Almost Friends Read Online Free Page B

Krista told her about wanting to be a priest, the ponderous woman flopped back in her recliner and rolled her eyes heavenward, her many chins quivering in alarm. “You can’t be a priest. They don’t allow it.”
    “How come?”
    “Because you’re a girl.”
    “Could you please explain why that should make a difference?”
    Mrs. Harvey frowned. “Should the church change its mind and allow women to be priests, you need to keep something in mind.”
    “What’s that?”
    “It’s impolite to visit someone in their home under the pretense of consoling them, and then argue religion with them.”
    Krista thought for a moment. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. I’m sorry. How is your ankle?”
    “Not well at all. The doctor thinks he might have to operate.”
    “Would you like me to pray for you?”
    “Yes, I suppose there’d be no harm in that.”
    Krista laid her hand on Mrs. Harvey’s bruised and swollen ankle. “Dear Lord, thank you for Mrs. Harvey and the gift of her life. Please grant her peace in these arduous days and, if it be your will, heal her ankle. Amen.”
    Krista seldom used words like grant and arduous, but they seemed fitting words for a prayer and, besides, it never hurt to expand one’s vocabulary.
    “Thank you, Krista. That was a lovely prayer. I feel better already.” Mrs. Harvey leaned back in her recliner with a contented sigh and closed her eyes.
    Krista looked around the room. Beams of sunlight were blazing through the window, lighting up the dust motes. In the next room, Mrs. Harvey’s dog napped under the dining room table, his rib cage rising and falling with a wiffling snore, his whitened muzzle occasionally twitching to the rhythm of a canine dream.
    “How old is your dog?” Krista asked.
    “Fourteen.”
    Krista thought for a moment, calculating figures in her head, then said, “That’s ninety-eight in dog years. If he dies anytime soon, I’ll be happy to do his funeral.”
    “Thank you, Krista.”
    “It wouldn’t be my first funeral. I’ve done three so far. Two cats and a squirrel.”
    “Who had a squirrel?”
    “I’m not certain who he belonged to. I found him on the road in front of our house. He was starting to stink, so I had to bury him quick.”
    “That was very kind of you,” Mrs. Harvey said. “The animals are God’s children too.”
    “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
    “No, thank you. I’ll be fine.”
    “If you had a husband, he could help you,” Krista pointed out. “Why didn’t you ever marry?”
    Mrs. Harvey opened her eyes and heaved herself forward in the recliner. “It’s impolite to ask questions about one’s marital status. People might think you’re a gossip, and no one likes a gossip.”
    “I was just wondering.”
    “Ministers must be discreet. That means you don’t ask people personal questions unless they volunteer the information.”
    “People ask me personal questions all the time.”
    “You are under no obligation to answer them,” Mrs. Harvey said. “Why do people think every question must be answered? When I was a child, people knew to mind their own business.”
    “I think I’ll be going now,” Krista said. “Thank you for letting me visit you.”
    “What have you learned today?”
    “I learned not to argue theology with people in their homes, that prayer makes you feel better, not to ask personal questions, that no one likes a gossip, that ministers should bediscreet, and not to answer a question just because someone asks it.”
    “Very good, Krista. Come back tomorrow and I’ll teach you more.”
    “Okay, I’ll see you then.”
    But her best friend’s hamster died the next day, so Krista spent the day making funeral arrangements and cheering her friend in her time of loss. It was well after supper before she’d remembered her promise to visit Mrs. Harvey, and by then it was too late. She had the distinct feeling that one of Mrs. Harvey’s rules for clergy concerned the proper hours for