Winter Winds

by Gayle Roper

  And Trev had been there, watching.

  “I was so jealous,” Trev said, voice thick. “There you were, so happy without me, with them. How could I compete with all that joy after I had broken your heart?”

  “Oh, Trev.” Her own voice was thick as she laid her cheek on his shoulder. “That was one of the saddest days of my life.”

  “Yeah?”

  She gave a teary nod. “It was too much my new life.” Without you.

  He put a hand under her chin and lifted her face to his. “I love you, Dori. I’ve never stopped loving you.” And he kissed her.

  Dori’s heart pounded and her senses swam. This was Trev, her Trev, and he loved her. She returned the kiss. Surely she could forgive him for all that had happened. After all, it was only that one time.

  Wasn’t it? What if it wasn’t? Well, he had certainly changed now, hadn’t he? He was a Christian, a pastor. He prayed at the drop of a hat, for Pete’s sake. Couldn’t she find it in herself to forgive him, to let go of the hurt and bitterness? She felt angry with herself. Why was forgiveness, the letting go of old hurts, so hard for her?

  He must have felt the difference in her as the doubts once more sliced through her. He pulled back. With his wry smile he looked at her.

  “Go to bed, Dori. Tomorrow will come soon.” He turned to Jack. “Come on, fellow. Let’s walk around the block.”

  And he left her.

  Twenty-Four

  DORI SLID THE KEY into the front door of Harbor Lights at seven-thirty Wednesday morning. She pushed the door open, happy to step inside and out of the damp, penetrating cold of the late January morning. The store, musty and shut up, dank and chill as it was, didn’t feel all that much better.

  She kept her coat on as she searched for and found a thermostat. It was set at fifty-five. No wonder it felt nasty in here. She pushed it to seventy-two, wishing for the sunny warmth of San Diego in spite of the warm red fleece top Trev had bought her as a surprise and which she wore under her parka.

  She wandered around the store as she waited for it to heat. She remembered how Small Treasures had caught her from the moment she looked in the window. She waited for Harbor Lights to grab her the same way. It didn’t. In fact, the store made her shake her head in dismay.

  Mae Harper might have the finest inventory in the Christian book business, but you’d never know it. In spite of her wonderful attitude and her genius of a grandson, she had no sense of how to display items to their advantage, no sense of making the store anything but utilitarian.

  Beautifully framed pictures sat in bins while the walls sported advertising posters for books and records, many old, many curling at the edges. Books were crammed on shelves, all spine out, arranged by some system that Dori couldn’t immediately grasp. If she couldn’t figure it out, she guessed that most customers couldn’t either. Music tapes and CDs were crammed into a small area just outside the store bathroom. There was no way to preview the music before you bought, and the artists were arranged alphabetically, regardless of type of music.

  The cash register and computer sat on a counter by the front door surrounded by so many little novelties—stickers, pencils reading Jesus Loves Me in gold, Veggie Tales erasers, flyers for long-past events, a jar of Testamints, and wallet-sized laminated cards with a calendar on one side and the prayer of Jabez on the other—there was virtually no space left to lay a purchase down. A long dead grape ivy hung above the counter while its fallen, crisp leaves spread over everything below it in a brown, crackling carpet.

  She sighed as she hung her coat in the small back room. How she yearned for Small Treasures, for Meg’s friendly and efficient presence. Straightening her shoulders, she gathered the stack of mail that lay on Mae’s desk. Several boxes bearing publishers labels or gift company return addresses were stacked against one office wall. Clearly someone had come in once in a while and gathered the mail and the shipments, probably the girl who worked part-time for Mae. Dori knew she had a key.

  Last night while Trev walked Jack, Dori had called Mae from the bedside phone, hoping she wasn’t calling too late. Mae answered, wide awake and delighted to talk some more about Harbor Lights. When Dori volunteered to open the store and try to keep things running, Mae was ecstatic.

  “I’ve been praying about this, Dori, dear.”

