by Lin Stepp
“Just Raven’s Den—as you know it.” She smiled her dazzling white smile at him once more. “But this small structure here is a meditation hut. A native friend taught me how to build one in Mooréa. I have one there, too, on the top of a hill looking out over the ocean. It has a grand view, also. A person needs a place where they can go to find peace and get collected in their soul. I have always found that peace in a place like this.”
“You’re an interesting girl, Zola.”
She studied him. “And you’re a man who needs peace in his soul, Spencer Jackson.” She started down the hill. “I will see you in church tomorrow.”
CHAPTER 5
The next morning, as Zola filed into the Highland Cumberland Presbyterian Church with her family, she wondered if she would see Spencer Jackson at the service. He said he’d been invited to come but he never said if he would actually show.
Noticing many new faces today, Zola realized the church was more crowded than usual. She took her Nana’s arm to help her down the aisle.
“There will probably be a fair passel of folks here today to see the baptism,” Nana said, obviously noting the extra numbers in church as they worked their way down the aisle to their regular seats. “Tanner and Delia Cross have a lot of friends in Gatlinburg.”
Zola slid into the family pew after her grandparents. The Devon family always sat on the sixth row back on the right underneath the big stained-glass window dedicated to the Devons—longtime pillars in the Highland Cumberland Presbyterian Church. As the Devon family had grown, they had spread back into the seventh pew, as well.
Aunt Becky Rae, her husband Gene, their son Jim, and Jim’s girls Doreen and Jenny sat in the sixth pew with Zola and her grandparents. Uncle Ray’s family filled the seventh pew behind them, with Ray; his wife, Augusta; their daughter, Stacy; their son, Wayne; his wife, Patricia; and Wayne and Patty’s children, Hilda and Ronnie.
“We make a right fine crowd when we’re all here together.” Nana looked around her in satisfaction. Zola also knew she was checking to see that everyone looked as they should—girls in nice dresses, boys in neat suits, everyone’s hair properly brushed.
Zola’s cousin, Stacy, had the hardest time with Nana Etta’s dress code rules. She sat on Zola’s left now, cross to be wearing a skirt and blouse.
“Am I mistaken, Stacy,” Zola teased. “Or are you wearing makeup this morning?”
“Hush your mouth, Zola.” Stacy nudged her with a scowl. “I don’t see why we need to dress up or why we can’t wear pant suits to church. Look around at all the women who wear pants to church now. You’d think Nana would bend a little on that. I hate skirts.” Stacy was an outdoorsy type of woman, and she thoroughly disliked getting dressed up.
Zola grinned. “It’s only once a week, cousin. And it’s easier going along with Nana than trying to rock the boat.”
“You’ve got that right,” she grumbled, as the church music started and the choir and the minister began to file in.
Zola had no time to look for Spencer again until the greeting time in the service. She spotted him as the congregation shook hands and visited, standing near the back of the church. He was making an effort to socialize, but she could tell he wasn’t a highly extroverted individual. It seemed an effort for him to make nice. Zola smiled to herself as she sat back down.
When the service ended later, Zola saw Spencer linger as the congregation filed out. Then he made his way down to congratulate Tanner and Delia. The couple had remained at the front of the church with baby Thomas to greet friends and family who came for the christening.
Nana, moving up beside Delia in the line now, patted the baby’s cheek. “Little Thomas surely looks pleased with all this attention.”
As if on cue, the baby gave her a cute grin and grasped her finger.
Delia smiled. “He was really good today except for trying to push Reverend Madison’s hand away when he put the baptismal water on his head.”
Delia looked up to see Spencer arrive. “Spencer! I’m so pleased you came. It was good of you.” She reached out her free arm, which wasn’t wrapped around Thomas, to give him a small hug.
Spencer greeted Tanner Cross, also, and then Nana redirected his attention. “Aren’t you the one who bought Raven’s Den?” She pushed her glasses up to study his face thoughtfully. “The one who didn’t take down Zola’s hut?”
He nodded, and his eyes turned toward Zola’s with a question.
Zola felt a blush steal up her face. “This is Spencer Jackson, Nana.” She turned to Spencer then. “Spencer, this is my grandmother, Etta Garnett Devon.”
“And this here is my husband, Vernon Rayfield Devon,” Nana added as Zola’s grandfather came to join them.
The two men nodded and shook hands, and Spencer shook Nana’s hand, too, offering polite greetings to both.
Spencer’s brooding gray eyes drifted to meet Zola’s then. Zola felt his gaze drop and slide slowly over her fitted shirtwaist dress and down her bare legs to her black patent pumps.
Her heartbeat quickened unexpectedly, and she struggled to think of something to say.
Fortunately, Nana spoke instead. “Well, Mr. Jackson, I guess you’d better come home to Sunday dinner with us, since we’re going to be neighbors now.”
Spencer shook his head. “That’s kind of you to offer, Mrs. Devon, but it’s really not necessary… .”
He didn’t get to finish that thought before Zola’s grandfather interrupted, thumping him on the back. “We have plenty for lunch, boy, and we’d like a chance to get to know you. Your place on the mountain is the view out our back windows, son, and our farm property borders against yours up on the ridge. It would be good if we came to know each other. I’d be pleased if you would say yes.”
Spencer’s eyes softened. “I’d be glad to say yes, then, Mr. Devon. Thank you, sir.”
Zola grinned at Spencer.
Nana looked between the two of them thoughtfully. “Zola, you go ride with Spencer back to our place. It’s hard to find the turn roads out of Gatlinburg and around behind the mountain to our farm. A person can get lost real easy trying to get to Jonas Creek Road if he doesn’t know the way.”
Zola nodded her agreement, and Nana patted Zola’s arm fondly. “I’ll only be a bit longer before I leave.”
Zola snapped her fingers suddenly. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, Nana. Mary Ogle is here today, visiting with John Dale and Hallie Madison. She said she hoped she got to see you before she left.”
Nana smiled. “Well, I’ll go looking for her right now before Vern starts pushing on me to leave.” She gave him a warning glance. “I haven’t seen Mary Ogle in a coon’s age and I want to say hello.”
She turned away, making her way back through the church. Zola’s grandfather followed, greeting friends along the way.
“You’re in for it now,” Zola told Spencer. “We have a big family. They’ll grill you about Raven’s Den—and probably about your life.”
“I think I can manage it. I travel a lot, Zola. I’m used to being in the public eye and being asked questions as a photographer.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” She smiled up at him and linked an arm through his. “Let me introduce you around a little, since you’re a guest today, and then we’ll go pay our respects to the minister and his wife at the door.”
After some visiting, they made their way to the vestibule, where Zola introduced Spencer to Reverend Madison and his wife, June.
June swept Zola with an evaluative look up and down and a slight frown. “I see you’re back from your trip.”
“I am, June. And I saw your gorgeous little granddaughter here today with John Dale and Hallie. She certainly is cute.” Zola watched June’s face soften a little. She loved that grandchild.
“Little Mary Grace had her first birthday last month,” June said, smoothing her short hair back from her face.
“Well, she’s a beautiful child.” Zola reached out to take Reverend Madison’s hand as she spoke.
He was a tall man, dressed in clerical robes, with glasses on a serious face.
The reverend pressed Zola’s hand affectionately, making polite greetings. She started to reply but then stopped what she was about to say with surprise, looking up at him. He’s moving to another church, she heard.
She shook her head sadly. “Oh. I didn’t know you were leaving, Reverend Madison,” Zola said. “We’ll all miss you here at Highland.”
June slapped at her and hissed softly. “Hush, Zola. We haven’t told anyone yet.”
Zola saw Spencer look between them with curiosity.
Seeing his look, June heaved an exasperated sigh. “Our Zola here has a queer way of knowing things which aren’t any of her business to know sometimes.” She frowned. “And she has a real bad habit of speaking them out, too, when most polite folks would keep their mouths shut.”
Spencer tried to suppress a smile.
Reverend Madison leaned over closer to Zola before anyone else walked up. “It’s a decision we only recently made, Zola. And we haven’t told anyone, yet. So do keep it to yourself, if you would. I’ll make a formal announcement soon.”
“Of course.” Zola smiled at him and then paused once more, listening to that inner voice. “Ahhh. Charleston. You’re going back to Charleston, Reverend Madison. That’s nice. Charleston has always been a favorite place of yours. And June has wanted to go back for a long time. Your daughter and her family live there.” She smiled at June. “I’m sure everything will work out just fine.”
Zola heard June sputter again, but she ignored it, still listening within. More was coming to her. She saw a clear picture of Perry Ammons, the church’s youth pastor, standing in the pulpit.
She patted the pastor’s hand. “You know, I think Perry Ammons would be a good interim pastor here at the church,” she offered. “Maybe even a good full-time pastor if he’d consider the job.”
June swung her eyes around anxiously to see if anyone was listening to their conversation and then snapped a warning at Zola. “For goodness’ sakes, girl, mind your tongue, and quit talking about this matter. Mrs. Harper is coming and she couldn’t keep a confidence if her life depended on it.”
June was obviously becoming annoyed, but Zola noted, with relief, that Reverend Madison looked thoughtful about what she suggested. She was glad. Zola tried hard to say the things she felt she was supposed to.
June turned to Spencer and shook a finger at him. “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into running around with the likes of Zola Devon. I’ll warn you. She’s a right queer girl. You keep a watch on her.”
Zola watched him suppress a grin.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered politely, taking Zola’s arm to walk on out of the church. “I’ll keep a watch on her.”
He managed not to laugh until he got to the parking lot, opening the door of his car to let her in. His amused eyes caught hers then. “So, it’s not only me you play fortune-teller with, huh, Zola Devon?”
“Hush, Spencer.” She scowled at him, climbing into his brown SUV.
He went around to let himself in and started up the car, still smirking.
Zola glared at him, but after a few minutes she spoke. “I didn’t know Reverend Madison was leaving until I shook his hand.” She bit her lip thoughtfully. “I’m sorry to learn it. He’s been at the church for a long time. Most of the people will be sorry to learn he’s moving away.”
She turned to grin at him while she buckled her seatbelt. “However, many won’t be too sorry to say good-bye to his wife, June.”
Spencer grinned back at her. “She seems kind of outspoken for a minister’s wife.” He paused thoughtfully. “And is it normal for the minister’s wife to stand outside after the service to greet the congregation as they leave?”
“No. That’s totally a June thing. She’s always done it. Says it helps her to get to know all the people in her husband’s church.” Zola giggled. “But mostly it gives her a chance to say her piece when she wants to.”
“Did you really see that the minister was leaving—and that he was going to Charleston—when you shook his hand?” Spencer lifted an eyebrow in question.
“I did. It was very clear.” She turned her eyes toward his. “And I don’t like you calling me a fortune-teller, Spencer Jackson.”
“Aren’t you?”
She frowned at him. “No, I’m not. A fortune-teller, to quote Madame Renee’s advertising, is a person ‘who foretells your personal future—who uncovers your desires, wishes, and dreams, who finds the answers you’ve been seeking.’ ” She turned angry eyes to Spencer. “And all for only a small fee.”
She saw Spencer wince.
Zola blew out a breath. “The tellings of a fortune-teller don’t come from God, Spencer. That’s the big difference. They come from a person, who may or may not mean well. And who may or may not be right in her fortune-telling arts.”
She twisted the straps of her handbag in her lap. “A fortune-teller provides her arts on demand—and for a fee. A Christian seer gets wisdom or knowledge about some current or future event only as God wills it and never takes money for it. The gift of knowing is given as God chooses—and usually for some purpose or reason.”
Zola saw Spencer thinking about this. “So, why do you think God told you the minister might be moving?”
She thought for a minute. “I don’t know exactly. Perhaps to seed the idea to Reverend Madison that Perry Ammons should be asked to fill in as interim pastor and maybe even become the next pastor.” Zola considered this thoughtfully. “Perry Ammons is the part-time youth pastor right now and Perry has a deep faith. I’ve heard him preach when he fills in for Reverend Madison. I admit, I never considered it before, but I think Perry would be very good for the church.”
Spencer steered his SUV artfully around a lane of blocked traffic on Gatlinburg’s main highway through town. “I think I’ve met Perry Ammons at breakfast at the Garden Café with Tanner Cross and some other guys. They have some sort of regular get-together there every week.”
He paused to let a pedestrian cross in front of his car. “Isn’t Perry Ammons the one who has the wedding chapel on the Cosby Highway?”
Zola nodded. “Yes. Perry and his wife have a nice wedding chapel. But he served as a pastor in a church before he came back here to live. He is an ordained minister, you know.”
Spencer looked over at her. “Do you think he has the right ordination? Most churches are kind of picky about that sort of thing.”
Zola watched the tourists thronging down the sidewalk of Gatlinburg on a Sunday afternoon. “I don’t know, Spencer. I didn’t get that.” She felt a little silly then.
“You know what?” Spencer laid a hand on her knee and patted it. “I wouldn’t worry about it. If, as you said, God had a reason for you to say what you did, then He’ll work it out.”
She looked over at him in surprise, comforted. “That’s very wise, Spencer. Thank you.”
As they came to a turn in the road, Zola gave him directions.
They drove along quietly for a few minutes, and then Spencer spoke again. “It must be hard sometimes, doing what you do. I’m sure people get mad at you a lot and don’t understand. I certainly got mad.”
He grinned, remembering it, but then turned troubled eyes toward her. “You know, I actually think it might be dangerous what you do sometimes. What if someone tried to hurt you? Got really angry or was threatened by something you knew? It could happen.”
Zola considered this and shrugged.
Spencer slowed to a near halt in the Gatlinburg traffic and turned to catch Zola’s eyes. “Has anyone ever threatened you, Zola?”
She smiled at him, wanting to lighten the moment. She didn’t want him worrying about her. “Madame Renee has threatened me.” She giggled. “She says I’m ruining her business. She comes into my shop sometimes to rant and rave at me.”
He grinned at her. “You mean there really is a Madame Renee?”
“Oh, yes. She rent
s a place out on the highway outside of Sevierville. Many of her clients talk to her about me. She showed up in the store one day furious that I told one of her clients a different piece of knowledge than she had.” Zola laughed. “She was especially angry I was giving away my knowledge for free. Said I was foolish to do that—and that it made her look bad.”
Spencer laughed. “I guess it does.”
“Have you ever gone to a fortune-teller?” Zola turned her eyes toward his.
He shook his head. “No. But I remember a woman named Jewel Kilgrew that people called a ‘wise-woman’ out on Daufuskie Island. Many of the people on Daufuskie lived isolated from the world for a long time. They still hold a lot of odd beliefs and superstitions. I remember Jewel got what she called a ‘knowing’ about what was wrong with my dog one time when he was sick. Came to tell me about it. I was grateful. Her advice helped to save Zeke’s life.”
Zola nodded. “Turn left up ahead.” She pointed. “At the road sign beside my Uncle Ray’s place on the corner.”
“Is this your uncle’s store?” Spencer asked, turning onto the road between the store and a tourist shop beside it.
“Yes.” Zola looked at Uncle Ray’s new sign and smiled. “It’s hard to make a living off farming alone like in the old days. People often need to have other occupations to supplement. My family uses their farm mostly for their own needs today. Even my grandfather worked down in Sevierville at the hardware store most of his life. He only farmed on the side.”
“But your family has kept the land.”
“Yes.” Zola smiled. “We all love the land. It’s in a pretty valley with the hills rolling up behind it. You’ll see. My Nana says our blood is all planted in the Devon land.”
Zola pointed out two more turns to Spencer until they drove down Jonas Creek Road along the long, broad, tumbling stream the road was named after.
“Where were you raised, Spencer?” Zola asked.
“Just outside Richmond, Virginia.” He loosened his tie with one hand.
“Is your family still there?”