Wisdom Tree

by Mary Manners

  “Maybe not a gazillion…but at least a hundred,” the elder woman agreed. “That’s a sepia print of my great-great-grandfather. He emigrated here from Italy and was a butcher until the day he died.”

  “A butcher?”

  “That’s right. In the days before people could buy everything but a box of rocks at superstores, they used to get their steaks and chops from a local butcher.”

  “Cool. And who’s this?” Corey tapped a second photo.

  “My great-grandmother.”

  “She looks mad.”

  “Everyone looked mad back then. It wasn’t proper to smile in photographs.”

  “Why?”

  Lilly shrugged her frail shoulders. “I don’t know. They just didn’t.”

  Jake settled into a chair at the dinette while Carin boiled water in the microwave for a cup of tea. “You want one?” she whispered to Jake.

  “Uh-huh.” He leaned back, stretched his legs, and crossed his ankles as he loosened his tie and then unfastened the top button of his shirt. “This may take a while.”

  “Wow…did kids really dress like this?” Corey gaped. “In goofy pants—”

  “Knickers.” Lilly’s voice carried across the small room.

  “They look like total geeks.”

  Jake laughed. “I wonder if they’d think the same of you, with your hair all over your face and those sagging jeans.”

  Corey scratched his head, tossed hair from his eyes, and hitched up his pants. “I never thought of it that way.” He leaned back in the bed, flipped through the rest of the album. “Is this you, Miss Lilly?”

  She leaned in for a glimpse though Jake was sure she had each photo in the album memorized. “Sure is. I was sixteen, at my high school prom.” Her sigh was rattled. “It seems like just yesterday. Where does the time go?”

  Corey smoothed a thumb across the photo. “Your hair is so…bushy.”

  “I did have a mop then, didn’t I?” Lilly ran a hand through her thinning locks. “I was the bomb.”

  “You still are, Lilly.” Jake stirred sugar into the cup of tea Carin handed him. He winked at her as she slipped into the second chair at the dinette.

  “Corey, see that small plastic box on the top shelf of the bookcase?” Lilly pointed one arthritic finger. “Get it down for me, please.”

  “What’s in it?” Corey scrambled to his knees on the bed and gathered the box. “Oh, wow! Is this for real, Miss Lilly?”

  “Yes, sir…a genuine autographed home-run ball from Babe Ruth himself.”

  “But…how?” Corey turned the box left and right, inspecting each stitch in the scuffed leather, every letter of the inscription.

  “My daddy caught that during a season opener. He and his buddy skipped school—played hooky and headed to the ball park instead. My daddy had the fever for baseball, and he sure wasn’t going to miss a chance to see Babe Ruth in action.”

  “It’s…amazing.”

  “It’s yours now.”

  “What?” The bed rocked beneath Corey’s weight. “No way!”

  “Take it home with you; keep it, son.” Lilly nodded. “I’ll rest better knowing it’s with someone who’ll cherish it the way I have, the way my daddy did, too.”

  “Oh, I will, Miss Lilly. For sure. Thank you.” Corey pressed the case to his chest, protecting the ball with both hands. “Jake, can I use your cell phone? I’ve gotta call Dillon and tell him about this!”

  “Reception’s better in the hall.” Jake handed Corey the phone as he slipped from the bed. “We’ll be here when you’re done.”

  19

  “Do you want me to go with you?” Jake asked as he gathered Carin close on his front porch.

  “No.” Carin shook her head and pressed her face to his chest, smoothing his T-shirt. She felt the slow, steady beat of his heart through the thin fabric and sighed. The rain had moved out, leaving behind cool air and a crisp, clean scent of rain-washed earth. The trees were bare, their branches naked beneath a cloud-veiled sun. “I have to talk to Dad alone, work through things with him on my own. There’s no moving forward, Jake, unless I let go of the past.”

  “Will you call me if you need anything, keep me posted?” Jake slipped a strand of Carin’s hair behind her ear, his eyes dark with questions.

