Down by the River

by Lin Stepp

  Shutting the door to her room at last, Grace leaned against the door to catch her breath and burst into tears. How dare that man treat her like some sort of trollop and kiss her out in the open yard! Anyone could have been watching. It was humiliating.

  Grace dropped onto the side of the bed, trying to settle her emotions. She poured herself a glass of water and then moved to sit at the mirrored dresser to fix her hair. One look at her face started her crying all over again. Her lips looked like those of a woman thoroughly kissed, her face still flushed.

  Gracious! What sort of man was Jack Teague to flirt with that young girl like she saw him do and then make a pass at her not thirty minutes later! The nerve of him. Grace sighed and shook her head at herself. Even more despicable was that she’d responded to him. She hated to admit it, but it was true. When she fell and got caught off guard, and when he looked at her with those deep brown eyes, she’d felt a quickening deep within and a rush of desire she hadn’t experienced since young college days.

  Grace got up to pace around the room and weep some more, trying to analyze her feelings and reactions. “Oh, Grace, how foolish can you be. Jack Teague is obviously an aging playboy. Didn’t you see that from the first with that young girl crawling all over him? And him enjoying it, too.”

  She heaved a sigh. Mr. Jack Teague was not the type of man she should admire or be attracted to. Where was her good sense? She’d purposely stayed clear of the Jack Teague types all her life. And for good reason. They were nothing but trouble. What was she thinking—responding to a man like that? How could she even find him attractive?

  Grace shook her head, beginning to calm down a little. Lord, the two years she’d been widowed must really be getting to her.

  Grace’s eyes moved to the list of questions she’d meant to ask about the Oakley Bed-and-Breakfast still lying on the side of the dresser. She’d hardly get the answers to those questions now. And she certainly would not call Jack Teague to ask them. She sighed. No, the best thing was to get this whole thing off her mind. She’d acted impulsively to even go see that place, and now look at the trouble her impulse had caused.

  Pulling her practical self to the forefront, Grace stripped off her blue dress, her hose, and her shoes, and got into the shower. The hot water felt like a balm to her frayed nerves. After getting out, redoing her hair and makeup, and dressing in a casual Capri set, Grace felt more like herself again. Squaring her shoulders, she took off for the afternoon in Gatlinburg she’d promised herself. Besides, Margaret would ask her about her day later on, and she wanted to be able to give her a cheerful and honest account. She certainly had not told Margaret she planned to look at the bed-and-breakfast down by the river this morning. Nor did she intend to.

  She squared her shoulders before picking up her purse to head to the door. “Furthermore, I’ll be switched-and-twitted before I allow some impulsive man to spoil my whole day,” she said, starting for the car.

  Grace soon drove through Townsend and into the beauty of the Great Smoky Mountains, heading for Gatlinburg on the Little River Road. The scenic two-lane highway wound in and out along mountain streams and over a high ridgeline to finally descend softly into the backside of Gatlinburg. It was a beautiful May day, and Grace rolled down the window of the town car so she could feel the clean mountain air on her face and hear the stream cascading merrily over the rocks as it rushed along its way.

  She parked near the Laurel Mountain Village Mall at the west end of Gatlinburg, lunched at the Garden Café restaurant behind the mall, and then proceeded to explore the colorful mall shops. Grace bought mountain taffy and jars of candy sticks for her children and grandchildren at the Smokyland candy store. At the Book Nook, she found a new mystery for Thea Greene, the high-school girl who house-sat and cared for Grace’s dogs in Nashville when Grace went away.

  Grace’s mood improved as the day progressed, and she felt more like herself by the time she started to explore a cute shop in the mall called Nature’s Corner. She even indulged herself with a beautiful floral paperweight she found on sale.

  The store’s owner, who introduced herself as Zola Devon, smiled when Grace brought her treasure up to the counter. “I like that one especially,” Zola said, reaching out to take the item from Grace’s hands to wrap it up. “I ordered several boxes of those floral paperweights from abroad, each with different flowers in them. They’ve sold really well in the shop… .” Her voice trailed off.

