Читать книгу A Treasure of the Heart - Valerie Hansen - Страница 7

James wondered what he should have said to Lillie after her telling outburst. There were few instances since his ordination when he’d felt so unable to offer words of wisdom. Then again, he hadn’t been a member of the clergy for nearly as long as his age would indicate.

Walking down Third Street toward the church parking lot where he’d left his motorcycle, he studied the old buildings on the square. Glow from the streetlights muted their flaws and made them seem sturdier, but they were still clearly antiquated.

Sadly, that was true of his church, too. Gumption Front Porch Christian was so small it was a wonder the congregation hadn’t sold that sanctuary and moved on long ago. Yes, it had its namesake front porch and a quaintly charming stone facade but it lacked many necessary elements, not the least of which was adequate on-site parking.

Inside, wooden pews that bore the patina of age barely provided enough room for the regulars to squeeze in. Add a few visitors and they had to pull folding chairs out of the Sunday-school rooms and place them in the aisle to accommodate everyone.

Not only was that solution awkward, it was unsafe. If folks got up before the end of the service, there was a good chance they’d trip and fall before they reached the exits. Heaven forbid, literally, they ever had an emergency that required quick evacuation. Something had to be done, and soon.

He gave a tuneless whistle. Sudden rustling in a nearby tree led his gaze upward even though it was almost too dark to see. By approaching the tree trunk and leaning left, he was able to peer through the clusters of tiny white blossoms and catch a glimpse of what had drawn his attention. Two bright eyes reflected the dim light enough for him to tell that the creature definitely wasn’t a squirrel. Judging by the pansylike face and pitiful mewing, it was a kitten. A very young kitten.

James wasn’t particularly fond of cats. As far as he was concerned their place was in a barn, catching mice, not underfoot in a house. It was, however, one of God’s creatures. And he was a servant of the Lord. Therefore, he assumed it was his duty to either affect a rescue or find someone who would.

Craning his neck to watch the kitten, he tried to recall how long it had been since he’d shinnied up a tree. Twenty years? Probably. Except for his motorcycle riding he’d never been as athletic as most boys. While they’d been out playing baseball and football, he’d been doing his homework or reading his dad’s copy of the Wall Street Journal.

That had prepared him for his initially successful foray into the business world but it hadn’t satisfied his soul or equipped him to deal with the perfidy of his partners or the infidelity of his late wife, which was why he’d eventually chucked his old life and escaped to the Ozarks.

He smiled. He could identify with Lillie Delaney’s decision to quit her job and head for the hills. Although Gumption hadn’t been his point of origin, it had served the same purpose. He, too, had come here to the South to start over. Perhaps he should have told her so. Then again, it was his job to listen and offer wise counsel, not spout off about his own life history the first chance he got.

Approaching the base of the tree, he reached up as far as he could. The frightened kitten hissed and backed away, trembling so badly that some of the tiny flower petals around it shook loose and drifted down.

“Come on, cat,” he cajoled, wiggling his fingers. “Don’t you know a friend when you see one?”

Obviously, the answer was no.

James withdrew, planning his next move as he brushed the shed blossoms off his jacket. He looked around. Few good citizens of Gumption were on the street at this time of night and those who were were judiciously avoiding eye contact. Either they knew there was a cat stuck in the tree or they still considered him an outsider, even after nearly a year. Either was possible. Both were likely.

If he were a hungry, scared animal, what would bring him to his rescuer? Food. He needed a big handful of something cats found irresistible.

It was quicker and easier to backtrack to DD’s than to fire up his bike, ride home and raid his refrigerator.

Lillie had locked the front door when she’d let him out of the café so he circled around back. That door, too, was locked, but at least there was a porch light to see by.

Unwilling to give up so easily, James took off his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, then cautiously lifted the top of the battered green Dumpster that sat against the brick wall. The fumes that instantly filled his nostrils were so strong, so disgusting, he dropped the lid with a bang.

Gasping, he turned away, grabbed a deep breath, held it and tried again. Judging by the smell, there were fish scraps in this garbage bin old enough to vote!

He was gingerly lifting aside a crumpled cardboard box when someone directly behind him said, “I don’t believe it,” and startled him so much he lost his hold on the lid once again. It thwacked him on the forearm before he could jump clear.

He whirled, uttering a heartfelt “Ow!” There stood Lillie Delaney, arms folded across her chest, giving him a look that intimated she’d caught him in the middle of a robbery. Then the corners of her mouth started to twitch and lift.

“Hello, again,” she said, half laughing. “If you were that hungry, why didn’t you ask for a second piece of pie?”

“I’m not doing this for myself,” James explained. “It’s for the cat.”

She scanned the compacted gravel at his feet, then bent to peer behind the Dumpster. “What cat?”

“The one in the tree by the church.” He couldn’t help grinning back at her in spite of the pain in his forearm. “It’s a long story.” He started to rub his smarting arm, then realized how dirty he’d gotten and stopped. “Could you spare a paper towel? I’d like to clean up.”

