by Lyn Cote
Over the intervening days, Burke had kept picturing Keely in the cafe booth and hearing her say, "I'll call you." But she hadn't called him. And she hadn't come to church this morning. He ached to see her, talk to her, touch her. Lord, am I going to lose her, too? The thought wrenched him.
"I usually don't do this." A change in Bruce Weaver's voice broke into Burke's introspection. "But I want to address what has just happened in our community."
A wary hush fell over the congregation. Burke looked up.
The young sandy-haired minister stepped away from the pulpit. "We all know that Grady Turner admitted responsibility for the fires at the school and the thrift shop."
Instantly, Burke's mind took him back to that night when he'd knelt on the cold asphalt parking lot while Grady had alternately cursed, screamed in pain, and confessed. That memory would never leave him.
"We don't know what drove this young man to do this."
From that night, Burke knew more about what had driven Grady than most. In the ER, Keely's parents hadn't even asked about their son's physical condition. They weren't concerned about anybody but themselves, how what he'd done affected their standing, their convenience and ends.
"But we can all be grateful that no one was seriously injured. Only Grady was burned by the fires he set." Bruce paused. In the first row sitting on Penny's lap, little Rachel clapped her hands, playing patty cake.
Bruce smiled. "We all know that, thank God, now Grady will be getting the help he needs. In a situation like this it's easy to pass judgment. But none of us has lived a sinless life. We need to remember Grady in our prayers. And examine our own lives. Are we doing right? Have we set fires of unkindness, disobedience? fires of gossip?"Bruce stared into the congregation.
Next to Burke, Nick stirred restlessly. Since the night Veda's car had been destroyed and the coach had let Nick play ball, his nephew had been subdued. Grady had gone the length with his anger. What would Nick do? Was this really over or should Burke prepare himself for round two with Nick? Lord, help me.
Then Bruce lifted his black leather Bible off the pulpit and flipped to a bookmark. "I want to read to you what Paul had to say about God's love in Ephesians 3:14-19. It's what I wish for each of you, for all of Steadfast.
Bruce cleared his throat and began reading. '"When I think of the wisdom and scope of God's plan, I fall to my knees and pray to the Father, the Creator of everything in heaven and on earth. I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will give you mighty inner strength through his Holy Spirit. And I pray that Christ will be more and more at home in your hearts as you trust in him.... May you have the power to understand, as all God's people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love really is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is so great you will never fully understand it. Then you will be filled with the fullness of life and power that comes from God.'"
The young pastor closed the Bible. "That's what I wish for all of you, all of Steadfast and LaFollette, as we go into another Christmas season. I want Christ to be more at home in your hearts. I want you to know God's love and to share it with others."
Beside Burke, Nick scrawled one word onto his church bulletin. Keeping his eyes forward, Nick slid it onto Burke's lap. It read: "Sorry."
Sorry. For the first time this autumn, Burke hadn't had to force the word from his nephew. A mighty tide of relief rolled through Burke, almost leaving him weak with gratitude. Thank you, Lord.
Burke took the pen from his nephew's hand and wrote:"Forgive me too?"
Nick met his gaze. Burke offered him his hand. They clasped hands. Harlan reached over and laid his gnarled hand on theirs. Warmth filled Burke. He hadn't lost Nick after all.
"Let's all rise for the closing hymn," Bruce said. "Turn to 'Just As I Am.'"
The three men stood and shared one hymnal. " 'Just as I am, without one plea,'" Burke sang. '"But that Thy blood was shed for me. And that Thou bidd'st me come to Thee,O Lamb of God I come! I come!'"
Lord, you brought Jayleen back and now Nick. You brought me back. Bring Keely back--to me.
That evening, Burke sat alone at the kitchen table, staring at the dishes he'd promised to wash for Harlan. A pinging on the windows heralded an early snow and sharp wind—a good night to stay indoors. Harlan and Nick had gone into town to help decorate the church for Christmas. Burke hadn't felt like company. Maybe sitting quietly and praying would give him some idea of what to do about Keely. They'd come so far toward becoming free of the past of the turmoil around them. How had Grady's guilt torpedoed their hopes?
