Catch a Falling Star

by Beth K. Vogt

  Kendall drove for a few moments, mulling over her answer. “Well, if I’m thinking of the verse you mean, it actually says to go to your brother—or sister—if he or she sins against you. It’s talking about when another believer does something wrong to you—how you’re supposed to handle that.” She paused. “All of those things . . . those relationships with the other women, did they happen before you were a believer?”

  “Yes. So?”

  “So, you asked God to forgive you, right?”

  “Yes.” His sigh seemed pulled from the deepest recesses of his heart. “It seems like a million times.”

  “Well, forgiveness only takes one time. God says he separates us from our sins as far as the sunrise is from the sunset.”

  “Doug—my sponsor from when I was a cadet at the Academy—told me the same thing.” Griffin turned to look at her as she stopped in the parking lot of the car dealership. “It’s different talking this out with a woman.”

  She could only imagine. Kendall put the Jeep in park, turning so she could look at Griffin. She’d parked near one of the lights illuminating the lot, so the inside of the Jeep wasn’t completely dark.

  “God may give you a chance one day to talk to one of those women. To ask forgiveness face-to-face. But until then, consider it done. God has forgiven you. His forgiveness should be—is—enough.”

  Griffin seemed to consider her words.

  “If you had been one of those women and I came and asked forgiveness, would you be able to forgive me, Kendall?”

  “W-what?”

  Griffin’s intense gaze held hers. “If I had . . . hurt you, and came back today, and asked you to forgive me, would you?”

  Kendall stared into Griffin’s eyes that, even shrouded in the semi-darkness of the Jeep, seemed to beg for absolution.

  She reached out, touched the side of his face, feeling the roughness of his jaw where it clenched beneath her fingertips. She tried to imagine loving Griffin and realized it wasn’t so very hard to do. Imagine his hurting her and then coming back years later to ask forgiveness. As a believer, she had only one choice. As a woman . . . well, sometimes making the right choice warred with a broken heart and destroyed dreams.

  “Yes, Griffin. I would forgive you. I would.”

  The air around them stilled. Filled with something unspoken. She wanted to move her hand, allow herself to explore the rugged outline of Griffin’s brow, see if his salt-and-pepper hair was soft or coarse to her touch. But she didn’t dare.

  She searched his face, his eyes now closed, thankful to see the tension ease, the lines bracketing his mouth lessen. He heaved a sigh, as if a weight lifted off his shoulders.

  “Thank you, Kendall. I had no idea how much I needed to hear those words.” As he spoke, her fingers grazed the corner of his mouth.

  Kendall willed herself to stay still, to not ruin this unguarded honesty between them by thinking it was more than a moment between friends. Unlikely friends at that. The hitch in her breath . . .

  Ignore that.

  “You’re the first woman I’ve been able to talk to about . . . all of that.” Griffin moved away. “Really, you’re the first woman I’ve ever considered a friend.”

  Friend. Wow. This was like one of those awful scenes in a movie when the girl who was in love with the guy didn’t realize he only saw her as a friend.

  Not that she was in love with Griffin Walker. Not even close.

  A few moments of good-for-the-soul confession didn’t mean she felt anything more than friendship for the man who continued to talk the entire time she wrestled her emotions back into submission.

  “I’d better get in there before the guy thinks I decided I didn’t want that Jeep.” Griffin stepped out of the CJ5 in one fluid movement, filling the interior of the Jeep with cool night air. “No need to wait for me, Doc. Thanks for your help.”

  What had prompted that bare-his-soul conversation with Kendall Haynes?

  Griffin sat in his brother’s new-to-him Jeep, watching the lights inside the dealership go off one by one. Calling Kendall to help him tonight was stupid enough—and then he talked about his past mistakes and needing forgiveness.

  What was he doing, treating Kendall like some sort of female father-confessor? Thank God seeing the owner standing by the window of the dealership refocused him on reality. What else would he have confessed to her? And why?