  “I promise.”

  “He’ll be here soon?”

  “Yes, at noon.” She tried not to think about how tired her father had sounded last night as she spoke with him on the phone…how lost. His words echoed in her mind.

  “Maybe you’re right, honey. Maybe I should hand some of the work off. Maybe it’s time…”

  She’d try to convince him to do just that—after she showed him Cameron’s journal and explained about Phillip. She just hoped his heart would hold up beneath the strain. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, too.

  “OK, then.” Jake wrapped his arms around her, warming her with his embrace “I’ll be praying for you…that all goes well.”

  “Thank you, Jake. I know now…the power of prayer.”

  ****

  Jake watched her drive away, his gut a mass of tight knots. He knew she was seeking closure, understood that she needed to talk things out with her dad. Yet he couldn’t shake the sense of dread that flooded him.

  “You OK?” Corey asked through the screen door.

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t look OK.” Corey loped onto the porch and leaned against the rail. “You look like you did the night you told me about Mom and Dad.”

  Jake’s head snapped up. “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m just…worried.” Jake raked a hand through his hair and chose his words carefully. There was no point in worrying Corey, too. “She’s been through so much.”

  “So have you.” Corey’s blue eyes narrowed with concern. “You love her, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Jake’s gut tightened, and the knots multiplied tenfold. “Yes, I do.”

  “Well, when someone loves you and you love them, too, you should give it everything you have—not hold back. I mean, you can’t be afraid of it.”

  “You sound very Shakespearean, very Romeo and Juliet.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve got this awesome English teacher who really knows her stuff. She’s a drill sergeant, though—tough as nails.”

  Jake laughed. “Tougher than your big brother?”

  “Depends on the day.” He nudged the toe of his tennis shoe against the porch rail, fidgeting. “Seriously, though…maybe you should pray about it.” Corey shook his bangs from his eyes. “Ask for a little direction. That’s what you always tell me, isn’t it?”

  Jake studied his brother, noting the clear blue of his eyes, the way he tilted his head to the side while he was thinking, in the same manner as their mother. His advice was so simple, yet it struck a chord in Jake. “You’re right.”

  “Oh, did you see my “fortune” from the last time we ate at Ming Tree?” Corey handed Jake a small slip of paper. “Since when do they hand out Bible verses instead of fortunes?”

  Jake’s heart caught as he read the verse…The Lord is good, a refuge in times of trouble. He cares for those who trust in Him. “Oh, Corey…”

  “What?”

  “You’re right. We need to pray.”

  ****

  “Daddy, I have something to show you.” Carin took the journal from a cabinet beneath the bookshelf in her living room. “I found this in Cameron’s room…after he died.”

  “What is it, honey?”

  “A journal…Cameron’s journal.” She gathered Scooter into her arms and settled on the couch beside her father. Scooter purred and nudged the journal with his snout.

  Her dad glanced at the cloth-covered book. Cameron had doodled over the cover, adding his own artwork. The jagged designs foreshadowed the entries inside. “I didn’t know he kept a journal.”

  “I didn’t, either…until I found it tucked beneath his mattress.” She swallowed hard. “I should have
shown it to you right away. I was wrong to keep it from you. I thought I was doing the right thing…because I didn’t want to hurt you. But now things are out of hand. You’ll understand when you read it.” She nodded. “I hope you can forgive me, Dad.”

  His gaze held hers for the longest time. “This is going to change my life, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. But I think you should read it. You have to read it.”

  “Now? Here?”

  “Yes, Daddy. I’ll sit with you.”

  He took a pair of reading glasses from his shirt pocket and perched them on his nose before opening the journal to the first entry. He drew a single, deep sigh and began to read. Carin had memorized the entries, and she knew by the hitch in his voice just when he skimmed the most difficult words.

  Tears streamed down his face as he continued, and his hiccoughs caused Carin’s belly to lurch. She leaned back, raking a hand through her curls and imagining Cameron’s soft-spoken voice, the lost look in his eyes during his final days. If only she had known…if only she’d paid closer attention. She held Scooter closer and stroked the scruff of his neck.

