by JoAnn Carter
Isabelle held up her flute. “Sorry to be a party pooper, but I need to be out of here in a half hour. Shall we pick up on measure four?”
Sierra was glad for Isabelle’s announcement. There was no time to ruminate.
“Sure thing.” Wilma sat back down at her keyboard. “One, two, three, four...”
Somewhere in the middle of the set, God gave Sierra a different type of revelation. She had been struggling to be forgiven and accepted in Daviston, but the town wasn’t the only one dealing with prejudice. She knew she was no better than anyone else. If anything, the scales were tipped in their favor. However, there was one area she prided herself in...she was a professional musician, a cut above the rest.
Yet, while playing with this worship team tonight she realized, pro or not, they all warmed up, tuned their instruments, and practiced in similar ways. Most importantly, they all had a huge heart for music and ministering to people through it. Though they came from different walks of life, they all weren’t so different after all.
Even with the worship team’s welcome, though, she still felt uneasy over her precarious position in the town and at church, and therefore with this group.
Perhaps it doesn’t need to be so.
They finally stopped practicing and began to pack up.
Tiny laugh lines crinkled the corners of Cole’s eyes. He spoke in a kind, yet confident manner with an easy rapport between the group members.
Even though Melissa and Mrs. Whitten had eluded that he needed her help, from what she saw, if anything, it was the other way around. She was inept at talking with ease to people.
Cole had no such problem. He waved a good-bye to Stan and meandered over to Sierra. “How are things working out between you and Mrs. Whitten?”
Sierra closed the violin case. “Great. She’s a gem.”
“What have you been up to?”
Sierra picked up her purse. “Tending the garden. Mrs. Whitten wants to sell produce at the Farmer’s Market.”
Cole chuckled. “I don’t know if that woman will ever slow down.” He glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “Have you got a second to talk?” His blue eyes were clear and bright, yet the furrow on his brow was telling.
“Sure, is everything all right?”
He placed his hand on the small of her back and ushered her toward the exit. “I think eventually it will all work out.”
Sierra turned and called over her shoulder. “See you folks on Sunday.”
“‘Night, Sierra. ‘Night Cole.” They called as the door closed.
Cole had been trying to think of a way to start the conversation. He sipped his coffee and rested his hand against the back of the bench that sat right outside of the store. “My mother has been busy.”
“Oh?” Sierra inquired with a raised brow, inviting him to continue.
“My parents heard you’re to play in the park on Saturday.” He took a deep breath. Why is this so hard? “I found out tonight my mom has invited Clara Jenkins to join me that afternoon. Do you remember her?”
“The prom queen? Wasn’t she like your ex-girlfriend or something?”
“Guess you remember her, then.” Cole took another sip and looked out into the night. The air was crisp and clear for early June, and the stars shone bright. But nothing felt “bright” about his mother’s latest shenanigans.
“Makes sense.”
“What?”
“Don’t look at me like I have two heads. She’s trying to keep you safe.”
“Safe from what? This whole thing is crazy.”
“Me, of course. She wants to remind you that there are better-suited ‘fish in the sea.’” She screwed up her nose. “Not that you were fishing...”
“If I did happen to be...fishing as you put it, would you be interested in taking the bait?” Even under the porch lights, he could see her face grow cherry. “Sorry. I’ve made you uncomfortable. You don’t need to answer that.” He removed his arm from the back of the bench and leaned forward. “In fact, your attention probably has been caught by another guy.” He clenched his fists, noting bitterness in his thoughts.
Sierra stretched out her legs and tapped her shoes together. “Cole, I’ve been a druggie up until this past year. I’ve done things no ’good’ man would want in a wife. I’ll never be good enough for the type of godly man I would want to marry. He would deserve so much more.” She slid her feet back under the bench.
He tucked a finger under her chin and turned her to face him. “Don’t say that. Any man would be blessed to call you his. You are a princess now...a daughter of the King. And don’t you forget it.”
She smiled through a sheen of tears. “Thanks,” she said softly. “I guess I need a little reminder now and then.”
A few moments passed in comfortable silence.
“How about you, any special ladies in your life, Clara perhaps?” she asked.
Cole laced his fingers together and placed them behind his head. “Including or excluding the lady beside me?”
“Cole.”
He grinned. “No. There is no special lady in my life, especially not Clara. That was over a long time ago. Besides, this is a pretty small town to ask someone to settle down in.”
Sierra laughed. “You’re kidding me, right? You seem to be the most eligible bachelor in town. I see the way the women look at you. I’m sure it wouldn’t take much convincing if any...”
The collar of his shirt seemed to be growing tighter by the moment. “Guess I haven’t found the one I want to convince yet.” He winked at her. “Or perhaps I have—only she’s not too receptive at this point.”
“You only say that because you know I’m safe to tease.”
“If that’s what you want to tell yourself.” He let it go at that. The idea of getting to know her better held more and more appeal. “Listen, my Aunt Tammy is coming for a visit next week. I’d like you to meet her and have dinner with us at my parents’ house.”