  Glancing up, Grace found the dark-haired girl staring at her with an odd expression. “Is something wrong?” Grace asked.

  The girl studied her with a furrow in her brow. “I’m not sure. You bought a paperweight with a rose in the center, but I suddenly see you surrounded by mimosas. Pink mimosas. At your inn.” She smiled. “Oh. Now I see it. You own a bed-and-breakfast called the Mimosa Inn, don’t you?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Grace stepped back, feeling disquieted by Zola’s remarks.

  Zola shook her head, looking puzzled at Grace’s response. “Don’t you own a bed-and-breakfast? Sometimes I see things about people.” A frown wrinkled her brow. “Usually they’re right.”

  “Well, actually, I looked at a bed-and-breakfast this morning with a Realtor,” Grace admitted, not sure how far to continue with this strange conversation. “And I did see mimosa trees in the yard—lots of them, if I recall correctly. Although none of them were in bloom yet. Maybe that’s what you picked up on.”

  “That’s it!” Zola snapped her fingers in the air and then stopped to look thoughtful once more, as though listening to a voice only she could hear.

  She leaned across the counter to look at Grace earnestly. “You’re supposed to buy that Mimosa Inn. You’ve experienced doubts about whether you should or not, but I believe I received this little message to help you know of a certainty you should buy it.”

  Grace took a step back, studying the girl’s gypsy looks. “Are you a fortune-teller or something?”

  “Absolutely not.” Zola looked deeply shocked. “I’m only a simple Christian woman who sometimes hears a little word from God for people. Like a Biblical seer.”

  Grace raised an eyebrow.

  “You aren’t a believer?” Zola asked, surprised. “I usually don’t get things except for believers. Usually God is very careful about that.”

  “Of course, I’m a believer,” Grace said, purposely not adding any more. She certainly didn’t meet shop owners like Zola Devon every day and wasn’t quite sure how much personal information about herself she wanted to reveal. However, the girl did know about the inn she had looked at earlier and about the mimosa trees in the yard.

  Grace thought over the girl’s words. “The bed-and-breakfast I looked at was called the Oakley Bed-and-Breakfast after the former owners, and not the Mimosa Inn,” she said at last.

  The girl smiled brilliantly at her. “But you’ll change the name, of course.”

  Grace stood there somewhat speechless for a moment.

  Meanwhile, Zola wrapped the paperweight and packed it into a neat white box before looking up at Grace again. “You see, the Lord knew you were struggling, trying to make a hard decision about a change in your life. He used me to help you know what to do. God’s good like that. After all, you have been praying about making a change in your life, haven’t you? And wondering what you should do?”

  Grace nodded, hesitant to say more.

  “Well, you see? This is your little nudge to help you decide.” She looked at Grace with a sweet expression. “However, you still need to know in your own heart this is right for you, of course. You mustn’t make a big life decision based only on a word from another believer.”

  Not concerned that Grace offered no ready response, Zola smiled at her kindly and reached over to pat her arm. “You know, I think that deep down inside, you knew as soon as you saw that bed-and-breakfast, it was for you. Didn’t you? You just worry there will be resistance of some kind if you buy the inn. But the Father says for you to take courage. He will help
you.”

  Grace felt goose bumps on her arms then. She certainly wasn’t used to encounters like this, but admitted it uncanny this stranger knew so much about the inn and about her.

  Zola rang up the sale and packed Grace’s box into a green Nature’s Corner bag, passing it across to Grace. “You come back to see me often since you’ll soon be living in the area. And when you move into the inn and throw an open house, perhaps you’ll invite me to come see it.”

  Grace walked out of the store, feeling shaken but determined to do a little more shopping and not think about Zola Devon’s words to her. However, she found that resolution easier to say than do. How could that girl know what Grace had done this morning? And how could she know Grace had prayed for over a year for direction about what kind of changes to make in her life?

