“Talking to yourself?” Miranda stood beside the passenger door in a pair of jeans and a dark T-shirt. “Hey, Duke.”
Duke woofed and lapped his jowls.
Jordan wanted to swoop her up into his arms and hug her. Instead he simply smiled. “Hey, there. It’s good to see you.”
“Same. So what’s up?”
“I wanted to share with you my experiences in the Sudan.”
She slid into the bucket seat beside him. “Cool. I want to hear all about it.”
Jordan slipped the vehicle into gear and headed out to the point. “It was awesome but terrifying at the same time. The stories are brutal, but the mission work has been fruitful. They’ve put in wells, which completely changes a community.”
They talked all the way to the point. “I don’t think I’ll ever be the same.”
“There’s something more, isn’t there?”
“Yes. Let’s go down to the beach first.”
“All right.”
He knew she was thinking it had to do with their relationship, which it didn’t. But then again, maybe it really did. “I need to walk this out. Come on, boy. You need the exercise.”
“And you don’t like exercise.”
He chuckled. “Sometimes a man just has to.” They walked down to the shore’s edge, leaving their shoes farther up the beach. Duke waddled behind, stopping every now and again to sniff at a clump of seaweed. “I had an encounter with the radical forces in Sudan. You’re aware they’ll kill a person who has converted from Islam to Christianity, right?”
She nodded.
“We were forced to stop at an impromptu checkpoint by radical forces. They questioned us at gunpoint and let us go when they discovered our journalism passes. At the same time, a woman was being taken away with her child. They said she was a rebel, and perhaps she was—I don’t know. But deep down in my gut, I know that if I hadn’t been there with all my cameras and the entire group with me, they would have killed her right there on the side of the road.”
“Oh, my.” Miranda reached out and placed her hand on his arm. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. I pray she’s safe, but I honestly don’t know. Sometimes we just have to leave things in God’s hands.”
“Yes, you’re right, but are you okay?”
“I think so. It was so raw and real. I know it is going to change me permanently in some ways. How, I’m not certain. I’m still in a bit of shell shock. If it hadn’t happened on our last day, maybe I would have worked it through some more. But we were on our way to the airport.”
“Another reason they probably didn’t kill her.”
“Quite possibly. There was a look in her eyes … I don’t know … I can’t describe it.”
“What is it with you and eyes?”
“Huh?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. But ever since I met you, you’ve mentioned my eyes. And the one photo I found on the Internet done by you was of this old Native American woman, and in her eyes was a reflection of you. It was a great pic, but kinda strange.”
Jordan smiled. “That’s my great-grandmother. I was in college and won an award for that picture.”
“Really. You’re an Indian?”
“Fourth generation, if you count from my great-grandmother. That was a special day in celebration of our heritage. In truth, my great-grandmother lived in the city with my great-grandfather and then with my grandmother. My great-grandfather was a professor. Later he went into real estate. He was white. My grandmother is of a fair complexion, and my mother is even fairer. And, as you can see, there isn’t much melanin in me. Well, except for this tan I picked up in the Sudan.”
“Wow! You’re Native American?” she repeated.
“One eighth, yes. Does it matter?”
“No, I just don’t know much about you and your family.”
Jordan rolled out a blanket he’d carried down on top of the cooler. Duke sat in the middle. Miranda sat on the opposite side. “I didn’t spend much time with my Indian cousins. But once a year we would go to various tribal ceremonies. It was required as long as my great-grandmother was alive. I continued even after she died.”
“I’m sorry. This took us off the subject you wanted to talk about.”
“You know, it might be related. You mentioned my interest in eyes. I’ve always seen them as the window to one’s soul. In the picture of my great-grandmother, my reflection was superimposed on the pupil. I actually could see myself, but the reflection wasn’t clear, so I played with the image and placed myself in there. It was a comment on my great-grandmother’s love for me, as well as my love for my heritage.”
“There’s so much we don’t know about one another.”
“Miranda, there are a lot of things. We haven’t had the time.” He wanted the time; he wanted to get to know her better. His life experiences flooded to the surface. All of a sudden, he wanted to share everything he’d learned and gone through in life, his relationship with God, his family.
Jordan reached over and took her hand. “Miranda, I want to be your friend.”
“That’s my problem,” she said. “I want more.”
Jordan’s heart thudded in his chest. Calm down. Count. One, two…
“Jordan?”
nine
Randi tightened her grip on Jordan’s hand. After what seemed like an eternity, he opened his eyes. “I do, too.” He paused. “You were the first person I wanted to share my experiences with.”
“I’ve missed our time together. Is it possible to be just friends?”
“I think your mother is right. Friendship is key to a healthy marriage.” His eyes widened. “Not that … I mean …,” he stammered.
Randi let out a nervous giggle. “I understand.”
“Miranda?” His voice calmed her. She liked the sound of her name coming from him. “And you’re afraid to let me close because of what Cal did to you?”
She nodded.
“Come here.” He opened his arms for her.
