Detour: Destination Abiding Love

by JoAnn Carter

  Even though she didn’t want to admit it, facts were facts. Clara was beautiful and would look good on the arm of the governor’s son. Perhaps the right thing to do would be to encourage him toward her. A sour taste filled her mouth. Thank goodness that wouldn’t be necessary with Clara and his mother to do that job, because she didn’t think she had the stomach for it.

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Jealous?”

  “Of course not.” Yet, as soon as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. All the more reason she needed to leave as soon as possible. She turned back and pretended to be busy with her gear. Earlier she had been looking forward to hearing the various musical performers that would follow her but now, she just wanted to go home. Sitting with Cole would only prolong the agony and make matters worse. Lord, I’m sure you love the people here in Daviston, but I can’t stand the thought of living here much longer. I’m so weary of this struggle of keeping my feelings for Cole in check and constantly being under the microscope of the community—coming up wanting. Would it be possible to give me a “get out of jail free”…I mean, “get me out of town quick”…card?

  “Here, I can help you with that, and then you can sit with me.”

  Although she was on the outskirts of the pavilion, it seemed as if every eye was turned on her rather than the front of the stage. Seeing no way out of his request, other than drawing more unwanted attention she conceded. “Come on. Let’s just take a seat somewhere. I can do this later.”

  He gave her a smile that she hardly noticed and led her to where he had set up a little spot for them. If she could have chosen a place, it wouldn’t be this one. It was close to the front where too many people could observe them.

  “I thought you might like this seat so you could see the stage well.”

  Sierra sighed. Now she’d never be able to concentrate. Any enjoyment of the entertainment was crushed by her growing worry. What would the town think of her hanging around Cole when it should be Clara? Again, she saw the way he looked at Clara—he didn’t seem opposed to the idea of reacquainting himself with his old flame.

  The first set ended, and everyone was clapping.

  Cole leaned close. “What’s the matter? Is this band not to your taste?”

  “Huh?”

  “You were miles away. What’s on your mind?”

  “Where is Clara?”

  He frowned. “She’s with my mother, why?”

  “Shouldn’t you be with them? I mean, I’m sure you have a lot of catching up to do...”

  “It’s OK. I’ll see her later this evening. I had asked you to join me before I even saw her, so here I am.”

  Great, I’m an obligation.

  He held out a container holding two beautiful napoleon pastries. “Look at what I picked up for us at the village bistro.” When she didn’t move to take hers, he nudged her. “Would you like one?”

  Sierra’s heart shattered. Why did he have to be so thoughtful? She realized no matter how hard she had tried not to, somewhere along the line, she’d started to nurse the hope that regardless of the obstacles, they could be more than friends. She knew better! “No thanks.”

  Cole shot her a puzzled glance. “I thought you like these.”

  “I do.” She stood up. “It’s just that I’m not very good company right now. Would you please excuse me?”

  “Are you all right?” He stood up as well. “Can I see you home?”

  “No! No, really...I’ll be fine. You stay and hear the rest of the concert.” She tried to smile, but she knew it came off a bit wobbly. “Enjoy your afternoon.” She left to collect her belongings. Hopefully she’d make it to the car before she totally lost it. One thing was clear: she needed to keep her distance from Cole before she wound up with a broken heart. Trouble was, she feared it may already be too late.

  

  When the concert ended, Cole drove to his mother’s house thinking about how his initial response to seeing Clara had upset Sierra. He worked through several scenarios to get their tentative friendship back on track.

  Yet, it had been true. Seeing Clara again at first had affected him more than he’d like to admit. She knew how to choose her clothes and do makeup to her advantage. But as soon as she opened her mouth, he could see right through the sultry voice to the act behind it. He had no idea why she decided to come back, but unlike high school, no longer did teenage hormones drive his actions.