Sierra’s eyes grew wide and she softly asked, “Are you crazy?” She stood up and paced back and forth. “With your parents? Isn’t that like leading me to the gallows?”
He longed to stand up too, but he didn’t want to intimidate her, so he shoved his hands under his thighs and made himself stay seated. “I’m only trying to help. Like you mentioned to me on the green a few weeks ago, if my parents have the opportunity to get to know you better, they’ll realize you’re not who they think you are.”
Sierra sank back down and studied him intently.
His heart picked up speed. A waft of lavender and roses tickled his senses, matching her beauty. Her brown eyes still held a reserve, yet the anger had dissipated as quickly as it arrived.
“People will see what they want to see. Your mother has made up her mind, and there’ll be no changing it apart from a work of God.” She stood again and sent him a small wistful smile. “I need to get home. I’ll see you around.” She walked away.
He wished he could turn her back around and straight into his arms. He jammed his fingers through his hair. Helping her win the hearts of the townspeople over, while protecting her from the hurtful words and actions of the community and his family, would only be that much harder with her stubborn nature.
And what about protecting his own heart?
The next morning, Sierra practiced her scales and warm-up routine. Rather than focusing on the music, her mind wandered to the pull that Cole seemed to have on her heart strings. Even though she tried hard to ignore it, he fascinated her. As she feared, it was growing harder and harder to keep him in the nice, neat friend-only compartment she had set up for him. But he definitely needed to stay there.
She was still leaving in a few months and unless the tide of public opinion swayed in her favor, she would bring nothing but trouble to his doorstep. She thought about praying, but in the scheme of the whole universe God was caring for, would He really care about one foolish girl’s heart?
&nbs
p; Her apartment doorbell rang.
She stilled the bow. “It’s open,” she called out.
Melissa popped her head through the frame. “What ya up to?”
Sierra held up her violin. “Getting ready for the concert.”
“Wow, you never get enough, do you?” Melissa stepped through the threshold. “Hey, you look a little down. You doing OK?”
Sierra set the instrument on its stand. “Guess I am feeling a little sad. Would you like to come in for a soda?”
“Sure.” Melissa sat at the small kitchenette table.
Sierra opened the refrigerator and handed Melissa a can.
“So, what’s up?”
“Do you ever feel unimportant...I mean in the big scheme of things?”
Melissa popped open the can. “Yes, I have, but I don’t any longer.”
“Well, you’re a pastor’s wife, so of course you are important, especially to Daviston. You and your husband have an amazing ministry. But me...I thought God wanted me to come back to ask forgiveness of the town, but honestly, I don’t think anyone even cares about my unimpressive life, let alone my desire to give back to them.”
“Have you ever had the chance to read the book of Ruth in the Bible?”
“It sounds familiar, but I really don’t remember it if I had.”
“It’s one of my favorite books.” Melissa smiled. “Talk about two ordinary women...Naomi and Ruth totally fit the bill. I’m not going to tell you the whole story because I want you to read it. Suffice it to say, Ruth was no great woman of lifelong faith, she wasn’t even Jewish, but rather an outsider, just like yourself.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And even though she was an outsider, she was willing to follow and stick by her mother-in-law and her mother-in-law’s God. Because of that, Ruth was the one God eventually used, generations later, to complete his love story by sending us His Son. She is of David’s, and therefore, Jesus’s lineage.”
“An outsider?”
“Not only that, but wait until you read the very last verse.” She clucked her tongue. “Are you important...does your life count? A thousand times, yes! And what you do counts, too.”
Sierra let the words wash over her.
Melissa reached across the table and squeezed Sierra’s hand. “Read the book and remember, God does see what you’re about.” She took another sip of her soda and grinned. “Speaking of which, what would you think about me inviting Cole over after church on Sunday to have lunch with us all?”
Sierra cupped her chin in her palm. “I don’t think it would work.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, a lot reasons.” She evaded the question by saying, “But I won’t go into all of that right now. I don’t have time.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m keeping you from practicing, aren’t I?”
“Yes, but even more importantly, you’re keeping me from reading the book of Ruth!”
The smell of fresh cut grass tickled her nose. The lush grounds of the park buzzed with activity. People strolled about and spread colorful blankets outside of the pavilion. Children ran from friend to friend. Dogs walked and frolicked beside their masters. Frisbees flew, and laughter and conversation filled the air.
Sierra sighed and longed to join in, yet amidst all the activity and being surrounded by people, she felt a deep sense of loneliness. How strange was that? She felt as if she were trapped in a weird reality show, which had gone bad—all eyes eager to see her get the boot. She wished she had waited until after the picnic luncheon to finish her sound check.
She pulled her shoulders back and picked up her lunch basket. If Ruth could choose to live amongst foreigners, so can I. As Cole said, I am a child of the King. Even with that reminder, the thought of eating the turkey sandwich she had packed made her stomach revolt. Perhaps just a bit of the bread would be a wise idea. She looked around at the people congregating. The families looked happy. Friends called to one another. The scene had all the vibrancy of a small town where everyone knew each other. Her heart longed for that kind of friendship and acceptance.