  Great, Dori thought as she listened with half an ear for Trev’s return. Another pray-er. Just what I need.

  “I can’t tell you what a relief it is to have you take over. The girl who works for me volunteered, but she’s going to college. She just wouldn’t have time to do everything, and I don’t think she has the experience. But with your retail background, you are just what the Lord ordered.”

  Yeah, right. “Do you think she’d be willing to come in and help me?” Dori asked as she absently petted Trudy, snuggled down on the duvet beside her.

  “I don’t know why not,” Mae said. “I’ll call her and ask if she can drop in tomorrow. What time?”

  Dori heard the front door close and knew she was no longer the only adult in the house. It wasn’t until she felt the tension draining away that she realized how anxious she had been. Friday night was going to be very long and very stressful.

  Jack’s toenails clicked on the stairs as he came up to spend the night with Ryan. At the sound, Trudy’s ears perked up, and she looked at Dori who shook her head. Trudy sighed and lay back down.

  “Tell her to come in anytime,” Dori said, listening for Trev to come upstairs. “I plan to be there all day.”

  “Will do,” Mae assured her. “Oh, one big thing that needs addressing right away is contacting all the local churches about their Sunday school material for the next quarter. Put that at the top of your list,” Mae insisted. “All the records of previous sales of that type are in the computer as are the contact people at the various places. At Seaside Chapel it’s Judy Warrington.”

  Angle’s mom. Wouldn’t you just know.

  “And I’m afraid Christmas things are still out. They need to go away, and spring or Easter books, music and gift items need to be brought out.”

  So here Dori was, still shivering slightly as she spent an hour opening mail and sorting it into three piles: urgent, pressing, junk. She’d have to call Mae to be certain she had it all right, then run to Mae’s rehab to get checks written and signed to cover all the bills. She couldn’t go tonight because of the party at church for her and Trev. She gave a slight shudder at the thought of it. Maybe tomorrow over lunch.

  Next she went to the file cabinet to check when the last pink sheet had been run. January 3. Mae had fallen January 4. No pink sheet for that date. The record of transactions was still locked in the computer. Dori glanced at the bottom lines on the January 3 pink sheet. The figures of product sold and money received were off by thirteen cents. Not bad for a day’s totals, and hopefully not an omen. At least, she thought, it isn’t 666.

  Don’t be an idiot, she chided herself. This is a Christian bookstore. No omens here. Besides, Trev prayed for me this morning.

  Her heart warmed a little at the memory. She had been standing by the closet explaining to Jack why he wasn’t allowed to eat Trudy while they were all gone. Jack hadn’t looked convinced, but Dori wasn’t worried. Trudy was safe in her crate in Dori’s room. Trev walked to her, took her hand, and pulled her to him. When he bowed his head, she automatically did the same.

  “Lord, be with Dori today as she goes to Harbor Lights. Help her as she tries to sort things out. Use her experience at Small Treasures, and bless her for helping Mae.”

  She felt his arm go around her waist and pull her closer.

  “And Lord, please repair our marriage for Your glory.” His voice was soft and urgent.

  At that moment, just in time to keep her from leaning against Trev, Ryan came tearing down the stairs. Trev didn’t miss a beat but merely raised his voice.

  “And, Lord, be with Ry today. Keep him safe from predators like Eric, and work a miracle on his behalf. Help hi
m to actually enjoy school.”

  They’d all left the house smiling, though Ryan’s smile was more sarcastic than happy.

  Now she went to the computer and turned it on. Harbor Lights used different software than Small Treasures, but hopefully with a bit of study, she’d get the hang of it.

  At nine-thirty she unlocked the front door and put the OPEN sign in the window. Then she went to work on the easiest and most obvious need, cleaning and reorganizing the inventory so it invited anyone who stepped inside to browse and hopefully buy more than originally intended.

  She began with the checkout counter, tossing the old flyers and collecting all the little items to place elsewhere, though at the moment she wasn’t certain where elsewhere was going to be. She looked at the plain white plastic bags behind the counter and made the first of many notes: Is there a Harbor Lights logo? Design one? Print it on bags.

