Page 30 of Leo and His Love Bunny
I’m being a little harsh. I know lots of people who get up early in the morning and enjoy it. Matt for instance. Just because I’mnot Matt, and I’m not a morning person, it does not make me a heathen. Right?
“What kind of answer is that? Either you were awake or you weren’t,” Cordelia says, but she doesn’t stop long enough for me to respond. Or maybe she does, I just take too long because I’m still trying to claw my way out of what I know was a really nice dream, although I can’t remember most of it. Leo was definitely there. And rather than using those strong, amazing fingers to fold paper into airplanes, he was...holding my hand. Touching me. Something. Something that I want to think about, but I don’t want to think about it while I’m talking to Cordelia.
“I’ve spoken with the pastor. Your presence is requested in his office in thirty minutes. We will sit down, and we will have a discussion about this. We want Whisker Hollow to stay family-friendly, and we definitely want those tourist dollars to continue to pour into our community.”
“Is that a church issue?” I ask, and I don’t mean that sarcastically. It just seems like Cordelia is getting things confused. It’s one thing for her and me to disagree on what constitutes something that will bring tourist dollars to Whisker Hollow, and if yesterday was any indication, my breast cupcakes definitely would do that. Not that I want them to.
But a church’s business should be about the Bible, not about tourism. Or am I wrong?
I mean, I think it’s obvious that a Christian should be thinking about God in every aspect of their life, but that doesn’t seem to be what this is about.
“Absolutely. I’m making it one. Now, am I going to have to go there and pick you up, or are you going to be able to make it to the church on time?” Cordelia asks, like my presence is a given. And of course it is. I’m not trying to hurt anyone, and I’m not trying to get away with anything. I’m definitely not trying to make Whisker Hollow less family-friendly. I want my townto be family-friendly. I want to raise my family here. If I ever get married. That could be a long ways away, but still, the best interests of Whisker Hollow are what I’m after as well.
Sometimes I think that people like Cordelia are the reason that a lot of folks don’t want to go to church. Definitely there should be accountability within the church. But it shouldn’t be one lady, who is not the pastor, going after someone who made an honest mistake. At least, that’s the way I feel about it. I’m not anti-church. Far from it. I’m very much pro-church. All of the values and morals that I believe in—honesty, decency, kindness, consideration, and even positive thinking—are wrapped up in the teachings of Jesus. I believe in them with all my heart. It’s just, some people try to take their personal beliefs and pawn them off as religious ones.
Of course, nudity is most definitely not involved in the teachings of Jesus, and a person could argue that my cupcakes showed nudity yesterday.
I want to bury my head in the pillow, but I manage to mumble into the phone, “I’ll be there.”
She hangs up before I can say goodbye. The world needs people like Cordelia. Truly it does. The movers and shakers, the people who get things going and spearhead festivals and charity suppers and put together a coalition to help after natural disasters, visit people in hospitals, and do almost all the work without complaining. Ever.
But I suppose the downside of that personality is what I’m experiencing right now. I try to be kind and give her the benefit of the doubt, the same way I want her to give me the benefit of the doubt.
I can hardly complain about her judging me, when I am just as quick to judge her.
I push all that aside and resist the urge to snuggle down deeper under my blankets and see if I can summon up the dreamI had been having before I was so rudely awakened. Instead, I get my feet out of bed. Once my feet are out, the rest of my body typically follows.
Thirty minutes isn’t long, but I’m just going to work, so it doesn’t take long for me to get dressed and throw my hair into a ponytail, grabbing a granola bar on my way out of my apartment.
I’m at the church five minutes early. I figure that should be points in my favor.
I go around the side of the church to the small office that has been added to the back. It’s a beautiful church, and I’ve often admired it, both from inside and out. I’ve been there playing the piano multiple times. But the church is a little too politically correct for me. Not that I want to get into politics or anything, but I feel like a church should preach from the Bible, not try to preach politics, except where the Bible applies. The separation of church and state is not in our Constitution, and I don’t believe that at all. However, I feel like the state should stay out of the church, like the founders wanted, not the other way around. But I keep these ideas to myself as I knock on the door before turning the knob.
“Come on in,” Cordelia calls, like it’s her office.
She’s standing to the side of Pastor Greenbrier’s desk, her arms crossed over her chest, as though she intends to supervise every second of this meeting, which I’m sure she absolutely does.
Pastor Greenbrier looks extremely uncomfortable as he tugs at the white collar under his black shirt.
“Good morning,” I say, feeling a lot more cheerful than I had twenty-five minutes ago when Cordelia had called me.
“Good morning, Nora,” Pastor Greenbrier says.
He barely gets the words out of his mouth before Cordelia speaks. “We’re not here to talk pleasantries. We’re here to discuss what happened yesterday at your bakery.” She emphasizes the word “your,” like everything is on my shoulders.Which it is. The bakery is mine, and I take responsibility for everything, even if I wasn’t the one to actually decorate the cupcakes.
Pastor Greenbrier clears his throat. “I understand there was...a rather unfortunate incident at your bakery yesterday,” he begins.
“Unfortunate incident?” Miss Cordelia says, her brows coming down, and she takes a step forward, menacingly, I might add.
Pastor Greenbrier’s face breaks out into a cold sweat. It’s beading on his forehead, and he digs in his pocket, pulling out a white handkerchief and dabbing at his temples. I feel bad for him. I think he’s a good man. I also think Cordelia would intimidate anyone. And she does a lot to help this church stay afloat. People have lost interest in religion and churches, and all the good that they do for society, as they have struggled to stay relevant. And solvent. That makes me sad, because churches have historically formed the backbone of the community, offering support and help and encouragement, and can be the lifeblood of the town, as long as the focus is on service, and doing God’s will, and each individual striving to be more like Jesus.
But more churches have lost that, and we go to church to make ourselves feel good.
I’m definitely not here to make myself feel good. I’m here to keep peace in the community and to do what I need to do to smooth things over. I love my small town, I love the position the church has in it, even if I don’t agree with everything that happens, and I am most definitely not on a crusade to try to derail that in any way. I’ll fix it if I can.
Even though I’m most definitely intimidated by Miss Cordelia.
I’m not very good at being assertive. I’m happy making cupcakes, and apparently flying paper airplanes makes me happy as well. Or maybe that was the company.
