and not play violent games or those that encourage illegal activities on Sundays in God’s house.” She grinned. “It’s worked so far.”
“You’re here six days a week?”
“Yes. I feel this is important, so, as they say, I put my money where my mouth is.”
She thought he was going to tell her she spent too much time at the center, and she was ready to give him a strong rebuttal. If Marielle read Russ right, all he did was work. At least what she chose to spend her free time doing was to benefit others.
But after a few seconds of silence, he said, “I’ll be back tomorrow then, at three o’clock.”
He walked with her to the door, and after they exited, waited while she locked up. They made their way to the cars, and without saying anything else, he flicked the remote lock for his SUV, removed the bar and drove away rather fast, Marielle thought, for being in a parking lot.
As the taillights disappeared around the corner, Marielle couldn’t help but wonder what had happened that Russ figured he didn’t have any more miracles left.
The next afternoon Russ pulled into the parking lot right on schedule. Marielle’s car, dented roof and all, was already there, along with another older model sedan that had seen better days. He applied and locked the bar on the steering wheel, slid out, hit the remote switch to arm the alarm system, then walked toward the building.
Church or not, he’d seen too many buildings like this when growing up—it was both old and run-down—and he didn’t ever want to see another one, unless it was on a heritage Web site he was designing for a client.
This would have been his last choice, hands down, of any place he wanted to be. He’d almost told his boss that he really was going to take his doctor’s advice, lie down and not leave the house for a couple of days.
But Russ had given his word that he would get the computers set up, and Grant had given his word as the corporate sponsor that the job would be completed. Russ was obligated. A man was only as good as his word, and he’d given it. Besides, he had yet another debt to pay, and God would have him make good on it.
So here he was, the third day in a row.
On the third day, He rose, according to the Scriptures.
The words echoed in his head. Russ had heard that statement over and over when he was growing up, when his mother had dragged him to church. He’d believed it then, and he still did. Except now, Russ could look at it more realistically.
He glanced up at the tarnished steeple. God was out there, all right, but God had only made a difference in his life once, and he’d been paying for it ever since.
He knew all about trusting God and His miracles. Since then, Russ had grown a little older and a whole lot wiser.
Russ did all he could so he wouldn’t ever have to pay again, and until his recent incident at the window, he’d had everything under control. For the past few years he’d been able to move forward with his life without owing anyone, including God. He’d worked, and he’d worked hard, and he was successful.
When he walked into the basement meeting room, he found Marielle sorting stacks of colored paper into piles, each accompanied by a ruler and a few miscellaneous pieces of white paper already cut into odd shapes. She made quite a comical picture, like she was getting ready for little kids, not a group of rough and rowdy teens.
He scanned the vacant computers, then looked back at Marielle. “What in the world are you doing?”
“I got a call from a friend who leads the Sunday school. The preschool level teacher was called away on a family emergency and they need someone to take over Sunday’s class. I’m going to ask one of the girls to help me, but first we need to cut out a bunch of shapes so the kids can glue them together. They’re too small to cut things accurately, and I’m not sure how good they are at gluing, but I don’t know what else to do.”
“You do this,” Russ said, extending one arm to encompass the youth center room, “and you’re going to teach the preschool on Sunday, too?”
“It needs to be done and there’s no one else, so we have to make do. How are you feeling today?”
“A little better. I can’t believe how long I slept. It must be the medication. I don’t usually sleep over six hours, especially not on a weekday. Here comes Jason—I’d better get started.”
But instead of joining him with the group at the computer, Jason sat with the girls who were cutting out colored shapes, guided by the white papers Marielle had already cut out, which Russ had figured out were templates.
Russ left what he was doing and joined the preschool table. The only chair available was in the center of a group of girls, so he stood behind Jason and rested one hand on Jason’s shoulder. “How’s it going, Jason?”
Jason turned and smiled up at him. “It would go better if you helped.” He motioned with his head toward the one empty chair. “We’ve got to have lots of stuff ready for the little kids to make sure they’re good and busy.”
Russ stared in disbelief as the girls shuffled out of the way, making room for him at the last empty chair, and worse, obligating him to join them.
One of the girls sighed as she slid one of the piles toward him. “I can’t believe that I’m spending Friday night cutting out colored paper.”
“It’s for a good cause,” Russ replied before anyone else could. If he had had someone to make him cut out paper circles on Friday nights, his youth would have been a lot different.
To his surprise, the rest of the boys filtered over to the table and began cutting out shapes, though they remained standing. When they finished, Russ figured they had the biggest pile of shapes, miscellaneous circles, squares, rectangles and triangles, he’d ever seen, and they’d finished in record time.
Marielle stood to address the group. “We did great. I think I’ll order pizza for those of you who are allowed to stay.”
