The Intruder

Hear the story read by the author

In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Sixty-nine year-old Henrietta Miggins had been a member of the congregation for sixty-nine years. And ever since the current sanctuary was built in 1947, she’s sat in the same place: tenth pew back on the left side near the center aisle. Which is the same place she’d sat in the previous sanctuary. Last, Sunday, however, she did not sit in that spot.

That’s because when she strode up the center aisle precisely five minutes before the service was scheduled to begin, she discovered someone else was seated there. That someone was a trim woman of about Henrietta’s age, well dressed in a floral dress with matching hat and shoes and a string of pearls. Henrietta didn’t recognize her. And if Henrietta didn’t recognize her, that meant she must be a newcomer.

Henrietta stared at the woman. The woman looked straight ahead, apparently unaware of Henrietta’s attention. Henrietta mulled what she might say to the woman. She finally decided it would be inappropriate for her to ask the woman to move. The head usher, Ralph Billings, ought to be the one to do that. Henrietta went to talk to Ralph.

“You have to make that woman move,” Henrietta said to Ralph.

“What woman?” Ralph asked.

“The one sitting in my spot.”

“There’s no assigned seats, Henrietta.”

“But I always sit there,” Henrietta protested.

“There’s space in the pews behind and in front of her,” Ralph pointed out.

Henrietta’s eyes narrowed. “Ralph Billings, you know my grandfather was a founding member of this congregation. There’s a plaque on the wall outside that says so. My grandfather and his family always sat in the tenth pew back on the left. My father and his family always sat in the tenth pew back on the left. And that is where I always sit.”

“She got there first,” Ralph explained. “There’s nothing I can do.”

Henrietta’s eyes narrowed to the point Ralph wasn’t sure if they were even still open. “We’ll see about that,” Henrietta said.

She marched up the right aisle of the church to where Pastor Henry O’Donnell was sitting behind the pulpit going over his sermon in his head.

“Pastor,” she hissed, leaning over the rail.

Pastor O’Donnell sighed. “What do you need, Henrietta?”

“You must make that woman move. She’s sitting in my spot.”

“There are no assigned seats,” the pastor replied.

Henrietta launched into her recitation of the long history she and her family had had with that church, and particularly their long history with the tenth pew on the left side. Pastor O’Donnell was unmoved.

“You’ll just have to find somewhere else to sit today,” he told her. “Service is starting.”

Henrietta did find another place to sit. Directly in front of the intruder. Henrietta sat straight and tall. She was quite disappointed when the end of service arrived and the woman hadn’t complained once about her view being blocked.

After the service concluded, Henrietta waited until the end of the postlude so she would have ample time to give Pastor O’Donnell a piece of her mind on the way out to coffee hour.

As a result, by the time Henrietta entered the social hall most everyone had already helped themselves to refreshments and was engaged in conversation. Henrietta went to get her usual piece of cinnamon coffee cake. However, the plate that normally held it was empty save for a few crumbs.

“Where’s the coffee cake?” Henrietta asked Tammy Billings who was manning the table.

“I guess it was popular today,” Tammy said.

“But I always have a piece of coffee cake and tea after church.”

Tammy shrugged. “There’s plenty of tea.”

Henrietta made herself a cup of tea, grinding her teeth and mentally adding Tammy Billings to the growing list of people who needed a good talking to. Then Henrietta went to find her customary seat on the couch against the back wall, the one with the good vantage point to observe and pass judgment on everyone in the room.

And guess who was sitting on Henrietta’s couch. That’s right, the same woman who had sat in Henrietta’s pew. And to make matters worse, she had a big piece of cinnamon coffee cake on her plate.

Ralph Billings was talking to the woman. When he noticed Henrietta, he introduced them. “Henrietta, this is Betsy Davis. She’s new.”

“How do you do,” Betsy said in a Southern lilt.

“Well enough,” Henrietta replied evenly.

“You’re the woman who was sitting in front of me,” Betsy said. “I couldn’t stop admiring your hat the entire service. You just have the best taste, bless your heart!”

“I’m going to check on Tammy,” Ralph said and made a hasty exit. He had no desire to engage in further conversation with Henrietta.

“Do sit down,” Betsy said and made room on the couch. Henrietta reluctantly complied.

“So, are you just visiting or are you planning to stick around?” Henrietta asked.

“I do believe I’ll return. I used to attend the church over on 3rd Street, but unfortunately they’ve closed it. Membership had been dropping for years. If you ask me, it’s the lackadaisical attitude of the younger generation. They come only when they feel like it. I suggested to the pastor several times that he ought to call people when they were absent and explain the necessity for self-discipline, but he was never able to muster up the courage, bless his heart. It’s no surprise really. He was practically a child himself.”

Henrietta grunted. “You won’t find it much different here. Pastor O’Donnell’s the same way. Soft.”

“I’m not surprised,” Betsy said. “I saw how he allows his daughter to dress, bless her heart. What must the boys think of her?”

“I’m too polite to say,” Henrietta replied. This Betsy might be a pain, but she did seem to be a good judge of character.

“I’d better be off,” Betsy said. “Perhaps I’ll see you next week.”

“Perhaps,” Henrietta replied.

The following Sunday Henrietta made sure she got to church twenty minutes early. She strode in while the choir was still warming up and took her place in the tenth pew on the left side near the center aisle.

Ten minutes later, Betsy arrived. She walked up the center aisle, stopping suddenly when she arrived at the tenth pew on the left and discovered Henrietta sitting there.

Henrietta looked up at Betsy and forced her cheeks into an unaccustomed expression that vaguely resembled a smile. “Good morning,” Henrietta said.

“Good morning,” Betsy replied, and turned to look for another spot.

Then something quite unusual happened.

“Why don’t you join me,” Henrietta asked.

“Thank you,” Betsy said. “Did you notice that the head usher appears to need a new razor, bless his heart.”

“I did notice,” Henrietta said as she scooted over to make room for her new friend.