CHAPTER 4

It was Millie’s first ride in a police car. Though Buddy had made her walk the length of the store, an obvious attempt to shame her, he decided to save her the humiliation of sitting in the backseat, behind the screen. He figured facing her daddy would be humiliation enough.

“Millie, if there is anything you can tell me that can save us from having to go through with this, do it now. Do it, if not for yourself, for him. He doesn’t deserve this.”

“How do you know he doesn’t deserve it?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means whatever you want it to mean. I don’t care what you tell him.”

The car stopped in front of the house by the church, and Buddy turned off the engine. They sat there for a few moments, neither one of them saying anything. Buddy looked at her and saw a girl almost as old as his own daughter. A girl in trouble. A different kind of trouble to be sure, but so defiant. When he opened the car door, he said it as a warning and also to show her who was in charge: “I’m not gonna tell him anything, Millie. You’re gonna tell him.”

The Rev. Paul Franklin opened the door after just one ring. If he was shocked at the pair standing on the porch, his face didn’t betray it. Buddy, as good as his promise, never spoke a word. Words were rarely necessary when parents opened the door to discover their child standing beside a police officer.

Rev. Franklin simply said, “Buddy,” as a greeting and motioned with his left arm for them to come inside.

In the study Paul sat behind his desk, and Buddy and Millie sat in the chairs facing him like a couple begging a loan from a bank president.

“Paul, I think Millie has something to tell you.”

She looked up from staring at the carpet to her dad, then over to Buddy and back to her father. Her stare never faltered.

“They caught me stealing from Macalbee’s. Mr. Sandridge called the cops and here I am. He wants me to tell him why and you’re gonna want me to say I’m sorry and I don’t plan to do either so I’m going to my room.” And she left.

It was a toss-up as to which side of the desk looked more uncomfortable. Both men were in a business to take charge but neither wanted to use their work strategy against the other.

“Has anyone pressed charges?”

“No.”

“Do I need to write you a check for what she took?”

“No. We got it all back. Do you want to know what it was?”

“It doesn’t matter. That she took it is what matters. And I think I know why.”

The study door opened and the considerable good looks of the preacher’s wife filled the room.

“Hi, Buddy. What’s going on?”

“It’s Millie. They caught her shoplifting at Macalbee’s. Buddy just brought her home. She’s up in her room.”

“Who turned her in?”

“Why?”

“I want to know who turned her in.”

“Milton called and asked me to handle it,” said Buddy. “I think he’s willing to keep it as quiet as possible as long as his home office doesn’t find out about it.”

“Calling the cops is not exactly keeping it quiet!” Dove Franklin exploded with the fervor of a defensive mother. “How do we know she was actually stealing?”

“They caught her red-handed, Dove, and she admits it. What more could you want?” Paul Franklin, man of God, looked as tired and gray as his Perry Como sweater.

“Well, I would want someone to show a little more consideration than to bring her home in a police car.”

“I’m sorry, Dove, but that’s the only car the city gives me. I could have walked her up the hill but it’s a little cold out there.”

Dove left, slamming the study door behind her. Buddy rubbed the backs of his hands for a few seconds before he spoke. The preacher was staring at his desktop.

“I’m sorry about the car in front of the house, Paul. I can come up with a story if you need to tell the neighbors something.”

“I don’t need any excuses for the truth,” the preacher said with sad eyes. “You’re looking at a man who struggles with the truth every day. It’s comes with the job.”

“Yeah, but I guess other people’s truths are easier to deal with than your own, and I’m sorry I had to be the one to lay all of this at your doorstep.”

“I’m used to it. She’s not a bad girl. She just wants to be a bad girl.”

Paul Franklin fingered a brass paperweight shaped like a cross and considered an unspoken explanation of what he was feeling. He knew his daughter was of an age where she longed for an identity all her own. Maybe she didn’t want to be the minister’s daughter anymore. He could remember a time a few short years ago when she was so proud of her daddy and would sit on his lap while he wrote his sermons each week at this very desk. Once, when she was six, he overheard her delivering a sermon to her dolls and stuffed animals lined up on her bed. But now her friends were the most important things in her life. Did she want them to think she was as wild as they were? He was afraid to answer. He already had evidence that she smoked and drank, and now he could add stealing to that list of questionable behaviors. What else might she do? Maybe she was just a normal, curious teenager stumbling through these awkward years doing the best she could. He looked up at the man on the other side of his desk and found his voice again. “She’s fifteen. She knows all the answers to all the questions you and I are still wrestling with. She even thinks …”

Paul stopped in mid-sentence when he saw tears in Lt. Briggs’ eyes. What had he said that would have extracted this kind of reaction from this rock-hard war hero?

“Buddy, what’s the matter?”

Buddy took a moment before he answered. “If I hadn’t come here today because of Millie’s situation, I would have been here for another reason. Everything that’s happening is hitting me right in the heart. I’ve got a problem and Amanda will probably kill me for telling you without consulting her first, but … well, I know you’ve got a lot on you right now and this is probably the wrong time to unload on you …”

“If you have something you need to talk about, my friend, now is as good as any time to do it. I’m here for whatever you need.”

“Amanda called me about an hour ago just before I left the office, so I really haven’t had time to let it all soak in, but she had just found out that Shirley Ann is going to have a baby.”

“Your Shirley Ann? Your sixteen-year-old Shirley Ann? God have mercy on us all. Tell me all about it.”

“I just told you everything I know.”