  “Oh, Carin…” Her father’s voice brought her back. “All this time…I had no idea.”

  “How could you? I hid it from you.”

  “Why?” He removed the glasses, his gaze riddled with confusion.

  She felt tears well in her eyes.

  “Because I love you, Daddy, and I didn’t want to see you hurt anymore. I knew the words—Cameron’s words—would wound you.” She cleared her throat. “And I know how much you care for Phillip—that you think of him as a son.”

  “But you’ve carried the burden alone.”

  “No, I haven’t, Dad. God’s helped me…truly. I haven’t carried it alone. I’ve leaned on God and it’s changed me—in here.” She clasped a hand over her heart.

  “And Phillip…his motives…”

  “I don’t want revenge, Daddy. I just want closure. Don’t you want that, too?”

  “Yes. But I need time…to think about all of this, to process it, to grieve.”

  “I understand.” She’d had months, and still the memories cut deeply. “But I think Phillip should pack his things and find another law firm…right, Dad?”

  “He already has. He left last week.”

  “Really?”

  “An investigator came to ask questions…something about a missing house key and a cat?”

  “So the police did follow through. I’m relieved and glad for that.”

  “I’m not following you, honey.”

  “Never mind.” Carin shook her head as a renewed sense of calm filled her. “No matter, Dad. Are you OK?”

  “I will be…now, I will be.”

  “Can we go for a drive? There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

  ****

  Jake waited on the porch. As soon as the car turned in, he rushed to meet Carin and her father.

  The resemblance was unmistakable…the light hair and green eyes. But her father was much taller, and he walked with an air of confidence gleaned from decades in a courtroom. His handshake, the eye contact, spoke volumes.

  “I made coffee,” Jake offered, his gaze joining with Carin’s. “Come on inside, and I’ll pour you a cup.”

  They gathered at the kitchen table, sharing turkey-on-wheat sandwiches and oatmeal-raisin cookies as they swapped work stories. It was a safe topic—one without painful memories. Corey tossed sidelong glances at Mr. O’Malley throughout the meal, sizing him up as he devoured his sandwich and sipped from a cold glass of milk, most likely wondering about the wife and son he’d lost—same as Jake wondered.

  Somehow, amid the grief, they managed to share laughter. Jake poured a fresh round of coffee and refilled the cookie plate.

  “Do you mind if Amy hangs out for a while?” Corey asked as he gathered a handful of cookies. “Her parents won’t let her go to the arcade, either.”

  “Interesting.” Jake sipped his coffee. “So I’m not the only dictator in East Ridge, huh?”

  “I guess not.” Corey shrugged. “But I still don’t think it’s fair.”

  “Good lesson for life.” Jake leaned back in his chair. “A good chunk of it isn’t fair.”

  “I’m going to start a page in my journal titled, Quotes from Jake.” Corey set his plate in the kitchen sink. “Maybe one day I’ll get it published.”

  “Good…” Jake grinned. “Here’s another one—youngest in the house does the dishes.”

  “That’s not a quote.”

  “Oh, but it is.” Carin laughed. “Jake said it, so, technically it is a quote.”

  Corey rolled his eyes and gathered the rest of the plates. “I’ll bet Amy would like to play a game of Scrabble.”

  “I’m in.” Jake glanced at Carin. “I’d like my shot at beating the English teacher.”

  She winked and leaned in for a kiss. “Who do you think taught me?”

  Mr. O’Malley’s laughter filled the room.

  Epilogue

  Carin nestled in the pew between her dad and Corey as Jake approached the pulpit. Sunlight streamed through stained-glass windows that lined either side of the church, bathing the worshipers in a warm, soothing glow. The keyboard sang in cadence with Carin’s heart.

  God was good, and His grace had set her free.

