Tru Profitt and The Sons of Thunder, Chapter Three

Tru closed the door to his study behind him and sank into a leather wingback chair inherited from his father. He absentmindedly flipped on the TV and pressed the play button for the DVD. Penny's laughter rang out, echoing a photo in the hall. The photo showed Penny, his stunning wife, with her head tilted back, laughing, her eyes danced.

The photo was made during one of their many ventures into The Paseo, an arts district a mile from their home. Penny loved their art walks, every first Friday. A local photographer sent the photo to her as a gift, it had become Tru’s most prized possession in the last few days. The video was from their fifth anniversary party. There she was. A shame that the world didn't miss her. Tru stood up and moved behind his desk where a stack of her brown leather bound journals sat.

He bought her a new one for her birthday in June and another at Christmas every year. For her part, she filled each of them, every single page, with neat writing. In the past, Tru struggled with jealousy over these books, she never demanded no interruptions when she was writing. Penny never let him read them, except on special occasions when she wrote something just for him. Now, he was grateful she’d taken the care to leave such a precious part of herself behind. In fact, he felt guilty for the times when he had tried to distract her from her writing, because now these journals contained her last remaining secrets. He saw it as a final chance to know her better, before starting the process of letting go.

He had gathered everything that reminded him of her into this sanctuary. Tru Immersed himself in her memory just to make breathing possible under the heavy waves of grief that washed over him since returning from the hospital without his wife.

He flipped open a journal and read. “I hate it!” Penny wrote, about Community of Christ's plan to spend a hundred thousand dollars adding a coffee shop and bookstore to their lobby. “It's not just a bad idea, it's embarrassing. How out of touch must we be to even consider thinking of this as the highest use for these resources.”

True put the journal aside and opened his laptop. 56 Facebook messages, all more or less the same, greeted Tru when he logged in. No one knew what to say to a person in his position. He determined to only give public responses, to avoid spending countless hours to answer each of them. He opened a file entitled “sermon, 4/1” and read through his opening remarks again. His heart raced as he read what had come out of his grief. He regretted that Penny wasn't here to discuss it. He picked the journal up and sat back in the chair, turning up the television volume.

On the screen Penny's brother was offering a toast, “I knew from the instant they met that life would be wonderful for them. In fact, I told Tru that the second the wedding ended he would instantly make a Penny Proffit.” He paused for laughter. “But seriously, guys, it's been a great five years. Here's to a hundred more.” He raised his glass and toasted Tru and Penny.

Outside the study, TenPin and Cigs stood frozen on the kitchen tile for a full minute after following Tru in from the garage. Both were afraid to touch their surroundings for fear of soiling it beyond repair. The image of a warm shower won over the fear and TenPin walked along the hall and into the bathroom. He emerged fifteen minutes later and Cigs took his turn.

Tru heard a knock at the study door and pressed the pause button, freezing Penny's face in mid-smile. “Come in.”

Unsure, TenPin opened the door about half way, and stood in the opening wearing a terry cloth robe. “Pastor Tru, I can't thank you enough for what you done for me and Cigs. I hope it's okay if I borrow this robe. I only have the one set of clothes.”

Tru smiled. He enjoyed the feeling of usefulness. He hadn't realized just how much he missed simple human interaction, “That's what it's here for, buddy. Let me see, you're both close to my size. Let's get you something to wear.”

Tru led the way to his bedroom which decorated with photos and paintings collected on First Fridays or created by friends. A large original oil painting of a dancer at the barre hung over the bed and black and white photos of Penny's grandfather's farm filled the other walls. Tru opened the door to a walk-in closet.

He turned to see TenPin standing with his mouth hanging open, not accustomed to so many choices. Tru smiled, just a month before, Penny had complained that the closet was too small, it was a matter of perspective.

“See anything you like?” Tru reached over Ten Pin's shoulder and flipped on the light.

Tru wondered if TenPin could have expressed more awe in the most opulent of cathedrals. He turned, taking it all in. He looked at the small bundle of clothes in his hands, that represented all he had in the world. “Oh, wow, I couldn't. My stuff is almost new. I... this is too much.” TenPin fought back tears.

Tru grinned. “Look, you can't eat in that robe and even with her gone there is no way I can let you sit in my wife's chairs wearing what you wore here. So, I’m not giving you much of a choice. You either take it, or sleep in the garage.”

TenPin paused, then smiled as he understood that Tru was teasing him. It had been a long time since he’d been included in a good natured joke. He raised his head, looked Tru in the eye and said, “I’ll take it.”

Tru picked out a pair of blue jeans and found a package of new boxers on a shelf. He grabbed a pair of rolled sweat socks and snagged an OU sweat shirt from the top hanging bar.

“Try these things on and I'll get you a pair of shoes.” He left Ten Pin speechless as he went down the hall and out to the garage. The garage was neat, but couldn’t house a second vehicle for all the shelving. While he never spent much on clothing. Penny didn’t allow him to wear anything out. Organization was her thing and the garage shelves looked like a shrine to plastic storage. The shelves got cleared out twice a year, like clockwork. The items were donated to friends and clothing closets around town. Since Penny’s treatment started, finding time to get it done was not a top priority. He chose two pairs of sneakers and walked back into the house.

