by LoRee Peery
“How about kissing them and making me feel all better?”
She accommodated him. When she kissed the corner of his mouth, she tasted blood and drew back.
“‘S all right. Just a little split.”
She rested her palms on his chest when he started to pull her closer. She raised her gaze to meet his. “It’s getting later by the minute, maybe I shouldn’t stay for coffee.”
“I’m thinking my lip wouldn’t like the heat.” He guided her outside.
Turning, she cupped the side of his face. What she couldn’t put into words must have shown through her expression.
“I’ll be fine.” He offered his hand, and she laced their fingers.
They strolled past loud and boisterous imbibers at sidewalk cafés, coffee shops, and establishments unique to the area. She wondered if Aiden purposely walked her aimlessly so she’d be calm by the time she drove back to Platteville.
Thank You, Lord, for taking away the jitters of that ugly incident with Barton. Thank You that Aiden wasn’t hurt worse. Thank You for the police, and please give me peace that he’ll stay behind bars this time.
“Aren’t you glad we don’t need the false hope found in a bottle? That God has replaced that restless searching in our hearts?” He halted their steps at the curb.
“We’re in agreement again. We are so blessed to be children of God.”
They waited while three cars bounced over the uneven paving bricks.
He rubbed her wrist with the feather-light dance of his thumb. With a hand squeeze, he spoke as they stepped onto the street. “I have so far to go. I know the Lord needs to work on my reaction to pass judgment on those who don’t behave the way I think they should.”
“Consider this, if we were magically turned perfect on our day of salvation, we’d be taken to heaven.”
He chuckled, and the sound warmed her.
“I have a feeling that’s what grace really means. I am ashamed to admit that when I first heard all your last names, I looked down on you. You’re helping me learn to look for the best in another person.”
Reaching the opposite curb, she silently praised the Lord to be having such a conversation with this man she cared so much about. “We all have our stuff. If we listen to the prompting of the Spirit, we are guided step-by-step. Not knowing what lies beyond today exhibits faith.”
They continued to mosey and came upon The Burkholder Project on their jaunt. Beth tipped her head back to scan the signs and she tried to guess which artist sold what goods behind each window. “I’d like my next trip here to be during the day so I can enjoy what’s on the other side of that door.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ve only been inside twice. Never been on the top floor.”
“That’s because you prefer the outdoors.” She turned to face him. “Another date, then, so I can appreciate the art?”
At his nod, she licked her lips. She stretched to graze his swollen and split lip with a butterfly touch, then gingerly kissed the other side of his mouth.
“You betcha, another date.” He traced the shape of her mouth with a gentle fingertip, a tickle that caught at her heart-strings. “Sorry we have to wait before I can give you a proper kiss.”
She hoped it would be at Wildlife Safari. She needed to see Lakota. Then again, Aiden could just surprise her with where they’d spend their next time together. Was she kidding herself that they may have a future?
He held out his arms, and she snuggled into the embrace, wishing she could stay in his arms forever.
Before long, he dropped her off at her pickup. As she drove away from Aiden’s city, Beth convinced herself she must give up the idea of his love. Forget another date.
Dare she imagine a life with him?
No. She’d have to put him out of her daydreams.
Barton would get out of jail, eventually. He’d find her again. And she would not endanger Aiden, no matter how much she loved him.
She’d lost everything on the earth that brought her pleasure: the hope of a relationship with Aiden, the joy of living in the woods, the companionship of Lakota.
The night sky was black above the lights of the interstate. Maybe that darkness contributed to her bleak thoughts. Life would surely look better in the morning.
Maybe she could have a life with Aiden, if God intended it.
****
The next day, after a shift at Frivolities, Beth’s tread was heavy on the vine-painted steps to the loft. She hadn’t been able to find the words to tell Aiden to forget about any kind of future relationship. She’d left him thinking they’d have another date.
