What Lies Within

by Karen Ball

  Of course, Kyla was oblivious. At twenty, she was making her mark in college. To Rafe’s deep relief, she decided to commute rather than live in the dorms. But then disaster struck.

  Kyla started dating Rafe’s jerk older brother, Berto.

  He couldn’t believe his eyes the first time he saw them together. Sure, Berto was handsome and the girls flocked to him. But Kyla? She was smarter than that!

  And yet, there was Kyla, tall and confident beside Berto. Rafe’s one consolation was that she didn’t hang on his handsome brother’s arm like most of his simpering girlfriends. That and the fact that he knew, deep inside, it wouldn’t last.

  Because Kyla was special. And Berto didn’t treat her the way he should.

  Unfortunately, Rafe was as outspoken at twelve as he was now, as determined to speak truth without the garnish. So whenever Kyla came to their house, Rafe let it be known he didn’t think she should date Berto. Which had the effect of convincing Kyla that Rafe didn’t like her.

  Which was as far from the truth as it got.

  Rafe shook the memories away. No point going over it again. He’d accepted long ago that Kyla Justice was as out of his life as she was out of his reach. That didn’t keep him from staying in touch with Annie. They’d been e-mailing each other since he left home. She even stayed in touch while he was overseas, which mattered more than she knew.

  But for all of his friendship with Annie, Rafe knew he had to accept the facts: Kyla was out of his life.

  Which was why he’d been so stunned when she walked into Cuppa Joe’s a few months ago. He’d recognized her the moment she came in. Age, hairstyle, clothes … they were all different. But it was Kyla. She still had that look about her, the look that told him she was something special. And the sight of her gave him that same jolt.

  And then some.

  He’d stood there, waiting for her to look at him, to remember—but she never did. At first he was disappointed, and then two noteworthy points set in.

  She didn’t recognize him.

  He was no longer a kid.

  Suddenly opportunities seemed endless, so he gave her a warm smile and fixed her the best mocha he’d ever made. She’d been coming back almost every day since. He hoped it was as much for the smile as the mocha.

  “Rafa, if you’re done daydreaming, you have customers waiting.”

  He looked up. Sure enough, three people were standing there. He hadn’t even heard them come in the door. Gripping his coffee like it was the elixir of life, he stood and headed to the counter, painfully aware he didn’t have any answers where Kyla Justice was concerned. But he’d better find them. Soon.

  Before his feelings drove him straight over the edge.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “Those that set in motion the forces of evil cannot always control them afterwards.”

  CHARLES W. CHESNUTT

  “What sorrow awaits you who lie awake at night, thinking up evil plans. You rise at dawn and hurry to carry them out,

  simply because you have the power to do so. When you want a piece of land, you find a way to seize it. When you want someone’s house, you take it by fraud and violence. You cheat a man of his property, stealing his family’s inheritance.”

  MICAH 2:1–2

  Sam Ballat walked into his office, headed straight to the bar, and poured himself a brandy. It was good to be back on his own turf, to steal a colloquialism from the King K.

  He settled into the leather executive chair behind his desk, letting his fingers tap out his thoughts on the side of the tumbler. King K had been quite definite. Still, the thug and his gang had let him down a number of times already. As much as he’d like to believe this new wrinkle was taken care of, he didn’t dare.

  He hit the intercom. “Susan, I need Mr. Wright on the line. Now.”

  “Yes sir, right away.”

  He leaned back in his chair and waited.

  Mason Rawlins knew he’d had a worse day, but he couldn’t remember when. First there were problems at every site he visited. Problems and frustrated clients. And while he prided himself on his ability to work through issues with people, by the time he returned to his office, he felt utterly chewed up.

  And then there was Kyla.

  They were supposed to go out for dinner tonight, and he’d been trying to call her all morning. He’d left several messages, but she hadn’t called him back.

  He was just reaching for the phone to try her again when it rang. This had to be Kyla.

  Mason lifted the receiver, her name on his lips, but a glance at the caller ID stopped him. Sam Ballat.

  Shifting gears so fast he stripped them, he fell into professional mode. “Mr. Ballat. Good to hear from you again.”

  “Mr. Wright. I’m calling about that project I mentioned to you the other night.”

  “Yes?”

  “I know I said I wanted you to oversee the whole thing, but there’s a small problem.”

  Mason picked up a pen, drawing lines on the pad of paper in front of him. “Oh?”

  “Yes, you see, the people who still own the building won’t accept they’ve run out of time. And now I understand they’re bringing Justice Construction in on the project.”

  Mason’s pen froze. “Excuse me?”

  “Really, Mr. Wright, I’d think you’d be worried about someone so important to you being in that neighborhood. Did you know there’s a gang down there determined to keep the youth center out? Taking that project on certainly doesn’t sound like a wise move to me.”

  Mason pressed his lips together. “Or to me.” What was Kyla thinking?

  “Exactly. Which is why I thought I should let you know. That property should just be razed. And when it is, you and I will have some serious business to discuss.”

  “We will?”

  “The owners have already agreed to sell me that property.”

  “But I thought you said the owners had contacted Justice Construction.”

