Detour: Destination Abiding Love

by JoAnn Carter

  Mrs. Smith sputtered. “Clara Whitten, if I wasn’t here to order food, why would I have stopped at all?”

  The twinkle left Mrs. Whitten’s eyes as she narrowed them. “Why, indeed? Funny thing is, I was just about to stop at the stop sign over there on Turtle Road,” she pointed to where the street emerged in front of the Snack Shack, “and you swung around in front of me, retraced your route and pulled into the parking lot. Next thing I know, you’re up here causing a fuss.”

  Sierra stood speechless as she watched the encounter. Besides Pastor Bill and Melissa, she couldn’t remember the last time someone sought to defend her, although she had the feeling Cole would if given the chance.

  And what would his mother say about that? She shook the thought away and focused on the women.

  “I am not making a scene,” Mrs. Smith insisted.

  Mrs. Whitten glanced at those gathered on the porch. “If you say so.”

  As if Mrs. Smith noticed those around her for the first time, the fight seemed to drain out of her. She moved closer to the window as if she didn’t have a choice. “I think it must be my turn to order.”

  “What can I get for you?” the young woman behind the screen asked.

  “A small chocolate creamy…please.”

  Sierra didn’t quite know what to do. Should she stay and try to do damage control, or leave while she had the chance without causing a further scene?

  The girl behind the counter turned to fill the ice-cream cone.

  Mrs. Smith glanced over her shoulder at Sierra, and then faced forward again.

  Sierra heard the message loud and clear. She wasn’t worth Mrs. Smith’s time any longer, even for an argument. It shouldn’t hurt, yet it did. She genuinely liked Cole. But it was clear his parents would frown upon them pursuing any type of friendship—let alone employment. Could she really blame them? Then again, hadn’t she been trying to convince herself that it was best to stay away from him? He only made her wish even more that her past mistakes never happened. A heavy sigh escaped her. She had made the right decision to look for a job somewhere other than the Country Store.

  Lord, I know you haven’t forgotten that I’m here. I want to do the right thing by these folks. So, could you show me how to reach them? It’s harder living here than I thought. Do I really need to stay?

  You’re focusing on the “have nots” rather than the “haves.” Focus on Me, Child. My grace is sufficient.

  “Sierra?”

  She glanced up.

  Mrs. Whitten smiled. “Would you care to stop by my place for a cup of tea, later? I see you’re looking for a job. If things don’t work out here, I’d like to offer a suggestion, if you have the time.”

  Through Mrs. Whitten, God continued to reassure her that she was not alone and she was right where she needed to be. She smiled back at her new-found friend. “I’d love to.” She lowered her voice. “My chance to find employment here may not be so good.”

  Mrs. Whitten winked. “Don’t you worry. Meet me at two at my inn. Do you remember how to get there?”

  “Sure do.”

  Mrs. Whitten peeked at Mrs. Smith’s rim-rod straight back. “Good. I’ll see you then.”

  

  With a few hours to go until her appointment with Mrs. Whitten, Sierra stopped into the church office. Perhaps Pastor Bill could use a hand. She wanted to do something useful.

  “Ah, just the person I was thinking of,” he called out.

  “Me?”

  “I was hoping I could impose on your musical abilities. Would you consider playing with our worship team while you’re in town?”

  “Of course. I’d be honored. But…”

  “But, what?”

  Still smarting from the run-in with Mrs. Smith, she was hesitant. “Are you sure I’d be welcome?”

  “You bet. Actually, it was Wilma, our keyboard gal’s, idea.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup. So, what do you say?”

  The chance of rejection was a huge possibility. Could her self-esteem take another hit so soon? Then again, how could God direct her if she wasn’t willing to step out on faith? Granted, this morning had been another hard one, but if nothing else, she felt as if God had reiterated that she needed to give this reconciliation venture one hundred percent and stay focused. Sierra clapped her hands together and took a deep breath. “I guess I’d have to say, when do they practice?”

  He looked down at the church calendar. “Tonight at seven.”

  “That will work. Thanks, Pastor.”

