❧
Kevin spent the Fourth of July alone. He told himself that it was just another day and that he didn’t care, but he kept thinking about all the past July fourth holidays he’d celebrated and began feeling depressed and lonely. He remembered Lara’s offer and wished once more that he hadn’t refused it.
As his thoughts progressed, he recalled some of the heavy conversations he and Lara had over the past couple of weeks. They talked about God—rather, Lara talked about God and what He might be trying to accomplish through Kevin’s accident. She said Brent had heard the gospel, not only from her and her friend, but from a preacher at a sunrise service. It was to Kevin’s shame that Brent hadn’t heard it from his best friend. The truth was Kevin hadn’t ever discussed Jesus Christ with anybody—not since he’d left Wisconsin after his parents’ death. He focused instead on his career and throwing himself into everything and anything that he suspected would further make him a success. Kevin hadn’t allowed himself time to examine his heart, his motives. But now with so much time on his hands and Lara, the social worker, counseling him for free, Kevin couldn’t do anything but ponder his past and fret over his future.
“It sounds as if you’re disappointed with God, perhaps even angry with Him, for allowing your parents’ death.” The memory of Lara’s remarks rang in his ears. “But the sad truth is, we’re all going to face death one day, and that’s not God’s fault.” She became pensive for several moments. “Do you remember that verse in Second Peter? ‘The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.’?”
Kevin remembered, although he’d forgotten in which book of the Bible that passage could be found.
“Well, not everyone will come to repentance. That’s a fact. There are people who have rejected God’s gift of salvation, and they’ll suffer for an eternity because of it. They’ve made a decision that’s outside of God’s will.”
“What are you getting at, Lara?” Kevin had asked, feeling impatient.
“I’m trying to say that bad things happen in this life, and they’re not God’s fault. There is nothing wicked or bad in God’s character. Nothing. Everything about God is good. So stop blaming Him for your parents’ death.”
Kevin had disputed her claim that he blamed God for anything and Lara backed off.
Seated in the vinyl-padded recliner positioned near the window, Kevin had to grin. Lara gave in way too easy. She should have stood her ground, but instead she had changed the subject.
And here I am thinking about it.
Kevin suddenly realized Lara’s silence had been more affective than a standoff.
I suppose she’s right, Lord. Maybe I have been blaming You for taking away my parents and busting up my family. I never even knew I was holding such a grudge. . .”
Kevin’s eyes grew misty. Twenty-nine years old and he still grieved his parents’ death. He also missed his brother Clayt’s camaraderie. But in the next moment, the magnitude of his selfishness filled his being. Realization set in.
All these years, he only saw what he lost and not what he took from others. Kevin had looked inward, at himself, at his desires and ambition, not upward—not at the Lord. He had tossed aside the values and teachings his parents, teachers, and youth pastors had given him. They’d invested a part of themselves in him, and he’d never given anything back.
For the last decade, he never looked outward the way Lara and her family did. Kevin couldn’t remember the last time he did someone a favor without having to be asked first. When did he last consider someone else’s wellbeing before his own?
His heart broke. Oh, God, forgive me. . .
❧
The sun had set behind the large tent on the fairgrounds. Inside a band consisting of a fiddle, banjo, and guitar players, along with a percussionist, performed a lively Americana folk tune, part of a grand Fourth of July celebration that lasted all weekend. A parade and fireworks had marked the celebration yesterday, and an arts and crafts exhibition, a tractor pull, and an afternoon rodeo had been on today’s agenda. But now, as evening fell, battery-operated lanterns illuminated the evening, and from where Lara sat at a rectangular table surrounded by her friends and cajoling cowboys, she felt like she was on the set for the musical Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.
Glancing to her right, Lara caught snippets of Polly’s conversation with a guy named Austin. He was a stocky fellow with jet-black hair who was very open about his faith in Christ. Austin’s presence put Lara somewhat at ease since Brent was at his flirty best tonight. And being the dashing cowboy he was, Brent took each lady to the dance floor and, one by one, charmed his way into their hearts. Barb and Ramona each declared that Paul Newman couldn’t hold a candle to Brent Yiska; however, the two were now engrossed in a jovial conversation with Quincy.
