Where Love Abides (Heartland Homecoming)

by Irene Hannon

  “Wow! This isn’t like any picnic I’ve ever been on.” Christine moved to the counter and picked up a pen.

  “Cara’s a wonder in the kitchen.” Dale set a glass of water on the table and joined her. “Everything okay now?”

  “Yes. All the changes are perfect. And the write-up is very thorough. You were so sick, I wasn’t sure you absorbed half of what I told you.”

  “I heard every word, Christine.” His quiet but intense response left no room for doubt.

  Leaning down to hide the flush on her cheeks, she signed the document and handed the pen to Dale, watching as he added his signature in a few bold strokes.

  “My office is off the kitchen.” She indicated a doorway. “The fax machine is on the side table.”

  “I’ll be right back. You and Jenna go ahead and fix your plates.”

  The fax went through without any glitches, and Dale rejoined them within a couple of minutes, tucking the original document into the portfolio as he surveyed the table. Christine and Jenna’s plates were filled, their soup bowls brimming. Propping his hands on his hips, he gave them a teasing grin. “You ladies didn’t waste any time, did you?”

  “But we didn’t start yet, Daddy. We waited for you to say a blessing.”

  As he took his seat, he sent Christine a questioning look. “Do you mind?”

  “No. I always used to pray before meals, until…anyway, I’m trying to mend that relationship. Reminders like this help.”

  “Good for you.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it. Taking Jenna’s hand as well, Dale bowed his head. “We thank you, Lord, for this special meal and for allowing us to share it together. We ask you to bless this food, and we pray that Your healing grace will fill our lives. Help us feel Your presence and know You are always near, and guide our steps when we stumble. Thank you for my quick recovery, and for those who helped bring it about. Amen.”

  An hour later, after a relaxed, laughter-filled meal, Christine smiled and shook her head as she inspected their plates. “I’d say we did Cara’s handiwork justice. Especially you.” She raised one eyebrow as she looked at Dale.

  “Hey, I had six days to catch up on.”

  “You didn’t have to do it all in one sitting.”

  “Are you implying I overate?”

  “If the shoe fits…” She lifted one shoulder. “I only hope you don’t regret this.”

  “I’ll be fine. I can see the improvement almost hour by hour.”

  In truth, he did seem much better. Since his visit to the library yesterday, his face had regained most of its color and the fine lines around his eyes had eased.

  “It’s too bad your mother was gone. She could have helped a lot.”

  He smiled at her. “I had a good substitute.”

  “Ms. Christine, can I go look at your garden?”

  Grateful for Jenna’s interruption, Christine transferred her attention to the little girl. “There’s not much left to see this late in the fall, honey.”

  “There were some pretty flowers on the side of the house.”

  Jenna must have noticed the few hardier annuals that hadn’t yet succumbed to frost, Christine speculated. “We can go out and look. Would you like to take a bouquet home?”

  “May I?”

  “You two go ahead. I’ll clean up.” Dale rose and began collecting the empty containers.

  “We’ll only be a few minutes.” Taking Jenna’s hand, Christine grabbed a pair of scissors from a kitchen drawer.

  “No hurry. I have the afternoons off until my mom gets back next Friday.”

  By the time they returned with a gigantic bouquet, Dale had everything stowed in the wicker hamper. Christine wrapped the flowers in newspaper and followed the pair out to the car, a book tucked under her arm.

  Once Dale had Jenna strapped in, Christine leaned in and placed the flowers next to the little girl, handing her the book. “We just got this at the library, and I wanted you to be the first one to check it out. I was going to give it to your daddy when I saw him, but I’m glad I got to give it to you myself.”

  A smile lit Jenna’s face as she looked at the colorful cover illustration of two children in a magical garden. “I’ll ask Daddy to read it to me when we get home. Thank you, Ms. Christine.”

  “You’re welcome, honey. You can look at the pictures while I say goodbye to your daddy.”