  He nodded. “God’s at work here, Sierra.”

  “Hmm. Your wife said something similar to me yesterday.” But her thoughts involuntarily flew right back to her encounter with one particular church member. Despite Pastor Bill and Melissa’s comment, an uneasy feeling skittered down her spine. Would her idea of success and God’s idea of success in this matter look the same?

  She couldn’t dwell on that. God knew what He was doing.

  With a quick nod she said, “That’s what I’m counting on.”

  

  Sierra pulled into the large, well-maintained Queen Anne Victorian inn’s drive and parked her car by the carriage house. As soon as she stepped out of the car, the gardens seemed to call to her. “Come sit and rest.” Instead, she made her way toward the front of the house. She had never been up this close before.

  It was beautiful, from the stained-glass windows to the welcoming front porch.

  Sierra ran up the steps and knocked on the ornately carved wooden door.

  “It’s open. Come on in,” She heard Mrs. Whitten called out from within.

  She twisted the knob and the door swung inward. The smell of spiced apples greeted her. “Mmm, it smells good in here.”

  Mrs. Whitten came down the hall and wiped her hands on an apron. “It’s nothing. Just a bit of potpourri I made from the leftover apple skins. I baked a pie this morning. Come on back and share a piece with me.”

  Sierra’s mouth watered as she followed the older woman. She tried not to look nosey, but as they passed a parlor, she realized the house was as beautiful inside as out. “If it tastes as good as the potpourri smells, I’m in for a real treat.”

  “I never was one for false humility, so”—Mrs. Whitten grinned a cheeky smile—”I’ll admit, my pies are the best around.”

  “I bet they are.”

  Right then, Sierra knew for sure Mrs. Whitten was a sweet firecracker. She instinctively knew she’d love to spend time with her. What she couldn’t understand though was why Mrs. Whitten would want to spend time with her. A question bubbled within her until she finally had to ask. “Why are you being so kind to me?”

  Mrs. Whitten turned. She planted her hands on her hips. “Is there a reason that I shouldn’t?”

  This was exactly the response she had desired from the townspeople, yet now that it was extended, she felt so unworthy. A thousand “reasons” to Mrs. Whitten’s question came to mind. Where should she start? “Well…”

  “Well, nothing.” Mrs. Whitten entered the kitchen. “I was there at church this past Sunday. You’re here to patch things up. If God has forgiven you, that’s good enough for me.”

  Sierra scrunched her brows together and focused on Mrs. Whitten rather than the pies resting on the cooling rack. “I’m a thief.”

  Mrs. Whitten held up a slightly gnarled finger. “If I understood you correctly yesterday, I believe it should be was a thief. Second Corinthians, five seventeen, says, ‘Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.’” The older woman laughed. “But, go ahead and try to pull one over on me. I may be old, but I’m not dumb. I’ve been around the block a time or two.” Her laughter faded and sadness lurked in her gaze. “‘Sides, I’ve had demons from my own past that I needed to face. I know what it feels like to be in your place.” She waved at the air. “Oh, enough of this. Let’s eat and talk about my favorite topic: the future.
And speaking of the future, that Colton Smith seemed mighty pleased when you stopped by his store on Monday. Wonder if a bit of romance might even be in the air. That boy needs a woman like you.”

  Sierra nearly choked. Local football star, handsome hometown boy versus past drug-abuser, thief and female hometown embarrassment. I don’t think so.

  “No one needs someone like me.”

  “Posh. You are just what that boy needs. Someone to give him a good, swift kick in the pants—stir him up a bit. He has so much untapped potential. He’s too comfortable with the way things always have been to try anything new.”

  “Obviously he likes living here and working at the store. If everything is fine and comfortable, why would he want to change?”

  “Because everything is not fine. He’s stuck!”

  She had been so focused on her own reaction to him and the need for self-preservation, that she never considered Cole or his needs. Is that true, Lord? Is there some way that I could encourage or help Cole? She shook her head. The idea seemed crazy. Cole had it all together.