  His relationship with Ian survived on monosyllables. Had he been that noncommunicative as a teenager? He couldn’t ask his mother that question. Tracey’s complaints about how distant he was when they were married still echoed in his mind.

  “You have nothing to say?” His wife’s voice forced him to look at her, away from the papers he held. Separation papers.

  “No.”

  “Of course not.” Tracey grabbed the document from him, slamming it down on the breakfast table. “I tell you I want a divorce and you have nothing to say.”

  “What am I supposed to say? You’ve made up your mind.”

  “This whole marriage was a mistake from the moment I said ‘I do. ’ ” Tracey seemed determined to force him to fight. “Admit it.”

  “Being married to me never seemed to hold you back.” There. He said something. It didn’t change anything. Didn’t eradicate all the months of silent separation punctuated by Tracey’s tantrums and his attempts to appease her.

  “Hey, I put my career on hold while you got your wings—”

  “Don’t go there.” Griffin stared at the woman he once thought he loved. “You networked like crazy while I was in flight school—took advantage of those duty stations and got exactly what you wanted. You’re the one who opted for back-to-back remote assignments.”

  “It was better than coming home to you every night—”

  The slam of the door as Tracey walked out for the final time morphed into the sound of some driver honking his horn.

  Griffin rubbed his hand over his face, wiping away the remnants of the memory. After the flameout of his marriage, he swore he’d never fail like that again. Why give some woman the power to wound him the way Tracey had?

  The relationships with the other women satisfied only one desire—if that. Talking to Kendall tonight somehow helped him to grasp the reality of God’s forgiveness in a way he hadn’t before. But it didn’t mean he wanted to fall in love again. Get married again. He liked Kendall Haynes . . . as a friend. And that’s all she could ever be. If she knew everything about him, she’d never want anything more with him. And he didn’t want anything more than friendship from her. And a casual friendship, at best.

  By the time he got home, it was almost eight thirty. The darkened house indicated Ian was still out studying with his friends. Griffin parked out on the street, ran into the house, backed his Jeep out of the garage, and then pulled the new purchase into it. This was going to be a kick, surprising his little brother. He hadn’t stopped talking about the Jeep Cherokee since they looked at it on Saturday. Griffin insisted he was thinking about it, trying to see if there was a better deal. Of course he hadn’t thought about what he was going to do with it if—when—Ian went to live with the Jamisons.

  He mulled over his options as he walked into the kitchen to look through the measly selection of leftovers in the fridge. A quick scan of the interior of the fridge revealed . . . nothing. He straightened, scratching the stubble along his jaw. Did he have time to call Mrs. Jamison again, see if she and her husband had come to a decision about Ian?

  He jerked around when the front door opened and Ian walked into the house. His brother deposited his backpack on the couch and joined him in the kitchen.

  “I’m starved. What’s there to eat?” Ian moved past him and mimicked his movements of peering into the fridge.

  “Nothing. Believe me, I just looked. You want to go drive through Good Times and grab a burger?”

  Ian paused with the fridge door halfway open. “This late at night?”

  “Why not? You got all your homework done, right?�
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  “Yeah.”

  “Well, let’s go grab a burger then.” He headed toward the garage. “Tell you what, you can drive.”

  Ian raced up to him. “You’re gonna let me drive your Jeep?”

  Oh, this was even more fun than he planned. “Yeah, I’m going to let you drive the Jeep.” Griffin opened the door leading out to the garage. “That one.”

  His brother didn’t scream like a girl—but it came pretty close. “My Jeep! You bought my Jeep!” The next minute Griffin was engulfed in a bear hug. “Oh man, oh man, oh man . . . thank you!”

  Griffin managed to wrap his arms around his brother. Pat him on the back. Then he realized this was the first time he’d ever hugged Ian.

  Not during any of his too-few visits home.

  Not at their parents’ funeral.

  But standing in a semi-lit garage by a Jeep Cherokee.