  Straightening up, Christine closed the door. Dale had stowed the wicker hamper in the trunk, and she joined him at the back of the car. “I enjoyed the impromptu picnic. Thank you for including me.”

  “It was small repayment for all you did for us this past week.”

  “You have it backward. I was the one who owed you a favor.”

  Now that he’d heard her story, Dale understood her reluctance to be indebted to anyone. But he wanted her to understand that not everyone had a hidden agenda for their kindness. “I was glad to help, Christine. And like the Good Samaritan, I didn’t expect anything in return. That’s not what Christian charity is all about.”

  “Too bad Jack didn’t feel the same way.” A twinge of pain tightened her features, and she shivered in her short-sleeved blouse as a sudden gust of cold wind whipped past.

  Without stopping to think, Dale drew her close, rubbing the palms of his hands up and down her bare arms. “You should go inside.” His voice wasn’t quite steady, and despite his suggestion, he didn’t release her.

  A tremor rippled through her as the friction warmed both her skin and her heart. And all at once she found it difficult to breathe. She was close enough to feel the heat from his body, she realized. Close enough to get lost in his blue eyes. Close enough to stretch on tiptoes and press her lips to his.

  That last thought jolted her.

  In light of the tender yearning on Dale’s face, however, she suspected she wasn’t the only one with romantic notions. A few days ago, when he’d told her that after he felt better they’d talk about next steps, she’d wondered if he was referring to the battle to clear her name or their relationship. Considering all he was doing to wipe her record off the books, she’d figured he meant the former.

  Yet she didn’t think she’d imagined the spark between them the night she’d stayed at his house, nor in the office at the library. And she didn’t think she was imagining it now. Like her, however, he was walking a wide circle around it.

  But Christine was growing tired of those evasive maneuvers. And beginning to think they were unnecessary—at least with this man. Dale had told her once that he was one of the good guys. While she’d been skeptical then, she wasn’t any longer. And even though she was still scared, even though she wasn’t sure she could trust her instincts, they were too powerful to ignore. Try as she might, she seemed unable to step back from his arms.

  Dale was having the same difficulty. With Christine mere inches away, her skin smooth and silky beneath his fingertips, he couldn’t ignore the message in her soft brown eyes. During most of their encounters, he’d seen distrust and caution in their depths. But now wariness had given way to welcome and warmth, and aversion had become invitation.

  Self-discipline had always been one of Dale’s strengths. But he couldn’t muster it now as his gaze locked with Chris-tine’s and a powerful jolt of electricity sizzled between them. He didn’t want to lead her on. But neither could he resist her silent entreaty or the wistful yearning that illuminated her face.

  Warning bells went off in his mind, but Dale disregarded them. He’d been attracted to her for weeks. Had spent more than one lonely, wakeful night thinking about her, imagining an encounter like this, yet never dreaming she’d lower her defenses enough to allow him to get close. Now that she had, he didn’t have the strength to walk away without tasting her lips.

  Angling his body to shield Christine from Jenna’s view, he swept her soft hair back from her face. She shivered again, but whether from cold or anticipation he couldn’t tell. Never breaking eye contact, he signaled his intent by brushing his fingertips acr
oss her lips, watching for some sign that she wanted him to stop. When none came, when she swayed toward him instead, he gave up the fight. Lowering his lips to hers, he drank of her sweetness in a tender, caring—and careful—kiss. She deserved nothing less after the sadistic, brutal treatment she’d endured at the hands of her husband.

  As Dale’s lips moved over hers, gentle and almost reverent, Christine felt something deep inside her release, like the untwisting of a coiled spring. The sensation of relief, of an easing of pressure and tension, soothed and calmed her as nothing else had in years. She’d forgotten how good it could feel to trust another person, to believe in—and count on—someone. To feel secure enough to lose herself in the moment, confident that other person would keep her safe.

  That was how she felt in Dale’s arms. Safe. And cherished. And loved.