Brent and Annmarie returned from their dance. Since it had been an upbeat tempo, they were both breathing hard when they sat down at the table. Brent claimed the chair to Lara’s immediate left—the one Annmarie had occupied minutes before. After a moment’s frown of confusion, Annmarie grabbed her purse and sat down on the other side of the table next to Betsy.
Lara knew her turn to dance with Brent was coming, and she stifled a cringe. Up until now, she’d been able to keep her distance. She’d even avoided looking Brent’s way because each time she did, he would catch her eye and wink or give her a winsome grin. Lara had to admit it wouldn’t be hard to fall under Brent’s spell. But each time that thought surfaced, reality tapped Lara on the shoulder. One of her best friends had her heart set on winning his affections, and Lara wouldn’t hurt Polly for the world. Besides, Kevin’s warning kept echoing in her ears: I have a feeling Brent wants to settle an old score. . .
“You having fun?” Brent nudged her with his elbow, jerking Lara from her musings.
“Yeah, I’m having a great time. How about you?”
“Yep.” He blew out an audible sigh. “And I’m getting my exercise for the day.”
“I’ll say.” Lara smiled, then glanced at Polly who still chatted with Austin.
“Hey, Jimmy, hand me that pitcher.”
The fresh-faced cowboy grinned and pushed the plastic pitcher half-filled with golden liquid toward Brent.
“No, give me the other one, the cola. I drank too much last night, and I don’t want to be hungover in the morning when I escort these pretty ladies to church.”
Lara thought he’d seemed happier and perhaps friendlier last night, although she hadn’t noticed that he was drunk. She almost felt like she’d been duped. Here she’d thought the laughter they all shared at the fireworks was genuine, when in actuality it had been manufactured by alcohol.
“You coming to church again, Brent?” Austin leaned around Polly as he posed the question.
“Yeah, I figured I would.”
“That’s two Sundays in a row.”
Brent didn’t reply but filled the plastic cup in his hand with cola.
“Hey, Brent,” Jimmy said, sitting forward so his chest nearly rested on the tabletop, “you’re not becoming one of those FCC guys, are you?”
“What’s FCC?” Polly wanted to know.
“Fellowship of Christian Cowboys,” Austin replied. His barrel-like chest swelled in a silent challenge. “And so what if he is? When you’re on the back of a one-ton bull, it’s not a bad thing to have the Lord with you. Can’t argue with that, now can you, Jimmy?”
“Um, no, guess not.”
Lara heard Brent chuckle before he chugged down his cola. Then he changed the subject.
“Tell us how Wink’s doing, Lara.”
“I guess he’s okay.” She knew with all the federal regulations concerning patient confidentiality that she couldn’t give specifics. “You should give him a call.”
“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to.” Brent paused, and other conversations around the table resumed. “But what do you mean you ‘guess’ he’s okay? I was under the impression you went to see him everyday.”
“I tried, but—” Lara waved a hand in the air. “Oh, don’t ask, Brent.” She didn’t feel like discussing her last conversation with Kevin. It still kind of stung.
“Wink hurt your feelings, huh?”
Lara didn’t reply. It smarted even to admit the truth.
The band began playing a slower tune, and when the melodious strains reached her ears, Lara guessed Brent’s next thought. Scooting her chair back, she decided to head for the restroom where she could wait out the set. But when she stood, Brent caught her wrist.
“I owe you a dance, Miss Social Worker.”
“You don’t owe me a thing, and I’m really not a good dancer. In fact, I can’t even think of the last time I danced with someone. . .”
Brent ignored her ramblings and led her onto the wooden platform over which the huge tent had been erected. Feeling inept, Lara dreaded what was about to come. She’d danced all of three times in her entire life. She’d never been asked to her high school prom, and she didn’t frequent establishments that sported dancing. She wasn’t a square dancer, didn’t practice ballet, and she wasn’t into the aerobic dances at health clubs, although the latter would probably do her some good.