  About time.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  It would have been so much nicer to drive to dinner with Heath.

  To the board meeting.

  Kendall needed to keep reminding herself why she was here tonight. This was a meeting, not a dinner date. It would be her, Heath, and at least four other people discussing Heath’s business plans. And she was here to listen more than to participate in the discussion.

  Kendall stood outside the Craftwood Inn in Manitou Springs, the glow of the lighted script letters across the front of the building inviting her inside. Heath told her to call when she arrived, but she hated to pull him away from a meeting just because she was running late.

  Navigating the stone steps up to the entrance of the historic building would be a little tricky in her heels. For once, she wished she’d worn flats. But the added inches of her shoes gave her a boost of confidence as she walked into the restaurant, allowing the maître d’ to take her short jacket and lead her to Heath’s table near the long wall of windows.

  Breathe. Breathe.

  She’d treat this like any other professional meeting. She had plenty of experience with those. No one needed to know she’d run upstairs after work, reapplied her makeup, and re-gelled her hair before slipping into a favorite cranberry-colored sheath. Simple, yet elegant.

  Heath broke off in mid-sentence when he saw her, a smile curving his lips. As he stood and walked toward her, everyone at the table stopped talking and watched them.

  “Kendall.” Heath wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, dropping a kiss on her cheek. She liked the feeling of being tucked up against him as they moved toward the group. He leaned closer and spoke low. “I’ve been watching the doorway, waiting for you to get here.”

  So much for maintaining a businesslike demeanor.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late, Heath.” She nodded to the others at the table, several of the men rising to their feet along with Heath. “Clinic ran late. An emergency with one of my elderly patients.”

  Murmurs of sympathy surrounded Kendall as she slipped into the circular-backed chair Heath held for her. “Please, don’t let me interrupt your conversation.”

  “We were just talking sports . . . nothing important yet.” Heath helped her slide her seat closer to the table covered with a white cloth. “Enjoying some appetizers. We ordered small plates of elk, antelope, and scallops.”

  Kendall accepted the menu the waiter handed her. “Well, the NFL draft is over, so I’m just waiting for the football season to start. But surely someone here is into baseball.”

  A few of the people sitting around the table called out their favorite teams. While conversation resumed around her, Kendall focused on the menu. After ordering a glass of iced tea and a seafood entrée of Durango Bass crusted in walnut and fennel, Kendall assessed the others. Several people looked to be her age, while two of the men looked to be easily fifteen years older. Heath took charge of the conversation.

  “I’m certain many of you know Dr. Kendall Haynes, if not personally, then because of her stellar professional reputation in the community.”

  Kendall resisted the unprofessional urge to squirm.

  “Kendall, let me introduce you to my team.” He shifted, placing his arm around her shoulder, and began introducing people, going counterclockwise around the table. “Dr. Janice White is an ob-gyn with Springs Women’s Clinic. Dr. Tom Clark is a neurologist in town. Tom and I enjoy a good game of handball, too. Then there’s Frank Bennett, he’s a retired air force colonel. He’s on the board because of his business acumen and international experience. Don’t know what I’d do without him. Same with Leslie Meyer. She’s a lawyer here in the Springs. She’s kept me sane during this process.”

  Kendall took the time to greet each person one by one, recognizing the two physicians by name. Everyone else was new to her. Four physicians—well, three, because she wasn’t on the board. A businessman and a lawyer. There was some sort of joke waiting to be told there. Kendall looked forward to learning more about Heath’s plans for his organization. She’d been surprised when he invited her to the combination dinner and board meeting. After insisting he welcomed her insights, he hadn’t reissued his invitation to become a true member.

  “I’ve explained to Kendall how I hope to improve health care for third-world countries, with an initial focus on Africa, since that’s where I spent the last five years.” Heath passed her a basket of rolls, encouraging her to indulge. “I’m eager to get past the planning stage and see the organization go from a dream to becoming a reality.”

