She expected him to make some high-intensity response, to jump in and tell her that jerks like Tony didn’t represent how real men of God conducted themselves. She’d heard enough of such responses from the few people who really knew why she and Tony broke it off. The fraud was one thing, but to have the brutal heartbreak on top of it—well, she’d never worked up the ability to forgive God for all that pain. The mighty, loving God she’d once known no longer fit into a scheme that included such pointless injustice.
Drew, however, said absolutely nothing. As a matter of fact, it was the first time she’d seen him still and silent since he came into town. Good, she thought. Now you know. All of it. Now you’ll back off.
“So,” she said, when he still didn’t reply. “Now you know.”
“I’ll spare you the few choice adjectives running through my head at the moment,” he said in a dark tone she’d not heard from him before. “It might not improve your already fine opinion of me.”
“You’re better than most,” she offered halfheartedly.
“So are most of us. It burns me to hear about guys like him. So many people are trying to do the right thing and some guy like that comes along and undoes a million good deeds. Shreds people’s faith in ways that take years to repair.”
Or not repair at all, Janet added silently. She thought about leaving, about getting up and just walking away from Drew now that he knew, but something in the way his back pushed against the cistern behind him made her stay. She knew he was burning up behind those eyes, reaching for some persuasive theological comeback, but in the end he just looked down and kicked some muck off his boot. “All the more reason to do the right thing here, isn’t it? The last thing you need is one more guy in here messing things up.” After a moment, he looked up at her. “Don’t lump me in with that jerk. I’ve made my share of goofs, and I have no idea how to convince you that if I tell you I care about you, then I really mean it. But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? Janet, I’m at a loss for how to handle this.”
She ought to pretend she didn’t know what he meant by that. That she didn’t hear the phrase “care about you.” “What do you mean ‘this’?”
“It’s been a crazy week and I’m so tired I could lie down and sleep a week this second…” He paused. “But there’s something I want here even more that I can’t have.” He pulled his hands from his pockets and braced them against the tank wall behind him. “I think you already know why things have been so tough between us. Why we fight. You and I…we can’t…and I’m not exactly handling it well. That’s my fault, and I’m sorry.”
Janet couldn’t bring herself to reply. She gripped the bench and tried to deny what he was suggesting—what he’d already said—but found she couldn’t. What point was there in denying it anyway? They’d known how they felt about each other back on the bus the night before he left. Talking about it only made it worse. Only complicated things. Didn’t he know that?
“You’re right. There’s a huge part of me that wants to jump in here and make everything better. But you and I know that won’t happen. It can’t happen, actually. Even if I weren’t leaving…and I am leaving…I have no business getting into a relationship with someone who doesn’t share my faith.” After a long moment, he added, “But you did once, I think you still can and I can’t believe how much I’d like to ditch my convictions right now and show you what it could really be like. But that’s egotistical and unwise, and I’m not handling things well now as it is. I’m sorry I’ve added to your list of lousy men of faith.”
She panicked, blindsided by his confession. “There’s nothing happening between us.”
“Don’t,” he said, almost wincing. “Don’t tell me something’s not there because I think that would just make it worse. I need to do the right thing here—especially knowing what I know now.” He looked straight into her eyes. “But you feel it, don’t you?”
The thing twisting in Janet’s chest threatened to overtake her. “It doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“Maybe I should never have said anything—” he raked his hands through his hair “—but when you showed up just as I was praying…I’m tired, I’m not thinking straight, and I’m really attracted to you. I just thought we might fight less about the other stuff if we put our cards on the table about this.”
“Wait a minute.” Janet stood up off the bench. “You think my reservations about the roof and the cistern are about something between us? That’s really low of you.” The thought infuriated her—every bit of discrimination she’d ever endured as a female hardware store owner roaring back to life.
“No!” He rose to his feet. “I thought maybe if you knew how much I thought of you, how much I think I feel for you, how hard it is for me…”
“That what? It would make it easier for both of us? Does this feel any easier? How did you think I would take a comment like that?” She couldn’t believe she was choking up.
“I don’t know.” He began pacing. “I don’t know what to do about you.”
“How about nothing?” she fired back, pacing also. “There’s nothing to do. You’ll make your shiny, happy miracles and go on. I’ll go on with my ordinary life.”
He stopped pacing and looked at her. “It’s not ordinary. You’re not ordinary.”
She turned to him. “Do you really think I believe that? Don’t you think I’ve seen more than enough of the dazzle you people claim to have?” She put one hand to her chest. “Look at me, look around you. This isn’t where someone like you sticks around. I’m not blond and sleek and full of empowering faith. I’m just trying to get by. Just hanging on. Because that’s what ordinary life is like, Drew. Just getting by.”
Drew jabbed a finger at her. “Will you stop lumping me in with some stereotype you’ve managed to create for my world? For my faith? I care about you. I thought you should know. Maybe it was a dumb idea, but I thought it would let you see that I think of this place—of you—as anything but ordinary.” He let his hand drop. “Why can’t you see that?”