  When he deepened the kiss, she didn’t protest, giving even more than he asked for. Lost in the wonder of his arms, she wished the interlude could go on forever.

  All too soon, however, he eased his lips away from hers, his lingering release making it clear he was no more anxious to end the embrace than she was. But Jenna was in the car, and this wasn’t the time or place to explore what their kiss had begun.

  He rested his forehead against hers, his breath warm on her cheeks. “I’ll call you.” He sounded as ragged as she felt.

  “Okay.” She could manage nothing more than a whisper.

  Drawing back, he looked down at her, as if memorizing her features. She couldn’t read his eyes, but she was sure her own offered a window to her soul.

  At last Christine forced herself to step away. “Drive safe.” The words came out in a breathless rush.

  “I will.” Lifting his hand, he touched her cheek once more. Then he slid into the car, disappearing a couple of minutes later in a cloud of dust.

  For a long while, Christine remained outside, the warm glow in her heart a buffer against the cold wind. But at last, as Dale’s absence lengthened, the chill seeped into her, bringing with it a bucketful of doubts. Had she been wrong to encourage him? Should she have been more cautious, worked out her own issues before jumping into the fire? Were either of them ready to travel the path they’d started down?

  Recalling Dale’s comment about next steps, Christine knew she needed to think those through as well. She didn’t want anyone to get hurt, including Jenna. It was important she do the right thing for everyone…except she didn’t know what that was. She needed guidance, just as she had when life with Jack had become a nightmare.

  In those days, the Lord hadn’t seemed to respond to her pleas for counsel. Or perhaps she’d been listening for the answer she’d wanted rather than the answer He’d offered, as Reverend Andrews had suggested. If she went to Him now, with no preconceived notions and an open heart, maybe things would be different.

  It was worth a try, anyway. Because she didn’t know where else to turn.

  As the last hymn of the Sunday service ended and the congregation began to file out, Christine took her seat again. She waved at Cara and Sam as they exited, and nodded to a few people she’d met on her first visit to the church. There was no sign of Dale and Jenna, and she was grateful for that. According to Jenna, they never missed a Sunday, but often came to the early service. That’s why she’d chosen the later one.

  Though Christine had been praying for guidance since their impromptu picnic three days ago, she hadn’t yet received it. She was hoping that here, in the Lord’s house, His voice might be easier to discern.

  Quiet descended as the last worshippers departed, and Christine settled her Bible on her lap and focused on the cross in the sanctuary.

  Lord, I need Your help. After my nightmare with Jack, I never expected to face this dilemma because I didn’t plan to let any man get close again. But Dale is very special. At least that’s what my heart is telling me. Yet fear is distorting my perspective. I want to trust him, but my faith in my own judgment is shaky. I need Your wisdom, Lord, and Your courage. I can’t seem to figure this out on my own. Please…show me what path I should take in order to live my life according to Your will.

  Closing her eyes, Christine tried to put anxiety aside and place her trust in the Lord. After a while, as the peace and stillness of the church surrounded her, she felt the knot of tension in her stomach begin to relax. A welcome calmness settled over her, and though she heard no voice, she sensed a comforting, serene presence that seemed to wrap her in a loving embrace.

  When she felt a gentle pressure on her shoulder, she responded slowly, reluctant to break the consoling connection. At last, however, she looked up to find Reverend Andrews standing beside her in the deserted church, a kind smile warming his face.

  “I saw you during the service and hoped you’d join us for the social hour. I inquired about you, and Marge said Cara had told her you’d stayed behind to pray. I hope I’m not intruding, but I wanted to make sure everything was all right.”

  The meditative mood was slipping away, much to her regret, but Christine was touched by the minister’s concern. “I just needed to think for a while.”

  “You chose a good place. Take as long as you like.”

  He started to turn away, but Christine’s next comment stopped him. “By the way, I heard from Erin. She’s got a job and has enrolled in night school to get her GED. It sounds like she’s on the road to building a new life.”

