by T. K. Chapin
**
Walking through the abandoned summer campground that lay on the opposite side of the lake from The Inn at the Lake, Nathan and I searched for the path Serenah and Charlie had told us about. A few minutes into the overgrown grass, Nathan spotted an opening in the woods that ran alongside the camp ground.
Turning my steps, I followed beside him over to the path. As we entered the woods and onto the path, it narrowed. I fell behind while he led the way. Seeing him suddenly swat a bee from beside his face, I could almost feel the chills run down his spine. He was deathly allergic to the buzzing beauties of the air. When we were dating, he almost died from a bee sting. He even went into anaphylaxis, but his mother always had an EpiPen handy after a scare early in his childhood.
“Did you bring an EpiPen?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He patted his cargo shorts’ pocket. Relief came over me. I might have been angry, but I didn’t want him to die.
Veering away from the campground, the path took us up an incline. The farther we went, the steeper it became. Trees lined both sides, some dead while others not. Glints of the sunshine shone through the tops of the trees. Closer to the top of the hill, I saw a white weathered cross standing tall at the very top. I smiled. It looked battered but stood majestically tall. My exhaustion from the hike was made a bit more bearable as I kept my eyes fixed on the cross.
Making it to the top, we found a boulder straightway and sat down. The burning sensation in my hamstrings eased as we both caught our breath.
“That’s quite the hike!” I said as I caught my breath and wiped my brow from the sweat beading on my forehead.
Nathan used his shirt to wipe his face of sweat. He let out a big breath and said, “They failed to mention that part, didn’t they?” Letting out a laugh, he stood up and walked. Peering down the incline we just came up, he said, “I bet that’d be fun to sled down.”
Standing up, I replied, “Sure. Until you go off the path and hit a tree.”
Turning around toward the path that continued, I could see the remains of the church house from the picture. Walking down the path, I came over to the structure. Overgrown grass mingled with broken shambles of the remains. My curiosity was piqued as I wondered how old the building was upon seeing green moss growing in crevices between the cracks on walls. A lone window sat in the front wall of the structure and was more of a rectangular hole than an actual window. Nathan walked up beside me and put his hand on the small of my back.
“Let’s go check it out,” he said, letting his hand fall away from my back and finding my hand. I was hesitant to hold his hand, but I allowed it. My impulse was to jerk away, but I knew that wouldn’t help anything. As we walked, a summer breeze blew into the area, providing much-needed relief from the blazing heat of the sun.
Coming closer to the structure, our hands separated. Nathan went into the structure, and I brought my hand up to the outside wall. Touching the area between the window and the doorway, I let my fingers feel the grooves and texture. The uneven clay and rock was weathered and easily told of coming from a different time. “I wonder what this church’s story is,” I said as I let my fingers slide down and away from the wall.
Nathan climbed over rubble inside the building and over to a wide spot of light shining down through the opening in the roof. Peering up through the hole, he said, “This place is so old.”
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to something I could barely make out in the corner of the room.
Nathan looked over. Carefully, he stepped over more rubble and made his way over to the corner of the structure. Quickly looking at the ceiling inside, I came to the determination it would not fall on him, and that brought me comfort.
Watching Nathan, I saw him bend down in the corner. He tried to dislodge the object but it appeared stuck beneath a slab of broken clay and rock that looked to be part of the roof. “It’s a box. Come help, Lizzy.”
Hurrying over to him, I got down on my hands and knees and grabbed at the box as he tried to lift the slab of rock and clay. “Almost . . .” I said as I yanked.
Letting out an unintelligible grunt, Nathan forced the slab up just a little more. It was enough for me to pull it out. Just as I retrieved it, he released, letting the rock and clay come crashing down on the rest of the rubble, causing a plume of dust to push up into the air.
The mangled metal box was gray with hints of rust all over it. I smoothed my thumb over the dented top and arrived at a lock. I jerked on it, but it was too strong. I handed the box to Nathan as he came up to me.
