The Color of Ordinary Time Read Online Free PDF

was tainted by my unbelief. I was simply a means to an end. A person God had put in their path and under their influence to make their work possible. Perhaps I was hoping for some warmth. They would be running short on that, too.
    Behind the front desk in the station a large black man dressed in a uniform was sitting and growling at his computer screen. His name tag said “Cortland”.
    “Excuse me. I’m looking for Walton Taylor, or Susan Kline. I’m Reverend Taylor’s daughter Keziah.”
    The officer took looked at me with eyes that read pleased and surprised. Then a toothy grin blossomed across his face. “I take it you are not one of the faithful.”
    “I’m not even one of the unfaithful.”
    “Bless you. I’ve been prayed and preached at so much today, I was about to convert just to shut them up.”
    “No need to get dramatic.”
    Cortland chuckled. “You want to see him?”
    “Could you tell me what happened first? Susan wasn’t specific when she called.”
    “The right Reverend walked right in to St. Mark’s during the service this morning and took over. Started preaching right over the service. Tossed some candle stands and things around. Wrestled a bit with Father Felix. When they couldn’t get him to stop they called us in. I wasn’t there. I understand it was quite a scene. One of our guys broke his jaw falling down some marble steps. Eventually they arrested him for trespassing and disturbing the peace. Five thousand dollars, and three months probation.”
    Five thousand dollars.
I felt my heart sink. “How bad were the damages at the church?”
    “Don’t rightly know. You’d have to talk to the Father about it.”
    “Wait, it’s Sunday. He’s been sentenced already?”
    “Judge Herndon is a member at St. Mark’s; so is the County Attorney. They grabbed a public defender from across the street at First Baptist. Had him sentenced before they put him in the car. Lucky it was a first offense.”
    “Is that legal?”
    Cortland shrugged. “Guess it is around here.”
    “The man who broke his jaw, was it because my father pushed him, or something?”
    “Naw, Pitney’s just graceless. Fell down the steps all on his own well after the tussle was broken up, I understand.”
    A sort of relief flooded me. At least he hadn’t hurt anyone. Before I could delve farther into the story, a door opened halfway down the hallway that ran away from the front desk to my right. Susan emerged into the hallway wearing the grey shapeless ankle length dress that my father felt was appropriate for unmarried women of a marriageable age. For girls the color was navy blue; for married women it was dark grey; for widows it was black. But it was always the same dress. I’d sewn dozens of them over the years. Cotton in the summer, wool in the winter, and every single one just as ugly and shapeless as the last. Susan pulled it off better than any of the rest of us. Grey made her big grey eyes look more prominent, and the severely pulled back and bunned hair showed off her long neck and pretty face.
    Behind Susan a man stepped out into the hallway. He was dressed in a pilling brown polyester suit, peach shirt, and a lime and baby blue stripped tie. I’d never seen him before. Apparently, number nineteen had been saved.
    “I thought I heard your voice,” said Susan as she hugged me briefly. Then, “You had to wear jeans?” as she pulled back and looked me over.
    “It was what I had with me,” I told her.
    “I’ve got an extra dress in my case. You can use the break room to change.”
    “Sus, you’re six inches taller than me. How will that work exactly?”
    “It will be better than what you are in now. You can’t see him looking like...”
    “Like what?” I asked her knowing full well what the rest of that statement was, but determined to make her say it to my face instead of just letting it hang between us unspoken.
    “Like that,” said Susan lamely.
    “Like a whore,” said the man in the brown