  Driving back to Townsend later, Grace couldn’t help but think what an odd day this had been for her. First, she had set an appointment to see the Oakley, which—admittedly—had called to her from the moment she saw it like no place before. Then she’d met those little twins, who had reached out to her with such sweet friendship and warmth, really touching her heart and wanting her to make the old house happy again.

  Grace smiled, remembering the girls. And now, she’d received this odd prophetic word from a shop owner in Gatlinburg she had never met or seen before today. She didn’t even think that sort of thing still happened like in the Bible stories. It was so peculiar—all of it.

  A cloud passed over Grace’s thoughts, making her sigh. The only real negative of the day was that embarrassing episode with Jack Teague.

  She thought back on the encounter with a calmer perspective now. In all honesty, perhaps even that unpleasant episode held a touch of revelation in its own way. Grace paused, hating to admit her next thought, even to herself. Truthfully, she hadn’t felt physically stirred as a woman in a long time—it was definitely a new experience—even if a man like Jack Teague had brought it on.

  She smiled. It was nice, in a silly way, to discover all her juices still alive and well in that area and to realize they hadn’t died with Charles. Grace had often wondered if she’d ever feel attraction for a man again with Charles gone. So, perhaps even a little good had come from meeting the irritating Mr. Teague.

  After parking her car at the motel, Grace found herself walking back to the Oakley again. With all that had happened, she wanted to see the place once more. To think about it prayerfully. She felt drawn to the house; she admitted. She had even told Charles once if she could live another life, she’d like to run a bed-and-breakfast. He had told her she’d be marvelous at it. But then he’d leaned over to kiss her, telling her he needed her to run his own home. Had told her how efficiently she ran their household, how creatively she handled everything. Always sweet like that.

  Not seeing a car at the Oakley, Grace walked around the house at leisure, looking at the old inn, enchanted once more with every aspect of it. She peeked through the dusty windows of the garage and peered into Carl Oakley’s little shop, then explored the patio down by the river and walked out on the swinging bridge to look at the view up the mountain stream. Leaving the bridge, she walked through the grounds from front to back and noticed, more than at the other times here, how many mimosa trees were planted on the property. They would create a show of fuchsia pink when summer came.

  Finally, Grace walked down the quiet little street that stretched east behind the Oakley, the road the girls had started down earlier heading to the Butlers’. The sign read Creekside Lane, and Grace noticed the inn’s mailbox situated on that side road. The building closest to the Oakley, a picturesque, white country church with a high bell tower, sat on a large corner property between Creekside Lane and the River Road. It was a pretty church, larger than it appeared at first glance, with several attached wings. Beside it stood a white gabled house in the same style, probably the church manse, set back from the street behind a neat row of green hedges. Several other homes lay along the narrow lane, their shady yards and back porches looking out on the Little River, their front lawns facing the broader River Road. Grace could hear the sound of the mountain stream as she walked along—rushing along in small rapids and quiet swells behind the unpaved road.

  It was a peaceful place, and Grace soon settled down on a stone bench by the river to rest and watch the water flow by. She’d sat there for only a short time when a golden retriever bounded up beside her, nudging his nose against her leg and wagging his tail in a sociable way. As she reached out to pet him, she heard footsteps behind her.

  “Joel’s a friendly guy. So don’t worry,” a man’s voice said.

  “I won’t.” Still petting the dog, Grace turned to see a tall young man walking across the street toward her. He held a leash draped over his arm.

  “We just started out the back door to take our walk, and I guess Joel felt it his duty to come say hello first.”

  “It’s okay.” Grace stroked the retriever’s head with pleasure. “I’m fond of dogs. I own two myself.”

  As the young man drew closer, Grace could see he was striking in appearance, tall and well built with almost white-blond hair above a tanned, square face. A dimple flashed in his lower chin, but his eyes showed a maturity and intensity beyond his obviously young years. He was dressed in khaki cargo shorts and a striped golf shirt and wore no socks with his worn dock shoes.

