Turning left along the outside of Branson Landing, then hanging a right on Main Street at the light, Ellie ran past the beautifully modern Hilton Hotel and convention center. Her thighs and calves burned as she climbed uphill, entering the labyrinth of streets and shops that made up old downtown Branson. Ellie remembered this section of town as the quaint area she and her family once visited on weekend vacation. It was the only vacation she remembered sharing with her father.
The memory came to her all at once as she passed under the red-and-white-striped awning of the Five and Dime. She and Beecher were seated in the middle of an aisle of toys—he examining every plastic dinosaur for its merits and she choosing her favorites from the large selection of paper dolls—while her mother and father stood at the end of the aisle watching them. The details came into focus for Ellie as if through a camera’s zoom lens. Her mother was in a white linen dress, with a stylish jacket and matching belt and sandals of woven brown leather. Her silvery blond hair flowed in loose curls past her shoulders, and she wore no jewelry except for a platinum wedding band on her left ring finger. Her father also wore linen, a steel-gray button-down shirt with a loose collar, and washed navy shorts. His dark, midlength hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail. He wore black Birkenstock sandals. Ellie remembered her mother’s tears and the faraway look in her father’s eyes as they murmured a conversation she was not meant to hear….
“You and I are fundamentally different people, Katherine.”
“I know that, Drew. It’s something we used to celebrate, something we used to enjoy about being together. Why does it have to tear us apart now?”
Her father’s mood seemed to darken. “Well, I don’t enjoy it anymore. I don’t know that I ever really did.”
Katherine winced like she’d been slapped. “What about our dreams? Our family?” Her voice caught in her throat.
“When we got together, I was too young to know what I really wanted out of life.” Drew looked down the aisle at the kids and caught Ellie staring at him. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Now, well, I’ve come to see that I’m not really cut out for the role of family man. I mean, I love you and the kids, but I just can’t do it anymore. I’ve got to do something for myself—for my own future.”
A tear slid down Katherine’s porcelain cheek, and she quickly dabbed it with her hand. “But these are our babies—our life. They are our future. Look at them, Drew!”
Ellie’s father stared into her eyes for a long minute, then looked away. He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “I can’t let my feelings for them ruin my life. I’ve got to get out of Missouri, Katherine. I’m moving to New York.”
She reached out to touch his arm. “We can go with you. I’ll leave Missouri too…leave the winery and my family. I’m your wife—I promised to go wherever you go.”
Drew’s amber eyes turned cruel, and he shrugged her hand off his arm. “Don’t you see, Katherine? I don’t want you to go. I have to do this alone.”
* * * * *
By the time Ellie returned to her condo, it was hot. She took a cool shower and then slipped into her robe—a silk kimono style in red that had been a gift from her mother this past Christmas. Tying the blue tasseled sash around her waist, she padded into the kitchen to fix a bowl of yogurt with blueberries and strawberries. She sat down at her desk to eat while she checked e-mail.
There was one from her best friend, Audrey, who was clerking for an attorney in New York during her summer break from law school at NYU.
Elliephant,
When are you coming to see me? I am so bored. How does the Beech do it every day? Maybe the law is more exotic in Germany. I’m going to have to talk to him about it.
So far this summer, it’s mostly been paperwork. File this petition, answer that complaint. I did get to visit the jail the other day to talk to one of Ray’s clients. A total thug. I can’t give details, but let’s just say he’s guilty and we’re trying to get him to confess for his own good. Ray had the bright idea that if I dressed up in my red suit and went to talk to him by myself we might get what we wanted. I told Ray no way—I like him, and he’s a good lawyer, but that was a little unprofessional, wouldn’t you say?—so we ended up going together and the bum wouldn’t budge. As if we’re the enemy! Whatever. (Let me tell you, that NYC jail was a trip.)
I’m starting to wonder if this is something I want to do my whole life. Not a great feeling after finishing my first year of law school (everybody here calls it one “L” hell). But I’m going to stick it out for now, I guess, at least till God gives me further direction.
What about you? Any word from your agent about a part? I’m still praying you’ll get something in New York and we can room together. Mi casa es su casa, remember!
Write back when you can. I miss you!
BFF,
Audrey
Ellie typed a reply, bringing Audrey up to speed, then skimmed through the rest of her e-mails. Not many of them were interesting. She finished her yogurt and placed the bowl and spoon in the sink. She was in Branson, Missouri, three hours away from home, and she didn’t know a soul in town except for Will Howard. She guessed she’d study her script. But then what else was she going to do with the rest of her day?
Chapter Five
Will unlaced his boots, stuffing his socks inside, and set them down on the dock. Next he pulled his sweaty white T-shirt over his head and unzipped his Levis, stripping down to his boxers. He placed his dirty clothes beside his boots. Then, at a run, he dove off the dock into the cool, refreshing water of Table Rock Lake. He swam underwater about ten yards, edging his way upward before his face burst out onto the surface and he took in a gulp of air. Man, it felt good to get wet.
