Flustered by his closeness, she eased away. “I use drop cloths. No problem.”
“I suppose I owe you this,” he said, standing and eyeing the walls. “Are we painting this room? It looks good to me.”
“No. The dining room and my bedroom. . .plus I’m doing stenciling in there.” She rose and showed him the decorating plans she had for the summer. “And I want to buy border for the dining room to go around at the height where you usually find chair molding.”
“Okay. I give. You’re about as manipulative as I am.”
Lana grabbed his waist from behind and guided him into the kitchen. “Hungry?”
He turned and faced her. “Starving, but I want to take you out to dinner for a change.”
“Don’t trust me?” she asked.
“Sure I do, but the flowers were only part of my apology.” He shook his head, his face earnest. “When I saw you sprawled out on the stable floor, I—” His laugh started with a chuckle.
“You laughed. I know.” She poked him in the ribs. “So listen here, Mr. Nice Guy. Not only do you buy me dinner, but we’re picking out paint samples. Maybe even the border.”
“A–all that for a little. . .laughter?” he sputtered.
Lana gave him a nudge. “He who laughs last, laughs best. You’d better remember that.”
❧
Music spilled out into the air as Lana climbed the steps to the church entrance. Since Barb lagged behind, Lana didn’t wait and headed inside. She’d missed church the previous Sunday, unable to sit on the hard pews, and now she dreaded to face the teens who’d watched her make her sidesaddle debut on a horse named Fury.
When she entered the vestibule, Mark waited for her and waved in greeting.
“The kids have been asking about you,” he said.
“Did you tell them I survived the ordeal with minimal scars?”
He hooked his arm through hers. “I told them you were wonderful. Do you mind if I sit with you?”
She scanned the congregation, wondering what people might say. “If you think you can deal with the gossip.”
“No gossip in here. It’s a sin.” With a grin, he released her arm but walked beside her to the middle of the sanctuary, then motioned her into a row.
“Keep an eye out for Barb.” Lana turned, looking over her shoulder for her sister. She spotted her a few rows back, seated with a man Lana didn’t know. She turned back to Mark. “Never mind,” she whispered, “she’s with a friend.” Playfully, she wiggled her eyebrows.
“Really? Let me check him out.” Mark glanced behind him.
Lana shifted and gave another subtle glance, but instead, her eyes focused on a young man sliding into a back pew. She swung back toward Mark. “The boy from my class is here. The one I invited to visit the church. Remember? Don Fabrizio.”
“He is? Where?” He twisted in the seat and glanced over his shoulder.
She turned again. “In the third row from the back. He’s wearing a blue knit shirt.”
“I wonder if I should send one of the kids over to sit with him.” He shifted and faced the front. “I could probably ask Gary.”
“I don’t think so. Don might feel uncomfortable. Let’s wait until after the service.”
As Mark nodded, the organ began the introduction, and they rose to sing the first hymn.
As the service continued, Lana wondered how Don felt worshiping alone in an unfamiliar church. She didn’t want to turn around so she kept her eyes forward, but her thoughts stayed with the young man. When Pastor Phil rose and began his sermon, Lana’s pulse heightened as she listened to the verses he read from Ezekiel 18:
The word of the Lord came to me: “What do you people mean by quoting this proverb about the land of Israel:
“ ‘The fathers eat sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge’?
“As surely as I live, declares the Sovereign Lord, you will no longer quote this proverb in Israel. For every living soul belongs to me, the father as well as the son—both alike belong to me. The soul who sins is the one who will die.”
Pastor Phil laid his Bible down and looked at the congregation. “Today we will focus on what God expects of us. In these verses, we learn that we must learn to follow Jesus’ call without worrying about our family’s failings. We do not take on the sins of our father. What we do is follow Jesus and let Him rule our lives.”
Lana let the words wash over her. She knew God’s Word could give Don hope. He could throw off the weight of his father’s sin. His task was to follow Jesus. But could the teenager do that? Her own past dragged through her mind. How long had she tried to prove herself to the world to make herself worthy of the gifts she received just as she struggled to show her father appreciation? But her gratitude now was not to a single person or the world. She had nothing to prove and would never be worthy except by the grace of God through Jesus.
Bathed in that thought, she settled back and prayed Don had also been touched by the message. She felt Mark’s hand resting beside hers on the pew. She longed to cover it with her palm, to feel his pulse beating beneath her fingers, but she pushed the thought away.
They rose for the last hymn, and when the service ended, Lana clutched Mark’s arm and hurried them through the departing worshipers to reach Don. “Hello,” she said, grasping the young man’s arm. “I’m so glad you came.”
“I–I surprised myself,” he said. “I woke up this morning, and something made me get up early. Next thing I know, I’m walking to church.”
Lana gave Mark a knowing look, recognizing how God had worked in the teenager’s life. She grasped his arm. “Don, this is Mark Branson, the youth director I told you about.”
“Hi,” Mark said. “I’m pleased you accepted Miss West’s invitation.” He extended his hand, and the young man grasped it in a firm shake.
“Like I said, I surprised myself,” Don said. He shifted his eyes toward a group of teens as if looking for someone his age.