  “What kind of dogs do you have?’ he asked, coming closer to Grace now and propping one foot casually on the stone bench beside her.

  “Welsh corgis, a brother and sister team. Almost three years old now.”

  “Cute dogs, corgis. I read they’re intelligent and even-tempered, too.”

  “Mine are.” Grace smiled.

  “You live around here?”

  “No. I live in Nashville. I’m only visiting the area.” Grace held out her hand. “I’m Grace Conley.”

  The young man took it. “I should have introduced myself first. I’m Vincent Westbrooke.”

  Grace felt the young man’s palm grow warm in hers. He placed his other hand over their clasped ones, looking thoughtful. “We were supposed to meet today, Grace Conley. There’s a connection between our lives in some way.” He smiled. “Did you feel the heat?”

  “Yes,” she answered tentatively, thinking this day was becoming more and more peculiar, like a scene from an Alice in Wonderland book.

  Vincent dropped Grace’s hand then and grinned at her in an easy manner. “I always get heat like that when I meet someone I’m meant to experience a connection with. It helps me a lot in the ministry.”

  Grace looked up in surprise. “You’re a minister?”

  He smiled and gestured to the church behind them. “The minister of Creekside Independent Presbyterian Church. I guess I look more official when I clean up and wear a suit.”

  “It’s only that you’re rather young.”

  “Twenty-five.” He grinned. “Graduated Warren Wilson College at twenty-one and Louisville Presbyterian Theological Seminary at twenty-three. Then spent two years back at Montreat, North Carolina, as a conference director in the Young Adult Ministry Program before I came here. This is my first church.”

  “I see. And is it going well?”

  “Very well. I grew up in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina at Montreat, so it seems like coming home to work in a mountain community like this. And the people welcomed me with love and warmth.”

  “You live in the manse house?”

  “I do. Nice perk. Mostly furnished, too. Good for a bachelor like me.”

  Grace looked down at her hand again. “What you said about your hands, Vincent. What did you mean by that?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure at this point what it means in relationship to you. I guess the Lord will show me in time. Are you planning on moving here?”

  Grace found herself telling him about looking at the Oakley Bed-and-Breakfast, about her attraction to it, about meeting the girls, and about getting the odd word from Zola.
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br />   “Ahhh. Zola Devon.”

  “You know her?”

  “Once you live around here for a while you start to hear tales about Zola.”

  “Do you think she really does hear from God?”

  “I guess my question back is to ask why we experience so much trouble as Christians believing someone could hear from God in ways that help others. Most of my congregation would get real steamed and mad if someone questioned any of the Biblical accounts that speak of the miraculous. But when the gifts of God are manifested right here in our midst, rather than in a book, we get more squirrelly about the idea. Funny, huh?”

  Grace laughed. “Yes. I suppose so.”

  “Yet, despite our doubts and feelings, the Bible tells us God doesn’t change—that He’s the same yesterday, today, and forevermore. It shouldn’t surprise us so much when He works in our midst and uses people as He wills.”

  “No. I guess not. So what do you suppose the warmth of your hand means about me, Vincent?”

  He scratched his head thoughtfully. “Well, perhaps I’m your third confirmation. In seminary, one of my professors said when God gives you a message through another, He often confirms it three times to give it validity. You said some little girls touched your heart earlier and told you they thought you should buy the Oakley. Next, you said Zola saw you owning the Oakley. And, third, I got the witness we’re meant to have a lasting connection. The Oakley is next door to my church. Perhaps I’m your third confirmation.”

  “Maybe.” Grace glanced back toward the old inn longingly.

  “Why are you so hesitant when you obviously love the place, Grace? And when you’ve prayed for direction about the next step in your life?”

  “Well, I have a rather strong-willed family in Nashville, and I think they entertain other plans for me.”

  “Are their plans ones that you want, Grace?”

  “No. They’re not. That’s the problem. But my family means well.”

  Vincent smiled and clipped the leash on Joel. “Then you’ll need to trust God to help you with it all, Grace Conley. And He will.”