by JoAnn Carter
“It’s more than a job for him.”
What would it be like to have the type of relationships Cole enjoyed within the community? To care enough to stay and work through her problems, rather than run as she had? Lord willing, one day she’d love to find out—in New York.
Cole only half listened to the sermon. His attention was on Sierra. Sometime during the church service, he came to a conclusion. If you can’t get the girl to come to you, go to the girl.
As the service ended, Sierra made her way to the front to collect her violin.
Cole ran his hand along the smooth wood grain on the pew ends as he made his way back to Pastor Bill, who stood outside of the sanctuary in the small narthex.
The double wooden front doors were open. Fresh air and sunshine spilled into the church.
With everyone milling around to greet Pastor Bill, now might not be the best time to initiate his plan, but he never claimed to be a patient person once he made up his mind to do something. Cole held out a hand and the pastor’s warm palm clasped his. “The congregation loved your sermon this morning.” He only hoped the pastor didn’t ask him what he found specifically meaningful, because he wouldn’t be able to tell him.
Pastor Bill ran a hand down his blue silk tie and smiled. “Glad you enjoyed it.”
A long line of people in all shapes and sizes were behind him.
Melissa was standing beside her husband.
He cleared his throat. “Uh, I was wondering... I mean, I thought I’d mention to you that I’m thinking about joining the worship team.”
The pastor’s eyes widened.
Melissa clasped her hand to her chest. “We’ve been trying to get you to do that for years, but you’ve always said you’re too busy.”
“Yeah, well...”
“Guess we didn’t have quite the right incentive until now.” Pastor Bill chuckled.
“Perhaps it wasn’t God’s timing.”
“Do you mean God’s or yours?” Pastor Bill lowered his voice. “I don’t blame you for your interest in a certain young woman, but that’s not necessarily the motivation the worship team is looking for in their members.” He raised his voice to normal speaking level. “Look, why don’t you give me a call later, and we can talk a bit more.”
“I can do that. But I want you to know, it’s not just what you’re thinking. Something is changing in me.”
Melissa chuckled.
Cole face burned with embarrassment. Yup, they were reading him like an open book. “I mean spiritually. I’m not real happy where I am in my walk with the Lord.” He grinned sheepishly at Melissa. “Nor, as you’ve been insinuating, certain other aspects of my life.” He focused back on the pastor. “I haven’t been for a long time, only I didn’t realize it until recently.”
Pastor’s eyes lost the teasing glint, but shone with something else. “That’s not necessarily a bad place to be. Let’s talk.”
The woman behind them cleared her throat.
“I’ll look forward to it.”
The pastor clasped him on the side of his right arm. “Me, too.”
Cole nodded once more at Melissa and then strode through the doorway and out into the fresh sunshine. At his store, business was steady with the usual after-church rush. He stuffed his hands into his pants pockets, and made his way across the town green to join folks from his congregation.
“Cole, have you got a second?” The sound of Sierra’s voice stopped him in his tracks.
He smiled. What a picture she made with her lavender dress gently blowing in the breeze set against the backdrop of yellow tulips and daffodils. Beautiful. “I have all the time you need.”
She jogged a few steps to catch up to him.
“Can I tempt you with a sandwich from the store?” he asked.
“Thanks, but I really need to get home to practice. I was just hoping to talk to you for a second.”
Cole pointed to a bench over on the green. “Why don’t we sit for a moment?”
“Sure.” She followed him to the shade of the large maple tree. “I know your parents and I got off on the wrong foot. I was wondering if perhaps I could smooth things over by volunteering to work for your Dad’s campaign or something.”
A quick intake of breath came from behind the bench. “Why would we want your help?”
Cole scowled at his mother. Her blue eyes and a lean, muscular frame were similar to his, but her scathing expression, rigid posture, and no-nonsense tone of voice spoiled her femininity. It wasn’t all that long ago that he remembered her having a softer side. He could still feel the warm hugs she gave him during his grade school years before he left each morning to catch the school bus. But he couldn’t recall the last time that nurturing mother had appeared. She’d been her driven, controlling, manipulative self for a while now.
Perhaps part of it was his fault. When was the last time he reached out to her and talked to her of something other than the campaign? He needed to help his mother or she would drive everyone away. Unfortunately, when she started to push him, it was hard not to retreat. It would take time—something he had precious little of—but he needed to intentionally brush past the wall she had erected. “Mom, don’t. She was just offering...”
His mother opened her mouth to interrupt, but his father called to her. “Laura, I need to get back for that conference call I’m expecting.”
She held up a hand to his father and then turned an icy glare Sierra’s way. “We all know help from her would be no help at all.” She stalked off.
“Sierra…I…her behavior is…”—How can I explain it?—“she is always concerned what everyone is thinking, especially now that my father is running for office. If something could even cause the slightest wave in his campaign, she’s after it quicker than a pack of hounds after a rabbit. Be patient. She’ll come around.”
“I seem to hear that a lot from everyone around here. Excuse me; I need to get back to the guest apartment.”