“Lord, I’m mixed up again. Living for You is not an easy thing to do. I never gave much thought to my actions all those years when I didn’t listen to my conscience.”
She planned to ask Moselle if she considered the verse in John 15, when Jesus said, “I am the vine, you are the branches,” while she painted this ascending path.
Beth criticized her own behavior. She longed to abide in Jesus. To bear fruit for Him. Had she accomplished that by her talks with Aiden? Had the Lord placed her in Aiden’s life for the day of his salvation?
The rest of the verse, she set down to a mantra and planned to repeat it every morning upon rising. Apart from Me, you can do nothing.
Several days passed without incident. She had stopped wondering how Barton had kept from getting caught earlier. An officer told her he borrowed a buddy’s car, and ID, in Missouri. And he’d lived on the acreage where he’d worked.
Enough.
Beth finished up what she could do at the cabin. She’d painted the last cabin wall, and it felt good beyond reason. She had faced her fear of big men like Barton; she’d even hit him over the head. Though he was tucked away, he’d gotten free before. She made sure a weapon was within reach, if it was nothing more than a can of ant or wasp spray.
And I’m totally committed to accepting where I fit in Your plan, Lord: set apart and beautiful in Your sight.
Beth propped her elbows on her knees and cupped her hands in her fists. “I’m going to miss this little corner of the world outside Platteville,” she said to her lopsided shoe tree.
The day was too beautiful not to write something down. She hustled to her truck for her wolf journal. She began a new page under the heading Wolf Antics, which she had left after Lakota moved on, and wrote:
Christ said, “I have overcome.”
I feel as though I have, too, thanks to You, Lord. I do miss Lakota, but You are keeping him safe and presumably happy in his new environ.
Aiden knows his value in Your sight, Heavenly Father.
She contemplated the serenity. Getting comfortable at the picnic table, she penned:
Worship Where You Are
God’s divine design planted me in the country at this time of my life. I believe it’s my responsibility to sense the place where I am. Spring bursts into bloom after winter sleeps and I picture Jesus busting through linen wraps to escape the stench of death. Summer unfolds and I experience life all around me. I see no lies in nature, where only God’s truth abounds. His breath in the breeze kisses my soul, my spirit. And sensing His presence, I look down to see dirt, where God created Adam. I look up and see the sky, where Jesus will return for His bride. The songs of earth and sky, made by His spoken word, lift my spirit until I soar into praise. He is an awesome God. And I thank God I was a transplanted country girl, short as it’s been, where my heart and voice are free to surge forth into song—any time, night or day—I am free to worship where I am.
Beth looked up from her journal, and wiped off her tears. She rubbed the back of her neck, and massaged the tight muscles. She felt lighter-hearted when she headed back inside to pack up her supplies.
Grace surprised Beth when she stepped onto the porch with paint supplies in tow.
“Hi, Grace. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“I’m OK. I haven’t seen Lakota in a long time.”
“Oh, I didn’t get to say goodb
ye to him, either.”
“Is Lakota safe? Why did that bad man hurt him?”
Beth set the paint, roller, and pan on top of a bucket. “I don’t have an answer for that, honey. It’s often a mystery why people do what they do. I have to remind myself sometimes that we often don’t act like other people think we should.”
“I think moms and dads are supposed to want the best for us kids. They make mistakes if they don’t listen to what we want.”
“You are a smart girl. Daddies and mommies and all people make mistakes. Sometimes grown-ups get lost for awhile, searching for answers when times are tough. When they make bad things happen because their lives aren’t going well, that’s called sin. If God isn’t in their lives, they can turn bad, losing their way.”
“I heard about that on TV. A man called Jesus died on the cross for sin.”
“That’s so right, sweetheart. God loves us so much that He sent His only Son to pay a blood price for us. May I hug you?”
When the girl nodded, Beth put her hand on Grace’s opposite shoulder. She sighed a silent thank you to the Lord when Grace laid her head against Beth.
