While she’d stepped away from faith after her father’s death and come to view pastors and people of faith as one-dimensional, deluded, and boring, Oliver had shattered all her preconceived notions. He was so alive, interesting, clear about his beliefs, and solidly three-dimensional. They connected on so many levels, shared many interests, and completely enjoyed one another’s company. Tess finally felt as though she were coming out from under the shadow of her failed marriage and the betrayal that caused it.
Humming to herself, she finished her shower and changed into comfortable clothes with five minutes to spare. Fluffing out her hair, she decided to let it air-dry and hurried to the kitchen to check on dinner.
As she lifted the Crock-Pot lid, she could see that the stew was nicely finished, and with bread browning, everything smelled awesome. She set the table, pouring glasses of mineral water that they both enjoyed, and stepped back just as Oliver’s knock sounded on the front door.
–––
Oliver waited, smiling at the fact that this dating thing still made him nervous. He’d never thought after Anna’s death there would be room for anyone else in his life, much less his heart, but Tess had crashed in with both feet without even trying and he was over the moon. And there was no reason for nerves because everything about dating and being with Tess was so easy. There was no pretense about her—in fact often she was baldly blunt about things, but Oliver loved that about her. There was no guessing, just a relationship that bloomed and blossomed brighter with each passing day.
The door opened, and Tess smiled at him, hair damp, obviously just out of the shower. So small and petite, wearing a soft cotton blouse and black jeans, looking as if she needed to be protected when he knew firsthand she could more than take care of herself.
“You’re late.”
Oliver’s heart fluttered in his chest. “Five minutes. I heard what happened and figured you’d need some extra time.” He handed her the flowers he’d brought as he stepped inside—cliché, yes. He often felt he wanted to give Tess the world, but he’d have to settle for the prettiest flowers he could find on any given day. “Smells great in here.”
“Thank you.” She took the bouquet, stepped forward on tiptoes, and kissed him on the cheek. “They’re beautiful.” She stepped back, green eyes warm and sparkling. Such a deep, bottomless green, he could drown there.
Oliver smiled back, throat dry, again wondering at the fact that lightning had struck twice for him.
“Hope you’re hungry,” she said, turning.
“I’m famished.” He followed her into the kitchen, where she put the flowers in a vase and filled it with water. “I was sorry to hear about that worker being arrested. Those guys are here to help, and instead someone tries to compound the misery.”
Oliver had spent some time with the temporary help and found most of them to be hardworking and civic-minded. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised by what happened, but he was.
“Sorry; this is where I get cynical,” Tess said, motioning for him to take a seat. “Disasters bring out the best and the worst in people. I don’t have to tell you that I was lukewarm about the mass hiring of strangers.”
“They aren’t all strangers; several live in the Hollow,” Oliver said with a sigh. “And I always saw it as a community ready to help.”
Tess shot him a “you sure are naive” look, green eyes shining with mischief, before filling a bowl with wonderfully fragrant stew and setting it in front of him. Then she opened the oven and pulled out a loaf of French bread, slicing it, placing it in a basket on the table.
She sat down with her own bowl of stew and nodded for Oliver to say grace. He reached across the table, gripping her hand, loving the warmth there. He closed his eyes. “Thank you, Lord, for the blessings you give daily, the food we’re about to receive, and the hands that prepared it.”
He opened his eyes, glad to be gazing on Tess again. “It was a blessing that Pete allocated the funds. Landslides and mudflows would have compounded the damage from the fire,” he said as he helped himself to a slice of steaming bread.
“I know that. The work crew was a necessary evil. I’m just glad they’re almost finished.”
“Not a moment too soon. Big, cold storm is forecast in a couple of days.” He tasted the stew. “Ah, this is wonderful. I’ve been blessed by a lot of home cooking—”
“Playing the poor pastor card?” she teased.
He loved the playful sparkle in her eyes. “Of course. I’m not ashamed. If people want to bless me, I graciously accept. But this stew is the best I’ve had in a long time.”
“Thanks. Talk like that will get you a second helping of dessert. I tried my hand at blackberry pie, made with fresh-picked berries from my own property.”
“Mmm, that’s my favorite.”
They settled into a familiar routine, enjoying the meal and discussing events of the day.
“Besides the thief, any other issues I should be aware of?” Oliver asked.
“You mean have I heard anything more from Bass?” She shook her head. “The fight is in the courts; Beck’s attorneys are doing everything they can to get the charges thrown out. How is Chevy?”
“She’s quiet. Which worries me more than angry tantrums. It’s almost as if she’s plotting. Still seeing Dr. Peel, but quiet.”
In the one controversial event surrounding Chevy so far, Oliver himself had spoken to Bass about her mental state and forced the issue of counseling. He knew Emma Peel, a trauma counselor and member of his congregation, and he wanted to let her in on the situation and bring her to speak to Chevy.
Bass had been vehemently against it. “The more people know she’s there, the more likely the wrong person will discover her.”