“Because no matter what you say to me, you’re still leaving.” Her voice caught on that last word, and she hated the weakness she was showing. “You’re leaving,” she repeated, “so it doesn’t matter what you say because you don’t have to stick around and live up to it. So don’t placate me by trying to, okay? Just make your miracles and leave me alone. Don’t come back. Even if that stupid tank breaks and the roof starts leaking next week, don’t ever come back.”
Janet turned and left the garden, pushing through the school doors and rushing blindly back through the church. She battled unwanted tears, angry that she could be hurt by the denial of something she’d never wanted to want in the first place. She had a thick skin most of the time, but he’d managed to get under it. He told her he cared about her, and she wanted to believe him. After all Tony had done to her, it infuriated her that she could even think of Drew—or his mission—in that way. She didn’t want to open up that part of her heart or let faith seep its way back into her soul ever again. The chance for pain was far too great, and she’d barely survived the last wounds.
And so she ran from him, from the church he was rebuilding, from what his eyes made her want again. She rushed through the building and lawn until she found herself gasping at the edge of the parking lot. Janet stared down the darkened street toward Ballad Road. She couldn’t go home, he might try to find her there, and she didn’t want to talk to him again. Right now the urge to climb in her Jeep and leave the county for the next week until this whole thing went away was so powerful, the only thing stopping her was that she didn’t have her car keys. Stumped, she checked her watch. Three-thirty.
Dinah would be up. She started baking at four. She would not cry. Not over him. Not over this. Taking a deep breath, Janet wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and set off toward the bakery.
“What’s wrong?” Dinah came to the door in yellow striped pajamas. Her alarmed expression looked lost on a face framed with frizzy re
d pigtails. “What on earth could put you here at this hour?”
“Not what, who. Please tell me you’ve got some coffee on.”
“And you want coffee, too? Get on back to the kitchen, girl. I can’t leave the bread but you’ve obviously got a long story to tell me.” She noticed Janet’s assessment of her clothing. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
“I wasn’t expecting to be blindsided at three in the morning, so that makes two of us.”
Dinah stopped in her tracks. “You were in a car accident?”
“No, it’s not like that.” Janet walked behind Dinah through the public part of the bakery, back through a beaded curtain to the warm, cinnamon-scented kitchen. She plunked herself down on one of the stainless steel stools and planted her elbows on the table.
“Drew Downing. Well, actually more than Drew Downing, but mostly him.”
“Gotten to you, has he?” Dinah stared at her as she moved a tray of dough in loaf pans. She picked up a brush and started coating the top of the dough with what looked like melted butter. Janet rolled her eyes. “No. Well, maybe. But nothing’s going to come of it. It’s all so complicated. It’s more than just him, it’s the whole faith-church-Missionnovation thing. It’s the roof and the cistern…”
“And God.”
Janet spoke right over that remark “…and the way he acts, and what they’re doing over there…”
“And God.”
“And Tony and all that happened back then…”
“And God.”
“Will you stop that? You’re as bad as he is, making this about something it isn’t.”
Dinah stopped brushing and put one hand on her hip. “You’re smarter than that, Janet. Wake up and realize you’re getting all riled up about him and the roof and whatever else because it’s stirring up all that stuff you like to pretend is gone. Only God doesn’t work like that. You can’t stuff Him into one man’s mistakes and expect Him to stay there. He goes after His lost ones. Always has.”
She’d gone to the wrong friend. Emily was always so much nicer about all this faith stuff. Dinah could be as relentless as Drew, even if she had held it in where Janet was concerned. Evidently, she was tired of holding it in. “Come on, not you, too. I don’t need to hear this now.”
Dinah put down the brush. “No, I think now is exactly the time for you to hear this. Look, I know that man is fine looking, but you go deeper than that. I watched you watch him the other day—when you didn’t know I was looking. It’s not the man you find irresistible. It’s the faith inside the man.”
Janet got up and paced the room, deeply uncomfortable. “I can’t have that kind of faith anymore. Tony saw to that.”
“You’d put God in that small a box? Unable to restore the gift of faith He gave you—gave you even before you fell for Tony?”
“You think I want it this way? You think I’m enjoying all this pain?”
Dinah squared off at her. “Actually, yes.” Janet glared up at her, unable to keep a lid on her agitation. “Well, I do. I think you’ve gotten so used to your pain that it’s safer to stay there. Only now Drew and all his team have stirred everything up. With all this building stuff and his enthusiasm, it got so you couldn’t help but be involved. And that made you crazy, because suddenly you’ve started wanting the church you were so sure you didn’t need anymore.”
Janet didn’t have a response for that. It seemed all wrong and all too right at the same time, and she was already so confused.
Dinah walked toward her. “I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. Down deep somewhere. Why is it so hard to think God would pull out all the stops to bring you home to church again?”
“Then why didn’t He send someone who’d do the job right?” Janet raised her voice despite the early hour. “Why are we fighting about shortcuts and compromises and all the things I can’t stand? Drew is too much like Tony.”
