by Diane Noble
He helped her stand. “Especially here in our tiny little kitchen.” He took in the worn linoleum, the oddly crooked painted cupboards, the old refrigerator with inner workings that sounded like a 747 racing down the runway. Then he met her gaze again. “You’ve given up so much. But I’ve never heard a word of complaint.”
He didn’t know she woke in the night, aching for home. Not for the material things. Truly, she was finding they didn’t matter as much as she first thought they did. No, she ached for friends and family and, simply, the familiar surroundings of San Antonio where she had been born and raised. She ached for lost time, time alone when she could pursue her passion for her stained-glass artistry. But since they arrived, she hadn’t found a spare minute to work on it—even if she had been able to find her boxes of supplies.
“I know this hasn’t been easy,” Paul said. “But I just wanted you to know how much it means to me—and how much I love you for it.”
She smiled and touched his cheek. “As long as you keep catching those fowls and I keep tossing salads, we’ll make a good team.”
“Just as we always have,” he said and kissed her.
It seemed they had been married forever, yet this man hadn’t lost the ability to make her heart dance. She was still smiling as she placed the lettuce in a colander and turned on the water to rinse the leaves. Then she rinsed the tomatoes one at a time, dropping them into the colander with the lettuce.
“Sometimes I think about all we had at Riverbend and how easy something like this would be to handle. Not the emotional part—that would be devastating,” Paul said. He picked up a tea towel, dried his hands, then slung it over his shoulder and leaned back against the counter. There was a half smile at the corner of his mouth. “But the financial struggles. There was a lot of money in that church. Wealthy donors who gave from the bottom of their hearts. Generous people who loved God and wanted to see his work go forward.”
Kate tore the lettuce into bite-size chunks and dropped it into the spinner. “The church got whatever it wanted.”
He nodded slowly. “That’s it exactly. If we wanted a pipe organ, we got the best. Something that would fill that huge sanctuary and cause hearts to soar.”
“Or if we started a building program,” Kate added, “it was funded before the first bulldozer rumbled onto the site.” She reached for the cutting board and a tomato.
“The biggest, the best—nothing stopped us from getting what we thought we needed,” Paul reflected.
She tossed the chopped tomatoes into the salad bowl on top of the lettuce and reached for the radishes. “Does it bother you that we don’t have the same donors here? That everyday seems to be a bigger struggle than the last? And that even now, we don’t know if we’ll have the money to rebuild?”
Paul studied the paint-splattered pattern on the linoleum for a moment before answering. “Honestly? Yeah. It weighs heavy on my heart. My prayer is that I’ll know when the time comes how best to meet the challenge.” His expression softened. “That I’ll be up to it.”
Kate put down the knife, wiped her hands, and reached for his hand. “I have no doubt about that, Paul. When God called you to this place, he knew what he was doing. He equipped you for this struggle. You will be up to the challenge—you are up to the challenge.”
He reached for an avocado and cut it in two, pitted it, and as he sliced it over the salad, continued, “I could use a good dose of wisdom right now. You want to drive to Chattanooga with me tomorrow to visit Nehemiah?”
“As long as we’re back in time for choir practice,” she said, raising an eyebrow.
A hint of a smile returned. “Ah yes, choir practice at Renee’s.”
“I still wonder why she mentioned my voice to Sam.”
“Because you have a pretty voice.”
“Not that pretty. I croak on the high notes.”
“That’s why you’re an alto.”
“Middle C has even brought on a croak. I’ll have to mime the words.”
“Hey, you,” he said, grinning. “There’s another reason I love you.”
“And that would be my creaky, squeaky voice?”
“No, it’s because you’re a good sport. You could have said no.”
Kate took a deep breath. “The more I’m around our parishioners, the more likely someone will slip and tell me something I need to know. Choir practice will be a good beginning.”
They went back to work on dinner, still dance-stepping around each other. Paul carved the chicken while Kate whisked together an olive-oil-and-rice-vinegar dressing, then tossed the salad.