Rodd walked in Harlan's back door, slamming it against a cold gust of wind.
His brow creased, Burke looked up. "I thought you'd be at church tonight."
Shrugging out of his jacket, Rodd pulled out a chair and sat down. "I was at the church. But Harlan said I needed to be here."
Burke looked at his friend with a quizzical lift to his eyebrow. "Here?"
Rodd nodded. "Harlan said you were here alone, stewing." He paused. "You and I have something in common."
"We have a lot in common." What was Rodd up to? "We have for a lot of years. What's your point?" I don't want a pep talk now or platitudes.
Rodd gave him a half grin. "We both love women who are givers."
Burke glanced at Rodd. He hadn't said anything to Rodd or to anyone else about his feelings for Keely.
"Now don't act like you're not in love with Keely Turner. Everyone in the county knows it."
Burke gaped at his friend. "Everyone knows?"
"You two have had a rough time this autumn—your nephew, her brother, her father." Rodd shook his head."But I think the Family Closet burning to the ground was what really did her in. Keely's the one who bought that house and got the area churches busy setting up the outreach. Single parents needed help and this county really needed a thrift shop."
"Keely?" Burke wondered why she hadn't told him. "I thought Penny Weaver—"
"That's because Keely didn't want it known. But she bank-rolled the place and kept it going. If the thrift shop had been burned due to an accident, she probably would have bounced right back. But that brother of hers doing it. That hurt."
Rodd grimaced. "And I don't know what's going to happen to him in the future. He's out of our hair now, but I don't know how much even a private institution will help him. Being Keely Turner, she probably feels responsible, guilty."
"That doesn't make any sense. Her brother's trouble is not her fault. Surely she can't think that," Burke objected.
"Will she talk to you?"
"No, I've tried. I've called and called her." Burke clenched his hands on top of the table. "But she won't have anything to do with me. I don't understand it."
"I do. I told you. We both fell in love with women who are givers. That's good, but the problem with givers is that they give and give and finally they run out of gas. Keely's run out of gas."
Burke stared at Rodd. Of course Keely was a giver. Anyone, even he, could see that. "But what do I do? How can I make her see that Grady's guilt doesn't have anything to do with how I feel about her?"
"That's not really the point. You were at church this morning."
"Yeah."
"Well, I think Bruce planned his sermon for Keely, but she didn't come."
"You mean the story about Elijah?" Burke tried to link the Old Testament prophet to Keely. Again, he recalled the moment of unity Nick, Harlan, and he had shared at the end of the service. Nick had been smiling all afternoon. He'd even called his mother without being told to.
"Yeah," Rodd continued, "remember Elijah took on all the prophets of Baal, defeated them, and then ran away from Jezebel's death threat? Keely's like that. She's poured herself out for this community and her family, and she's empty now. So it isn't that she doesn't still care for you. She just wants to run away and hide."
"How do I get through to her? I'll take any advice you have to offer."
"This is no time for standing aro
und wondering what to do. You have to get her attention. Convince her you love her no matter what or you're going to lose her."
Burke traced a pattern on the tabletop. "I thought I'd give her some time and try again."
"You don't have time for that. I said she wants to run away. I just heard that she's going to leave town."
"Leave?" Burke stiffened.
"Gus Feeney called Harlan. Said Keely has turned in a letter of resignation and she's putting her house on the market in January."
"What?" Burke sat up. "She wouldn't sell that place."
"I couldn't believe it either, so before I came here, I drove over to Gus's house and talked to him. He said that Turner is putting the mill up for sale, and he and his wife are going to spend the winter in California. May retire early there. They're not coming back here."
"What has that got to do with Keely?" Burke asked, his mind reeling.