  A pause. Mason frowned. Sam Ballat was seldom at a loss for words.

  “The current owners, yes. But that will change soon. It’s a bit … complicated. At any rate, you can trust me on this, Wright. This isn’t a safe project for your Miss Justice. You’d do her—and yourself—a true service to use whatever influence you have to sway her away from the job. That is, assuming you do have influence?”

  Mason bristled. “One usually does with his fiancée.”

  “Fine.” He could hear the smug smile in Ballat’s tone. “Well then, I’ll leave this with you. I know you’ll do what’s right.”

  Mason hung up the phone. So Ballat knew he’d do what was right. If only he were as certain what, exactly, that was.

  TWENTY-SIX

  “Snarling at other folks is not the best way of showing the superior quality of your own character.”

  CHARLES HADDON SPURGEON

  “Have I now become your enemy because I am telling you the truth?”

  GALATIANS 4:16

  Kyla couldn’t wait to see Mason.

  She’d called him that afternoon to make sure they were still on for dinner.

  “Kyla! Thank heaven.”

  She frowned at the relief in his voice. “Mason, is everything okay?”

  “Yes, of course. I’m just … I’m happy to hear from you!”

  Such an effusive reaction to her call just wasn’t Mason. “If you’re sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  They finalized their plans for dinner, but before they hung up, she told Mason she had something exciting to tell him.

  “I’ll look forward to hearing it.”

  The words were right, but the tone was suddenly dry. Almost sarcastic. She let it go, though she couldn’t help a tinge of frustration. Were all men confusing and frustrating?

  By the time her doorbell rang that evening, she’d all but forgotten her question. She opened the door and ushered Mason inside.

  He pointed to his watch. “Our reservations are in a half hour.”

  �
�I know.” She tugged him toward the couch. “This won’t take long. I just want to tell you what God’s done.”

  His brows lifted as he sat on the couch. “God has done something?”

  “Oh yes!” She perched on the chair next to the sofa, letting her excitement spill over as she filled him in on the project Fredrik had brought to her. She’d expected him to share in her enthusiasm, to be happy for her, but the more she talked, the more agitated he seemed. When she asked him what he thought, his brow was positively thunderous.

  “Isn’t that an area where gangs are active?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “Kyla, why would you put yourself—and our future together—at risk like this?”

  “It’s not a question of my putting anything at risk. It’s a question of obedience.”

  “So what you’re saying is, you’d rather take on this lost cause than marry me?”

  Kyla stared at him. Was the man totally nuts? “No, that’s not it at all.”

  He stood and paced the room, jittery energy barely contained. “Then what is it? Please, help me understand why you insist on staying involved in this business. Especially for a project that’s doomed from the beginning.”

  She rose and went to take his hands in hers. “Mason, don’t you see? This is what’s been missing in my life. A project that means something.” She released his hands, and this time it was she who paced. “I’m so tired of building things that look great, make lots of money, but don’t help anyone. With this project, people will benefit. Children will benefit.” She stilled and faced him. “How can I walk away from that? From the certainty inside that Fredrik isn’t asking me to do this.” She held his gaze. “God is.”

  They stood in silence for a moment, and she watched for emotions on his features. But his expression was neutral. Almost … concealed.

  The troubling thought dissipated when he came toward her. Putting his hands on her arms, he drew her close. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. Of course you should do this if you feel God calling you to it. But Kyla, I’d like you to consider something.”

  She leaned back, looking up into his face. If only she could read what he was feeling. “What?”

  “Go ahead and take on the project. But if you can’t get it done in the allotted time, no matter what the reason, will you at least consider selling your construction business and marrying me?”

  Apprehension tripped across her nerves. “Mason, you know how much can go wrong—”

  “Are you saying you don’t think you can do it? Meet the deadline?”

  Was that what she was saying?

  “Kyla, if you don’t think you can do what Fredrik and the church need you to do—”

  “No. That’s not it.” She stepped away from him. She needed to think. Was he right? Was it time to consider a change? Was this a way to determine whether or not she should walk away from JuCo?

  Was she ready to risk everything for this project?

  Risk it? What kind of way is that to talk about marriage?

  Kyla closed her eyes. She was so tired of doubting herself, her motivations, her feelings.

  “Kyl—”

  “Yes.” She opened her eyes and found Mason staring down at her, serious eyes wide. She nodded. “Yes, Mason. Yes. If I can’t get this job done on time, I’ll know it’s time. Time to think seriously about selling you JuCo. Time to marry and focus on being a wife.”

  “If you can’t do it, no matter the cause?”

  The words were as unsettling now as when he’d first said them, but Kyla pushed her feelings aside. She shouldn’t be worried about this at all. If, indeed, God wanted her to take this job—to stay in the business and to focus on projects more like this one—then He would make sure they succeeded. He would see to it that the youth center was completed. On time.

  And if she truly believed He was calling her to this, then fear had no place in her heart—or decisions.

  Kyla lifted her chin. “No matter what.”

  He nodded, sealing the deal. “Well, then, what say we go to dinner?”

  She nodded, letting him take her arm and lead her to the door. Wondering, as she did so, if she was following him as well to a future she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  “Dare I? Of course I don’t. But I’m going to anyhow because I have no choice.”