  In the music department she pulled all the Christmas music. In the gift area she put away the Advent wreaths and the ceramic Christmas trees. In the fiction area she pulled multiples of the same title to make room for turning as many books face out as she could. Since she was no more familiar with Christian fiction than she was with Christian music, she made her face-out selections based on the covers that appealed to her.

  She was staring at the Christian living, psychology, and theology sections with panic when the bell over the door jangled. With a feeling of great relief, she went to meet her first customer.

  After just a few steps she jolted to a halt. “Angie!”

  Angie froze in the middle of taking her coat off. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m helping Mae out by keeping the store open. Uh, can I help you?”

  “You’re who’s going to save the store?” Angie was incredulous.

  “Well, I don’t know about save the store, but—”

  “She turns down my help and accepts yours. Isn’t that just another perfect slap?”

  Dori felt her stomach flip. “Are you the girl who works for Mae part-time?”

  “I’m the girl who works for Mae part-time,” she spit as she shrugged back into her coat. “Mae.”

  A loud and completely unconvincing cough sounded from the front of the store. Dori hurried forward, aware that sniping employees were very bad for business anywhere, but it must seem especially bad in a Christian bookstore.

  Standing uncertainly inside the door was a delivery woman from Seaside Flowers, two carefully wrapped bouquets in her hands. “Dori Trevelyan?”

  “That’s me.” She looked at the bouquets with delight. “Put them here.” She tapped the checkout counter.

  “There’s one more in the truck,” the woman said. In minutes she was back with a third carefully wrapped arrangement.

  “Can’t be too careful of flowers in this weather,” she said as she accepted Dori’s generous tip and left.

  Smiling, Dori tore at the green wrappings around the first of the flowers. With a heart full of gratitude, Mae read the card with a bouquet of lavender mums, pink carnations, statice, and baby’s breath in a green glass vase. Dori was sniffing the carnations when she became aware that Angie was standing just behind her.

  “Impressive,” the girl said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Or was it jealousy? Hurt?

  “It’s from Mae,” Dori said. “Wasn’t that nice?” She pulled the wrappings from the second gift, a huge and very healthy philodendron.

  Make Harbor Lights a small treasure Seaside can be proud of, love, Phil and Maureen.

  Dori laughed as she held the card toward Angie. “Phil. He must have peered in and seen the plight of the deceased ivy.”

  “Who’s Maureen?” Angie asked abruptly, curious in spite of herself.

  “She appears to be Phil’s special friend. She was at church with him last Sunday.”

  “Well, last Sunday was certainly a big day, wasn’t it?” Angie looked as if she’d just swallowed vinegar. “Phil shows up with a girl and Pastor Paul with a wife.”

  Dori pulled a chair up to the counter so she could reach the hook in the ceiling and climbed up to hang the living plant in the place of the dead one. As she was climbing down, Angie reached out and ripped the green paper from the last gift, revealing a gigantic cyclamen in rich fuchsia. Angie read the card in a voice that thickened as she went.

  “Dori, I’m so proud of you. All my love now and forever, Trev.”

  There was an electric silence when she finished. Dori knew the words hurt the young woman and felt bad about it, but she didn’t know what to do to relieve her pain.

  Angie made a noise that was half sob, half furious scream. She tore the card across again and again until only confetti remained. She hurled it at Dori, the little pieces of pasteboard raining over the counter. She reached for the plant with the obvious intent to backhand it to the floor, but Dori moved faster. She grabbed the cyclamen and hugged it to her.

  Before she could suggest that Angie ought to leave, Angie turned and fled, but not before Dori saw the tears starting to fall.

  For a few minutes Dori just stood, the plant in her arms. She was appalled at Angle’s behavior, but she sort of understood. When she’d thought Trev was gone forever, she’d been devastated. She’d just never thrown anything in the guilty party’s face.