Lana gave Mark a desperate look.
Thinking quickly, he flagged one of the nearby teens, and Gary joined him with a smile.
“Hi, Don,” Gary said. “What are you doing here?”
Mark chuckled. “Same as you probably. Worshiping the Lord.”
Gary looked embarrassed. “I knew that. I meant I’ve never seen you here before,” he said, addressing Don.
“Miss West suggested I visit some Sunday.” He tucked his hands in his pocket and lowered his eyes. “And here I am.”
“Glad you’re here,” Gary said. “Hey, what about tonight? We’re having a planning meeting for summer camp, but it’s a pizza party too. What do you say?”
Don grinned. “Pizza sounds good.”
“And the church pays for it,” Mark added. “That makes it extra special.” He gave Don’s arm a friendly shake. “After our meeting, we usually have a Bible study.”
Don nodded. “I have a Bible.”
“Then bring it along,” Lana added.
“Will you be there, Miss West?”
She wanted to sink into the ground. “Well. . .I. . .” Mark’s gaze riveted to her face, and she read the message in his eyes. “I–I’ll be there. Sure.”
Mark’s hand slipped to her arm and gave it a squeeze.
Somehow either Mark or God or both were involving her in things she had no intention of doing—just like Barb had done over the past years. Lana paused, letting the thought wash over her. She was strong willed and purposeful. If she really didn’t want to do these things, why would she agree? Had she been led because that’s what she wanted to do in her heart all along?
Seven
Lana plucked a pepperoni from her pizza wedge and dropped it into her mouth, enjoying the spicy tang. She chewed and swallowed, then took a full bite of pizza. The zesty sauce and rich creamy cheese lay on her tongue, and she licked her lips to capture every morsel.
“Good, isn’t it?” Don said, sitting beside her.
“Sure is,” she said, watching
Don’s expression as he chowed down a large slice.
“We don’t get pizza at home,” he said. “My dad wants meat and potatoes.”
“Then this is a treat,” she added, not wanting to say more in earshot of other teens.
He nodded.
Although Don seemed a little uneasy, the kids he knew from school had been sociable and welcoming. Lana prayed this would be only the beginning for her student.
The pizza vanished quickly, and while Lana cleared up the boxes and paper plates, Mark started the meeting. She heard only snatches of the conversation, and when she settled down with the group, they had turned to the topic of the camping trip’s purpose.
Dressed in khakis and a blue-and-beige knit top, Mark stood beside a podium and addressed the teens with his usual patience and good nature. “Sure, camp is for having fun,” he said, obviously not wanting to embarrass the girl who’d offered fun as the trip’s purpose, “but besides fun, what else can we accomplish?”
Like any classroom, the answers varied—exercise, a good tan, appreciation for home cooking—but eventually more serious answers evolved.
“Friendship,” Gary said.
“Good answer,” Mark said, focusing on Gary. “What do you mean by friendship?”
The teen scowled, appearing uncertain how to respond. “Well, getting to know each other better.”
“And care about the other campers,” Teri said.
“We’ll learn things we have in common,” Jason called out.
“Great,” Mark said, smiling as the answers flew. “Anything else?”
“Learning new things,” Don said, “you know. . .like archery maybe.”
Mark nodded.
“Or canoeing.”
“And canoeing helps us learn something else.” Mark looked over the faces and grinned. “How about cooperation?”
“Right,” Gary said. “You can’t canoe without that.”
“So we can learn cooperation. What else?” Mark asked.
“Compromise,” Lana added. “How to split the difference.”
A quirky grin appeared on his face. “Miss West is right. Sometimes we have to know when to give a little.”
“Cooperation means teamwork,” Susan added.
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Mark said, “because teamwork is one of our major focuses on our trip. Think about teamwork. What’s part of teamwork? We’ve already mentioned cooperation and compromise. How about another C word? Communication.”
“You can’t cooperate if you don’t communicate,” Dennis called out.
“Excellent. You’re right. If we don’t communicate, nothing happens. We’re at a standstill.”
“Trust,” Don said. “We have to trust people to do their part when we work as a team. . .like in football.”
“That’s so true, Don. Trust is a vital factor in all kinds of relationships—employer-employee, child-parent, romance, marriage, and God.”
“How will we learn about trust at camp?” Susan asked.
Mark laughed. “That’s my surprise. You can expect a lot of challenges as well as a lot of fun.”
“And a lot of learning,” Lana added, thinking about the types of activities Mark might use to teach the teens teamwork. . .and trust.
Mark pulled a Bible from beneath the podium. “Speaking of trust, let’s take a look at God’s Word. Do you all have Bibles? If not, share. Okay?”
Shuffles and murmurs rattled in the air while they opened their Bibles and agreed who would share with whom. Having heard about the Bible study, Lana had brought hers along and waited for Mark’s direction. When a hush settled over the crowd, Mark began.
“Open the Scripture to Matthew 11:28. Follow along with me: ‘Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.’ ” He stood a moment looking out over the teens. “What does Jesus mean in these verses?”