“About that organ,” he said after a few minutes. “There are those odd little moments when I think, ‘Boy, how I would love to add a pipe organ to the building plans.’”
“Somehow I knew the subject wasn’t finished.” Kate laughed and reached for the refrigerator door. He danced out of her way. “Or a big screen for projecting hymns and PowerPoint presentations?”
“Ah, you know me well.”
“That I do, Pastor Hanlon. That I do.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “And because you know me so well, you can guess what I’d like to do with the money we save by not putting your plan into action.”
He popped a radish in his mouth. “Hmmph,” he said as he chewed. “Has to do with cooking. Kitchen. Entertaining.” He popped another radish.
“Close,” she said. “Food, yes. Kitchen, yes. Entertaining... ?” She made a rocking gesture with her right hand. “Seriously, honey, I have a big dream for the church kitchen.” She smiled. “Or maybe I should say a dream for a big kitchen.”
“We’ve got to build everything exactly as it was. Eli has the blueprints from the old church. He knows an architect who’ll update them once we get the go-ahead from the board. To keep the costs down, everything will stay the same.”
“My dream has to do with a kitchen and fellowship hall big enough to supply meals for those who are having a hard time making ends meet and need a helping hand.”
Paul’s smile was soft. “I would love nothing better. It’s a matter of money.”
“And prayer,” she added.
AFTER SUPPER KATE AND PAUL took the Lexus over to the site of the fire. As they drove by the creek, Kate could see beams from flashlights crisscrossing the church property and a few shadowy figures milling about. Apparently, word had spread about the lumber delivery. Who would have known the event would be such a draw? Kate laughed; she and Paul had come to watch just like everybody else. Were they already getting acclimated to small-town living?
Eli came over to greet them as they exited the car. He pointed with his flashlight beam to the lumber, which was stacked on what once was the parking lot. They followed him over to have a look. “High grade,” Eli said proudly. “Redwood. Can’t beat the price either.”
The other shadowy figures materialized into Livvy and Danny Jenner, Joe Tucker, and Sam Gorman as they came closer to join the conversation.
“Did you hear about the latest offer for the property?” Livvy said to Kate.
Even in the dim ambient light of the flashlights, Kate could see the concern in her eyes. “I did,” she said. “It gives one pause, doesn’t it?”
Eli overheard the question. “They came to me. Practically offered us the sun and moon if we’d sell them this land.” He paused, looking back toward the burned-out hulk where the church once stood. “I don’t know how you all feel—and, of course, I can’t make a decision on my own—but I’d like to tell them to go jump in the creek.”
An almost imperceptible sadness crossed his face. It appeared then disappeared so quickly, Kate thought she had imagined it.
“I can’t see putting up a new building anywhere but here,” he continued. “I was raised in this church. Until the week he died, my grandfather rang the church bell every Sunday morning. No matter what. When he couldn’t drive anymore, he walked, even in the snow. It just wouldn’t seem right hearing that bell come from any other place but here by the creek.”<
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“My gut reaction is to agree with you,” Danny said, “but from a practical standpoint, we may not have a choice.” He paused, looking every bit the professorial math teacher he was. His logic was right on target. Even so, something felt so wrong about it.
Paul turned to the others, stroking his chin, his expression thoughtful. “Sometimes we have to step out in faith,” he said. “I know that financially we’d perhaps be better off selling this land to the developers, taking their money and rebuilding elsewhere. But in the short time Kate and I have been here, we’ve seen firsthand the incredibly strong faith of this congregation. We’ve also seen what this place—not just the building but the setting, the land, even the creek view—means to each individual and family. In some cases, generations of the same family have worshipped here.
“When you consider the births, deaths, marriages, anniversary celebrations through the decades—and yes, even Eli’s grandfather ringing the bell—you can only conclude that this very ground is sacred.”
