The Cantaloupe Thief Read Free Page B

grass and planted trees and flower beds. Liam wheedled them to use Student Council funds to buy river birches and roses, tulip bulbs and verbena, geraniums and day lilies. Soon the students and the mission church had an easy partnership that served both well.
    Inside, the teenagers painted an entire interior wall with a colorful mural, peopled with Bible characters. From what Branigan could tell, Adam and Eve were sharing an apple with Daniel as he fought off lions, one of which was saddled and ridden by Joshua entering the land of Canaan, which was populated by multiple Goliaths fighting off sling-wielding Davids. Liam smiled wryly the first time he showed Branigan the mural. “Exhibit No. 1 on why we need Bible study,” he said.
    Within a few months, the homeless people who ate breakfast and dinner in the church’s soup kitchen and attended its sparse worship services began showing up to garden and clean. Liam was surprised, but instinctively realized their participation was a positive step.
    Other churches took note and began sending teams over to learn about homeless ministry. When Liam’s eighteen-month trial period was up, the mission church had its partner high school, eleven partner churches, and had opened the back of the grocery store as an eighteen-bed homeless shelter for men. Liam contemplated housing women as well, but a trip to a women’s shelter in North Carolina convinced him that both genders couldn’t be housed in the same building. For now, the shelter remained for men only, though women were welcome for its hot meals.
    Branigan shook her head admiringly as she walked past the results the students and homeless men had wrought — the beginnings of dappled shade, ruby roses and pink geraniums, deep yellow day lilies and golden marigolds. Raised vegetable beds flourished in the field beside the building.
    She knew that Liam wasn’t everyone’s idea of a proper minister. He drank beer at the city’s outdoor festivals. He dealt with the homeless with brusque expectations rather than sympathy. He welcomed gays with an outspokenness that didn’t always play well in conservative Grambling. But the Delaneys’ roots in Grambling ran deep, and city leaders couldn’t argue with Liam’s success. He had his admirers as well.
    Branigan reached the former grocer’s electric doors, which slid open silently. She passed under the sign proclaiming “Jericho Road”. To the side was a folk art painting of multiracial diners sharing a meal. In calligraphy across the bottom were the words “Where the elite eat — with Jesus”.
    A man she vaguely recognized greeted her from a desk behind an open receptionist’s window, a huge smile splitting his face.
    â€œMiz Branigan? You hasn’t visit us in awhile.”
    She searched her mind frantically for a name. Dan? Don? Darren? Liam had taught her the importance of using names.
    â€œDontegan!” she said triumphantly, a moment before her hesitation would have been obvious. She could see the pleased look on his face and was glad she’d made the effort. “I’m here to see Liam.”
    â€œPastuh told me you was coming,” he said. “Go right in.”
    Liam’s office was a boldly colored space, painted lime green and sporting canvases from Jericho’s art room. He stood to greet his old friend, his red hair unruly, his face breaking into a welcoming grin.
    â€œHey there!” he said, pulling her into his skinny six-foot frame and grabbing the Bea’s Bakery bag. Though Branigan was taller than average — five-feet-six in flats — she reached only his shoulder. “I’ve missed you!” he said. “And I’ve missed lunch.”
    He rooted around in the bag. “Are you kidding me? Naked bagels? No cream cheese? What’s wrong with you, girl?”
    â€œThink of it as an appetizer.” She plopped her bagel and coffee on the coffee