  “I’ve been doing the research you requested, Heath, and I think your idea of becoming an NGO is the best option.” Leslie tapped a long red fingernail on the black folder beside her plate.

  “An NGO? Is that some new term for mission organizations?” As soon as she spoke, Kendall wished she’d sat quiet and listened. This wasn’t her meeting. She needed to sit back and observe, not ask unneeded questions.

  “No, NGO stands for ‘non-governmental organization.’ ” Heath handed her a black paper folder identical to the ones everyone else at the table had. “At its core, the organization is grounded in the Christian principle of helping the poor. But securing government moneys enables me to do that all the better.”

  Leslie waited for Heath to finish his explanation before continuing. “There are so many countries that are closed to . . . um . . . religious groups. If we go more low-key on that aspect, then we have a better chance of having a wider reach to more countries.”

  That made sense. Many missionaries went into countries via tent-making ministries—working within a secular job providing opportunities to develop relationships with the people living around them.

  Conversation stopped as the waiter arrived and served salad and soup. Heath moved closer to Kendall and whispered, “I’m so glad you’re here. I could hardly concentrate because whenever anyone came in, I hoped it was you.”

  As he spoke, Heath rested his hand at the nape of her neck. Warmth radiated up her neck, scorching her face. He wasn’t the only one struggling with being distracted.

  “I’m excited to be here. I can’t wait to hear more about the organization.”

  “Business first, pleasure later.”

  Oh.

  As Kendall ate her salad of spinach, blackberries, pear, hazelnuts, and French Brie, Tom discussed more details of the program. “I drew up some preliminary objectives as you requested, as well as working on an overall charter for the group. Have you come up with a name yet?”

  Heath set aside his house salad. “I’ve been mulling over a few options. Too bad the World Health Organization is already taken.” Laughter flowed around the table. “I like having the word health in the title. Maybe benefits or access or something else I haven’t come up with.”

  Kendall tossed word combinations around in her head. “Something like International Health Access?”

  “Something exactly like that.” Heath reached down and clasped her hand underneath the table, squeezing it. “Maybe we should formally invite Dr. Haynes to join the board.”

 
; “No, no, I don’t think so.” Kendall waved away his suggestion. “I’m supposed to be listening. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “Not at all.” Tom gave her a nod of approval. “We welcome your input.”

  But when Kendall glanced around the table, Leslie’s hard stare contradicted Tom’s words. The woman looked anything but thrilled to have Kendall there.

  Tom scanned a document beside his plate. “So, the primary objective is to improve the health standards for third-world countries.”

  “Yes, although I realize we need to craft that idea into a more compelling vision statement.” Heath tossed a smile her way. “Maybe I should brainstorm that with Kendall, too. She seems to have a way with words.”

  “And one of the ways you want to do that is to sell products made by women, specifically single mothers and widows.”

  “Yes. I meant to bring some samples tonight. Kendall let me ship the packages to her office, since I’m still in a hotel until I find a house here in the Springs.” Heath flipped open his folder. “I apologize for leaving them back in my room. But page five of the documents I mailed each of you contains photographs. Baskets. Clay beads for bracelets and necklaces. That sort of thing.”

  “These are lovely.” Kendall turned to page five in her folder and admired the color photos of several styles of handwoven baskets and vibrant multicolored beads fashioned into bracelets and necklaces. “Where do you think you’d sell these?”

  Janice spoke up. “That’s my department. I’m investigating a variety of options. Everything from craft shows to physicians’ offices to churches. I have a friend who is involved with a mission organization who has had great success with this type of product.”

  Heath nodded his approval. “If Janice wasn’t such a successful physician, she could have gone into business.”

  The woman almost preened under Heath’s praise. “I believe in what you’re doing, Heath, you know that.”

  Once again, the waiter arrived and began serving dinner. Kendall closed her eyes and inhaled the aroma of fennel mixed with the tangy cranberry chutney served with her meal. Conversation became more casual for a few moments, until Tom refocused on business.