In any other group, Russ would have expected all the teens to cheer, or at least show some enthusiasm, but in this group, showing appreciation was probably a sign of weakness. All they did was shrug, and no one said a word. At that age he’d had exactly the same bad attitude, until he saw that appreciating someone’s extra effort was a way to get noticed by the right people, which ultimately helped him accomplish what he had to do. Still, he couldn’t help but feel that these kids should have been more appreciative—after all, they were being rewarded.
“Do we get beer? It’s Friday night,” said a boy whose name Russ couldn’t remember.
Marielle crossed her arms. “You know better than to ask that. First, you’re underage, and second, this is a church.”
The boy grinned. “I had to try.”
“No, you didn’t. Now clean up and I’ll order. How many are staying?”
Not a single teen raised a hand, which of course Russ had expected. Marielle made a count just on slight nods or head shakes, then stopped and looked straight at him. “What about you, Russ? You helped cut the shapes, so you’re invited to stay, too.”
“Me?” He pressed one hand over his chest. “But…” He glanced around. The boys wouldn’t look at him, but a couple of the girls did, and he could see by their imploring expressions that they wanted him to stay. “Yes, but only under the condition that you let me help pay.”
Her relief couldn’t have been more pronounced if she had a neon sign above her head. “That would be great. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.”
One of the girls approached him. “My brother once got his nose broken, except he couldn’t go to the doctor. He’s got a big bump now. Are you going to have a bump?”
Russ raised one hand to the bandage still covering his nose. “Probably, but the doctor told me it would be minimal.” The bump he could handle. The doctor told him that while he was still out cold, they’d surgically straightened his nose, and because they’d done it right away, any permanent damage aside from the bump wouldn’t be noticeable. He was just required to keep the bandage on for ten days to brace his nose until it healed sufficiently. While the bandage was ugly, he knew the bruise beneath it was worse—plus his nose was still quite tender.
If he had to say prayers, the one thing he was thankful for was the company’s extensive medical insurance, something he hadn’t had before he started working for Grant.
While the pizza was being ordered, Russ returned to the computers, but before he entered the next command, his cell phone rang.
He first checked the call display. “Hi, Grant,” he answered. “What’s up?”
“I didn’t want to call you earlier in case you were sleeping, but were you at the office this morning, by any chance?”
Russ started keyboarding as he talked. “No. I actually spent the day in bed, just like the doctor ordered. Why?”
“When Brenda got here this morning, the door wasn’t locked and the alarm wasn’t set. Tyler said he was positive he locked up properly last night when he left. So we were wondering if you were in to get something this morning and forgot to lock the door.”
Russ frowned. He would never, ever forget to lock the office door. Because of where and how he grew up, he was unfailingly diligent with anything where theft could occur. He even locked his car door when he went from his driveway into the house between bags of groceries after dark. “No. I wasn’t there. Is anything missing?”
“No, nothing’s missing, but it was just odd. The cleaning staff must have forgotten to lock up. I’m staying late, so I’ll speak to the service tonight. There’s too much valuable equipment in here for mistakes like that.” He paused. “How’s everything going down there?”
Russ glanced at the row of computers, only one of which was turned on. “It could be better. But I have a few more days, so I’ll get everything done just fine. I guess I’ll see you Wednesday.”
“Great. Bye.”
Russ shut the phone and laid it on the table. He hit the prompt on the computer and waited for the next step of the installation.
Marielle sat in the chair beside him. “What’s wrong? You look worried.”
“The office was open this morning. Nothing was taken, but it’s got me thinking. What kind of security does this building have?”
“There are good, strong dead-bolt locks on every door.”
He turned around. “On the doors, yes, but I mean the windows. This is an old building. Have the original locks ever been replaced? Also, this is the basement, but there aren’t bars on the ground-level windows and there should be.”
“Bars? This is a church, not a prison.”
“Thieves still break into churches. The bars wouldn’t be to keep people in, but to keep unwanted guests out. Is there an alarm system for the building?”
“We can’t afford an alarm. Besides, except for books and Sunday school supplies, there isn’t really much to steal here. There aren’t any expensive or ornate decorations, the sound system is all attached to the wall, and what isn’t attached is old and well used. The treasurer takes the offering straight to the bank on Sunday mornings, so there’s never any money on the premises. There’s really nothing of value here.”
“But now you’ve got five computers, and four more coming on Monday. I’m sure word has already spread through the community that they’re here.”
“Probably.”
He rose, walked to the window and ran his hand along the bottom frame. “These are barely adequate. They should be enforced.”
“This is a heritage building and we’re on a low budget. Do you know how many windows there are in this building? I could ask a couple of the boys to go outside and see if they can figure out how to get in, to make sure the locks are secure.”
“Are you kidding? That’s just asking for trouble.” He clenched his jaw and stared at her, unable to believe that she would invite kids who were already potential thieves a chance to prove themselves. “I’ve got another idea. I’ll finish setting up the computers later. I have a little shopping to do, and I have to go quickly, before they close. Have you already phoned for the pizzas?”