  Since that time, he had come to understand the need for friendship before a romantic relationship. And he wanted to be friends with Sierra, who shone with the love of God in her heart. She had no false front, nor did she pretend to be anything other than what she was, a reformed drug addict who found God, and rejoiced in that freedom. Something he was lacking.

  “There you are,” his mother said as she opened the door. “Clara’s in the living room waiting for you.”

  “Mom, why did you invite her here?” He kept his voice low so it wouldn’t carry.

  She gave an unconcerned wave. “I know you get lonely sometimes and like I mentioned to you before, I knew she’d be perfect to help us with the campaign.”

  The evening was catching up to him fast. He felt his irritation grow, but tempered it. “Why do you think I’m lonely?”

  “I can tell, that’s all.”

  His mother was closer to the truth than she realized. Although he kept busy and had lots of friends, sometimes he did get lonely. He wanted to have a wife and children to come home to someday instead of four empty walls. Vivid mental pictures of both Sierra and Clara popped into his mind. Lord, help me be patient and not be tempted to settle for less than who You have planned for me.

  “Clara may be able to help with Dad’s campaigning, but let me choose my own company, OK?”

  With a hollow laugh, she tapped his arm. “Of course. Now come on, she’s waiting for you.”

  He sighed and followed her. “I’m only staying for ten minutes to be polite, and then I’m leaving so she won’t get the wrong impression.”

  Finally, his mother had the good sense not to challenge him.

  

  Wilma was livid. “Why in the world is Clara doing special music this Sunday? Sierra was scheduled. Now all of a sudden a visitor comes here and…”

  Sierra took a deep breath and then stepped into their practice room. “It’s OK, Wilma. It’s not a big deal.” Granted, had this been three days ago after she left the concert, she wouldn’t have been able to be so gracious, but a bit of time and distance did wonders. Perhaps this was God’s way of helping her not get too comfortable here.

  “You may not mind, but I do! I bet your man’s mom is behind this schedule switch.”

  “Cole is not my man. And as for the special music, if Clara wants to sing or do something else for the offertory, I’m fine with that.”

  Wilma ruffled through the sheet music and shot an angry glare Sierra’s way. “Don’t you want to play?”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to play.” Sierra placed her case on the table and opened the latches. “You know there’s nothing I love better than to perform as a gift to the Lord.”

  “Then why aren’t you even bothered?”

  “If someone else wants to give of their talent, that’s good, too.”

  Wilma shoved her music down on the rack and muttered, “She’s not giving anything but a show.”

  Sierra wanted to hug Wilma for being insulted that her place had been bumped from the order of service, but she had also been on the other side of conflict too many times not to say something. “We can’t know her motive. Only God knows her heart. If I don’t want people to judge me, how can I judge her?”

  Wilma stared at her for a moment and then kicked the edge of the piano bench. “I guess you’re right...but I don’t have to like it. I still think you should be the one to play.” Under her breath, she grumbled. “I sure hope she’s more talented than she was in high school because her voice certainly didn’t match her looks back then and I can’t imagine anyt
hing has changed.”

  At that moment, Stan stormed in with a bulletin waving in the air. “Good grief! Did you see that Clara is scheduled for special music this week? How did that happen?”

  “We were just talking about that.” Wilma staggered the pages on the stand, flipped open the keyboard lid and pushed the ON button. “I have my suspicions.”

  Sierra cleared her throat and when she caught Wilma’s eye, she shook her head.

  Wilma turned back to Stan, ignoring Sierra’s silent request. “What I find interesting is that since Sierra has joined us, our church suddenly seems to have an influx of musical talent. First Cole, now Clara.”

  Stan snorted. “Cole aside, I’m not too sure of the talent part. If Clara sings like I remember, people will be begging Sierra to play next week and to make sure Clara never has another opportunity.”

  Wilma whooped. “I told you so!”

  Sierra pretended to find great interest in the music before her as she tried to hold back a smile. After ridiculously fretting over Clara and Cole’s relationship, his mother, and her own uncertainty in general, it felt good to find humor in her new friends’ antics.