He had worked outside all day, finally having the chance to put some time into the yard around his cabin. His job at The Shepherd of the Hills had demanded so much from him in the past year that many of the projects he planned to do when he moved into the cabin had gotten away from him. But hopefully that was about to change. With the addition of Cheryl, his codirector, Will’s intention was to take more time off. After all, like Thoreau, he had come to the woods to live deliberately. And while he had dreams for The Shepherd of the Hills, he also had plans for a simplified life—time to enjoy home and the natural world the Lord created.
Looking around him, Will breathed a prayer of thankfulness. For whatever he had lacked in family relationships growing up, his surprising inheritance—his little patch of heaven—had given him this spot to now call his own. One hundred acres of woods surrounded his cabin, which was situated on a large cove that was part of Branson’s huge Table Rock Lake. Much of the lake was commercialized, with resorts, boat rentals, and camping areas, but all of that was forgotten in Will’s private corner. Shaded by giant oaks and cedars, his cabin backed up to a dock that jutted out into pristine water containing all types of bream and catfish. He kept a skiff tied to the dock for when he wanted to fish…or simply row.
The sun was setting over the hillside, giving it a burnished hue, when Will pressed his hands against the dock and lifted himself out of the lake, sitting back down on the boards to drip dry. The fading sunlight spilled like liquid gold over the water, melting into a breathtaking deep amber that made a path right up the dock toward Will, as if he might step out on it and walk across the cove, over the hillside, and up to heaven. Will stared, spellbound, till the light shifted. It flickered like fire on the water, and then as the sun disappeared, the path washed completely away. The air turned purple…twilight…and then it was dark.
Will shivered. Grabbing his clothes, he jogged barefoot up to the porch and entered his house.
After taking a shower, Will put on a navy terry-cloth robe and made himself a bowl of oats. He’d eaten oats every day for so long that the preparation was something of a personal art form. He never had to measure. He poured them into a bowl, added milk, and micro-waved the ingredients for a minute and a half without stirring. The result was a cross between cru
nchy, raw granola and mush. Yum. And good for the control of high cholesterol, which was apparently a health hazard he inherited from his father. At least that’s what the doctor had suggested several years ago when Will had routine blood-work done during a physical. His father had died at age fifty from a heart attack. Will hoped to last longer.
Rinsing out his bowl and setting it to dry on a towel on the counter, Will poured himself a mug of hot tea and sat down in his leather recliner, turning on a lamp. He picked up his Bible from the table beside him and opened to the Psalms. Flipping through the first few pages, his eyes came to rest on Psalm 5:7:
But as for me, I will enter Your house through the abundance of Your steadfast love and mercy; I will worship…in reverent fear and awe of You.
Even though Will knew it wasn’t what the psalmist necessarily meant, his thoughts turned to the church he would attend in the morning. It was one of the greatest blessings he’d received since moving to Branson—a true spiritual home. And after the road he’d traveled, and the many places he’d tried before he found it, Will knew that it was only through the abundance of God’s steadfast love and mercy that he was able to enter. He looked forward to the opportunity for worship.
A thought crept in. I wonder what Ellie’s doing tomorrow…if she stayed in town over the weekend. Would it be appropriate to call?
He shook his head. Of course it’s appropriate to call someone and invite them to church, he chided himself. He almost convinced himself that was the only reason he was calling, until he heard her voice.
“Hello?”
“Ellie? Hey, Will Howard.” Why did he sound like a bullfrog?
“Oh, hi. How are you?”
He cleared his throat. “I’m good. Good. How is your weekend going?”
“It’s been fine, pretty quiet I guess. I’ve just been settling in.”
“Oh. Okay. Cool.” He felt like an idiot, suddenly unable to articulate sentences of more than one word. He cleared his throat again. “I was wondering—I mean, I don’t want you to feel any pressure or anything, but I’d like to invite you to my church tomorrow. I didn’t know if you knew anybody or might have plans.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You don’t have plans?”
“I don’t know anybody, and I don’t have plans.” Her light laugh was like wind chimes.
“Great.”
“Actually, it’s not that great. I’ve been a little lonely.”
Her? Lonely? Will couldn’t imagine it, not with that face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
She laughed again. “I knew what you meant.”
Her confidence was disarming, but Will liked it. “Would you like to join me for church?”
“Where is it? I don’t know my way around, but I’d like to go. I was thinking of visiting one I saw close by here, when I was running.”
“This one might be a little hard to find. Why don’t I pick you up?”
“Sure,” she answered quickly. “If you want to, that would be great.”
* * * * *
On the way to Ellie’s condo, Will’s thoughts were full of questions. He knew little about Ellie, other than she was from a Hermann winery family, she was beautiful and smart, and she gave an amazing audition. He was attracted to her, that was sure. But he didn’t need to get into another relationship that was going nowhere. I need to slow down. She said she had thought of going to church, but I don’t know anything about what she believes.