She hesitated for a moment then stepped over to him and leaned her head against his chest. Sweet relief washed over her like the waves brushing up against the shore. It felt good to be in Jordan’s arms.
“I will make you a promise. I will not cheat on you. If our relationship is not right to pursue any longer, I promise to be up front with my feelings and concerns. Okay?”
“You can’t know how you’ll feel—”
He placed his finger on her lips. “I promise, Miranda. I want what is best for both of us.”
She kissed the tip of his fingers. How did he know the right things to say? She wrapped her arms around him. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she felt at peace. Then she heard him pray.
“Father, be with us and guide us as we seek Your will for our lives. Help us to keep You as our central focus even when we want to put ourselves or one another ahead of You.”
“Amen.” Randi pushed away from his embrace. “So tell me more about your trip to the Sudan. Did you capture any wildlife? Go on a safari?”
They talked for an hour until the air started to chill. “Would you like some hot chocolate?”
“Yes, but I really need to get home. I need to finish my client’s Web page.”
“Speaking of Web pages, when can we start working on mine?” Jordan got up from the blanket and extended his hand to help her up. He set the cooler to the side and lifted the blanket. Randi grabbed hold of the corners, and they shook it out together. Duke sat there and watched them. “Duke, get up. It’s time to go.”
Randi draped the folded blanket over her arm. “How about tomorrow afternoon after I get home from work? Can you have some photos ready for me by then?”
“Sure. Digital?”
“They’re easier to work with, but we can scan prints.”
“All right. I’ve been giving some thought to overall design and layout.”
“Good. Visit a bunch of different photographers’ Web
sites and see what you like and what you don’t. Then we’ll have a better idea of a design just for you.”
Jordan smiled.
“What?”
“I love the way you brighten up when you talk about your computer work. It’s not the same as when you talk about waiting on tables.” He propped the blanket on top of the cooler then picked up both.
“Waitressing is necessary to help pay my bills. Web designing, I hope, will grow enough to make a living. I’d love to work only one job.”
He headed toward his vehicle. She and Duke followed.
“That’s not very commonplace in this area, is it?”
“Nope. We’re hardworking people, but I’d rather do my hard work in the Web designing.”
“I hear ya. I can’t wait until I earn enough to support a family.”
Randi stopped. “How much do you believe you need to earn before you can have a family?”
“I’m figuring enough to support my wife and kids with full insurance. I don’t have insurance for myself yet. Also, I’d like to buy an old Victorian house and renovate it as a wedding present.”
“Sounds nice. But more than likely, you won’t be getting married until you’re forty-five.”
He placed the cooler in the back of his Jeep. “Why? I want to provide well for my family. Is that too much to ask? I’m not asking to be the richest man in the world, but I do want certain things.”
She raised her hands to his protest. “I’m not saying they are unreasonable, but shouldn’t you think in terms of finding the right person then working with the Lord and her to provide the rest?”
He frowned. She hit a nerve and knew it. Friendship might be as far as things could ever go between the two of us. Money was something she worked for to provide the necessities. And, while she may want to plan for the future, she apparently figured she had plenty of time to do it.
“You’re not into preparing for the future then.” He hoisted the basset hound into the vehicle.
“Not really. I know I’ll need to someday. But right now, I’m more concerned with earning enough to work only one job.”
“I was raised to plan for the future.”
“How so?”
“Both of my parents were very strict about preparing for college and encouraging me to be debt free within a year or two out of college so I could prepare for marriage.”
“And are you prepared?”
“No, at least not where I’d hoped to be. My education is paid off, and I have a nest egg for purchasing a house, but it’s tied up. I don’t spend it.”
“I have a hundred and fifteen dollars and twenty-six cents in my savings.”
Jordan chuckled. “Do you tithe?” He turned on the engine and started off.
“Of course.”
“Start tithing another ten percent and put it in your savings each week.”
“I can’t. I won’t be able to pay my rent. Wait. I thought you didn’t have much. I mean, didn’t you say you didn’t have a lot and couldn’t afford your cell-phone bill?”
“I don’t count my savings as money I can touch,” Jordan said. “Once it is in there, it is no longer a part of my thinking for my daily use.”
Maybe I have been too lax with my finances. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely. That’s why I have to have a certain income before I consider marriage.”
Yup, just friends. “Wow! I don’t know if I could live that way.”
“Try it—you might like it.”
“I’ll think about it.”
He pulled up to the curb in front of the small cottage she rented. Even Jess, she recalled, was thinking of buying rather than renting. Have I been all wrong about my money, Lord? Should I have kept living at home and saved up to buy a house? “Good night, Jordan, and thanks for the evening. It’s—it’s been interesting.”
“’Night.”
Jordan slapped the steering wheel. “Why did I have to bring up money? Our values are so dissimilar.”
