Suncatchers by Jamie Langston Turner

Author:Jamie Langston Turner
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781441262646
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group

23

One of the Best Gifts

“Thank you for coming,” Brother Hawthorne said the next night, shaking Perry’s hand at the door. “Edna and I have been talking about having you over ever since you came. We’re ashamed it’s taken this long.”

Perry shook his head. “Don’t be. The time’s gone fast, and we’ve all been busy. And anyway,” he said, waving his hand back toward the dining room table where the plates were already scraped clean and stacked on one corner, “this was worth waiting for.” There, that wasn’t bad, he thought. The words hadn’t gotten blocked up as they often did between his mind and his tongue. Edna smiled at him from behind her husband, and the three children peered up at him solemnly.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Brother Hawthorne said, stepping around Perry to open the screen door. Perry thanked Edna again, patted Levi’s head, and followed Brother Hawthorne down the steps.

“Oh, here, let me show you something first,” Brother Hawthorne said, motioning to the side of the house. Inside the garage, he pointed upward and aimed a pocket flashlight toward one of the crossbeams. In the dim light Perry could barely make out what looked like a small thatch of grass.

“A nest?” he asked.

Brother Hawthorne nodded. “Doves—it’s been fun for the children.”

As Perry’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see the outline of a bird in the nest, a vigilant mother twisting her head. Or he supposed it was the mother. If it was, where was the father? It was late to be out flying around. Maybe male doves were notoriously inconstant, wandering about seeking new mates after every new batch of eggs. But surely not. They seemed too genteel and peaceable for that sort of lifestyle. Maybe the father was out gathering provisions for the nest. Or perhaps the female had thrown him out of the nest with some shrewish complaint—“Why don’t you coo to me more?”

“How’s your book coming?” Brother Hawthorne asked.

“Oh, it’s taking shape,” Perry said. “Thank you for tonight—letting me sit in on the deacons’ meeting before church, I mean. That was . . . well, I know you don’t usually allow that.”

Brother Hawthorne laughed quietly. “They’re not very exciting, are they?”

Perry didn’t answer. Standing there in the dark, he heard the weak cheep of a baby bird. That must be it. The father dove was out finding food. But didn’t birds do that during the day?

Brother Hawthorne imitated the low triple coo of the dove’s call. “That’s how they sound. You hear them all the time around here. Those and Carolina wrens”—he whistled a brilliant trill followed by a shrill falsetto—“Tea kettle, tea kettle, tea kettle.” The bird in the nest didn’t stir. The thought came to Perry that he ought to ask Brother Hawthorne about the birds he had heard at the lake. But he would feel silly trying to imitate their calls.

“Well . . .” Perry took a step backward. “I’d better head home.”

“I’m glad you agreed to let me tell the people about your book,” Brother Hawthorne said as they started toward Perry’s Toyota.

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