“Wait. Why don’t I at least make you a sandwich to take back home with you.”
“That’s OK. I don’t want to make any waves over at your store.”
Now there were two angry females on his hands. Exasperated he said, “Sierra, don’t be like that.”
“Now do you see why I couldn’t take the job you offered?”
Sierra rushed home, wishing she could hide from Cole’s scrutiny and his family’s. But her own wayward heart was just as frustrating. She shouldn’t even care. Not if she was here only to seek forgiveness and restitution so she’d be free to go to New York with a clear conscience. She pushed open her door. Just do what you need to do to escape Daviston as soon as possible. Practice and give them the best concert this town has ever had. That will have to be enough payback, because I need to get out of here. Instead of opening her violin case, she plopped down at the small kitchenette table.
She had no desire to play her violin, something that happened less than a handful of times in her life.
She picked an apple out of the bowl on the table, rubbed it on her pants, and then took a big bite. Tangy juice and crisp apple meat pleased her taste buds. At least there were still a few sweet things in this world. An image of Mrs. Whitten, Pastor, and Melissa popped into her mind and she felt a twinge of guilt for not being more thankful for them. I know, God, I know.
With a deep sigh, she walked toward the large bay window and glanced out while she munched. A dog romped around on the lawn next door chasing a tennis ball. The next door over from that, an older woman was working in her flower bed. It all looked so “hometown.”
Disgusted with this hometown, she turned her back on the warm sun coming in through the window and approached her violin. She wasn’t even through warm-up scales before the heaviness on her heart began to lift. Soon, she was in an all-out jam session worshiping and thanking the Lord for His faithfulness, patience, kindness, and gentleness towards her. It could have been ten minutes or two hours, but at
some point, a loud knock finally penetrated through her music.
“Be right there,” Sierra called as she walked to the door. With her violin in one hand, she opened the door with the other.
“You go, girl!” Melissa grinned. “I could hear you from out here. It’s awesome. I’d love to listen to you all day, only I have to go to a prayer meeting in thirty minutes. I just wanted to swing by to see if you needed anything.”
“Thanks, I’m good, but would you like to come in for a few minutes?”
“Love to.” Melissa followed her in and took a seat on the plaid chair by the window. “Listen, I don’t mean to pry or anything, but when I was leaving church this morning, I noticed you were on the green with Cole and Laura. Things looked...a little strained.”
“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
Melissa patted the chair cushion next to her seat. “Here; come talk to me.”
Sierra set her violin on the stand next to the table, and then sat. “There’s really nothing to talk about.”
“Don’t let her push you away. Cole needs you.”
She rubbed her forehead. “Mrs. Whitten said something to the same effect a while ago, but I don’t know why you two think that. Whatever he may need, I’m not the girl for the job. His mother is convinced I’m going to spoil his father’s campaign.” She threw up her hands. “And you know what; she may very well have a valid point.”
“Phooey! Don’t give fear or discouragement the victory here.” Melissa grabbed hold of Sierra’s hand. “Cole is a wonderful man. I could tell you great things about him until I’m out of breath because he gives and gives to this community, to the point where I think it’s been too much.”
“What? How is that possible?”
“He’s so busy doing good things; he’s forgotten the best thing; his relationship with the Lord. Since you’ve arrived, I’m beginning to see a bit of that hunger for his Savior come back. God is using you. Give Him the time He needs to work in Cole’s heart.”
“How can God use me? I have nothing to give except the music.”
“There’s a passage I love in Second Corinthians chapter four verses six through nine. It says, ‘For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.’ We all are but jars of clay and weak vessels, but God can use a willing heart to accomplish great things for His glory. I guess it all boils down to one question, are you willing to be used by Him?”
“Honestly, my head says yes, but my heart says I need to be careful and set up some major boundaries or I’m going to be hurt.”
“Pray about it, and you’ll figure it out.” Melissa squeezed Sierra’s hand, then let go and stood up. “I need to run, or I’m going to be late.”
“OK. Thanks for stopping by.”
Melissa reached for the doorknob and then turned back. “I’ll be praying for you, too.”
Cole balanced the phone on his shoulder and walked to his living room couch. He didn’t usually seek advice, but now was one of those times when pride needed to be laid aside and truth spoken. Pastor Bill was someone Cole trusted enough to take into his confidence. “I guess I dropped the ball somewhere, Pastor.”
“What do you mean?”
He jammed his fingers through his thick hair. “I can remember when I first asked Christ to forgive my sins and be Lord of my life. I was so on fire, just like Sierra is. But now...” He pounded on the couch with a fist. “I don’t even know if there’s much of a spark. What should I do?”
“Have you been reading the Word?”
Cole itched to hedge the question. “No. I haven’t had the time.”
“How’s your prayer life?” the pastor asked in an unpresuming voice.
“Besides Grace before meals, pretty nonexistent.”
“Hmm.” Pastor was quiet for a moment. “Did you know I played baseball as a kid?”