  Mrs. Whitten didn’t let Sierra dwell on her thoughts. She gestured towards the cherry table. “Now have a seat. I want to see if you may be interested in helping me out for a while.”

  Sierra pulled out a heavy wooden chair. They didn’t make furniture like this anymore. “I’d love to. What do you need?”

  “I have a bunch of space in my vegetable garden, but these old arthritic hands and knees don’t care much for the tending it takes. I’d like to plant and sell organic vegetables at the Farmer’s Market, along with my pies, but I can’t do that without help.”

  She rubbed her fingers over her forehead. “You’d like me to garden for you?”

  “Yes, just the veggies though. I have someone else to help with the flower beds. I’d also like you to assist me with the baking. I think four hours a day should do it. It’s seasonal, but it’s a start.”

  Sierra could only imagine the conversations they could have. She could learn so much at this woman’s side. “Seasonal is perfect. I’ll be leaving for New York in a few months.”

  “Yes, I know that’s your plan, but we’ll see,” Mrs. Whitten said with a twinkle in her eye.

  Sierra didn’t want to tell her there was no “we’ll see” in the matter. There was no way, even for Cole that she could stay. This was a detour, not her destination…not her dream.

  

  Thanks to Wilma, who gave a heads-up when she came in for a cup of coffee before practice, Cole knew Sierra was in the church with the worship team. He never paid attention to the coming and going across the street to know exactly when the meeting usually ended. Tonight was different, though. Tom was running the register, so ever since eight o’clock Cole had suddenly found a lot of little jobs to do to spruce up outside the store. If only he could catch Sierra before she left. He wasn’t sure why, but he had the feeling that unless he made the effort, he’d lose contact with her, and he wasn’t willing to let that happen. There was something special about her.

  A half hour later, he had the porch swept, the gas pump washed down, the bulletin board organized and cleaned, and the plants watered.

  Sierra stepped out of the double doors with her violin case in one hand, and a folder in the other. Her silky hair cascaded over her shoulder. She wasn’t looking at him, yet her smile made his heart somersault.

  She’s beautiful.

  He set down his watering can and quickly opened the door. He called over the jingle of the bell, “Tom. I’ll be back in a few.”

  “OK, boss.”

  Cole took off across the street. “Sierra, hang on a minute.”

  Surprise skittered across her face before her smile fell.

  “Hey, what’s the long face for? Did I do something wrong?”

  She looked back at the church doors, and then at him. “Ah, no. No, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Was she nervous?

  He reached for the case, hoping she wasn’t bothered by him. “Looks like your hands are full. Can I carry your violin to your car?”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  His fingers brushed hers as he reached for the handle, and awareness shot through him.

  She gave him a quick, sidelong glance. So she felt it, too.

  He cleared his suddenly dry throat, feeling like an awkward teenager on his first date. “So, how’d practice go?”

  “It was good. They seem like a fun bunch. I’m looking forward to getting to know the worship team better.”

  Her car wasn’t parked far enough away for him. Only a few more feet and they’d be there. He wracked his brain for something to say. “How’s the job hunting going? You know my offer still stands…”

  Sierra stopped so abruptly, he had to take two steps back. “What?”

  Her gaze settled on his, her brown eyes looked troubled. “Cole, I um…quite by chance, I met up with your mother today.”

  He ground his teeth and clenched his hands. Oh, this couldn’t be good. An unexpected rush of protectiveness pierced his heart. Such strong emotions took him off guard. He’d known Sierra for only three days, and yet he felt consumed by the need to defend her. “I have no idea what she said, but please don’t let her bother you.”

  Sierra shuffled a loose pebble with the toe of her shoe. “No, it’s fine...only I don’t want to be the cause of conflict between you and your parents.”

  He pushed his free hand through his hair. “Sierra…”

  “Cole,” Tom called from the store’s doorway. “Could you come here for a sec?”

  “Be right there.”

  Cole looked at Sierra’s wavy dark hair. A sudden longing, yet certain knowledge filled him. “You’re saying no to my job offer, aren’t you?”

  She nodded as she took her case back.