  She put the plant on the table and began to collect all the little pieces of Trev’s note. Maybe she could piece them together. She frowned as she laid the confettied card on the counter and began arranging it. Maybe she’d never thrown anything, but she’d been pretty nasty to Trev. The realization made her shiver.

  “Doing a miniature jigsaw puzzle?” asked a voice behind her.

  She swung to find Maureen peering over her shoulder.

  “Maureen!” She gave her new friend a quick hug. “A friendly face!”

  Maureen hugged her back. “So that was Angie I saw storming out of here a few minutes ago.”

  “You know about her?”

  “Phil told me.”

  Dori rolled her eyes. “I can just imagine his version.”

  “He defended Trev,” Maureen said, quick, Dori noted, to defend Phil.

  Dori nodded. “Good for him. I should have known.” She told Maureen about Angle’s visit. “And now I’m trying to put Trev’s note back together, but I’m missing a few pieces.” She sighed.

  “You’re wearing them.” Maureen reached out and plucked several scraps of paper from her hair.

  With the help of a large roll of tape that Dori found in a drawer behind the counter, they managed to reassemble Trev’s note.

  Maureen looked at it. “Why all this effort over an ordinary gift note?”

  “It’s the first time Trev’s ever given me flowers,” Dori said softly as she slid the reconstructed message into her slacks pocket.

  Maureen grinned at her. “I like him, Dori.”

  “You like Phil,” Dori retorted.

  “I’m keeping him under surveillance,” Maureen said primly.

  This time it was Dori who grinned. “Right. Now how can I help you?” She waved toward the books.

  “I’m looking for a good novel.” Maureen moved toward the fiction rack.

  Dori followed. “I don’t think I’ve read a Christian book in years,” she said. “I’m not the best person to have in a bookstore like this one, not that I’m telling the customers.”

  “After Adam died—”

  “Who’s Adam?”

  “My fiancé. He died six years ago. It broke my heart, and I read all kinds of books on death and mourning.” Maureen pointed to the Christian living section. “They helped, but I was overwhelmed by all my emotions. I needed to read something lighter. I tried some novels and found I could lose myself in the story. For a while my sorrow diminished as I lived the struggles of the characters.”

  Dori listened with fascination as Maureen lifted first one novel, then another, glancing at back copy, reading first pages. She thought of all her romantic suspense novels. Certainly she’d used them as a me
ans of escape, but she’d never thought of them as a means of healing.

  “And I loved the fact that Christian novels offered me hope,” Maureen continued. “Not that they candy-coated life. They acknowledged pain and sorrow and sin, but they didn’t stay mired there like so many secular books do. My life was awfully bleak back then, and the stories taught me that living isn’t static but evolutionary. New plateaus of forward development would always be open to me if I stuck with the Lord. Hope was always there if I chose to grab it.”

  She held one book out to Dori. “Sermon’s done. I’ll take this one.”

  Long after Maureen left, Dori thought about their conversation. Adam must have died somewhere around the time she herself moved to San Diego. Maureen knew pain, but she had turned to the Lord to get through it.

  Just like Trev had turned to the Lord. And Dori had turned from Him.

  What that all meant she wasn’t yet sure, but it raised one very hard question: How could she be a pastor’s wife if she wasn’t following God? She shivered as she considered the corollary: How could Trev be a pastor with an unbelieving, no, a badly lapsed wife? She hadn’t become an atheist, saying there was no God. To her that was foolish. There were too many proofs that God was there, from creation to the complexity of the human body, to say nothing of male and female. She’d always wondered how evolutionists explained two sexes.

  But she had become hostile and anti-God. She paused. No, she wasn’t anti-God. If He helped someone, good, fine. Let them believe. She’d just decided to ignore Him because she felt He’d failed her.

  Ah, Pop, I know you didn’t realize some of the ramifications, or you wouldn’t have done this to Trev and me. It’s not just the awkwardness we’re experiencing or even the issues of love and trust we need to work through. Because of who Trev is, it’s the issue of faith. Me and faith.