  Her dad glanced over, smiling. He looked a dozen years younger, the weight of guilt lifted from his shoulders. He’d carried it like an anchor, just as she had. The days and weeks that followed his reading of Cameron’s journal had been tough. He’d cried, raged, and even made a trip to the emergency room, his chest so constricted with grief he felt certain he’d suffered a heart attack.

  They’d spent hours on the phone, talking things out, until they’d both let it go…every last ounce.

  And now her dad had moved to East Ridge—left Nashville, and his law practice there—for good. He was working in Knoxville, sharing pro-bono work with another attorney at the teen crisis center. He told Carin he hadn’t felt so at peace in years, and she believed him.

  Corey shifted in the seat, and she marveled at how far he’d come since the first day she met him—a scared and rebellious kid in her class. He’d had his hair trimmed, and his eyes shone bright and content beneath dark lashes. She noticed the way he scanned the room, searching for Amy MacGregor, who’d joined the church just before Thanksgiving. The two went together to visit Lilly each Tuesday, drinking in her stories and offering their friendship. Sometimes they took Scooter along, and even helped the recreational therapists lead games of bingo and their favorite—Scrabble. They’d used a computer to modify the game board and letter tiles, making both larger and easy to see.

  The music lilted as Jake rose for the opening prayer. He turned to face the congregation, and his gaze locked with Carin’s while winter sun streamed through the windows, adorning the cross on the front wall in a rainbow of colors. Love gathered in Carin’s belly, and enfolded her heart like a warm scarf.

  A sparkle of light caught her eye, and she glanced down at her left hand to find proof of another promise—Jake’s promise of marriage. He’d proposed to her just last month, beneath the shelter of the wisdom tree, as Corey looked on. Soon, the three would become a family. Carin knew with all her heart that their unconditional love was the greatest testament to the power of God’s grace and healing—and their hope for the future—together.

  WISDOM TREE

  DAILY DEVOTIONAL

  I hope you enjoyed reading Wisdom Tree as much as I enjoyed writing it. Just as Jake and Carin did in the story, we all need Wisdom. Their lives were an overwhelming whirlwind filled with worry, doubt, and occasionally even regret. It was only when each took the time to ask for God’s guidance—to commune with Him and seek His wisdom—that they gained a true sense of peace.

  Over the years, I have learned that wisdom is the result of reflection—of experiences, feelings, and relationships that are our own personal gifts from God. No experience, whether joyful of pai
nful, should be dismissed without quiet reflection. The question is, with our hectic lives, how do we find the time?

  I believe our own personal Wisdom Tree is the answer. Jake’s place was a beautiful ancient oak surrounded by meadows and a Smoky Mountain valley. My place is a back porch swing that my husband installed for my birthday. That little corner of my world is quiet and peaceful, and away from distractions. I like to curl up in the swing first thing in the morning to read, reflect, and pray before daily distractions take priority. It’s become a habit—one that I’m hesitant to break.

  Hopefully the devotionals herein will help you to find your Wisdom Tree. Carve out a small slice of time each day. Start with Day One and continue with a new devotional each day. By the end of the month you will have developed a habit of prayerful retreat and communion—an ongoing conversation with the Lord that will always be fruitful. Make communicating with God a priority. Find your Wisdom Tree. Give Him fifteen minutes a day. Reflect and pray and you will begin to experience peace and personal growth, and thus deeper wisdom regarding the plans the Lord has for you.

  DAY One

  Dumping the Garbage

  If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation;

  the old has gone, the new has come!

  (2 Corinthians 5:17)

  This morning I took my trash to the dump…a whole truck-bed full of pizza boxes and soiled paper towels and the remainder of meals prepared and shared. While I was tossing each heavy bag into the dumpster, I thought of how God takes the trash from our lives. He cleans out the stinky stuff and makes room for the good stuff. God is the Master of new creations. He wants His people to let go of the old and soiled, and to become new and clean in Him.

  Yes, this is God’s desire…and His plan for you.

  REFLECT: Take a moment to gather your trash. Bind it and carry it to the feet of God. Leave it there, and God will make you new in Him.