Preacher Fakes a Miracle

2. Near Evan’s Trailer

Near Evan’s Trailer

Earlier that Friday Morning

If Preacher Evan Wycliff had stopped in to borrow a cup of sugar, this would have been a different story. It was five-thirty in the morning, he’d slept only fitfully, and he was out for his morning jog.

Okay, it’s more like a brisk walk.

He’d resolved recently to make healthier choices in his diet and to get more exercise. More vegetables, less animal fat. And he’d cut back on the whiskey — way back, he promised himself — and his permissible vices, at least for the time being, would remain extra-strong coffee with generous spoonfuls of sugar.

The sun wouldn’t be up for another hour. The full moon, filtered by a lingering fogbank, basked the woods in a cool, soft glow. He stopped to catch his breath within sight of Loretta Benton’s trailer. Hers was on the adjacent lot to the dilapidated box of tin he rented, separated by a thick stand of tall pines. Her privacy was thus assured, not that the preacher would be gawking. She’d moved in recently, and he’d caught sight of her only a couple of times. He had yet to introduce himself, and he knew her name because they had the same landlord — Zip Zed, proprietor of Zed Motors — who also happened to be Evan’s weekday boss.

Loretta was a looker, no doubt about it, and, judging by appearances, just twenty-something. Zip had told him with a suggestive chuckle that she worked as a cocktail waitress at the new Twin Dragons Casino and Resort on Truman Lake. Evan’s personal code of conduct told him that gambling would be a high-risk activity, especially for him, a man of modest and sporadic income with a presumably respectable reputation. But he did know that his father figure and mentor Reverend Thurston’s secret vice was Holdem Poker.

Well, Marcus doesn’t touch bourbon, so who’s keeping score? He’s obviously not. He wouldn’t be bugging me to step up as assistant minister if he thought my petty sins made any difference.

Evan shouldn’t have been out of breath at that point. Although he had the stature of a football player, he had the lifestyle of a sedentary sportscaster. He was up at least thirty pounds from an acceptable body-mass index. He’d already done about a mile and a half, having made a loop around Zed’s properties (which sadly lacked the amenities of a trailer park). He was heading back home now, needing to pee and anticipating the jolt from his second cup of morning coffee-sludge.

The only noises at this hour were the predawn bird chorus and a gentle breeze rustling the leaves in the trees. There were seldom any traffic sounds here, even during the day. This plot was isolated, thickly wooded and lushly green, a half-mile off the sparsely traveled state route about three miles southeast of Appleton City. As Evan hesitated on the edge of the dirt road, there were about fifty yards between him and the young woman’s trailer. A recent-model Buick Enclave, a luxury SUV, was parked out front. A light was on inside the trailer, so an approach might be possible.

Nice set of wheels for a barmaid. Boyfriend? An older guy who gives expensive gifts?

Then came the piercing cry of a distressed infant.

Zip didn’t say anything about a kid. Or a husband.

Then there were two voices. Female voices. Indistinguishable dialogue.

Even though it was an ungodly hour to be calling, Evan had entertained the thought of stopping by, yes, to ask for that cup of sugar. His single-shelf pantry was low on just about everything, and refined dextrose was nearly as essential to his functioning as high-test gas is to a Corvette.

Ever since Naomi’s passing from this plane of existence, Evan hadn’t allowed himself to think about women. Oh, there was that fleeting moment of flirtation with Edie Taggart. Good thing he’d thought better of hitting on his best friend’s widow. But Naomi had encouraged him, more than once, to move on. And even though he probably had ten years on this Loretta gal, a matchup wasn’t inconceivable. Especially if he was thinking of finally starting a family.

But a readymade family? And a former cocktail waitress as a minister’s wife?

He wasn’t so sure he aspired to a pastoral job, even though Thurston was ready to retire and wanted to shove him in that direction. Anyhow, there was a lot more he’d have to learn about Loretta Benton before he’d go knocking on her door.