  MADELEINE L’ENGLE

  “The God of heaven will help us succeed. We, his servants, will start rebuilding.”

  NEHEMIAH 2:20

  The phone rang at 8 a.m. on the dot. Fredrik didn’t mind. He’d been up for hours, seeking God’s guidance. When he heard Kyla’s voice on the other end of the line, he knew he’d received it.

  She got right to the point. “I’ll take the job.”

  He wanted to accept her right away. But he had to make sure she understood. “You realize the deadline is less than two months away now.”

  “Yes.”

  “And that we’re desperately short on funds.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “And that you may well have to deal with the Blood Brotherhood?”

  Her answer came out sure and strong. “I understand.”

  “And Rafe. On an almost daily basis.”

  Wry laughter tinged her voice. “I already told you I’m going to be good, Fredrik. I even promised, remember?”

  More foolish than that, a promise didn’t get. But he didn’t tell her so.

  “You’ve been up-front with me, Fredrik. I know what I’m getting myself and JuCo into. And so does God.”

  It’s beautiful, Father. To see a true calling. “Wonderful. I’ll set up a meeting with the elders at once.”

  “I’ll look forward to it.”

  Fredrik set the phone in its cradle and lowered himself to his knees. “Thank You, Father. Now be with us … as we go into battle.”

  Kyla wasn’t sure what she’d expected when she met the elders. But it certainly wasn’t this group of sweet-faced, grandfatherly gentlemen sitting around a table, staring at her.

  Fredrik introduced each of them, and Kyla noted the mixture of hope and doubt in their eyes. She couldn’t help wondering if that was because of all the opposition they’d experienced—or because their new contractor was a woman.

  “Of course”—Fredrik offered her a bright smile; at least he was happy to have her here—“we don’t expect you to remember all the names right off.”

  “Just the important ones.”

  She smiled at the man teasing her. Don, if she remembered correctly. His brother, who sat next to him, nudged him in the arm. “So you don’t want her to remember your name?”

  Kyla’s tension began to ease. She was going to like these men.

  “And, of course, our dear Hilda D’Angelo. She’s been the organist and pianist and head deaconess—”

  One of the elders—Steve? Was that his name?—gave a good-natured snort. “Only deaconess, you mean.”

  “—for years. And that large ball of fluff in her lap is Doggy Dog.”

  At its name, the dog lifted its head, laying a long, sleek snout on the table and peering at Fredrik. He came to lay a large hand on the dog’s head, scritching its ears. “Doggy has been coming to our church for what?” He looked down at Hilda. “Ten years?”

  The woman’s smile was as sweet as her features. A halo of white hair framed her slightly lined face. “About that.”

  Fredrik walked back to where Kyla stood. “Hilda’s really the one who watches over all us old men, making sure we don’t get in deeper than we can get out of.”

  “I’m afraid I didn’t do a very good job of that this time.” Hilda’s soft voice held an underlying strength.

  “You did as well as you could, considering this stubborn bunch.”

  Kyla’s gaze drifted to the back of the room. Her first reaction at seeing Rafael standing there when she came in was pure pleasure. Then she remembered their conflicts—and her devotion to Mason—and
grabbed the reins of those runaway emotions, giving them a mighty jerk. She was going to see Rafael on a regular basis. She’d have to keep her traitorous emotions in severe check if she wanted to get through it unscathed.

  She turned her attention back to the elders, noting again the lack of enthusiasm in their gazes, the tension in the way they sat there, looking from her to Fredrik. Before she could ask about it, one of the elders spoke up.

  “I want to apologize, Miss Justice. I’m sure you can tell we’re somewhat reserved.”

  “I had noticed … Steve? Is that right?”

  The man’s angular face lit up. “Your memory is exemplary. And it’s not that we’re not glad you’re here, but we haven’t much money left in our building fund. We spent most of our resources on the last contractor—”

  “At least Lawton was better than the nimrod before him. Took our money and gave nothing in return.” This muttered comment from Wayne, his grizzled features stormy. “Rotten crook. He should rot in sheol.”

  Steve hardly broke stride. “As will we all.”

  “Oh, don’t start that again!”

  Kyla lifted her brows at Fredrik, who leaned toward her and explained. “Wayne says sheol is hell, the place where the evil are punished for eternity. Steve says it’s the grave, plain and simple.” He shrugged. “But don’t let the outburst worry you. They’ve been fighting over this for more than forty years.”

  Steve went on. “So I’m afraid we really can’t pay you.”

  “Or your crew,” Sheamus piped up.

  “Or buy supplies,” Von added.

  Kyla almost burst out laughing. It was like working with the seven dwarfs!

  “I don’t even know why we’re doing this again.” Wayne crossed his arms and pushed back in his metal folding chair, lifting the front legs off the ground. Kyla was sure he’d tip over backward, but apparently the old gent had better balance than she’d estimated. “Didn’t we lose enough last time ’round? And we haven’t got it to lose this time. I don’t know about you all”—he nodded his head at those gathered—“but I don’t much care to donate my social security to this project. Man’s gotta eat.”