“Sometimes innocent children get in the way of those mistakes grown-ups make. Like you and me.”
Grace jerked away to look Beth in the face.
“That’s right, Grace. Someone I trusted hurt me when I was a girl. But I was older than you are now. And, I didn’t have anyone to help me. But you do. You have me.”
“Can I talk to you, Beth? Will you promise to not tell my dad so I don’t get in trouble?”
“I promise not to tell your dad.” But I can’t promise I won’t go to the authorities. “You can talk to me any time you want.”
Beth’s healing came to her as a thunderbolt. I’m not flawed! What happened to me enables me to understand the plight of others.
She turned that realization into a prayer.
I will love this volunteer job as an advocate, Lord. Please guide me to the best training available over the Internet. And lead me to just the right people to talk to in Lincoln. Thank You again for bringing Grace into my life.
She gave the little girl her undivided attention.
15
October
Beth felt as though she’d come full circle, sitting at the cabin’s picnic table. Singing cicadas—some Nebraskans called the bugs locusts—had given way to the excitement of football fever in a small town.
It was her first visit to the woods since fall had descended. So much had happened. She was busy working, both at Frivolities and as a child advocate. Lanae Diamond had helped Beth make angels from handkerchiefs for the girls she had come alongside.
The trips to Lincoln always reminded her of Aiden and what had taken place on that hot summer night near the theater. She’d asked how Barton even got a job, especially when he hadn’t checked in with his parole officer. The answer was easy: a fake I.D. thanks to an old cellmate connection.
She and Aiden kept in contact, but hadn’t seen much of one another since their last official date, if a date entailed a trip around Platteville. They’d had a good time together, a bittersweet time, which included a visit to Rainn Harris’s art studio, The Other One. They also went through Frivolities, as customers, where Aiden bought a gift for his stepmother.
Talk about forgiveness! Aiden had contacted his father in Minnesota and planned a Thanksgiving reunion.
Then Aiden had been called to work onsite at Harlan County Reservoir, where thousands of fish had died mysteriously, and where he finally saw his first live armadillo in the state of Nebraska.
Beth thought she heard an engine that sounded like Aiden’s Jeep. She tried to follow the sound beyond the trees. She chalked it up to a wishful imagination. But it was hard to hear anything other than the onrush of beating blackbird wings.
The migrating blackbirds awakened Beth from her musings. As cautiously and quietly as she could, she went to stand near the edge of the trees without creating movement. The racket transported her into the movie, The Birds.
Thousands of wings sounded like a mighty rushing wind.
But, she wasn’t frightened. She was delighted. The birds lifted off the ground and low branches as though a leader had signaled. They settled higher in the treetops.
A pure white, albino bird found its perch, standing out amongst all the black the way a sanctified sinner must appear to the Lord, amidst unbelievers who bask in the darkness.
“Ah!” Beth gasped at the sight. She sank to the earth.
“Thank You, Father God, for this sign that You set me apart. I’m not going to call myself beautiful, but You must see me as the white bird and created me just as flawlessly. Thank You for the creatures of these woods. Thank You for watching over me as I found solace here and You healed me here.”
“I believe you are beautiful in His sight. Just as beautiful as you are to me.” A dear, hushed voice came to her from behind.
“Aiden! What are you doing out here?” She threw herself against his chest and ran her hands over his back.
“I’ll take a welcome like that any day.”
She let go to look into the treetops and darkened sky. “Aren’t the birds something? I’ll never forget seeing the white one. I didn’t know you were here.”
“How could you hear me, with such a racket?” He pulled her close to his side. “Sorry to just walk up on you. I called, even sang ‘Amazing Grace,’ but you couldn’t hear me.”
“Powerful stuff, huh? I’ll forgive you for sneaking up on me. How long have you been back from Harlan?”
“Since Wednesday. I have something for you,” he said, reaching to the ground behind his back. “Shall we begin our hello with a bouquet of daisies?” He presented the gift with a flourish.