  “I wish you’d reconsider.”

  “I can’t,” she said softly. “Besides, I’ll be busy helping Mrs. Whitten for a while. But thanks for the offer. It meant a lot to me.”

  And just like that, she hopped in her car and was gone.

  4

  Sierra rested her knees in the soft grass at the edge of the garden bed and bent over the freshly tilled soil. She sifted dirt through her gloved fingers until she found a clump of grass, and then tossed it into the deep wheelbarrow next to her. A bead of sweat rolled down her spine when she sat back onto her heels.

  Mrs. Whitten, who had set up a folding chair nearby, was drawing a plan of what she wanted planted where. She looked up from her project and inhaled deeply. “Don’t you just love the smell of spring? It’s as if your nose can sense hope, and”—she grinned her silly lopsided grin—”many new beginnings.”

  After spending just a week with Mrs. Whitten, Sierra knew exactly where the matchmaker’s thoughts lay. She pretended ignorance. She couldn’t go there.

  Yes, Cole was fascinating, caring, and honorable, but it wouldn’t be fair to think of him as more than a friend. He was established here and her dreams were leading her elsewhere. Music was her love. Always had been, always would be.

  Sierra rubbed the small of her back with a closed fist. “The only new beginning I’m confident of is the fact that I will be feeling muscles I didn’t know I had come tomorrow morning,” she teased with a dramatic flair.

  “A young thing like you?” Mrs. Whitten laughed, and her large hat flapped up and down. “I’m just a slave driver, aren’t I? Are you sure you still want this job?”

  Sierra dug back into the ground. “Of course. Where else could I get the scoop on Cole?” Where did that come from? Sierra felt like slapping the words back into her mouth.

  Mrs. Whitten’s eyebrow raised and a knowing smile split across her wrinkled face. She put the plans aside and leaned forward. “What would you like to know about Cole?”

  Sierra’s cheeks grew warm, and it wasn’t from the sun. “Honestly, I have no idea why I said that. Please just forget it.” She pointed over to her right. “Have you made up your mind what you’d like planted over there yet?”


  “Oh, no...” Mrs. Whitten shook her head. “You’re not changing the subject on me, young lady!”

  Sierra wouldn’t argue. There really were things that she’d like to know, but she didn’t want to give Mrs. Whitten the wrong impression. She assured herself the only reason she wanted to know more about Cole was to understand where he was coming from, and how she might be able to help him. Yes, that’s it. Definitely not for the sake of romance. Perhaps she’d eventually believe it. She sighed. “Have you known him long?”

  “For as long as he’s been breathing.”

  “I remember him from school, from a distance, anyway; he was a few years ahead of me. But I never really knew him, just of him.” It seemed as if that could change now, but... she shook her head. “His mother sure seems to have a vendetta against me.”

  “So I noticed.”

  “Do you think it’s because of my past?”

  “That Smith family is in a rough place right now. Laura has put a tremendous amount of pressure on not only herself, but the entire family. She’s wrapped up and wound tighter than my granny’s stockings.”

  Sierra knew what it was like to be part of a family filled with stress and tension. “Is that why Cole works so hard, because his mother pushes him?”

  “No. Granted, his parents’ opinions are important to him, but he works hard because it’s who God made him to be. That boy has always put his all into everything he undertakes.” Mrs. Whitten lowered her head and looked over the top of her glasses. “And he’ll take that same care with the woman he gives his heart to.”

  An unfamiliar sensation quivered in Sierra’s stomach. “Why do you think he’s stayed here? I mean, not that Daviston is much different than any other small town, but I’ve noticed that not many people in our age group have stuck around these parts.”

  “That would be a good question to ask him directly. What I can tell you is that I’m glad he hasn’t left. This town wouldn’t be the same without him. Even though he’s young, he’s a pillar in our community. Take his store for example; it holds us together in a special way. I’m sure he could go somewhere else and make big bucks, but he doesn’t. He’s willing to stay, and I think those actions say more about how he feels for the folks in our little neck of the woods than words ever could.”