“Ah…no.”
“I remember one time, we were in the bottom of the ninth with two outs, bases loaded. Our team needed just one run to win. I was up to bat.” Pastor Bill took a deep breath. “I can remember like it was yesterday. The first pitch was high; I knew better than to swing, but I just wanted to get my bat on the ball. It didn’t work out the way I wanted. My team cheered me on, though. They knew I could do it, and so did I.” He chuckled. “I was actually a very good player. Anyway, I stepped out of the batter’s box, took a few swings, and then stepped back in. The next pitch was headed outside, but last minute, it curved in and across the plate. Strike two.” The pastor’s words came quicker now. “Third pitch. I knew I had to do something or I’d let my whole team down. We needed this win, and the team was counting on me. The pitcher took his windup and let it sail. I swung too early, the ball popped up and went over the back stop. With my heart pounding, I reassured myself I was still in the game. Fourth pitch delivered. I held my bat back, kept my knees bent and my arm up. The ball came at lightning speed. I took the cut and followed through... only to meet with air.”
“You struck out?”
“I failed. And in my mind, that made me a failure.” The line was quiet for a moment. “That’s what I thought until my wise dad set me straight.”
“How did he do that?”
“He used this experience to remind me that just because I didn’t get the hit the team needed, that didn’t change who I was. A failed hit didn’t make me a failure.”
“Interesting, but what does this have to do with me?”
“Well, going with the baseball analogy, even when we’re in the game and have given our lives to Christ, sometimes God pitches us a light that shines on sin in our lives that we hadn’t been aware of. When we see that sin, we feel like we missed the ball. It makes us feel like a failure, just like my game did for me all those years ago.”
“You think God is showing me something.”
“I think He’s been trying to get your attention for a while, and it wasn’t until a certain young lady walked through our church doors that you realized it. Regardless of my thoughts, though, the more important question is: do you think He’s showing you something?”
Cole didn’t know if he felt like a complete failure, but he didn’t have the closeness that Sierra obviously shared with Christ. He felt separated from God and guilty that he hadn’t been making time for Him. “I think somewhere along the line I’ve bumped God off the throne of my heart and have put other things and people in His place.”
“You know what you need to do, right?”
Cole could hear the smile in Pastor Bill’s voice over the phone. He nodded as if the pastor could see him. “I need to go pray for a while.”
“I’ll catch up with you later then, my friend.” Pastor paused. “Oh, and Cole, if you still want to, you have my blessing on joining the worship team...and pursuing Sierra, too.” The phone line went dead.
Cole grinned. Hey, who am I to argue with clergy?
5
Wilma’s fingers ran up and down the keyboard as the last strains of the song faded.
Stan whooped. “You two are steaming on the strings tonight!”
Wilma and Sierra grinned in unison.
“See, I told you Sierra would make a great addition to our worship team,” Wilma said.
Stan sheepishly admitted, “I wasn’t too sure about having you join us at first, but I’m getting kind of used to having you around.”
Sierra bit her lip so she wouldn’t laugh at this hangdog expression. “Glad to be here.”
“Even though they may not actually tell you, I know several church members are enjoying hearing you play,” Wilma said.
“You think so?” Oh, if that could be true.
&nb
sp; “Absolutely! Mrs. Wilson said she’s never heard angels play, but if she had, they’d sound like you do.”
Stan laughed. “She plays the violin, not the harp.”
Wilma rolled her eyes. “Humor the woman, Stan. She’s ninety-two.”
“You have a point there.”
Wilma turned back to Sierra. “You’re going to leave a hole in our group when you move on to greener pastures. We’ll miss you, you know.”
Before Sierra could form a reply around the golf ball in her throat, a smile crept onto Stan’s lips. “Yeah, and not only that, but I don’t think you’re half as mixed up as everyone thinks you are.”
That did the trick of dislodging the threat of tears, but Sierra wasn’t sure how to take the compliment. “Thanks...I think.”
Wilma walked over to Stan and whacked the back of his head. “Knock it off, you big goon.”
“Hello in there!” Cole’s voice called out. He jogged into the room with his guitar. “Sorry I’m late.”
Sierra squeezed the neck of her violin so it wouldn’t slip out of her grip. “What are you doing here?”
“Surprised, huh?” He held up his guitar case. “I’m going to play.”
Stan welcomed him with a pat on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s great to have you here, man. Pastor mentioned you’d be joining us. Listen, Tim couldn’t be here tonight, what do you say you take the drums?” He handed Cole an opened song book.
Cole took it and winked at Sierra before he made his way to the drum set. “Will do.”
Sierra was doing her best to understand what was happening, but her brain didn’t seem to be working very well. “You play both the drums and guitar?”
He picked up the sticks, pounded out a few quick beats and ended with one tap on the cymbal. “You got it.”
Suddenly, she wanted to be anywhere but here. How would she keep her distance when she found Cole involved in another area of her life? Already she felt too much of a connection with him. Making music together could only serve to strengthen that bond.