Page 21 of Broken Halos
Ollie flipped on a switch, and a lamp came on in the corner of the room, casting a soft glow around the living room instead of garish, overhead lighting most people used in their homes. The charcoal gray recliner looked well-worn, comfortable, and almost large enough for both of us.Down, boy,I said to my dick. A sofa in a fabric matching the recliner, a coffee table, and two matching end tables made up the rest of the furniture in the room. A large picture window overlooking the front yard took up most of the front wall, two other walls were painted in a warm, medium bluish-gray color, and the fourth wall was covered in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. My favorite feature in the room was the stone fireplace and roughly hewn mantle made from old timber. It was aged, warm, and inviting, contrasting with the flat screen television hanging above it. An ivory area rug with a modern pattern of blue, gray, and black covered the hardwood floors which looked to be original to the house. They’d been lovingly cared for just as the church appeared to be.
“It’s not much, but I love it,” Ollie softly said, sounding like he might be embarrassed.
“It’s a beautiful space,” I assured him. My eyes caught on the artwork hanging on the wall. I released his hand to inspect them closer. There were four framed sketches of the church showing how it looked in all four seasons. The artist had such incredible skill, and I felt like I was looking at black-and-white photos of the building instead of drawings. The shading and detail were some of the best work I’d ever seen, and although I was no expert, I recognized talent when I saw it.
“Don’t stare too close or you’ll see the imperfections.”
I snapped my head around and was shocked to see Ollie had joined me. I was so enraptured with the drawings and hadn’t heard him approach me. “Ollie, did you draw these?” He nodded, and I turned to look back at the art on the wall. I noticed the small signature at the bottom. Oliver Knight. Well, it was a big “O” then squiggles followed by a big “K” and more squiggles. “I’m speechless, Ollie. These are so fucking beautiful.” Then I gasped when I realized I’d dropped the f-bomb in a pastor’s house. “Sorry.”
Ollie laughed. “I’ve said that word myself a time or two. You don’t have to hold back your thoughts and feelings around me, Arch. You don’t need to put on an act or be anything other than yourself. I like you just the way you are.”
“You don’t really know me, Ollie.”
“I know you where it counts,” he countered. “The rest is just hot fudge on a brownie sundae.” Why did everything he say sound so damn sexual? “Hungry?”
“Starving.”
Ollie took my hand once more and led me down a short hallway with two doors on either side. I saw a neatly made bed through the open door on the right and a small, tidy bathroom on the left. The kitchen was bigger than I expected it to be, but then again, the space acted as both the kitchen and dining room. A large, round table made from a dark, knotty wood took up the far-right corner of the room and was surrounded by six chairs. One wall of the dining room was painted a deep red and acted as a backdrop for more of his drawings. The rest of the kitchen was painted a warm beige color. The countertops and cabinets were white, sterile, and would’ve looked utilitarian if not for the bright pops of color from the red canisters, coffee pot, and stand mixer. The appliances were new, state of the art, and polished stainless steel. They belonged to someone who enjoyed their time in the kitchen.
Ollie squeezed my hand before he released it. “Make yourself comfortable while I whip us up something to eat.”
I headed straight for the art. In his kitchen, he’d hung sketches of the wildlife I suspected inhabited the woods surrounding his house. Squirrels hoarding nuts, bunnies eating leaves, and birds flying, bathing in a fountain, or nesting all decorated his walls.
“You’re a gifted artist,” I said, breaking the silence. Ollie didn’t respond right away, so I looked over my shoulder and found him staring at me like he couldn’t believe I was standing in his kitchen nook. That made two of us. Clearing my throat seemed to break his trance.
“Did you ask me something?” he asked.
“Um, no. I was complimenting your artistic skills.”
“Oh,” he said, turning away quickly and crossing the room to open the refrigerator. “It’s just a fun hobby.”
“Paint by numbers is a fun hobby,” I said wryly. “This is…extraordinary. Please don’t dismiss it.”
Ollie turned his head sharply to look at me once again. “I’m not dismissing it, Arch. I just don’t see my work in the same way you do.”
I looked back at the drawings and noticed the finer details that made each one seem so damn lifelike while Ollie rustled around with ingredients for our late dinner. “You want some help?” I offered.
“No way,” he replied. “I don’t want you learning my secrets.”
“Secrets for grilled cheese?” I looked over my shoulder and noticed he’d pulled butter and a block of cheese out of the refrigerator, not a package of Kraft Singles like I used in my sandwiches. “I’ll let you keep your secrets…for now.” The last two words sounded like I had diabolical plans for him.
I sat at the table and watched Ollie move comfortably and efficiently like he’d made this soup and sandwich combo many times and could even do it in his sleep. “What made you decided to become a pastor?” I asked.
“Jumping in with the tough questions?” Ollie asked in good humor. “I like this about you, Archie. No games.”
“I’m surprised you feel this way after I ran so hot and cold with you over these past few months.”
Ollie’s hands stilled, and he looked over his shoulder at me. “I didn’t see it that way, Arch.”
“How did you see it then?” I asked, leaning forward to prop my elbow on his table and resting my chin on it.
“I knew your battle was an internal one and not purposely directed at me. I made you feel something you didn’t like, or perhaps didn’t want, and you weren’t sure how to react. Well, the first night was a kneejerk reaction to my vocation, but after that, I saw your struggle wasn’t meant to hurt me.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“I know, Arch. I’ve been on the receiving end of people who deliberately set out to hurt me, and there is a difference.”
“I don’t see how,” I said, shaking my head. “Hurt is hurt.”