With the box in hand, he went over to a piece of rock nearby and smashed the container against it. Then again. The third swing worked, and the lock broke away. Stepping over to him as he rose to his feet, we both looked as he opened the lid.
An old yellow-tinted picture was inside. There was a man and woman with a few kids standing outside the church. Peering out through the doorway, I could see the spot they would have stood. Pulling it out of the box, I flipped it over and saw a date—1904.
“Look at this,” Nathan said, pulling out a burnt newspaper clipping from the box a moment later. Squinting as I came in for a closer look at the clipping, I pulled Nathan’s hand up to my face. There was a partial view of the woman’s face. “That’s the same lady from the picture.”
Nathan peered around the remains of the building and said, “Maybe we can dig something up on this building in town? Like, some kind of historical documents?”
“Maybe,” I replied as I looked at the picture again in my hand.
Placing the picture and clipping back into the box, we headed out of the ruins and started back on the path toward our canoe. As we were walking down the steep hill that led back to the campground, Nathan asked, “You think a bomb hit the building to do that?”
I laughed as I peered back up at him behind me. “I seriously doubt that.”
“What could make that massive hole in the ceiling like that?” He shook his head. “Just weird.”
“I’m not sure,” I replied. “Maybe we’ll find out more in Newport.”
Chapter 9
Arriving back across the lake to the inn, we saw Charlie speaking with the construction workers in the grass by the shore. My curiosity, along with my attention, was focused on the newspaper clipping and discovering the history behind the church more than anything else. That wasn’t the case for Nathan.
“Hey, Charlie,” Nathan said as we pulled the canoe up into the grass. He walked through the grass over to Charlie.
Charlie turned and came over to him. “Hey.”
“What are they building?” Nathan asked, looking past him to the men who were now working on framing the base of some structure.
“A gazebo. It’s for our wedding coming up next month. Serenah always saw one in her dreams as a teenager when she thought of her wedding day. I want to give her that.” He smiled as he looked at the men. “I would have built it myself, but I’m so slammed at work that I barely have any time.”
Work. The word off his lips jolted me out of my focus on the history of the church building. Work. Nathan. The affair. Within a mere second, I was almost in tears. All the truths of what had happened came rushing back at once. “I have to use the restroom,” I said quickly. Heading up to the inn with the box, my tears wouldn’t listen to my pleas of stopping the water works. Quietly, I cried on my way up the steps to the main level balcony.
Getting to the top, with the doorway in sight, I hurried my steps across the balcony. Turning the corner, Serenah came outside. “Elizabeth, are you all right?” she asked. Looking past her, I could see the bathroom door that would have been my safety away from the world if she hadn’t stopped me.
I lost it.
Shaking my head, I began to cry and glanced over my shoulder toward the water. “No. I’m not. Everything was fine, and then boom . . . it wasn’t. I don’t know how to deal with this.”
“Can we pray about it?” she offered, tilting her head slightly as she came over to me and touche
d my arm. When I looked up at her, I didn’t see judgment in her eyes—but compassion. She cared. Giving her a nod, we bowed our heads and she prayed. “God. We come to You asking for help. Help for Elizabeth during this time of suffering. Help her to lean on You and the promises You make. Help her to feel Your comfort and let Your love consume her like a fire. We pray in Your name, Amen.”
My nerves relaxed, and my breathing returned to normal shortly thereafter. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Take a seat, and I’ll get you a glass of water. You look parched.” Serenah turned around and went inside.
“Thanks,” I replied as I sat down in a chair outside on the balcony. A breeze lightly blew through the air and brought more relaxation to my body and soul. I peered across the lake. Stunned by the beauty in the moment, I shook my head in disbelief. God is so big, so in control of everything, yet I still freak out.
Coming back outside, Serenah handed me a glass of water and sat down in a chair beside me. Looking over at me, she said, “I’m sorry your time here has been such a struggle.”
