A Touch of Grace Read Free Page B

Christian mission to allow pornographic magazines on-site?”
    “That’s my thinking. But even if a jury agrees, it will cost us a lot of money. And the mission can’t afford that right now.” Donations were down this summer for some reason while the need increased.
    “Want to know what I think?” Roger propped his bad hip against the edge of a desk littered with papers, files and orange soda cans.
    “You’re going to tell me anyway.”
    Roger grinned. Even then, his face looked soulful. “I think that lady politician is at the bottom of this somewhere.”
    “Marian Jacobs?” Ian rubbed at the knot formingalong the top of his right shoulder. The mission had plenty of naysayers who would like to see it closed, or at least, moved elsewhere. Runaways and street kids were a blight on the thriving tourist industry and any number of nearby businesses wanted them gone. Marian Jacobs happened to be one of the more influential.
    “Yeah. Her. She wants to shut us down real bad.”
    Last winter, the city councilwoman had enforced some ridiculous zoning ordinance that kept him from setting up cots in the chapel on the coldest nights. Before that she’d complained long and hard about the negative impact Isaiah House had on the happy-go-lucky atmosphere of the tourist district. Her post-Katrina revitalization for the city did not include street people or the ministries designed to help them.
    “She doesn’t like me much, that’s for sure.” Outside his office window three bright red cardinals pecked at sunflower seeds sprinkled beneath a willow. “Your birds are about out of feed.”
    Roger doted on the birds, just as he did on the equally flighty runaways who landed at Isaiah House.
    “You going to Maddy’s funeral?” Leave it to Roger to cut to the chase.
    With all the other worries on his mind, the last thing Ian wanted to do on a hot, humid Friday afternoon was attend a funeral.
    “Sometimes being a minister stinks.” Most people would be shocked to hear him say such a thing. His mother for one. But not Roger. His placid face, lined and furrowed, never seemed shaken by anything Ian blurtedout. He was about the only person Ian could share his frustrations and worries with.
    Ministers were always expected to do the right thing, even when it hurt. Ian wasn’t perfect but he didn’t like to disappoint anyone, either. He worked hard to avoid that feeling. Somehow he worried about alienating the people around him.
    His hand snaked into his pocket, found the familiar key chain and took it out. He’d had the thing forever, though he wasn’t even certain where it had come from. Maybe his parents had given it to him the time he’d been in the hospital with meningitis. He wasn’t sure, but he was certain that he’d been terrified then of being alone. Every time Mom and Dad had left the room, he’d thought they wouldn’t come back. So, he figured that’s when they’d given him the little fish that said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”
    Wherever the key chain had come from, the words never failed to comfort him.
    Funny that he would think of that now.
    “God called me to heal the brokenhearted, to set the captive free,” he said, paraphrasing his favorite verses from Isaiah. “Maddy was both. I didn’t do enough.”
    Roger clamped a bony hand on his shoulder. “How many times have you talked about free will, Ian? Maddy made her own decisions.”
    “Yeah. Bad ones.” He felt so inadequate at times like this. Wounded souls were his responsibility. That’s why he drove the streets for hours each night ministering to runaways and street kids. But nothing he did was ever enough.

    “You can’t help Maddy, but she’s got a sister.”
    Ian drew in a deep breath then let it go in one gust.
    “I was thinking the same thing.” Barracuda or not, Gretchen Barker was hurting.
    He only hoped seeing her didn’t stir up trouble. He had enough of that already.
     
    Gretchen gazed through dark glasses at