Silence fell. Kate looked around in wonder. The rushing sound of the creek carried like music toward them on an almost balmy Indian-summer breeze. Sacred? Oh yes. Kate’s eyes stung with tears.
Paul continued, “I think about those first members of Faith Briar and the sacrifices they made to put up a building here. I’ve been doing some research at the library, pulling up old microfiche accounts. I found out that this core group of only seven or eight miners scraped together all they had—and in some cases, it was little more than a widow’s mite—and they bought this land.
“These were men with families, and obligations that go with them. But they gave of their time and money because they knew it was what God wanted them to do. Their children needed a Sunday school. Their wives needed a place of worship. These men stood before God and said, in essence, ‘Hey, we’re your guys.’”
He grinned. “They arrived here, where we’re standing, before they reported to the mine—no small feat, because their workday started at dawn. And they came back at night after their shifts were over, mining lamps attached to their caps so they could see to work after sundown.
“I think about the dream they had for this holy ground, I think about how hard they worked to fulfill that dream, and honestly, folks, I can’t imagine building anywhere else.”
There were murmurs of agreement.
Danny cleared his throat. “I say we spread the word,” he said. “We’ll rebuild right here, no matter what it takes. No matter how long. No matter the sacrifice.”
Paul’s gaze met Kate’s. She saw compassion, commitment, and wisdom in his eyes, and though it was difficult to tell in the dark, she thought she saw tears. She thought about how far they had come—from the comforts of San Antonio and the large congregation that wanted for nothing to this place of sacrifice. They had so little to work with, yet never had God’s grace seemed so abundant.
“Amen,” she whispered.
THERE WAS A MESSAGE on their answering machine when they arrived home. It was Skip Spencer. He sounded excited. “Missus Hanlon,” he said. “The arsonist wants to talk to you again. He said to call and tell you he’s ready to talk.”
“Do you mind going to Chattanooga alone?” Kate asked Paul a few minutes later. “I should go see Jed first thing in the morning.”
“I agree. Do you want me to come with you?”
She shook her head. “He might not open up if someone else is there. But I do want him to meet you as soon as possible.”
THE PHONE RANG in the middle of the night. Kate squinted at her bedside clock: 1:46. She reached for the phone, hoping it wasn’t an emergency with one of the children.
“Mrs. Hanlon?”
“Yes,” she said groggily.
“It’s Eli.”
“Oh yes. Eli. What’s wrong?”
“Can I talk to Pastor Paul?” He sounded frantic. “Please. And fast.”
“Of course.” Frowning, she handed the receiver to Paul.
He listened for a moment, then said, “Eli, it’s okay. It’s a setback, but we’ll recover. God won’t abandon us now.”
Paul fell silent again as the young man went on. Then he said, “Call your contacts in the morning. See if they have any way of tracing the shipment. Find out when we can place another order.”
He paused, listening, then said, “The bulldozer?”
The two men talked for another few minutes, then Paul returned the receiver to the cradle. He swept his fingers through his hair, then let out a deep sigh.
“We’ve had some vandalism,” he said. “The entire shipment of lumber was stolen tonight. And the bulldozer’s gone. Eli is frantic. The ’dozer, as he calls it, belonged to a friend.”
“Oh, Paul,” Kate said, reaching for his hand. “What next?”
Chapter Thirteen
Time crawled after Paul left for Chattanooga. Three times Kate started for the front door, and three times she was called back by a ringing phone. She was tempted to let it ring through to the answering machine but worried it might be an emergency, so she reluctantly headed back to the kitchen each time.
The first call was from Renee Lambert asking if she could drop Kisses by for a visit to “Grandma’s” that afternoon. Annoyed, Kate prayed for grace, which took longer than usual to find its way into her heart. So while she waited, she prayed that she would at least see the humor in the grandma bit. It came faster than grace did.
“Bring Kisses a sweater,” Kate said. “I’ll take him with me on my afternoon errands.”
Renee seemed stunned that Kate so readily agreed. “All right,” she said. “But if it starts to rain, I don’t want him to leave the house.”