Rodd shrugged. "I asked Gus if she's going with her parents, though I didn't think that was likely. He said he got out of her that she has a friend starting a private school in Vermont who wants her to come out and be part of getting it off the ground."
"Vermont?"
"Yes, Vermont." Rodd leaned forward. "You better get your act together if you don't want to have to chase her all the way out East."
Burke stood up and headed for the back door.
"Hey!" Rodd called to him. "She's not at home. She's at that storefront the church rented to be the temporary Family Closet. She's there working with Jayleen."
Keely stood staring out the dusty window of the empty storefront. The darkness outside reflected her mood. Closing her eyes, she pictured the snowy hills of Vermont. The image was lovely, but she felt herself tearing up.
"Ms. Turner, I have the wash water ready."
Jayleen's voice called her back to the temporary quarters of the Family Closet on Main Street in Steadfast. Keely turned. "Oh! I'll finish this." She quickly swept the last corner of dust into a pile and stooped to coax it into the dustpan. "Okay, you can start mopping."
Jayleen approached with the wheeled industrially mopping bucket and dipped the string mop into it. "Why are you leaving?"
The teen's question brought Keely up sharp. "What?"
"Mrs. Weaver told Grandma at church that you put your resignation in. She told me when I stopped there on my way here to help you. Why are you leaving?"
Keely turned away and began spraying glass cleaner on the large front window. "I need a change. That's all."
"You're running away just like your parents," Jayleen accused her. "But you're not like them."
Not taking the bait, Keely kept on cleaning the window, listening for Jayleen to start swishing the mop over the vinyl floor.
"You are leaving, aren't you?" Jayleen insisted.
"This doesn't really concern you."
"Yes, it does. You're my principal, and you're the one who started this thrift shop."
"It was Mrs. Weaver's idea."
"Do you think we're all stupid? Everyone knows you're the one who put up the money to buy the house for the thrift shop."
Keely looked over her shoulder. "What?"
"And we don't want you to leave. Just because your brother is crazy doesn't mean you have to leave."
Keely felt her eyes smart with tears. "I don't really want to discuss—"
"Maybe I understand that better than anyone else, and that's why I'm saying this."
Keely turned and faced the girl, who stopped mopping and leaned on the mop handle. "What do you understand, Jayleen?"
The girl frowned. "Mrs. Weaver came out and talked to me again ...after that day I said I wanted to give her my baby. She talked to me like you did that day in the thrift shop about God's forgiveness and how we just have to ask for it. We can't earn it. It's just there for us to take."
Keely's mind whispered that passage from Ephesians:"God saved you by his special favor when you believed. And you can't take credit for this; it is a gift from God. Salvation is not a reward for the good things we have done, so none of us can boast about it."
Jayleen shrugged. "But it's hard to take it when you feel ...so ...like you don't deserve any of it."
Keely waited, understanding what Jayleen was getting at but unable to free herself of the same ache. I don't feel worthy, Lord.
"Carrie thought Grady was cool because of his money and car," the teen continued. "And some people say nasty things about you. They're just jealous because you don't ever have to worry about money. They said—why shouldn't you set up the Family Closet? You owed it to everyone."
Jayleen's expression darkened. "But that's not right. You tried to do something good and it got wrecked. Just like I tried to get my baby safe to my grandmother. It didn't work out, but God doesn't hold that against me."
"That's right." Keely felt her emotions being stirred again. She'd felt so lifeless since Grady's arraignment. "That's right," she repeated. I know it, Lord, but how can I make it sink deep down inside me?
"But the Weavers," Jayleen continued, "can take care of and raise Rachel really fine, so then I can feel that I did my best for her. And the Family Closet can be here until the new one gets built and your brother is going to get help."
Thinking of her brother abandoned by their parents, Keely felt a tear trickle down her cheek.
"So why do you act like it's your fault that your brother messed up?" Jayleen looked at Keely. "You don't even have to ask for forgiveness because you didn't do anything wrong. Does that make sense?"