  “I had a note from her, too. It’s not easy to start over, but your kindness was a great encouragement to her.”

  “I didn’t do much.”

  “You did a great deal, Christine. You cared. You took her in when she was hurting. You put yourself at risk to give her shelter and support.”

  “She needed help. I couldn’t turn my back.”

  “Many people would have.”

  She swallowed past the lump in her throat and looked down at her Bible. “Not if they’d walked in her shoes.”

  In the silence that followed her comment, Christine blinked back sudden tears. When at last she lifted her head, the compassion in the minister’s eyes tightened her throat.

  “May I?” He gestured toward the pew and, at her nod, sat beside her. “I sensed a connection between you and Erin that night at your house. I wondered if you might have personal knowledge of what she was going through.”

  “My situation wasn’t an exact parallel, but I know what it’s like to be trapped in a bad relationship, to feel alone and abandoned, with no one to help.”

  “Including God.” It was a statement, not an accusation.

  “Yes. I tried praying, Reverend. In the beginning I prayed for fortitude and courage. Later, I prayed for a way out.”

  “And you didn’t think God heard your prayers?”

  “No. And by the time I did get a reprieve, I’d lost my trust in His kindness and mercy.”

  “Yet you endured and went on to build a new life. Could you have done that without His help?”

  “I’ve reflected on that since we had our first conversation, and I don’t think so. I believe God’s grace brought me to where I am. But I’m not sure I’ll ever understand why He wanted me to go through all the pain. Nor do I understand why I stopped feeling His presence.”

  “Perhaps anger is the culprit for the latter. It can harden our hearts and create walls that shut other people—and God—out, even when they stand ready to help.”

  “I did have a lot of anger, but that’s dissipated. And I’m trying to re-establish my relationship with the Lord. I need His guidance on a problem I’m wrestling with, but I’m not getting any answers to my questions.”

  “Could it be the questions that are the problem?”

  “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.” She gave him a puzzled look.

  A smile curved his mouth. “It’s like the old game of twenty questions. Have you ever played it?”

  “As a child. I seem to recall that you get twenty questions to identify some place or person or object.”

  “That’s righ
t. The trick is to make the best use of your questions. When I was a boy, my sister would drive me crazy, because she’d always ask questions that weren’t pertinent. If we were trying to identify a person, for example, she always assumed it was a film star and asked questions related to movies. Most often, the person had no connection to Hollywood, so we wasted a lot of questions up front. God, of course, doesn’t have a limit on the number of questions we can ask, but we can speed things up if we focus on the most pertinent ones.”

  Was that her problem? Christine wondered. Had she been asking the wrong questions? And could this man help her frame the right ones?

  Wrapping her hands around her Bible, she looked at him. “May I speak with you in confidence?”

  “Discretion is a minister’s stock in trade,” he assured her with a smile. “I only share people’s confidences with God.”

  A brief answering smile flashed across her face. “My problem has to do with Dale Lewis. He and I…well, over the past few weeks, we’ve…” She stopped, regrouped and started over. “The thing is, Reverend, I like him a lot. But I’ve had some very bad experiences with men in general, and sheriffs in particular, that have made me wary. Plus, I’ve made mistakes about people’s character that have caused me to question my own judgment. As a result, I decided to steer clear of relationships. Then I met Dale.”

  When she stopped, the minister spoke. “And you fell in love.”

  “Yes.” Hearing it put into words was a bit of a shock. But it was the truth.

  “Does he feel the same way?”

  “I think he’s attracted to me, but he has issues, too. Do you know much about his marriage?”

  “Some. He and I talked quite a bit after he came back to Oak Hill.”

  “In that case, you may know that his wife had problems that affected their relationship. I doubt Dale wants to saddle himself with another damaged woman.”

  “Do you think of yourself as damaged?”

  She considered the question. “I was badly hurt. And I never expected to be able to trust a man again. But since I trust Dale, I suppose the scars aren’t debilitating.”