The parson sat in the customer service waiting room of the car dealer reading from his Kindle. The car dealer was a hundred miles from his home. There was little chance of anyone he knew interrupting. And so he read with relish and enjoyment. His deep absorption in the work resulted in no small part from the non-theological theme of the book. It was John Grisham's latest, The Confession.
One of the novel's main characters, the Reverend Keith Schroeder, had just engaged the main villian when it happened.
“Excuse me,” she said. “You're the Parson.” As she spoke she sat down in the chair adjacent in a manner that indicated a conversation was not to be avoided.
“Yes, Ma'am, I am,” the parson replied.
“Oh, I knew it. I heard you preach over at Reverend Benjamin Allen's church. I'm not a member there, but my sister is and she and I were going to visit with my Unclle Edwin that afternoon so I went to church with her so we could get a good start on the trip to Edwin's. You know what? I can still remember what you preached on. You preached on Jesus calling the disciples and how they left their nets and you said nobody ever thinks about the daddy who had to clean up the nets and the fish because they left them laying around. I just thought that was such a fresh approach. Isn't that amazing. I mean that sermon was almost two years ago and I can still remember it.”
The parson wedged a word in, “That's really flattering. I appreciate it. I'm sorry, I don't seem to remember your name.”
Of course you wouldn't,” she said as she placed her hand on the parson's arm. “I only met you once and just for a minute after the service. I'm Rhonda Collins sister. Oh, wait, you don't know my sister because you just preached there that one time. Oh, how silly of me. Anyway I knew it was you when I saw you sitting here. You know I read your book. Rhonda's husband told me about it on the ride to Uncle Edwin's. I really enjoyed it.”
“Thank you,” said the parson. “That, too, is flattering. Did you tell me your name?”
“Of course, I did. Remember, I'm Rhonda Collin's sister. You know, Rhonda's husband, Howard, he told me about your blog and now I read that regularly.” She looked across the room at a woman who was just sitting down. “Oh, my goodness, how are you Patricia? I haven't seen you for a while. Do you know the Parson? He writes books and writes on the internet. You should read some of the things he writes.”
She turned back to the parson. “Can I ask you a question? Do all those things really happen to you. I mean there's something different in there every day. I talked to Howard about it and he said that he doubted you ever wrote about what exactly happens. He said that he thinks something happens and you take that little something and turn it into a story. I told him I bet you sometimes actually write exactly what happened.”
She took a deep breath in preparation forpiling on some more words, but was interrupted by the service representative. “Mrs. Harrington. Your car's ready.”
She got up to leave and headed toward the door. Halfway there she turned back to the parson, “Maybe I can catch you again before you leave. I'm dying to know whether Howard or I am right.”
Oh my.
Posted by: Ivy | January 04, 2011 at 09:14 PM