Brent found an opening and stopped. When he turned around and faced her, Lara tried again to explain.
“I really don’t know how to dance.”
He took her protest in stride. “It’s easy. You put your left hand on my shoulder, like so, and I put my arm around your waist. . .”
Lara felt like she was about to break out in a sweat as Brent pulled her closer to him.
“Now, you put your right hand in mine.”
Doing as he bid her, Lara shook her head. “I did know that much, okay?”
“Okay.” Brent wore a hint of a smirk. “Now just move side-to-side. Follow my lead. I promise I won’t try anything fancy.”
Lara swallowed her objections, not wanting to be rude, but self-consciousness enveloped her like Brent’s embrace. However, all her friends were dancing, why did she feel so uncomfortable? Perhaps it was her lack of experience.
Brent held her nearer to him, and Lara felt his hand come to rest in the center of her back. Her chin was level with his shoulder, and suddenly, the sight that caught her gaze made her pause. There, just ten feet away, stood Polly, dancing with Austin.
“What’s wrong?” Brent stepped back and frowned.
“Um, oh, nothing. Sorry.”
Brent swung her around so he could see what she’d been gaping at, and Lara laughed when she tripped over the toe of his boot.
“Hey, I thought you weren’t going to try anything fancy.”
Brent chuckled. “My apologies. Were you surprised to see Polly dancing with Austin?”
“Yes.” Lara didn’t see any point in fibbing. In fact, now seemed a perfect time to divulge the entire truth. “Polly’s got a major crush on you.”
“She does not!”
“Yes, she does. Haven’t you noticed?”
A slight frown creased his dark brow. “Guess not.”
“Even Quincy noticed.”
“I suppose I’m a little short on smarts where women are concerned.”
“Oh, right,” Lara teased. “You’re just so used to ladies ogling you that you don’t even notice anymore.”
Jerking her forward, he tickled her, and Lara let out a yelp. Several heads turned, and Lara wanted to die of embarrassment.
“Quit steppin’ on her feet, Brent,” a nearby cowboy admonished in jest. “You’re gonna hurt the poor thang!”
After a quelling look at the other man, Brent peered into Lara’s now flaming face. She met his gaze, and they shared a laugh. But all too soon, she read something in his brown eyes that made her feel uneasy.
Looking away, Lara searched for Polly who was still in Austin’s arms. Polly happened to catch her eye and smiled and waved. She didn’t seem a bit unhappy at the dance partner situation.
“Honestly, Lara, I had no idea Polly was interested in me,” Brent said so close to her ear that his warm breath sent shivers down her spine. “I hope I didn’t do anything to offend her.”
“I don’t think you did.” Lara hoped she didn’t offend her friend, either.
A few moments passed, then Brent lowered his head so his cheek rested against hers. Lara tried not to grimace, but she felt so torn. On one hand, it felt so romantic, dancing with Brent to a lovely melody, that she wanted to enjoy this moment. But on the other, it just didn’t seem right.
“Relax, Lara.”
“I’m trying.”
Brent took half a step backwards and gave her a curious stare. “What’s the matter?”
Again, Lara decided on the truth. “Well, in addition to Polly having a crush on you, Kevin told me that you’ve got a score to settle, and I just don’t want to get caught in the crossfire.”
“He said that?” Brent’s expression darkened. He stopped in midstride. “Let’s get one thing straight, Honey. I would never use another person to. . .settle a score. That might be Wink’s way, but it’s not mine.”
The spark of indignation in his eyes caused Lara to believe him. “Okay, things are straight.”
“Good.” He drew Lara close to him once more. “Guess it’s good we cleared the air.”
“Yeah,” she said, watching Polly and Austin. Her thoughts were in a jumble. “Guess it’s good. . .”
