There was no way to continue their journey that evening.  Ticket sales would have closed for the day.  Derek and Vashti were going to need a place to sleep for the night--and sleeping on the street wasn't usually approved in cities.  They could try to stay awake and wander the city until morning, but they were both tired from their travels and it would only mean they would need a place to sleep tomorrow.

Suddenly his eye fell on a church, white, simple wooden building with a steeple in which could be seen an iron bell.  The sign out front said Baptist, and it reminded him greatly of Maurice's church back in New Orleans.  Glancing around he spotted what he sought, a house adjacent to it painted with the same paint and framed on the same design.  "Come on," he said to Vashti, and walked swiftly toward the house, where he straightened his clothes a bit (and Vashti took the cue to do likewise) before knocking on the door.  Then he waited, nervously wondering whether he was crazy.

The door was opened by a black man, probably in his early forties.  "Can I help you?" he asked.

"I do hope so, Pastor," Derek guessed.  "My name's Derek, Derek Brown, and this is my wife Vashti.  We're trying to get to New Orleans; there's been a death in the family.  Someone told us we could probably catch a steamboat down the river, but we don't know what that's likely to cost and don't have much money, so we're trying not to spend the little we have."

The man seemed to be waiting patiently for Derek to get to the point, so he did.  "Anyway, we got to Joliet too late to get steamboat tickets, and I was wondering whether you knew any place we could sleep for the night, cheaply but safely.  I wouldn't want us to sleep on the street."

"No," he said, "you're right about that."  He seemed to ponder the situation for a moment.  "Tell you what," he said.  "The church is always open; I can show you the door, and you can sleep in the sanctuary.  It ain't all that comfortable, but it's inside, and probably you won't be disturbed.  I mean, we leave it open in case members want to stop in and pray, but they rarely do, or at least, I'm not aware of them doing so."

"That's mighty Christian of you, pastor."

He nodded, and said, "Let me tell my wife where I'm going, and I'll be right with you."

He was back in a moment.  "O.K., we don't leave the main door open because that would be a bit too much of a temptation for thieves--not that there's anything worth stealing, but there are folks who would steal from a black church just because most of us are black."

"I understand," Derek said.  "I think that's terrible, and I'd like to say it's changing, but in some ways the very fact that some things are getting better causes others to get worse."

"I know what you mean.  Some White folk, they don't seem even to notice color, and they love going to the jazz clubs and speakeasies in the cities where black musicians are playing the latest jazz--not that I approve of speakeasies, but I do appreciate that music, and the respect it gets for Colored people.  Others, though, they see a black man doing well, and they hates that all the more.  Obviously, though, you come from a place where that's not a problem."

"I'm from Persia," Vashti said.

"Well, you speak English very well, young lady.  I would never have guessed you were a foreigner."

He showed them the side door, and as he opened it he said, "Up those steps and to the right, I'm right behind you."

There was an unlatched swinging door at the top beyond which was the sanctuary--a simple room, wooden floors and pews, frosted windows dimming the fading dusk.  The pastor flipped a switch on the wall near the front and the lights in the chancel lit.  "That should give you enough light to see.  There are bathrooms through that door over there.  If anyone questions you, just tell them Pastor Douglas said it would be all right."

"Thank you so much," Vashti said, and Derek echoed.

"Don't mention it.  As you say, it's the Christian thing to do."

The pastor left.

"I'm not sure," Derek said, "whether we'd be more comfortable on the pews or the floor."

"I can see that the pews might be a bit nicer for sleep, since they have those slightly curved seats, but frankly I'd rather be sleeping next to you, and that means the floor."

Derek nodded.  That would be his preference, too, he decided.  He looked around for the best place, and decided it would be the space right in front of the chancel where the center aisle ends.  He realized that there was nothing to do to set up a place to sleep.

"Why don't you go use the bathroom, clean up a bit if you like, and when you're done I'll go."

"All right," she replied, and headed through the indicated door.

He sat looking at the church.  There was a simple cross on the wall under a round window at the far end of the chancel, double doors in the center of the opposite wall along with doors in each corner, and it appeared that there were panels that would open to large window-like spaces along the wall.  Derek remembered seeing something like that in another church, designed so that the entry space on the other side of the wall could be used as expanded standing room when the church was crowded.

Vashti returned.  "I left the light on for you," she said.  He nodded and availed himself of the bathroom, washing some of the grime from the road off his face, hands, and arms.

He came back just to hear the pastor's voice calling from the door.  "Hello!  Are you folk decent?"

Derek couldn't resist calling back, "I'd like to think we're decent folk.  What's the problem, Pastor?"

"Oh, no, no problem.  Missus Douglas, when I told her about you, she said you really must eat something, so she had me bring over this tray.  It's not much, just some cold supper, but I'm sure you can make the best of it.  She also says to bring the tray over to the house in the morning, and she'll fix you some breakfast.

"That's awfully kind of you sir," Derek said, and Vashti also thanked him.

"Well, you enjoy, and get some sleep, and I'll probably see you in the morning."  With that the pastor departed.

"What do we have?" Derek asked as Vashti uncovered two plates.  She laughed.

"It looks like cold chicken."

"Hey, chicken is good.  I'm not so tired of it yet that I won't eat it when I'm hungry."

"There's also some cold sliced and fried potatoes, with maybe a bit of onion mixed in, and a few raw carrots.  She included some tableware and a couple of cloth napkins."

"Wonderful.  Dig in."

They ate every scrap of the food between them and set the tray up on one of the pews before settling down to sleep on the floor.

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