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Stories from the Verse
In Version
Chapter 145: Cooper 47
Table of Contents
Previous chapter: Takano 129
As he sat in his room reading his Bible, it occurred to Brian that maybe he was doing this all wrong. He had thought that he could find a nicer and cheaper place for them to live, and could do so by relying on himself and other people. However, God had brought him here, and promised to provide all his needs according to His riches in Christ Jesus. God knew the need; God would provide.
On the other hand, just because God already had the answer didn’t mean he shouldn’t make the request. Bible study was important, but not actually more important than prayer, whatever his rational mind wanted to believe. He spent the next hour in prayer, beginning with his need to find a better place to live, moving on into their need for direction, singing several songs, and worshiping until he had lost track of time. Then he fell asleep.
The next morning he awoke extra early, got eggs delivered to his room, then stopped at Tommy’s door. She answered in what his mother might have called a housecoat, and he explained that he felt like walking but had already called the cab for her, and he gave her cab fare for it. She thanked him, and he started threading his way through the early morning city. At first there was no traffic at all, then gradually the streets filled with commuters and cabs fighting to get to various places of employment. Shops started opening, newsstands got deliveries and began selling papers, and the vacant world became a populous city.
About three blocks from work he noticed a large old stone Presbyterian church. It caught his eye, because the architecture was impressive and it was Presbyterian, a denomination built on the Calvinist doctrines he had embraced. As he paused, he noticed that the sign out front, right at the bottom, said, Manse For Rent.
That was interesting. Glancing around he found a door that said Office, and went there. It was unlocked; apparently the staff started early here. Stepping inside, he called out, “Hello?”
“I’ll be right with you,” a woman’s voice called from somewhere, so he waited patiently. Soon a woman maybe ten years older than himself came into view. “How can I help you?” she asked.
“I’m interested in renting the Manse. My niece and I moved out here to work for Berkeley Business Systems, and we’ve been staying in hotel rooms across town and need something a bit more permanent.”
“Are you a Protestant?” she asked.
What an odd question, he thought; but then, he remembered that until Kennedy was President there was a definite fear of Catholics in America. “In fact,” he answered, “I’m a Calvinist, and a rather active one. Back home I was choir director.”
“Choir director? Well, that’s a solid reference. Can I show you the place?”
“Can I use your phone to let my boss know I’ll be a bit late?”
“Certainly; right this way.”
He pulled a pay stub from his pocket to get the phone number, and fumbled a bit with the rotary dial, but in a moment was talking to the front desk. “Hi, this is Brian Barrelmaster. Could you please let Mister Granville know that I’m going to be a bit late?” He got a response and continued, “Thank you,” and hung up. Then he repeated, “Thank you” to the woman and followed her out to the house behind the church.
“So, how does it happen that the manse is available?”
“Our pastor retired and moved to New Mexico, and the new pastor insisted on buying a house in the suburbs. We don’t have an assistant pastor, and our choir director also retired, so the house is empty.”
As he entered, he was immediately struck by how clean and well-tended the house was. It had a full kitchen and separate dining room, a living room and a pastor’s study with bookshelves, three bedrooms upstairs, along with a full bathroom upstairs and a half bathroom downstairs, a full cellar and a roomy attic with a floor–much more than they needed. As a bonus, it had lovely paneling, wood floors but for the tiles in the bathrooms and kitchen, and touches of stained glass in some of the windows. On top of that, it was fully furnished.
“How much?” he asked.
“Forty-five dollars a month.”
It was just outside his budget, and he pondered whether he could manage it, but then she added, “We’re also looking for a choir director. It pays five dollars a week. If you’d be interested you’d have to talk to the new pastor.”
He nodded. He didn’t know about adding being choir director to his workload, but he would have to learn what it involved before he decided.
“We’ll take it. Where do I sign?”
She laughed. “I’ll hold it for you. As soon as you deliver the forty-five dollars you and your niece can move in.”
He was pleased. He had the money in the bank; he would have to pick it up at lunch today and get back here to meet the pastor.
As to the old stories that have long been here:
