Nothing like sloshing through the library with wet sneakers. Since the mountains can’t escape the upstate New York summer gloom, Sacandaga River Community Park trail walk’s a bust. E-mail check it is.
A few deleted Nigerian messages later, my younger sister’s message grabs my attention.
Jenna,
I miss our chats and Dairy Queen runs. Today’s the Peanut Butter Buster special. Wish you were closer. Actually, wish you were here. It’s not the same without you.
Love ya,
Meg
Oh, great. From rain to waterworks. I wipe an escaping tear off the corner of my right eye. Can’t feel homesick now. At least not until I can drive home and cry alone.
Meg,
I miss DQ and you. Wish work would let you off for a visit before your semester starts. You’d love the people here. Probably not the mosquitoes. Still would love to see you. Soon.
Love,
Jenna
With another tear on the keyboard, it’s time to order more country music, karaoke style, as requested by the seniors.
All the Internet research takes less than thirty minutes, so I drive through the downpour to work. Even beat Howard to the center. With country tunes on my mind, the singing machine flirts in the corner with its pretty digital colors.
“One song won’t hurt, right, little sing-along device? Promise you’ll keep this a secret.” I walk over, tracing my index finger in the dust. “Okay, need a track.” I shuffle through Barry Manilow, Frank Sinatra, and Elvis before finding one my dad used to play. Kenny Rogers, “The Gambler.”
Tapping into my inner cowgirl, I croon the country tune with full gusto, even duplicating the echoes at the end. I finish, taking a bow in front of my imaginary audience.
Strange thing, though. There’s clapping.
I put the microphone down. “Howard? That you?”
Turning, Carla’s walking toward me with a Plaza Donut bag in hand. “Wow, girl, I had no idea you were a karaoke queen.” She reaches in and tosses me a blueberry flavored treat. “Sure don’t hear you sing it out like that in church.”
“Same goes for you.” I walk over to my friend, drop the fruit filled donut back in the bag, and retrieve a chocolate cake one instead. “Church is different. Karaoke is all about getting it wrong and being loud.” I bite into my sugary breakfast and gesture her to follow me to my office. After a few chews and a swallow, I ask, “Anyway, what brings you by? I haven’t hit any flower boxes lately, if you’re wondering.”
Carla joins me at my desk and grabs a jelly donut, puncturing the middle of the treat until a red glob dribbles down her chin. “Will stopped by my office yesterday. One of his delivery customers gave him a carton of unopened beauty samples and he thought of me. He offered me the box.” She reaches for a napkin and dabs her jawline.
“Will, huh?”
Carla takes another bite, this time mess free. “It’s the first time he’s visited me or given me anything. He even stayed to chat for a bit. I don’t know. It was weird. You didn’t talk to him and force the social call, did you?”
Hands up in mock surrender, I grin. “You can’t pin this on me. It’s all Will. You liked it, right? I mean there isn’t a nicer guy in all of Speculator Falls to hang out with.”
Carla scrunches up the fruit-dotted napkin. “I’ve heard the nice guy line before when I was in high school. It didn’t end well for anyone. I can’t take that chance again. Noah is too precious to me.”
“I’m confused. Every day as sheriff you put your life on the line, but building on a friendship with Will is too much of a risk?”
She nods, tossing the dirty paper in the garbage.
Like it or not, the conversation is over.
The day passes quickly with Shirley overseeing Bingo while I work on a state grant for exercise equipment. When Carla returns at the end of the day with Noah and a pizza, to help me plan the prom with my senior committee, one extra person is with her.
“Will. What a surprise.” I grab leftover Memorial Day plates and join them at the food table, making sure the first slice is for Noah.
Shirley, Howard, Janice, Fred, Roxy, and Dora also reach for a piece.
“I’m happy to be here. Glad Carla invited me.” Will throws his John Deere hat behind him on an unused table and looks toward the good sheriff. “I’ve got great ideas for the prom. Hear me out. Limbo line. Mosh pit.” He glances at me with a smile.
Noah snorts. “Dude, those ideas stink.”
Even Howard gives a hint of a grin.
“Well, I’ll give you points for creativity. We need a theme that appeals to the community, not just the senior citizens. My hope is that high schoolers attend, and so will their parents. Of course, I want everyone here to participate. Any ideas for a theme that reaches all these ages?” I look around the table and see tapping pencils.
“Honoring our presidents.” Dora stares at me without blinking.
My throat suddenly goes dry.
Roxy rolls her eyes. “Oh, Dora, not everyone is clamoring to look like Betsy Ross for crying out loud. Think contemporary.”
“I’d even relish an idea from you that comes from the 20th century.” Howard’s still smirking.
The crew I’m blessed to work with.
Will clears his throat. “Through the Years.”
I bite my lip. “Come again?”
Will sits taller in the chair. “You know, through the years. Decades of music, outfits, and decorations. It’s easy to put it together and the seniors most likely have everything you need.” He winks in Dora’s direction then returns to his pizza.
“Meeting over.” Noah announces as he stands. “Miss Anderson, that’s a winner.”
“I wish everything could work so smoothly.” I pick up my own slice. “But there’s more.”
The tween sits back down.
“Can you think of a place to host the prom? Once we know that, we need a date. Janice, do you mind recruiting volunteers for decorating, food, setup and take down while we wait on the place?”
“There’s the Meander Inn,” Shirley offers.
Carla shakes her head. “Too pricey. Even if Jenna’s budget is better than mine, it’s still out of our price range. What about the high school gym?”
Will strokes his goatee, nodding. “You’re onto something, don’t you think, Jenna?”
“I’ll call the principal. Great idea. So, now what?” It’s hard to proceed without a place, date, and volunteers in place.
“How about Will takes us out for ice cream?” Noah suggests, his plate empty.
Carla shoots her son a look I can’t distinguish, but I guess she doesn’t like her son’s proposition.
Will shrugs. “Jenna? Sound good to you?”
I open my mouth wide in hopes of producing a huge yawn I can use to back out of the plan. I stretch my arms and the yawn comes. “I’ll have to take a rain check. But thanks for thinking of me. You all go along. Noah, I’m counting on you to have mint chocolate chip for me.”
“You know it, Miss Anderson.”
Carla reaches for her keys. “Anyone else want to go to Jack Frosty’s?”
“Sorry, we’ve got the grandkids coming over. Good meeting, Jenna.” Fred shakes my hand and stands.
“It’s my night to volunteer at the library.” Dora stands, fumbles with her purse, but turns to speak to Roxy.
“You kids go on. I’m going to make a hot dog at home and then hit the hay. I’m kinda tired.” Howard stands and stretches.
“Thank you everyone. I appreciate your help. Have a great evening.”
As I walk everyone to the front door, Will pats Noah on the shoulder. He then holds the screen entrance open, allowing Carla to exit first.
She takes a few steps toward the parking lot and then turns around. “Um, Jenna?”
Carla’s going to tell me she’s ready to date Will. That I’m a great friend for suggesting it.
“Yes?” I try not to give her my I-told-you-so smile.
r /> “Ben’s in the parking lot. I think he’s here for you.”
Chapter Thirteen
How I want to blame my dry throat on the dust Will’s truck kicked up driving out of the center lot.
I clear my throat as I stomp toward the sorry but handsome grocer sitting on the hood of his truck.
“You lost?” I stop short of the vehicle and put my hands on my hips.
“Jenna, I messed up.” He slides off the hood and lands so close to me that my hands fall limp, and I take a step back.
“If Grandma knew I made you walk home alone at night, she’d turn me on her knee. Will you forgive me?” He reaches for my shaking hands. “Please?”
“I can handle a walk alone at night. My problem is how you take a step forward and five back.” I wiggle my hands from his. “You seemed so eager to want me involved with your plans for the store. Then just like that, you backpedaled.”
Ben raises his hands and nods. “You’re right. I’m working on that. Not well, I know.”
“You deserve Sara’s spanking.” I look into his eyes and my anger melts. “But I forgive you. Do you want to come in as I close up?”
It’s his turn to clear his throat and look to the ground.
“Don’t be upset, but I can’t go in there.”
Seriously, how infuriating can he be?
I take a deep breath and cross my arms. “What now?”
“I look like a jerk. I get that. I know I ran in there when I thought you were a burglar. Pure adrenaline.” His voice catches, and his eyes mist over. “I closed the center last year because I vowed after Trish left I’d never go in there again. My grandpa loved that place, and watching him and his buddies go and play checkers while their bodies wasted away, I can’t take the memories. Trish leaving for bigger things and making me the fool just made it all the clearer for me.”
“You’re placing a lot of blame on an aging building. Would you consider going in, just a baby step, with me?”
Our eyes lock, and I quickly brush my right pointer finger against his cheek to wipe away the moisture.
He reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “I’ll try if you’ll agree to join me for dinner with the Beebes this week. Fred promised to go over my business plan and give his thought on how feasible it is.”
I don’t let go of the grip. Instead, I lead us toward the center. Please, Lord, let Ben love the place like I do.
“I’ll go even if you can’t make it inside just yet. I believe in you and your plan for JB’s.”
Ben stops and faces me. “That’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me.” He leans in the same time my heart feels like it’s going to drum double-time out of my chest.
“It’s true.” The words whisper like a soft summer breeze as his lips start toward mine.
Just as I close my eyes and sense a hint of his touch, the office phone rings.
Are you kidding me?
We break apart as I look to the inside.
“It’s after hours.” I murmur.
“Go on. It’s okay.”
This call better be life-changing.
I sprint to the machine and pick up.
“Jenna? It’s Dora Parks. Did I leave my purse?”
You mean that archaic macramé pocketbook? I bite my lip and turn toward the table where we’d sat only an hour earlier. The beaded handbag sits in a lump.
“Yes, Dora. I see it here. I’m closing up now. I’ll drop it off at the library.”
“Great. You’re a treasure.”
I can’t get off the phone fast enough. I run back outside.
“Ben?”
My heart drops when the JB’s business card falls out of the screen doorframe onto the ground.
Jenna,
Maybe next time. See you soon.
Ben
Pastor Craig’s sermon props placed throughout the sanctuary appear more of an obstacle course than anything else. Between the lobby and my row I count a music stand, a crib, stacks of books, a pyramid of soup cans, and a pair of mannequins dressed in wedding attire.
“Well this is different.” I sigh as I sit next to Sara.
“Don’t knock it. Takes the focus off the carpet stains.” She winks.
Ben stands above me with a two dimple grin. “Morning, Jenna. Grandma.”
I stand so he can pass me and sit by Sara. He takes a seat between us, a first.
“All kinds of changes this fine Sunday.” My landlord looks at her bulletin, but she’s smiling.
Pastor Craig walks to the platform, a relief for my sweat glands because I’m focusing on Ben.
He wastes no time addressing not just what’s on his heart, but also what is on the stage. “I have a confession. I’m human.”
Chuckles fill the room, and he pulls a stool from the podium, moves it forward, then takes a seat before he continues. “Seriously, it’s important you each understand that. Pastors are sometimes put on a pedestal where we don’t belong. I’ve been feeling numb lately. I didn’t know if it was the empty nest syndrome or a spiritual issue. I asked God if it was a mid-life crisis.” He looks toward the row of seats where I’m sitting. “I still don’t know exactly what I felt, but when I met Jenna Anderson, I realized she had faith that I was missing.”
All eyes seem to focus on me with rhythmic perfection. I shrug and offer a low wave close to my chest. Where is this sermon going?
“Pastor’s talking about you,” Ben sings.
I offer a shove with my elbow.
Pastor Craig carries on. “Her spontaneous move to the area despite the risks made me question my ministry here. Where are my perils? Steps of faith? Is there purpose for me anymore in Speculator Falls?”
Gasps fill the sanctuary.
Oh, no. He’s going to resign, and it will be all my fault.
He takes off his suit jacket and drapes it across his podium. “I thought to get the inspiration back I would have to resign, like Jenna when she left her Ohio career. That was God’s plan for her. But friends, it’s not His plan for me.”
Phew.
“You need to take up golf!” Fred Beebe shouts out.
Pastor Craig laughs with the crowd. “No, I still haven’t felt that calling like you have, Fred. Instead, I’m introducing sparks to ignite your faith, to enhance your personal relationship with Christ.” His facial expression becomes serious. “Of course, the Bible remains my Instruction Book, and the Holy Spirit, my Guide. But I thought to shake this rut, instead of being for the community, I should be in the community. And so should each of you.”
A smattering of applause erupts.
Once the clapping subsides, Pastor shares which not-for-profit organizations around the county need volunteers, donations, and prayers. He lists a pre-school program affiliated with the state where community members make an impact by reading to the kids. “You don’t have to volunteer onsite, though, if you don’t want to.” He lifts up an infant layette set. “And anyone who wishes could create items like this or even baby blankets to donate to the Hamilton County Women’s Club Maternity Program.”
Pastor Craig jogs down the platform steps and is near our pew. “The library needs board members and helping hands who can stock shelves.” He directs his attention my way. “Those flowerboxes that line Route Eight? Well, except for the one Ben is repairing, those need updating. There are not-for-profit agencies in Speculator Falls that could use the seniors’ experience to make an impact. The opportunities for each of us are endless.”
Sara gently touches the pastor on his arm, “What did you choose to do?”
“Great question. I’m writing a book, sort of. I want to do my part to encourage marriages to strive for the next level, to never be satisfied staying where they are. My goal is to write a workbook that married leaders can use as a Bible study. In fact, I met with Mark and Beth Adams, and they volunteered to start the ministry in the fall.”
All heads turn to the back row where the thirty-something looking couple wave.
&nbs
p; “As you can probably tell, I’m really excited about this, and I pray you join me at the altar. We’re to be made in His image, and my prayer is that we can be like Him as stated in Psalm 145:4.” He opens his worn Bible, flips a few pages, and reads. “One generation commends your works to another, they tell of your mighty acts.” He closes the holy book. “May our faith to try something new, and our works to make a difference, give everyone of all ages something good to talk about.” Pastor Craig nods to Brooke, and she strikes her keyboard with the first notes of I’m Trading My Sorrows.
He smiles. “You know what? Let’s do something different. If there is a particular organization you feel drawn to, stand near the specific prop. One of the deacons or myself will pray for you there.”
Kyle’s the first to the altar but stands at a signpost with multiple arrows pointing in different directions.
Ben steers clear of that sign and heads to the stack of books.
I don’t feel a specific call, so I sit on the corner of the altar and pray for my heart to be right and obedient, and then I pray for the others. When I open my eyes, Brooke is at my side, tears running down her cheeks.
“Jenna, God has such a great plan for your life. In such a short time you’ve blessed Pastor Craig and me so much. It’s like you’ve always belonged here in Speculator Falls.”
We hug, and I realize I have as many waterworks falling as she does. When I walk back to my seat, Ben isn’t there. I look back to the altar. He’s still praying with Pastor Craig.
I gather my purse and start toward the lobby when Kyle’s six-foot-three frame blocks my path.
“One of the best sermons we’ve had in a long time, don’t you think? Going after fear with faith. Giving back to the community. You’re something of a good luck charm around here.” His smile appears pasted, and his close proximity is unnerving.
Pushing a strand of hair away from my mouth, I shake my head. “Luck has nothing to do with anything. What about the sermon? Did it stir something in you, Kyle?”
He reaches in his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. “My father raised me with the proverb to make hay while the sun shines. I’m not going to let opportunities pass me by. I plan to visit these organizations and see what financial needs they have.” He pauses, giving a deliberate look in Ben’s direction before continuing. “I want a permanent stake in Speculator Falls. Who knows? Maybe one day, because of my actions, I’ll pop up in one of the pastor’s sermons.” He returns his focus back to me and gives a wink.
Entrusted (Adirondack Surrender Series Book 1) Page 8