TenPin wasted no time in getting dressed and was pulling the sweatshirt over his head when Tru walked back in with the shoes. He handed a pair to TenPin, “Will those do?”

Ten Pin's eyes lit up, “Blue is my favorite color, or it was, back when I was rich enough to care about stuff like that.” He sat on the floor and pulled on the socks and sneakers. The shoes were a little big, but it didn't seem to bother TenPin. He stood up, and shook Tru's hand “, Thank you, I haven't felt this human in a long, long time.”

“You haven't tried my cooking yet. You may change your mind.” Tru headed off to the kitchen with TenPin right behind him. The kitchen was Penny's one concession to spending money. Stamped and stained concrete counters and tile imported from Italy where she and Tru planned to travel someday, gleamed under LED pendants. A large stainless steel rack, filled with gourmet utensils hung over the island.

Tru knew the names and uses of less than half of them and survived on microwave dinners during Penny's illness. He walked to the stainless-steel, side-by-side refrigerator, opened the door and stood looking helplessly at the meager contents.

“Don't worry about cooking, Cigs used to work as a chef or something. He cooks the most amazing food at the shelter.” Ten Pin laughed as he grabbed an apple from a fruit dish on top of a butcher-block island, “This okay?”

“Help yourself. So, a chef, huh?" Tru closed the refrigerator and went to the cabinet for glasses. “Well I'm not sure what I have around here, but he's welcome to try.” Tru put ice in three glasses and poured lemonade.

Cigs walked in, toweling his hair. He was standing on the opposite side of the island from Tru. Cigs walked around the island and picked up a glass. As he lowered the towel, Tru saw that the man was naked. Ten Pin laughed, Tru spit his sip of lemonade in surprise, spraying Cigs. He resisted the urge to wipe it off with a paper towel, which he realized would have been even more awkward.

Tru laughed loudly at the site of a naked stranger in his wife’s kitchen. Still not embarrassed, Cigs mopped the spray from his body and lifted his glass of lemonade, took a deep swallow and let out a contented belch.

“I see why you hang out with this guy, TenPin, he really lets it all hang out.” Tru nodded his approval.

The ex-bowler grinned. “There's clothes for you in the bedroom. Last door on the left. Clean too. In fact I don't remember the last time I smelled this good, here sniff.” Ten Pin held his arm out to Cigs who took a sniff, gave a thumbs up and walked off down the hall.

That one simple, childish act caught Tru off guard. He tried to think of a single person he felt comfortable enough with, to allow them to sniff him, especially while nude. God, I miss Penny, he thought.

Cigs came back a few minutes later and seemed delighted with the variety of kitchen tools available. He was just as good a cook as promised and made culinary magic from Mac n Cheese and a few fresh vegetables. When he finished cooking, he washed each pan and utensil and returned them to exactly the right places.

The three men ate their dinner in the living room in front of the TV, watching the news. Tru had to admit, it was nice to have someone there to share the evening with. Just the simple sound of someone else clicking a fork on a plate, clearing his throat, or sipping lemonade made the house normal again. About halfway through dinner the news caster announced an upcoming story that caught Tru’s attention.

“Stay tuned to hear what a local pastor has to say about mixing business with pleasure in their new plans for a coffee shop and bookstore.” The anchor woman smiled at her fellow anchors as the camera pulled back and the logo flew in.
“That sounds great. Wonder if they serve decaf," the sports guy quipped, “Larry could use it. Especially if that severe weather comes our way.”

A commercial came on and Tru took the dirty plates to the kitchen and grabbed the glasses for another round of lemonade. Cigs followed Tru to the kitchen, and before he protested was loading the dishes into the dishwasher. Tru could get used to that.

When Tru came back the news was just returning from commercial break. Bill Jensen, his associate pastor, was talking with a pretty, young correspondent in Tru's office at Community of Christ. The girl's name escaped Tru at the moment. He knew her from church. She had been attending COC for a while now. Bill was showing off an architect's model of the proposed coffee shop. “..so we thought it was a great way to give back to the community. Rather than spending that extra fifteen minutes and four bucks on a Starbucks, our people can save time and give right back into the ministry.”

“That's all from Community of Christ where you can get your Java and Jesus in a one stop shop.” The reporter took a sip from a Styrofoam cup with -Whoever Gives a Cup of Cold Water in My Name, Does the Same for Me- on its side “Oh, good coffee! Well, back to you.”

The camera pulled in tight on the anchor as he introduced the weather segment.
Tru sat stunned for a moment, then blurted out, “What?!” True reacted as if slapped. The vote was not even close. The coffee shop had been shot down months ago. Cigs and TenPin disappeared into the kitchen, sensing this was something that Tru needed to handle alone.

Tru took his phone from his pocket, hit the speed dial, and listened as Bill Jensen's voice advised him to leave a message. “Bill, Tru here. I wondered if you would call me at your earliest convenience? Thanks.”