  Cole breezed into the room.

  Her breath caught in her throat. His navy blue T-shirt fit snuggly against his broad shoulders and muscular chest. His blue jeans hugged his hips and thighs as if he were a model. Why did he have to look so good? She shoved that thought away. Nope, not going there.

  He had an envelope in his hand. “I’m not late, am I?” Cole asked as he approached Sierra.

  “No, you’re fine.” Even though Sierra determined she’d keep her distance from Cole, her heart still flip-flopped when he turned on that megawatt smile. It was time to focus on something else. “What do you have there?”

  “This came to the store’s post office today. It’s a certified letter that you need to sign for. I figured I’d bring it to you since I was on my way over here. I wasn’t sure how important it is.”

  “Thanks.” She read the upper left-hand corner. Lillian Bowden Music Center - Orchestra. Her mind swam with the possibilities of why they would be sending her a certified letter. “Where do I need to sign?”

  He tore the green card off the back and handed it to her, along with a pen. “Right here,” he pointed “on this line.”

  Her hand shook a bit as she signed and handed it back. She fingered the envelope, wondering if she should tear into it now or wait until she was back in the privacy of her own apartment.

  Cole held up the card. “Sorry guys, I just need to run this back real quick to scan it into the computer. I won’t be but a few minutes. Don’t wait for me though. I’ll figure out where you are when I get back.”

  As he left, Sierra placed her letter in the violin case.

  “Don’t you want to read it?” Melissa asked like she couldn’t understand why Sierra didn’t rip it open right away.

  “It’s OK; I don’t want to hold you up. I’ll read it later.”

  “We should wait for Cole anyway, so you might as well open it.”

  Sierra picked up the letter. She tore the top with her index finger and pulled out the paper tucked within. Scanning it, words leaped out. Violinist…family emergency...need replacement… request your presence as soon as possible...

  Her heart hammered. They hadn’t changed their minds about her employment, only that they needed her sooner than expected. Her dream was closer than she realized. All the upheaval she had been facing was finally coming to an end. Thank you, Lord. Too excited to read more, she waved the letter in front of her. “They need me in New York ASAP.”

  “What?” Cole asked from the doorway. “I thought you had told them you needed time to take care of things here before you went to New York.”

  “I did...” Suddenly things seemed a bit muddled. She had been clear God had wanted her to come back to Daviston, but she hadn’t accomplished what she thought He had for her to do. Was trying to mend fences enough for the Lord? There was no way she could figure this all out with everyone staring at her. “Sorry guys, we’re here to practice, not to talk about my future. I’ll deal with this later.”

  

  Cole’s head pounded. Not from the loud music, but from the realization that he didn’t want to watch Sierra go to New York, now or ever. His neck muscles tightened as though he were back on the line of scrimmage, trying to bring down an opponent twice his size. He wished he could halt the wheels that had already been set to motion, but how? He needed to act on logic, not sentiment.

  Sierra was a talented artist, worthy of a professional career.

  He had nothing to offer other than a family who was set against her, and a future in a community that made her uncomfortable. He gripped his guitar pick hard and pressed his lips into a firm line to prevent himself from shouting what was spinning around in his mind. Don’t go.

  Whatever time Sierra had left in town—a few hours or a few days—he would, to the best of his ability, address any misconceptions folks had about her. It was the least he could do.

  The practice concluded, and Cole approached Sierra. “When will you go to New York?”

  “I don’t know. I’m going to run home and call them now. I’ll get the details then.”

  “Can I come with you to your place? I’d like to know what you’ll be doing.”

  She looked a bit hesitant. “Um, I guess so, but will that bother anyone?”

  “Who would it bother?”

  Her eyes widened. “Uh…Clara, perhaps?”

