CHAPTER 44
Reginald’s a quiet man. Doesn’t offer advice unless you come straight out and ask for it, and even then he usually teaches you in stories instead of sermons. Maybe that’s why I love him so much. Why I miss him.
I’m sitting in his back office, reminiscing. “Do you remember the story you told me about Julie?” I ask.
The memories are heavy and bittersweet. Reginald’s daughter was raped by a high-school boyfriend. She’s middle-aged now, so of course back then it was quite a scandal. I know a lot of families, folks like the old apple farmers at Orchard Grove, who would kick a daughter out for less, but Reginald stood by her.
“Marta and I had separated by then,” he told me, “and sometimes the kids would come live with me, and sometimes they’d go live with her, and it was constantl