But Oliver persisted. He feared for the girl’s mental state and was adamant, and Tess had backed him up. “If you don’t try to help her,” she’d told Bass, “if you just use her for the trial and toss her away, you’re no better than Beck. Many women rescued from trafficking situations face a long, hard road ahead to regain a normal life. The dehumanizing practice of slavery messes with their heads.”
In the end, Bass ran a check on Peel and then allowed it. Oliver told the woman about the situation and she volunteered to help. So far, Dr. Peel and Chevy seemed to be a good fit.
Oliver hated to think about what Chevy had been through, what the past three years had done to her physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
“For a young person, she has been through so much,” he said. “It worries me that she never talks about her parents or family or life before Beck.”
“From what I read, she doesn’t have any family to speak of. She had a horrible home life, actually left with Beck of her own volition.”
“Yes, but you and I both know what a manipulator he is. She doesn’t want to contact anyone from her past, which is okay with Bass right now, but what happens when the very public trial starts?”
“Cross that bridge when we come to it. But speaking of family, there’s a lot of chatter around town about a certain couple—”
“Janie and Garrett Cooper?” Oliver winced. He’d bent over backward trying to help the pair, but nothing seemed to make a difference.
“Yeah, not so much her, but that Garrett is a hothead.”
“He hasn’t always been this bad, but I guess the stress of losing the house sent him around the bend.”
“Most people are likely to cut him some slack, but . . .” She shrugged and Oliver knew what she meant. Their fighting was often public and loud. Tess went on. “Right now, it’s a gossip problem. My fear is that it will soon become a police problem.”
Oliver held her gaze. “If it does come to that, arresting Garrett won’t solve the problem.”
“It will if he hurts her or tries to. I have zero tolerance for domestic violence.”
“I do too. It’s just that I’ve known those two since they were kids. My prayer is that they stop fighting with one another and come together, not just for themse
lves but for those kids.”
“I’d like to see that too, but maybe in this case, prayer isn’t enough.”
Oliver considered her words. The sentiment he knew came from the fact that she’d seen so much evil at work in people’s lives in her line of work. Oliver too had seen evil and viciousness, but he’d also seen healing and battles won by being fought on his knees.
“Ah, and you know me—prayer is the first best answer for everything. Though you might not agree, I saw it work with Don Cherry, and he was a much harder case than Garrett Cooper.”
For him, prayer was always the answer—the first step at least, and at best the tonic that solved the problem. Would he ever be able to get Tess to see it that way too?
Tess bit her lower lip, and Oliver feared that she’d be cynical about Cherry. But she threw him a curve.
“What about someone like Cyrus Beck?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you pray for him?”
“Wouldn’t you say he needs prayer?”
“I’d say that his victims need prayer.”
Oliver remembered Cherry’s words about justice and mercy. Tess was all about justice, but Oliver didn’t believe you could have one without the other.
“Like all of us, Beck is a sinner—I would never deny that. But he’s no less deserving of salvation. So, yes, I do pray for him.”
Tess sighed. “I know that’s the way I should feel, but I don’t. He’s pure evil. Oliver, he’s been victimizing women for twenty-five years. You truly believe there’s something redeemable there?”
He reached across the table again and squeezed her hand. “There is no matter of degree to sin. All of us have our own baggage. Let me ask you this: If Cyrus Beck were the victim of a homicide here in Rogue’s Hollow, would you be less inclined to find his killer than, say, if a law-abiding resident were murdered?”
She frowned. “Aw, that’s not fair. Murder is murder.”
“Even if someone like Beck is the victim?”
She rolled her eyes. “You got me. Even Beck. Even if some vigilante killed him thinking they were dispensing justice. I would work just as hard to put his killer behind bars. But it would be for the law, for true justice, not for him.”
“But there is a principle there, I think. Everyone matters under the law, or nobody matters. If under man’s law, everyone matters, how much more to God does everyone matter? God’s offer of grace is made to everyone. Not everyone accepts it, but nonetheless, the offer is free to all and covers all.” He released her hand and leaned back, watching her features soften.
“You believe Don Cherry is really a changed man? That he accepted the grace God offered?” she asked.
“I do. I’ve seen the change in the man, real change. He’s not faking.”
“Well, then I have to say that maybe there is a small—” she held up her thumb and forefinger, very close together—“very small chance for Beck. Cherry was certainly a surprise to me—I’ll give you that. He turned state’s evidence on the most vicious prison-slash-street gang there is, so unless he has a death wish . . .” She held her hands up. “You got me; he’s a true answer to prayer.”
“Miracles all around for you to admit that, I’d say.”
Tess laughed.
Oliver sipped his water and prayed, for Tess and Garrett and Janie and the children, that a solution and true healing would come to the situation.
16
Sunday service marked the first Sunday when all the extraneous equipment was gone from the church parking lot—the trailers and fifth wheels and everything else that had been staged there for the fire emergency. The baptisms that had been planned the day everything exploded had been rescheduled. It felt like a normal Sunday. But Oliver had a lot more on his mind than a truly normal Sunday, and it was hard to focus on one topic. He didn’t want to be random; he wanted to tie everything together.
