Page 8 of Broken Halos
“Lord, help me,” I said out loud. What exactly did I want the lord to do? Give me strength not to make a fool of myself in front of Archie by popping an erection or dropping to my knees and begging him for…anything?
I promised Henry I would meet with him, and I would never go back on my word. It didn’t mean my palms weren’t sweaty enough to drop the drink carrier as I made my way up the sidewalk leading to the house or prevent me from nearly tripping on the final step before I reached the porch. I inhaled a calming breath and slowly exhaled before I rang the doorbell. I tried to convince myself I didn’t want Archie to answer the door, but the disappointment when an older lady opened the door proved how wrong I was.
“You must be Pastor Ollie,” she said cheerfully. She was the tiniest thing. I bet she wasn’t even five feet tall, yet the joy and happiness she radiated made her seem like a giant. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“What gave me away?” I asked, looking down at my clothes.
“The goodness in your character. Henry called in a time of need, and you answered. Please come in. I’m Mrs. Grimaldi, but you can call me Esther or even Mrs. G if you’d like.”
“Thank you, Esther.”
The great hall was neat and tidy with polished wood floors, a warm, soft gray paint on the walls, and a staircase leading to the second story. Esther led me past the stairs toward the back of the first floor. We passed two large, open rooms on either side of the long hall. One was a large dining room featuring two rectangular tables with eight chairs tucked around each one. The other appeared to be a living room with older furniture that looked both comfortable and inviting, or at least, the three men lounging around watching a popular soap opera helped give it the appearance.
“She’s going to take the asshole back,” one of them said.
“Of course she is,” the other two replied.
Esther snorted when she overheard the conversation but kept on walking, so none of the men were Henry. We passed two closed doors with signs that read: Private Residence and Manager’s Office. I knew the two rooms across the hall from each other were Archie’s private domain without asking Esther. The urge to open the doors and discover something about the tempting man was strong, but I wouldn’t invade his privacy.
As I expected, Esther took me to a cozy kitchen with cheerful yellow walls, white cabinets, and modern appliances. “This is my domain,” she proudly said. “I retired from nursing five years ago after more than forty-two years on a hospital floor. It turned out you could take this old nurse out of the hospital, but you couldn’t take the nurturer out of this old nurse. I got to spend three wonderful years devoting all my love and attention on my Morty before he passed away.” She gestured for me to take a seat at the small table tucked in the corner, so I did. “It was about the same time Ryan passed away, leaving this big ole house to his friend, Archie. I’d never seen such opposite friends in all my life, but their friendship was a work of beauty. I still feel their connection every day when I walk in here.”
“You work here every day?” I asked. The lady had to be pushing seventy years old.
“Ivolunteerhere six days a week, only taking Sunday off. I love fixing the food and helping take care of these boys, and they need nurturing and love. It keeps me young. Archie won’t allow me to do any of the cleaning or laundry, but I do oversee the tasks to make sure it’s done properly.”
“He’s lucky to have you.”
“I’ll go upstairs and get Henry for you. I’m pretty sure he’d convinced himself you weren’t coming.”
“I suspected he felt that way. I hope he’ll learn to trust me in time.”
“I’m glad he called you, Pastor Ollie. You’re a good man.”
“Please just call me Ollie,” I told her.
I pulled my cup of coffee out of the carrier and took a sip. Suddenly finding myself alone in the kitchen gave me too much time to think. I hoped it didn’t take Esther long to coax Henry downstairs, and I also hoped Archie wasn’t home because running into him on his turf wouldn’t go over well.
Luckily, Henry came downstairs within a few minutes, smiling tentatively at me when I stood up and extended my hand to him in greeting. “Please have a seat.” I removed his drink from the carrier and set it down in front of the empty seat across from me. “I brought a dozen muffins, none of which I’ll be taking home with me.”
“Mind you don’t ruin your appetite,” Esther said from somewhere nearby.
“Yes, Mrs. G,” Henry replied then lowered his voice. “No one messes with the woman who enforces the house rules.”
“You bet they don’t,” Esther said boldly. “Reggie, don’t mix your dark work pants with your white clothes. You’ll end up with light blue underwear and shirts and tie-dyed socks.” By supervising the laundry tasks, she meant teaching the residents how to do it properly themselves.
“No one is going to see my underwear and socks, Mrs. G,” Reggie said dryly.
“Not with your negative attitude,” she admonished affectionately.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“See,” Henry said, nodding his head in the direction of where the voices were coming from. I must’ve missed the door to the laundry room because I was too busy wondering what Archie’s office and bedroom looked like.
“Okay,” I said after another drink. “You had questions about war, cancer, and serial killers.”
“Not really,” Henry said then shrugged. “I can see it was a silly comparison. I mean, wars are the result of actions and paths people choose, we could discuss whether cancer is genetic, environmental, or both all day long, and serial killers are psychotic and in a class all their own. Being gay isn’t a choice, it isn’t environmental, it could be genetic, but it isn’t the result of a mental disorder.”
“We agree one hundred percent,” I told him. “Did you spend a lot of time in church growing up?”