The dance ended, and Lara stepped backwards just as another woman approached them. She was red, white, and blue, from her snug denim jeans, red cotton t-shirt, and white cowboy hat. Her long blond hair flowed down past her shoulders in silky waves.
“Brent,” she drawled with a pout, “I’ve been waitin’ all night for you to ask me to dance. So, after two Old Fashions, I decided to ask you.”
He chuckled, then his gaze slid to Lara in a moment of uncertainty.
“Go ahead and dance if you want to, Brent,” Lara said. “I’m sitting this one out anyway.”
“You sure?”
“More than sure.”
She gave him what she hoped was a gracious smile, but inside, Lara felt troubled—and it would take the next few hours for her to figure out why.
Fourteen
Back in their hotel room later that night, Lara managed to corner Polly in the ivory-tiled lavatory while their two roommates watched TV.
“I’ve got to talk to you.” Lara entered and closed the door behind her.
“I’ve got to talk to you too!” Dressed in an oversized nightshirt, Polly had removed her makeup and was now smearing cream onto her face.
“What’s going on? I mean, you and Austin tonight behaved as though only the two of you existed.”
Polly lowered her gaze.
“I told Brent that you were interested in him, and by the time we left the fairgrounds, I’m sure he thought I was either delusional or terribly misinformed.”
“You told him?”
“Well, yeah. He had no idea.”
Polly swept her gaze upward. “That figures. Well, it doesn’t matter anyhow.”
“What?” Lara smacked her forehead with her palm.
“I don’t know if Austin is the one, but—”
“Polly, I think I’m seeing a pattern here. Remember back about eight months ago when you thought Peter Fitzgerald was the one?”
“I know, I know. . .” Polly held up a hand to forestall further reprimand. “It’s just that I’ve been praying so hard. You know how much I want to get married and have kids. I expect God to answer my prayers and send Mr. Right directly into my path.”
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Lara lowered herself onto the edge of the bathtub. She could relate to her friend. Lara wanted to get married and raise a family too. She had been praying for a husband since she began college. She knew God would answer her prayer in His perfect time, but she, like Polly, was still waiting.
“I don’t mean to be capricious,” Polly told her as an expression of chagrin shadowed her features.
“You’re not. I understand more than you know. My dream is to marry a man who loves the Lord first and me second.”
“Maybe it’s Brent.” An ambiguous smile curved Polly’s lips. “I’m not blind, you know. I can tell he’s fond of you.”
“He doesn’t even know me,” Lara countered. She couldn’t help wondering if Polly’s new interest in Austin had something to do with Brent’s solicitations. “I have a feeling it’s a game to him, a challenge to see if he can sweep the naive Christian social worker off her feet. But deep down I think Brent’s really in love with the thrill of an eight-second bull ride.” She paused, mulling over her statement, then added, “Unfortunately, I think Kevin is in love with an eight-second ride too.”
Polly laughed. “Must you analyze everything?”
“Of course.” Lara stood and faced her friend, then grinned. “One of us has to be practical.”
“Oh, I guess that’s true,” Polly said, feigning a reluctant tone.
Lara grinned and left the bathroom, but she sensed some tension between her and Polly. Entering the bedroom of the suite all seven ladies shared, Lara saw that Barb and Ramona had already fallen asleep in one of the two double beds. Out in the living room area, Annmarie, Betsy, and Karla were chatting before bunking down on the hideaway couch and the rollaway bed they’d requested from the hotel.
Picking up the remote, Lara turned off the TV and crawled into the bed she would share with Polly tonight. A few minutes ticked by, and she listened to the other ladies’ soft snoring. Lara yawned, turned over, then prayed about this awkward situation.
Men. What a pack of trouble they caused. But in her heart, Lara believed that what she’d told Polly was true; Brent’s attentions had to be part of some sort of charade. Lara wasn’t his type—and he definitely wasn’t hers. Moreover, the rodeo circuit with its competitive pressure to win, to be the best, and its rowdy lifestyle held no appeal for Lara.
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