A hush settled over the room, and Lana watched the teens’ faces, twisted with bewilderment or eyes lowered to avoid being called upon. As always, Mark waited with patience. Lana filled with admiration. He had a way with young people—not a friend exactly, but like a counselor, probing and challenging, but without judgment.
When Lana could no longer bear the silence and wanted to send out a response herself, a girl raised her hand, and Mark nodded toward her.
“I understand the easy part,” she said. “Jesus invites us to give our problems to Him rather than try to handle them all by ourselves.”
Mark nodded and sent the girl a smile.
Silence weighed on the room.
Lana noticed Don squirming as if wanting to speak. Finally, he lifted his hand, and Mark gave him a nod.
“I’m not sure I understand that second part,” he said. “The part about take my yoke on you.” A frown settled on his face. “A yoke is like a harness that holds two oxen together, right?”
“That’s right,” Mark said. “Oxen or any draft animal. Horses too.”
“So Jesus isn’t just telling us to dump our problems on Him and split.”
When the group giggled, Lana cringed, fearing Don would be offended, but Don grinned along with them.
Mark pushed the subject forward. “What is Jesus telling us, Don?”
“That He’ll share the weight of our problems?” His face filled with anxiety.
Mark gave him a thumbs up. “Absolutely, Don.”
The teen’s expression switched to pleasure.
“Okay, someone else answer this,” Mark said. “What’s the problem with sharing the weight of a heavy load with someone?”
Murmurs rose from the teens, but no one responded.
“It’s teamwork, right? You need to communicate,” Mark said, prodding them to think.
“Don’t you need to trust that someone’s carrying their half of the load?” Gary asked.
“Aha. We’re back to trust again,” Mark said. “That’s right, Gary.”
Lana listened to the discussion on trust and thought about her own trust issues. Was she so afraid to trust others she had to be in charge to make sure the job was done right? Did she look at God’s promises in the same way? Why would God be willing to bear her burdens?
Her thoughts drifted to her own petite stature. Too short. Too unsubstantial. So many things she couldn’t carry or reach by herself. Family and friends always had to pitch in and help her. She realized Jesus made the same promise but about things that were bigger and more serious. He offered to bear the load and give His children rest.
By the time she’d tuned back into the conversation, the topic had shifted from trust to summer camp. The students raised questions, and Mark shot back answers.
“We’ll have at least two parent chaperones. Maybe three,” Mark said. “Each of them will be responsible for a cabin.”
“You too?” Gary asked.
“Sure thing. I’ll take a cabin.”
“I want to be in Miss West’s cabin,” Susan said. “Okay?” She looked at Lana.
Lana sank into her chair, wishing she could vanish. After listening to their conversation on trust and cooperation, how could she tell the girl she had no interest in being a camp counselor?
Mark’s amusement was blatant. A grin stretched across his face from sideburn to sideburn. “What do you say, Miss West?”
“Lana,” she said. “I feel like someone’s grandmother with the ‘Miss West’ tag.”
The crowd hooted and laughed.
She’d avoided the answer, and the topic turned in another direction as she sighed with relief.
“I’ll be calling a meeting with all of the parents so we can set down the ground rules,” Mark said. “Any questions?”
Heads shook no, but Dennis asked if there was any more pizza. That line got another laugh, and finally, the group rose and began their trek to the door.
Lana stood off in the distanc
e, fearing Susan might corner her again about being a camp counselor. When the last teen vanished through the doorway, Lana released a panicked gasp. She eyed Mark across the room, a smile still brightening his face.
“Trapped,” he said. “I saw you squirm. The kids want you to come along.”
“No way. I have teens under my feet all year, remember? And I hate camping.”
“Teens under your feet all year means you’re skilled. Don’t forget, you have two weeks to get prepared.”
“Prepared?” She crumpled into a folding chair. “What about my paint and wallpaper?”
“You’ve got me. I’m your handy-dandy painter man. We’ll have that job licked before we leave.”
Looking at his kind face and good-humored smile, her arguments sounded weak. “But I detest sleeping bags and bugs. Not to mention snakes.
“I won’t mention them—not once. Promise.” He crossed his heart with his index finger. “The job’s not bad,” he added, his voice soft and convincing. “You’d only have to sleep in the cabin to keep an eye on them and help with a couple group activities. That’s it. No horses. I promise. The rest of the time you’d be on your own. Like a mini-vacation.”
“About as mini as you can get.” She disliked camping and bugs more than she could say, but the look in his tender eyes tugged at her heart. He was all a woman could want—sweet, funny, handsome, and truly filled with the fruit of the Spirit. She liked that.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
She felt her frozen determination thawing.
He didn’t push her, but waited, his patience overwhelming. He fiddled with his cuticle, giving her an occasional cursory glance as if too much motion would refreeze her block of resolve.
As her resistance puddled at her feet, she turned to soft mush. “How long is the stay at camp?”
His head triggered upward. “Two weeks.”
“Two weeks.” The words rumbled from her in a moan. “What happened to all the one-week camping trips?”
“No good for our purpose. Team-building, Bible study, and fun—two weeks works best. We’ll leave on a Saturday and come back a week from the following Friday.”
Over Her Head (Truly Yours Digital Editions Book 489) Page 8