  Oh, so perhaps she was a bit jealous. For the first time, since she received the letter, he felt like smiling. “Sierra, Clara and I are not an item. That was a long time ago, and I have no intention of picking up where we left off.”

  Sierra studied him for a moment. “You may change your mind while I’m in New York, and that’s OK if you do. I mean, it’s not like we’re dating or anything.”

  “I was hoping that you’d eventually consider that prospect.”

  Sierra dropped her gaze and studied something very interesting on the floor. “I imagine your mother will be happy with this turn of events. You know, ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish’ and all that.”

  He lifted her chin with his forefinger. “Don’t.” He wanted to say “don’t go.” He ached to kiss her. Instead, he dropped his hand and took a step back. “Let’s go see what the music center has to say.”

  Melissa, whom he had totally forgotten about, huffed behind them. “This is crazy. You’re the only woman he’s shown any interest in for years. It figures you’re up and leaving now when it’s just getting good around here.” At their stares, she held up her hands and retreated. “OK, OK... I get it. I just hope you figure things out.”

  

  One day.

  That was all Sierra had. Tomorrow morning, she’d be seeing Daviston in her rear-view mirror.

  For a woman who didn’t even want to be in this town, you wouldn’t think it would be so hard to leave. Rather than packing and preparing to leave, here she was trying to help Mrs. Whitten for the last time. She rolled out another piecrust and placed it in a tin. Her nerves felt as fragile and thin as the dough.

  Next to her, Mrs. Whitten hummed as she peeled apples.

  Sierra rolled her shoulders back. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to help you in the garden and with the baking as we planned. I feel like I’m leaving you in a bind. I hope I’m following the Lord. I’m not sure my work is done here, but I can’t let the music center down, either.”

  “I understand.” Mrs. Whitten set her knife to the side and poured a generous amount of sugar over the apple slices before sprinkling cinnamon on top. With a large spoon, she stirred the apples so they would be coated evenly. “I’ll miss you, but I’m praying you’ll be back soon to finish up what you started.” She stopped what she was doing. “You are planning on coming back as soon as this woman returns, right?”

  “Yes, but you know how it is with family emergencies. You never can tell how long it wi
ll take.”

  “It will work out. You’ve done a wonderful job in the garden. I don’t think Tom will mind helping out a bit with the vegetables when he comes to do my flowerbeds. And as for the baking, I’ve been doing this by myself for years. I’ll miss your company, but I’ll manage. At least I’ll hold off hiring someone new until I know when you will be back.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Speaking of missing you, I’m sure the same is true for everyone you’ve been helping out; the music committee, the farmer’s market, our community in general...and we can’t forget Cole, either.”

  Sierra squirmed, contemplating her time in this town.

  Mrs. Whitten smiled. “You have been living in God’s power and He’ll continue to guide your footsteps.”

  “That guidance is what I feel I’m missing.”

  Mrs. Whitten placed the crust on top of the pie and quickly fluted the edges before sliding it into the oven. She wiped her hands on her apron, and pointed to a chair. “Sit down. I want to tell you a story.”

  Sierra took the seat.

  “Did you ever read or hear in the book of Numbers about the spies sent to Canaan?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  With a spark in her eyes, Mrs. Whitten said, “God’s people were slaves to the Egyptians. Through Moses, He set His people free.”

  “Yes, I remember that story from when I was little...with the plagues and all.”

  “Right. Well, after that happened, do you remember how the people were stubborn and rebelled again, so the Lord brought them to the desert of Sinai?”

  Sierra scrunched up her forehead. “I think so.”

  “By the time they were able to leave, it didn’t take long for the complaining to start all over again. Still, God was willing to lead them to the Promised Land. He told Moses to send some men to explore Canaan, and they did. When they came back to report to Moses what they had seen and heard, they said that indeed the land was flowing with milk and honey but the people there were huge and their city was fortified. They were afraid and said it couldn’t be done. They were unwilling to go into the land the Lord had promised them.”