He was proud and inspired at how the community had come together for the emergency, he was gratified for Don Cherry, and he was very happy to see Tess seated in the front row. It wasn’t the first time she’d been in church; she’d been attending regularly since the shoot-out. But Oliver had left dinner at her house knowing that he loved Tess. The knowledge had hit him like a thunderbolt when he’d kissed her good night. He hadn’t told her yet but knew that he would soon, and the anticipation was sweet.
The text he’d finally settled on for the message was in 1 Corinthians, and it dealt with the body of Christ working together in love. It applied to how the Hollow had come together, to his work and effort with a criminal like Don Cherry, and to how he felt about Tess. Last year had been so dark when he lost Anna. Now there was light in his world again.
–––
The routine of Sunday service had become welcome and comfortable to Tess. She’d come to know many in the congregation, and she enjoyed listening to Oliver. His voice sang more with his Scottish background when he preached than at any other time, and it was mesmerizing. She knew the first time she sat to listen that this was one reason why his church was so popular. The other was the way he made the Bible come alive. Tess had been away from the Bible for so long, it had taken time to learn her way around. Oliver always had them turning pages.
But sometimes, as she sat in the sanctuary, a niggling self-doubt would grab her. Did she really belong with a man like Oliver? His priority was his congregation. Was that something she could live with?
Her best friend from Long Beach had helped the self-doubt grow. On the phone Tess had asked Jeannie for her honest opinion. Jeannie had met Oliver and liked him personally, but she doubted the match was viable. “Cops and nurses, cops and teachers, even cops and dispatchers, but not cops and preachers—they just don’t mix.” To Jeannie, cops had to be too hard and pastors had to be too soft.
The honesty stung, but Tess was glad she had friends who would be honest. But the stronger her feelings for Oliver grew, the stronger the niggling doubts became.
Tess was on her way out of the sanctuary when she ran into Oliver’s friend Jethro. He was also the head of the prayer ministry and a familiar fixture at the church. Tess’s first impression of Oliver when she met him was that he looked more like a rugged mountain man than a pastor. With Jethro, he looked more like an outlaw biker than someone who would lead a prayer ministry. His long gray hair was usually free flowing, but today he had it braided, the tail hitting just past his collar.
“Hiya, Chief, how are you today?”
“Doing good, Jethro. Glad the fire is out and things are back to normal.”
“Me too. Hey, can I ask you a question, law enforcement related?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Have you been following that human trafficking story, the one about Cyrus Beck?”
“I have, pretty closely too. Oliver told me you knew Beck’s father.”
Jethro shook his head, expression sad. “I did. He was one of the finest men I served with. Breaks my heart about his son. Do you figure everything they’re saying about him is true?”
“From what I’ve read, they have a really strong case.”
He gave her a somber look. “Like I said, it breaks my heart. Cyrus was a spoiled rotten kid, but I never thought he’d become . . . Well, what he’s accused of is wicked.”
“I agree.”
“I don’t envy police, what you people have to deal with. I’ll tell you, I wish I could get the chance to speak with Cyrus. Haven’t seen him since he was seventeen or eighteen. But for his father’s sake, I wish I could talk some sense into him.”
“I don’t know, Jethro. Part of me thinks he’s beyond hope.”
“No one is beyond hope, not until they reach room temperature.”
He walked on and left Tess to think about that. Jethro’s statement echoed Oliver’s, and she thought about their dinner. In spite of his use of murder and the law to parallel grace and redemption, Tess could not wrap her mind around Beck being redeemable. To her, Cyrus Beck was past saving, unredeemable.
Was that a lack of faith, another nail in her relationship with Oliver?
17
Monday morning, Tess heard the call crackle over the radio, and before Bender responded, she got up to go help.
“Boy-2, copy a call at Blackberry Hollow, space 24. Disturbance, loud voices, possible domestic violence. We have three CPs on this call. Handle code 3.”
She recognized the address in the trailer park and knew that the space number was where the Coopers were staying. Aside from the conversation she’d had with Oliver the week before, she’d heard from several people that things were tense between the pair. Her friend Casey Reno had even expressed concern about letting her daughter babysit for the couple.
“I almost want to say no,” she’d said the other day. “But I feel sorry for Janie. She works so hard and Garrett has never been a help.”
“You don’t think Kayla is in danger, do you?”
“No, no. I don’t think Garrett would hurt her. But she doesn’t need to hear the fights and the language.”
Tess had left lunch frowning about the Coopers and hoping none of the fights got physical.
Then Oliver doubled down about the situation with his comments at dinner. Garrett Cooper was a hothead and not pulling his weight. On one hand, Oliver sounded like he wanted Tess to intervene and on the other that he believed prayer would solve the problem.
“He’s immature, and I sense a lot of anger. He uses Janie to vent.”
“Doesn’t necessarily mean he gets physical.”
“Emotional abuse can be every bit as dangerous as physical abuse.”
“While I agree, it’s harder to prove for a cop.”
“I lift that family up in prayer every day. Their eyes need to be open to the fact that they have three children to raise and nurture. The fighting and division have to stop.”
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