“What a lovely collection. Thank you.” She reached for the daisies without breaking eye contact.
Aiden looked so intently into her eyes she couldn’t focus on the flowers.
She swallowed, felt the rise of her own chest, along with the quivering of her lips.
“It’s nothing. I needed to see you as soon as I could. I stopped at Frivolities and Moselle said you were here. Have to admit I was more than a little surprised to find you back at the cabin.”
“I’ll fill you in with all the details. First, how about we take a walk in the woods, for old time’s sake?”
“Sentimental, you are.” He lifted her chin with a single finger. “I’d like a proper hello first.”
Her breath hiccupped. Her eyes drifted shut. The meeting of their lips was much more than a simple hello.
When he pulled back from the transportation of their locked connection, Aiden said, “The birds will be off again. We could follow for a ways to see if they land in another clump of trees before crossing the river.”
She managed a nod, still intent on his loden-colored eyes. They looked more like rain-washed tree bark today than she’d ever seen them.
“The Lord will take care of the birds. I’d like the chance to take care of you.” He cradled her face in his palms and kissed her with what she suspected was restraint.
She had to have more of him. The bouquet drifted to the ground. She traced a path over forearms, bend of elbow, the masculine strength of his roped biceps, tips of strong square shoulders. Her thumbs grazed the ridge of his collar bones, up the side of his neck, to mimic his hold on her face.
He kissed her again, deepened the pressure for scant seconds before dropping his arms. “We might see the birds in the distance, now, I faintly hear their ruckus.”
“Sure,” she answered, dazed. What had he meant, take care of her?
He folded her hands between his, touching them as though they were delicate petals, and looked deep into her eyes. “Before we tear off, I have something to say. ‘I will never leave you nor forsake you’ has become a biblical promise that I carry with me. I want you to know that we’ll work things out. And, Beth, I will never leave you, nor fail to cover your back, nor do anything to harm you in any way.�
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She grabbed his shirt and pulled him close. Her tiptoes couldn’t make her high enough to reach his mouth, without him lifting her off her feet. There was nothing gentle about the way they embraced.
Finally, after seconds of intensity, Aiden took her hand. They raced into the woods. The path was still faintly visible where Lakota had kept guard over the cabin.
The first clearing they reached, they panted to a stop. Beth almost bounced off Aiden’s side. She raised her face to the distant sky, circled, but the birds were no longer in sight.
“So much for a sentimental walk in the woods,” Aiden said, as he exhaled.
“I’ll give you sentimental, big guy.” She snuggled up against him, and he rested his chin on her head. “I don’t know when, where, or how. But somewhere along the way, I gave you my heart. I’ve only done that with Jesus.”
She felt his heart pounding.
“No one has ever trusted me with her heart. I also give mine into your care.”
Could she take care of his heart? With the Lord’s help, she could do anything she was meant to do. “No comeback? Then let’s amble back to my cabin.”
“Your cabin? Ouch!” He slapped his cheek. “Sounds good. Let’s go in before the squeeties come out to eatcha alive.”
“You betcha.” Shooting him an impish grin, Beth squeezed his hand.
Moments later, they were inside.
He pulled her close. “I’m so glad you were able to come back here. It’s good for you that the church hasn’t taken it over yet.”
“That’s my surprise. The reason I came out here today. I was going to leave a message for you.” She gave him a squeeze and led him to the loveseat angled towards the wood burning stove. “To tell you the church no longer needs the land. They said all the work I did on the cabin was more than an adequate price. All I gave was a dollar for a quitclaim deed.”
“They don’t need a place for retreat or for teenagers to get in touch with nature?”
“They have a better, much larger place. A church member died. He was a campground owner. His heirs agreed earlier to put half the land back into tillable acres, leaving the clubhouse and several cabins. But no one wanted to be in charge of renting cabins. So they agreed to donate that property to the church.”