The night had gone well until he’d brought up his desire to be able to provide for a wife and family before he married. But she did have a point with regard to searching for the right woman. He didn’t agree it had to be first. He could still save and plan for that day even before he met the right woman. The problem is—is she the right woman? If so, he was definitely not financially ready for her. And could they be right for one another when they differed so much on financial issues? “What do you think, Duke? Would Miranda and I be fighting constantly over where and when to spend the money? Or, in her case, why save?”
Duke laid his head on his paws and hiked up one of his eyebrows.
“Okay, maybe that’s unfair to her. She did say she intended to save for the future—just not today.”
And what was his nest egg? Just a few thousand dollars he’d hoped would be four times that amount by now.
Lord, I know my overplanning is a problem, and I’m trying to trust You; but if Miranda is to be my wife, I’m not ready for her. What can I offer her?
Jordan went to bed that night and woke with the same question recycling in his brain even as he arrived at work.
“Good morning, Jordan.” Dena poured a cup of coffee from the coffeemaker in the back room of the studio. “How was your trip?”
“Good, but I need to clean my cameras.”
Dena chuckled. “Goes with the territory. Can I see your proofs?”
“Sure.” Jordan brought up the folder with the photographs he’d downloaded. “I’ll need to go to your darkroom and develop these later.” He plopped six film canisters on the counter.
“Film does have its advantages.”
“Yes, but I got some great shots with the digital.” He loaded the picture viewer on his laptop and left the chair for Dena to view.
“Wonderful. These are great.” Click, click went the computer keys. “What’s this? This is powerful, Jordan. Look at her eyes.”
On the screen was the shot of the Sudanese woman and child. The next shot panned out, revealing the gun to her head.
“I don’t mind admitting it was a terrifying experience.”
“Praise the Lord you came back in one piece.”
“Yes, but I keep praying for this woman. I don’t know if she’s still alive or if they’ve killed her.”
Dena paused for a moment. “I have an idea. Let’s put this photo on my Web site, credited to you, of course, but make it free to be broadcast all over the net, with a prayer request for her and her child.”
“I’d love to, but I signed a waiver with the magazine for the mission that sent me. They have first rights on all pictures taken.”
“Ah, I forgot about that clause. I’ve signed a few of those myself a time or two.”
Jordan poured himself a cup of coffee and held it in his hands. “Dena, may I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure. What’s on your mind?”
“When you married your first husband, had he saved for your future?”
“Bill?” Dena chuckled. “No, we were poor college students, and he was heading to grad school. It was basically hand-to-mouth our entire marriage. We did manage to take out a term life insurance policy on him once we started ministry, and that’s what helped me buy my first studio with an apartment upstairs. Why do you ask?”
“My parents have ingrained in me that I should be able to provide for my wife and family before I get married. Even possibly have our house purchased before that.”
“And you’re nowhere near those goals?”
“Right. Don’t get me wrong. You’re paying me a fine salary, and to toss in the apartment saves me a bundle. But—”
“You couldn’t provide for a family on your current income,” she finished for him.
Jordan nodded. He’d been doing a lot more of that since meeting Miranda; it was her habit to nod instead of reply, and now he was doing it, too.
“Sit down.” She patted the chair next to hers. “I didn’t have extra until my chil
dren were grown. I took on assignments once they were in college. I was fortunate; I have a good eye and was in the right place at the right time. To me, that was divine intervention. It isn’t because of what I did or didn’t do. It was a matter of God’s timing for my life. On the other hand, life got so full with all the traveling. I was forgetting my family. I wasn’t really forgetting them, but I didn’t spend much time with them. I’ve learned that having money is almost as difficult as not having money. But this isn’t what you’re dealing with right now, is it?”
“No, it’s the goals I’ve set for myself. I’m wondering if I set them too high.”
Dena smiled. “This is probably coming up because someone, namely Randi, has caught your attention.”
“In part. On the other hand, it is something I’ve been dealing with the Lord about for quite a while. It’s hard not to go by the plan. To let go and let God.”
“God is a God of order, right?”
He nodded in agreement.
“And He’s wired you to be precise with regard to finances. That means He’ll work with your natural talent and challenge you to trust Him when the numbers might not add up.”
“But how?” Jordan wiggled in his seat. “No, wait. That’s not the right question. While I was in Africa, I decided to give the profits from the pictures to the Sudanese missionary work there.”
Dena smiled.
“That’s so unlike me. I tithe, I give, but I’ve never given up all I’m going to earn for something like that before. If I continue to do that, I’ll never have enough to get married.”
“And there is your real problem. You are trying to step out in faith, and yet your logical mind is telling you, you can’t pay the bills if you do this, right?”
“Right.” I know all this, but I obviously need to be reminded.
“I can’t judge whether you’ve done the right thing by deciding to give those profits to that ministry. It is noble and truly sacrificial. But I can tell you from my own personal experience that when I’ve given in that way, God’s met my needs in other ways. I have volunteered my time and profit for many events over the years, like the festival, and God’s always supplied my needs. And, in most cases, He’s given me more than I needed.”
Trespassed Hearts Page 7