He pulled into one of the parking spaces near her front door. Walking up the brick steps, he pressed the doorbell and stood back to wait. Adjacent to the door, in the corner of the stoop, purple and lime-colored sweet potato leaves spilled out of a concrete urn topped with a lively assortment of flowers.
Within seconds the wooden door swung open on its black hinges and Ellie stood there, smiling. She wore a blue and white tropical flower print crinkle skirt, a white gauze T-shirt trimmed in lace, and brown cowboy boots. Her hair, which had been straight the other two times he’d seen her, hung in loose waves past her shoulders.
Will took a long breath and held it, reaching deep for a way to quiet the pounding in his heart.
“Is that your truck?” Ellie pointed to the red 1945 Ford pickup at the curb. Silver bangles jingled on her arm at the motion.
“It is.”
She walked over to the vehicle, made a circle around it, and caressed the chrome hood ornament that looked like an angel. “Did you do this? The paint job is perfect.”
“I had some help from a friend but yeah.” Will held the passenger door open for her. “Do you like it?”
“It’s awesome!” Ellie slid into the seat, running her fingers over the dashboard in front of her. “I’ve never ridden in anything this cool! It’s a work of art!”
Will climbed in beside her. “Thanks for saying that. Sometimes people have to acquire the taste for Scarlett’s artistic value.”
“Scarlett?”
Will patted the dashboard. “Scarlett O’Hara Ford.”
They chatted about this and that as they left Branson Landing and made their way into a rougher part of town. The conversation was easy. However, Ellie’s expression turned from comfortable to questioning when they pulled into the parking lot of an old, abandoned warehouse. Will parked the truck, dodging a pothole.
“Is this—church?” Ellie asked tentatively.
It was the first time Will had seen her look the least bit nervous. He tried to view the building through her eyes. It was a sickening yellow with crumbling paint. Someone had spray-painted an obscenity in black, which someone else had tried to conceal unsuccessfully with green. A rusted metal frame hung across the length of the front, stripped of any awning, and the sidewalk was broken. Worst of all, a long sideways crack in one of the big front windows was repaired with gray duct tape.
At that moment he realized two things simultaneously. One was how completely he no longer considered the outward appearance of the church building to be an issue of importance, which was perhaps a good thing. And two—a rather bad thing—that perhaps he should have considered it an issue of importance in the case of inviting Ellie. He should have prepared her, rather than assuming she’d be at ease with him in this setting.
He turned his body toward her and touched her shoulder gently with his hand. “Ellie, I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”
She narrowed her eyes at him…not angry but suspicious.
“I didn’t think about it and I should have. We hardly know each other. I want you to feel safe with me as a director and a friend. This is just my church. It’s here as an experiment—an experiment that’s working. I love it, and I felt totally right about inviting you. But if you’re not comfortable, I understand. I can take you home right now.”
“No!” Ellie surprised him with the force of her reply. “It’s different than what I’m used to, but I can handle it. Let’s go.”
She opened her own door and got out. Will lifted Scarlett’s seat to remove his guitar, and they joined one another in front of the truck, walking together across the parking lot and along the rough sidewalk. When they reached the door to the warehouse, it was opened by a hulking black man.
“Come in here, Will. Who’s this pretty lady with you?”
Will grinned. “This is Ellie Heinrichs.”
Ellie stuck out her hand and the man took it gently in his own.
“Ellie, this is Sam Moore.”
“I hate to tell you this, Ellie, but somebody lied to you.”
Ellie cocked her head to one side and peered at Sam.
“This man, Will Howard, is not rich.”
Ellie looked at Will, who made a face at Sam, who broke out in resounding laughter at his own joke. Soon they were all laughing. Sam could put anyone at ease.
When others entered through the door behind them, Will and Ellie broke from Sam, and Will ushered Ellie into the gathering room, where two sections of folding chairs waited, empty, in neat rows. A makeshift platform across the
front held only a few chairs and microphones on stands.
“Let’s sit up here.” Will directed Ellie to a couple of seats on the left side, three rows back. “I’ve got to get ready to play a little music. Will you be okay here?”
Ellie nodded.
Carrying his guitar, Will headed for the old office he used as a warm-up room. He didn’t know exactly what to pray, so he simply said “Help.” He hated that he’d not planned more ahead, given more thought to her needs, perhaps known her better before bringing her here. But what was done was done. It was in the Lord’s hands now.
Will closed the door behind him and sat on the edge of the bulky desk, opening his guitar case. As he started playing softly, his fingers articulated the joy, the pain, the hopes he held in his heart. Everything was in the Lord’s hands. It had been all along.
Chapter Six
“Will you be okay here?”
Who was this guy, anyway? As Ellie sifted through her feelings for Will, she touched upon conflicting textures. There was the Opalike protectiveness that felt soft and comforting. “Be safe.” And, “Will you be okay here?” A chenille security blanket. But, unlike Opa, there were rough edges to the blanket. Like bringing her here. What was Will thinking? It looked like a good place to get mugged. Definitely not her idea of church.
Love Finds You in Branson, Missouri Page 4