“Oh, it’s not your fault, Serenah. I’m sorry I’ve made my personal life your problem.”
She shook her head and smiled at me. “Don’t be silly. I love helping people, and praying is a great way to tap into the source of the Almighty God.”
“I just don’t get why life has to be so hard sometimes,” I said, letting out a sigh right before taking a drink of my water. “I don’t see how or why God would let difficulties and trouble fall on good people.”
“God didn’t author sin, Elizabeth. The fall of humanity was by our own choice to disobey God—well, Adam and Eve. Most problems in our life come down to a problem of the heart and selfishness. God never once says our life will be easy in the Bible, but He does tell us over and over again to trust in Him and not to be afraid.”
“But there’s no purpose in the pain,” I replied.
“That’s not true,” she replied. “Our relationship with God can grow our faith through the difficult times. We have to put our trust in Him, and when we do that, amazing things can and do happen. I remember when I left my abusive husband—I was terrified. The future was so unclear and chaotic, but the Lord provided, like He always does. Not in our timing, but in His timing.” Serenah sat up in her seat and leaned, pointing toward the dividing line between the properties where a bunch of trees were. “There’s a tree in there.”
Recalling the small tree in the midst of the dirt I saw the other day, I said, “I saw it. Smaller, right?”
“Yep. That tree is a memorial for my baby girl whom I miscarried. It also serves as a reminder to me of where I came from. My past. God delivered me and set me free.” She looked at me and reached a hand over, placing it atop mine. “God will get you through this storm. We can’t merely just say we trust in God. We have to put our trust in God.”
“Are you saying I need to stay with my husband after he cheated?” I asked, perplexed.
“No. I didn’t say that. I left John, girl. You do what you have to do. What I’m saying is to trust God no matter what happens and whatever the outcome is.”
I nodded and looked down at Nathan in the grass by the shore. He was now laughing with Charlie about something, and I smiled. Nathan was a good man with a good heart. He made a mistake, just like I did.
“What’s the box about?” Serenah asked, breaking my thoughts.
Turning to her, I opened it and let her look inside. “We found it in the old church underneath the rubble.”
“Oh, cool! Isn’t that church neat?” she asked.
“It really is,” I replied. Showing her the photo and newspaper clippings, I watched her reaction as her eyes widened. She was just as excited as Nathan and I were. She recommended we venture over to the library. According to Serenah, the library kept copies of all the old newspapers from Newport and surrounding areas.
**
Arriving at the library after grabbing a bite at Steve’s Pizzeria, Nathan held open the door and gave a little bow as I walked in. A smile slipped onto my lips as I recalled how he used to do that same thing all the time when we were younger. He did a lot of things when we were younger that had fallen to the wayside.
Once inside, we found our way to a counter with a librarian behind it. “Where do you keep the old newspaper clippings?” Nathan asked. “We’re trying to find a—”
“That way,” the librarian replied curtly, pointing without letting him finish. Her finger extended over to a row of computers that sat against a wall, parallel to a bookcase. “Those computers have digital copies of all the newspapers dating back to the foundation of the town.”
“Thank you,” Nathan replied.
He placed his hand on the lower part of my back for a moment, and we turned and headed over to the computers. We each took a computer and sat down side-by-side. We began searching through the digital archives of newspaper clippings.
After a few minutes of browsing aimlessly on both our accounts, Nathan said, “I’m backing up to 1900 and starting there.” Adjusting in his seat as he narrowed his look on the screen, he looked like he did back in college—focused. It stirred a younger part of my old self I hadn’t been acquainted with in almost two decades. Those days back in college, right after we were married, we had the most passion filled nights ever, often not ending until the next morning.
“I’ll start with 1902 and work my way up,” I replied. Minutes soon turned into hours, and hope of finding anything useful dwindled. Then it happened. While resting my face against my hand as I tried holding my head up, I saw the woman’s face.
I let out a cheerful glee as I jumped.