“Bring an umbrella,” Kate said between clenched teeth. And make sure it matches the sweater. She added a request for forgiveness to the prayer she had just shot heavenward.
The second phone call was from Livvy, who had done more digging on the former CEO of Worldwide Destination Resorts. “He died just a few days ago,” she said. “His vehicle went off a cliff in the San Bernardino Mountains of California. The weather was clear and warm, and there wasn’t much traffic. There’s an investigation.”
Kate promised she would stop by later so they could do more surfing for clues on the Internet. She also wanted to check her e-mail to see if she had heard from the CEO’s former administrative assistant, Sybil Hudson.
The third call was from LuAnne, who had made great strides in finding volunteers to head up the pumpkin-festival committees. “Listen to who I got,” she said, her words coming out in a hurried whoosh. “Betty Anderson. Have you met her yet, darlin’? She’s the proprietor of the beauty shop. She’s planning to talk up the pie-baking contest and can’t wait to enter it herself.
“Then there’s Phoebe West—I think I told you about her new baby. Cute as a bug’s ear. Name’s Violet. Same as her eyes. Anyway, she said she would be in charge of the Little Miss Pumpkin contest.”
LuAnne was on a roll. She barely stopped to take a breath. “We’ll have an auction. People are plannin’ to bring apple butter, jams ’n’ jellies, fudge, and...oh my, I get hungry just thinkin’ about it. Can you imagine all this comin’ together the way it has? It’s a God thing, though I’d love to take credit for it!”
Finally she stopped to catch her breath, and Kate broke in with a laugh. “You’ve done an incredible job, LuAnne.”
LuAnne laughed. “That’s my policy, darlin’. If there’s a job that needs doin’, do it right, I always say. Otherwise, don’t bother at all.”
“Maybe we can talk to the other women about it at the tea on Saturday. You’ll be there, won’t you?”
“I wouldn’t miss your tea for all the tea in China.” LuAnne chuckled. “It’ll be a good time to enlist the help of the church ladies. Everyone I’ve talked to says they can’t wait to come to Kate Hanlon’s fancy tea party.”
“Fancy tea party?”
“That’s what they’re saying.”
“Oh dear. I don’t want people to
think it’s anything out of the ordinary. I just wanted to do something nice to get to know the women in our congregation.”
“Honey, don’t worry about that. The ladies of Copper Mill are ready for ‘out of the ordinary.’ You’re from the city, and we’re all dying to see how you do things. We’ve all heard about the smart way you’ve hung your pots, and we can’t wait to see it.”
Something about it all was unsettling to Kate. Being talked about behind her back was bad enough, but having something she considered a labor of love put down as a means of putting on airs twisted her heart. She wondered who first dubbed it her “fancy tea party.” She had a pretty good idea.
IT WAS AFTER TEN by the time Kate got to the town hall. “I may need you as a witness later,” she said to Skip Spencer when she checked in. “Bring a tape recorder, pen, and pad.” She was guessing at what the legalities might be in this case, but figured it wouldn’t hurt to at least start here—and at the same time, give Skip a bit of the glory—then let the sheriff take over.
Skip blushed the hue of his hair, and his eyes brightened. “Wow,” he said. “You bet!” He opened the heavy double doors behind his desk, and she stepped into the corridor leading to Jed’s cell.
“You wanted to see me?” she said to Jed a moment later.
He stood and walked over to the bars between them. “You were right,” he said quietly. “I need to tell the truth.”
She let her breath out slowly. “You’re doing the right thing.”
“That doesn’t mean they’ll believe me.”
“They may not. But it’s a start.”
“It probably means I’ll go to trial...”
“And you’re worried about representation?”
He nodded. “I’m not sure what the courts provide.”
“We’ll face that later. Besides, I happen to know a very fine attorney.”
“I don’t have any money,” he said.
“It’s my son. He might be able to help—at least get us in touch with someone here who can.”