“You know, I don’t think that’s it at all,” Dinah said. “I think Drew isn’t anything like Tony. He’s what Tony should have been. He’s what it could be like—life and faith and love. And that scares you to death, sugar, whether you’re ready to admit it or not.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Measure twice, cut once. One of the basic laws of construction. Drew had measured three times, and he still cut the piece of wood to the wrong length. He’d been beyond useless since Janet Bishop had left him in the garden. What is going on, Lord? I was sure when she showed up that we were supposed to talk it out. And that guy? How’d You let that happen? Look at all the damage he’s done. That talk was supposed to clear things up. Instead, everything is worse than before.
Why had he told her he was attracted to her? Especially after what she’d told him? She was right, it was poor judgment and nothing less than a slap in the face. Did he, in some dark part of his ego, think she’d come closer to faith because of his affections? He hated to admit himself capable of such arrogance. I’m an absolute mess. Here I am, on the brink of the most important turning point in my life, I’m supposed to be leading a brilliant team, and I’m in shambles. Lord, where are You taking me? Where are You taking the show? Why won’t You show me what to do?
Drew stumbled on through his morning, not seeing Janet. He didn’t expect to—if he never saw her again, he deserved no less. It killed him to know that last night’s botched conversation would be their last. That was no way to end things between them.
The extra crews needed to film the final sequences would be flying in this afternoon. In two days the project would be wrapped up and he’d be on a plane to California to begin his new stint as the face of HomeBase and the network’s new hit series. To a life he’d imagined for years, to a ministry bigger than he’d ever dreamed. Perhaps it was only to be expected that there would be some damage along the way. He just hated it to be Janet. It stung him to no end that he’d hurt her on top of what that Tony character had done to her. In his darker moments, Drew wondered if he’d been the final blow to her ever regaining her faith. Which, again, was an arrogant thought. It was God who gave people faith, who pulled souls toward Himself. Drew Downing was only a speck on the landscape.
Someone knocked on the bus door. When he peered out the window he saw Dinah Hopkins, standing at the door with a final box of Muffinnovations.
“Hi,” she said as he opened the door. “You got a minute?”
“For a lady bearing goodies, always. C’mon in.”
Dinah set the box down on the table and took a minute to glance around the bus. “Nice digs.” She ran a finger down the edge of the counter. “Look, Janet’s a friend of mine. She’s been a good friend since I moved here.”
“She okay?”
“No, and I think you know why.” Stuffing her hands into her back pockets, Dinah straightened up. “Don’t give up on her. I know she’s a tough case, but church hasn’t exactly been a haven of rest for her. I think you might be the guy to get through. Really. So don’t give up, okay?”
Drew leaned back against the cabinets. “I’m not sure she ever wants to talk to me again.”
“I know, but you strike me as a persuasive kind of guy. I think maybe…” They were interrupted by Drew’s cell phone buzzing on the table, but he didn’t move to pick it up. Still, she nodded toward the phone. “You go ahead and take your call. I’m praying, I’m on your side, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, Dinah turned on her heels and walked off the bus.
What was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t change Janet’s history with the church, and Missionnovation was just making things worse. His phone buzzed again. He wasn’t surprised it was Charlie. Drew flipped open the phone and tucked the box of Muffinnovations into the pantry cabinet.
“What? You don’t answer your phone anymore?”
“I was in the middle of an important conversation, Chuck.”
“You know I pout when someone’s more important than me,” Charlie teased. “Are we on target?”
“It’s tight, but we’ll make it
.”
“The rest of the crew comes in tonight. Make this a good one, Drew. Our new friends will be watching.”
Drew stared at the church lawn visible out the bus windows. It was coming together gloriously. The site swarmed with volunteers working toward the final deadline. “Gotcha.”
“You okay with those papers I sent out? Legal’s been through them and we’re all ready to go.”
“Send out the originals for me to sign. We’re ready.”
“Actually,” Charlie replied, “that’s one of the reasons why I called. We’re going to do a signing ceremony with some network folks and some HomeBase brass the day after the shareholders’ meeting. Turn it into a press conference. Okay by you?”
“Why not? But can we fly Kevin, Annie, Mike and Jeremy out for the signing thing? We should have the whole design team there. They deserve the limelight, too.”
Drew heard Charlie punching calculator buttons, probably factoring in the cost of four additional airfares. “I think I can make that happen. And they like Kevin and the gang as much as they like you.”
“That’s why I like you, Charlie, you make it happen.”
Drew hung up and returned to his previous worry. He wasn’t sure he could set things straight with Janet, but based on Dinah’s exhortations, maybe he needed to keep trying. This had become about something bigger than roofs or watering cans.
As he turned toward Bishop Hardware, he met Kevin venturing up the street on his crutches. He was getting pretty good with those things. Some member of the design team had actually painted them with green-and-white stripes overnight, and Kevin had been hobbling around town and the church, showing them off.
“You weren’t kidding about Janet Bishop. I just went over there to get a new pair of shears this morning and she about sheared my head off.”
Bluegrass Courtship Page 14