“Quiet,” Nathan said playfully as he scooted his chair over. Leaning forward, he placed his arm gently behind my back, barely letting his skin press against my back as he read the computer screen aloud. “William and Mary Johnson founded the Sunnyside Chapel in the summer of 1903 in the hopes of providing a place of worship to the residents of Diamond Lake who live on the northern side of the lake. William had hopes to build a full-sized church, but he was unable to come up with the needed funds to do so. Services are on Sunday mornings at nine am and eleven thirty am.” Relaxing back in his chair, Nathan raised his eyebrows and looked over at me. “That’s pretty neat.”
I nodded and pulled out the picture in my pocket. Smoothing my thumb over the picture, I was happy to have names to the faces.
“Look,” Nathan said. Peering up at the screen, I saw he had clicked through more clippings and found another article about the chapel.
Setting the picture down on the desk, I leaned forward and read aloud. “Sunnyside Chapel on Friday, December 13, 1904. Just six months after opening its doors, Sunnyside Chapel has been closed due to inclement weather. A tree fell onto the chapel, causing part of the roof to collapse. The owners, William and Mary Johnson, are unable to finance the repairs at this time and have been forced to close the doors until the funds are raised. A joint service will be held at ten am in their home at 2482 Lancaster Road.”
“Sad . . .” Nathan said. “They barely got started, and that happened?”
I nodded. “They never got the funds.”
We continued searching for another hour, but the librarian soon came over to us and gave us the boot at five o’clock. We were both feeling a bit hungry, so we headed over to Dixie’s diner to regroup our thoughts and discuss using our last day at the inn to visit the library once more.
After finishing our club sandwiches, we sat and spoke of what years to research the next day.
“What about 1905?” I asked as Miley refilled my water.
She raised a curious eyebrow at me, so I told her what was going on.
“That sounds like fun. I bet Donald Atkins might know a thing or two. His family is one of the founders of Newport back in the late 1800s.”
Nathan agreed with a nod. “We saw that name come up a ton in the old newspaper clippings. Where can we find him?”
“He likes to come in fo
r coffee in the mornings. Try to be here around eight.” Miley left our table and went to the next table. My eyes turned to Nathan.
Smiling, I asked, “Wanna talk to this Atkins guy?”
Reaching across the table, his hand touched mine. He returned my smile and said, “Yeah. Sounds like fun.”
Though I was loving his touches all day, my worry soared. What if he hurts me again? The ‘what if’s’ were going to drive me nuts if I focused on them. Doing what Serenah recommended, I focused on the good.
Chapter 10
In our room back at the inn, Nathan drew a bath in the Jacuzzi. Tossing in some lavender bath salts, he glanced over at me. “I promise to keep my shorts on,” he said with a raised brow. The trouble with that was I knew Nathan more than he realized.
“I don’t think a dip in the Jacuzzi would be a good idea,” I replied, smiling. Going over to the duffel bag in the room, I grabbed my book and headed toward the balcony. Flipping on the light switch just inside the door, I turned on the light outside and went out. Relaxing into a chair outside, I began to read.
Not more than a minute passed before Nathan opened the door. Turning, I looked back and up at him. He smiled and came out in nothing but his trunks. Walking over to me, he bent down and looked me in the eyes. Letting the back of his fingers gently glide against my arm, he said, “Please join me in the Jacuzzi. We can’t leave this place without you at least trying it out.”
Smiling out of the corner of my mouth, I closed my book and looked at him. “How can I trust you in a Jacuzzi? I know you, Nathan.”
He smiled, letting his head drop. Then he looked at me again. “Look at it like a trust building exercise. I promise to not do anything you don’t want.” He took my free hand in both of his and kissed my open palm. “Trust me.”
“Okay,” I replied. Taking my book, I followed him inside and tossed it on the bed. Nathan climbed in the Jacuzzi while I went into the bathroom. After I slipped into my one-piece swimming suit, I looked into the mirror. I looked happy. Today was a good day, I thought to myself.