"Everyone was depending on me."
"Rachel was depending on me. You said God would forgive me. What about you?"
What about me? Am I running away because I don't want to be left holding the bag for my parents? Is that my real reason? "I need time to heal Jayleen. I just need a break—"
The back door burst open, letting in a blast of cold wind. "Hello!" Burke's voice carried from the back room. He strode in.
Keely's heart beat wildly. The sight of him moved her away from the window. She set the glass cleaner down on a step stool. After days of feeling nothing but packed-down pain, her love for this man rushed up from her toes to the top of her head. "Burke? Why are you here?" Though longing to run to him, she backed away.
"I want to know what you think you're doing," he protested. "Heading for Vermont without even saying a word to me."
Keely dropped the rag she'd been using.
Doing an about face, Jayleen retreated at a rapid pace, pushing the creaky, wheeled bucket ahead of her toward the back room where she took refuge, shutting the door firmly behind her.
"How does everyone know?" Keely cried in frustration. "Can't everyone just leave me alone? I need time away."
Burke inched closer. "I think Gus Feeney's called half the county, telling everyone about your trying to resign from your position as principal."
The look on Burke's face made her remember his arms around her and his warm lips coaxing hers. "Well, he shouldn't have." She fell back another step. "I just wanted to leave quietly—"
"No." He kept heading toward her. "I don't want you to leave."
She kept retreating. Exhilaration cascaded through her, breaking up the skim of ice inside her. "I can't face everyone—"
In one long stride, he was close enough to gather her into his arms. "If you're leaving, then I'm leaving. I'm not letting you get away."
"Burke, I just want to be alone."
"Too bad. I spent too many years alone and I don't recommend it." He kissed her.
Sensation exploded through her—warmth, love, longing. She kissed him back, then pulled her head away to speak. "Burke, I can't face everyone."
"I'll be right by your side." He kissed her once more. Again, Keely kissed him back, his arms banded around her, his fresh soap scent teasing her senses, his soft lips on her mouth. She knew now that she'd wished for him to hold her like this all these lonely days and nights.
She pulled away. "Burke, you don't want me."
; "Will you marry me, Keely Turner? Say yes. Please."Then he sealed his proposal with another kiss.
Keely felt her knees weakening. His kisses were like sweet waves of peace, draining away her shame and reluctance, her feelings of failure. She clung to his warmth. "Burke," she breathed against his lips, "you don't want to marry me."
His hand claimed the back of her head while his other arm gave her welcome support. "If I thought," he murmured, "that you had one real reason that we shouldn't become engaged, I'd give in. But you don't."
"You don't want me."
"I do." He kissed her again, short and urgent. "God can take care of your brother, your parents, the thrift shop, the school—everything. I need you and I want you to be my wife." He tilted her head back slightly. "Do we see eye to eye on that?"
Tears flowed down her cheeks. She had to make him listen. "I failed Grady."
"Grady failed you ...and everyone else."
"He hurt so many people."
"Still has nothing to do with you." He massaged the tight muscles of her neck.
"I feel so guilty."
"False guilt. I told you I failed Sharon."
"But you didn't fail her."
"You're right. That was the false guilt. I see that now," he agreed, overriding her. "I stayed with her to the end. I thought I failed her because I didn't feel up to facing what happened to her. What froze me inside was the fear of losing her. And when I did, the ice inside me stayed."
He took a deep breath. "But I'm older, and I understand God's love better now. Losing Sharon didn't mean he'd turned his back on me. And being frightened of losing my wife was no sin. I carried unnecessary guilt for years, and isolated myself until my family forced me to see that Nick needed me."
He cradled her face in one hand. "If you were guilty of anything, I'd tell you so and we'd face it together. But believe me, I won't fail you. I won't freeze up on you."
This made her smile through her tears. "How can you be so certain that you're right? We've only known each other one season. And we've been through one crisis after another."