If she could find Pastor and Melissa, Mrs. Whitten, Wilma, Cole, or Stan...
Mrs. Smith stomped past her and threw over her shoulder, “Go back to where ever you came from. We don’t need or want you here.”
People who were in hearing distance stopped and stared.
Sierra offered a weak smile, which no one returned. Her neck heated, and it kept going right up her face. Tears welled and she tried to blink them away as she walked into the pavilion. There is something seriously wrong with that woman. She couldn’t shake the incident from her mind.
A little girl came up to stand by the railing. She tucked her arms behind her and watched with smoky gray eyes. Her gaze followed everything Sierra was doing to prepare for the evening.
“Hello.” Sierra dredged up a smile for the child. “What’s your name?”
“Callie.”
“That’s a pretty name. Do you like music?”
Callie nodded so quickly, her pigtails swished back and forth.
“Would you like me play a song for you? What’s your favorite?”
“Twinkle, twinkle,” she said with a shy smile.
A rush of memories cascaded over Sierra of sweet summers as a child. She would stand at her window with her brother and wait to see who could spot the first star to wish upon. How she missed him and the innocence of her youth. “I like that song, too.” She picked up her bow and ran it across the strings, playing the song for this tiny audience of one.
The little girl plopped right down on the concrete in her pink dress and cupped her chin into her hand. As the last strain faded, she grinned. “You’re pretty.”
“Why, thank you. You are, too.”
“Callie Ryder, what do you think you’re doing?” An irate man asked. “You nearly gave me a heart attack when I didn’t see you.”
“Sorry, Daddy. The pretty lady was playing a song for me.”
He frowned at Sierra, and then reached for his little girl’s hand. “Come on. It’s time to eat.”
Callie stood up and obediently followed her dad, but she turned around and waved to Sierra.
Mrs. Whitten laughed from the other side of the pavilion. “I think you may have found another admirer.”
Sierra swirled around. “You made it! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
“Well of course I did, child. I told you I’d be here.”
Sierra set down her bow. “Another admirer? I feel like I’m at a pig roast and they’re all waiting for me to get up and twirl on the spit.”
“Good grief, what an awful analogy. What an imagination you must have.”
Sierra walked over to Mrs. Whitten until she was close enough that her voice wouldn’t carry. “Laura Smith is not happy that I am here. She told me to go back where I came from, I wasn’t wanted here.” Grasping the older woman’s hands she implored, “Please pray that I would have the patience I need.”
“Of course I will pray for you…and her too. Unforgiveness is an ugly poison that eats away at a person.” She took a breath. “As for your admirers...”
Sierra dropped her hands.
Whitten reached up and ran her fingers over a delicate cross pendant hanging from a gold chain. “Well, I think I know why God has brought you here.”
“This wouldn’t happen to be about Cole, would it?”
Mrs. Whitten’s wrinkles deepened as her smile grew wide. “I know things look a bit muddled at the moment, but God has a way of working things out, dear. And speaking of Cole, here he comes now.”
Cole’s steady blue gaze caught her own and Sierra’s heart filled…with peace.
“Hello, Sierra.”
“Cole, it’s nice to see you.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded toward Mrs. Whitten. “How are you doing, Mrs. Whitten?”
She waved him away. “No need for you to be polite wi
th pointless chatter. I’ll leave you two alone to talk about whatever you young folk like to talk about these days.”
Cole took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you’d care to join me after the concert for dessert.”
Sierra fiddled with the stand of beads that was draped over her sheer, mesh-wrinkle top. The warm earth tones she wore gave her complexion a sweet glow.
He longed to run his finger down her cheek to see if her skin was as soft as it looked.
“Oh, um...sure. I’d be happy to...if you don’t think that will cause problems with or for your family.”
“There you are.” His mother edged between them, pulling someone along with her. “You are near impossible to keep track of.”
“Hello, Colton.” Clara’s deep, sultry voice greeted him.
Cole’s throat grew dry. He knew she was coming, yet he was still stunned to see the woman. Clara was as beautiful as ever.
His mother wrapped her arm around Clara’s waist. “Have you heard the wonderful news? Clara has agreed to help with your father’s campaign.”
He barely heard the sound of a cough, but it made him turn around.
Sierra’s face was pale, and her expression was stricken. She moved away towards the stand her violin rested on under the pavilion’s awning.
He couldn’t move. It was as if some invisible vice gripped him.
6
The last of the applause died away.
Sierra slipped her instrument in the case and exited the pavilion. She was pleased with how the performance had gone.
The Master of Ceremonies introduced another performer.
Cole slipped up behind her. “How about that dessert we talked about earlier?”
Sierra would rather have a tooth pulled than deal with the look she had seen in Cole’s eyes when he saw Clara not to mention the unwanted ramifications of his rebellion against his mother’s wishes. She was still smarting from her first two encounters with Mrs. Smith today. She couldn’t afford another. “Oh, um...I thought your mom had arranged different plans for you this afternoon.”