She stepped out of the doorway and held the screen for him. “Go on in and use the restroom. I’ll wait for you.”

“Thanks.”

He made short work of scrubbing himself clean, rejoined her, and watched her secure the back door with a key as he put his jacket back on.

“I was looking for some tasty tidbit to use to lure a kitten out of a tree,” he explained. “I was going to ask you for some scraps but the door was locked and I figured…”

“You figured a little Dumpster diving was called for. I see. And what were you going to do if your cat wouldn’t come down for a treat?”

“Hey, it’s not my cat.”

“Finders keepers,” Lillie taunted.

James fell into step beside her as she started down the sidewalk. “I didn’t exactly find it,” he argued. “It found me. It’s not my fault God gave Adam dominion over all the animals.”

“You think that command rubbed off on you?”

“Sure, why not? I just don’t know much about cats.”

Lillie laughed. “Well, you won’t often see their skeletons in trees. Come on. Show me this kitty you can’t handle. Gram has owned more cats than I can count over the years. I’ve always had a way with them.”

Lillie understood the problem before she even saw the kitten. It had instinctively clambered up the tree and was now too frightened to descend. Yes, it would probably eventually get hungry enough to come down on its own but temperatures were still dropping into the forties or lower every night and she hated to let it suffer needlessly.

Therefore, either she or the preacher was going to have to leave the ground in order to stage a rescue. She sincerely hoped it was going to be him.

They stood together beneath the tree and studied the situation. To Lillie’s dismay the trunk was barely six inches in diameter. Worse, it was a Bradford pear, an ornamental tree noted for its brittle nature.

She made a face. “Rats.”

“No, I think it’s a cat,” James quipped.

She gave him a cynical look. “We’ll need a ladder.”

“Why? If you can’t get him to come down I could just give you a little boost and…No?”

“No. Neither of us should climb that tree. Those branches won’t support us.” She saw him glance at her figure, then quickly look away without comment. If he thought she was too hefty, he was good at hiding his opinion.

“I mean,” Lillie said, “this kind of tree is pretty, especially when it blooms in the spring, like now, but it’s also notorious for breakage. I wouldn’t dream of trusting it to hold either of us.”

“Oh.”

“So, do you have a ladder?”

“I think there’s one in the church basement. Wait here. I’ll go see.”

“Bring a flashlight, too,” she called after him.

“Right.”

Watching him jog away toward the old rock church, she was taken by how well he moved—for an older guy. He must be, what, forty? Maybe forty-five, she concluded, which made him about ten years older than she was. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t James Warner’s mature good looks or even his calling that had impressed her. It was his caring heart. Most of the men she knew would have walked right on by the poor kitten and never even considered rescuing it.

Making good use of her time while she waited for the ladder, Lillie began to speak to the animal softly, coaxingly, calmly. The kitten’s squeaky pleas mellowed. Soon it was answering her voice with a mew that seemed to imply trust and affinity.

Lillie stood close to the tree trunk. It was girdled by several rings of even holes, evidence that a woodpecker had been visiting to clear it of accessible insects.

She extended her arm slowly, deliberately, and rested her hand in the joint of the lowest limb as she continued a high-pitched murmur. “Good kitty. That’s a sweet baby.”

Whiskers tickled her fingertips. One quick grab that missed and she’d undo the trust she’d established. Forcing herself to be patient, she waited till she felt the kitten rub against her hand, then gently curled her fingers around its tiny body and lifted it down.

“What a good baby,” she cooed, holding and cuddling it. “Your uncle James is going to be so proud of you.”

Speaking of which…She squinted toward the church. Some of the lights in the rear were on so she knew he was inside. Surely he should have located the ladder and hauled it out by now. What could be keeping him?

James stood amid the carnage and stared. Whoever had ransacked the church basement and smashed the nativity figures had done so deliberately. There was no way the damage had been accidental. It was too widespread.

A shadow darkened the doorway at the top of the stairs. He tensed. “Who is it?”

“Me,” Lillie said. “What are you doing down there—building a ladder from scratch?”

“No.” He heard the steps creak. “Stop! Don’t come down here. I’m coming up.”

“Okay. You don’t have to yell at me.”

He quickly joined her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I was just upset. You won’t believe what I found.”

She had continued to cuddle the gray-and-white striped kitten. Now, she smiled and held it up as he joined her at the top of the stairs. “You won’t believe what I found, either. Look. It came to me.”

“Terrific.” He brushed past her and headed down the hall.

Lillie followed. “Well, you might act a little pleased. At least we won’t have to risk life and limb to rescue it.”

“Yeah, well, I have other things on my mind right now. Somebody has been fooling with the storage in the basement and made a real mess.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. I’m calling the cops.”

“Wait. I saw a big motorcycle parked out back. Maybe whoever broke into the church rode that and we should disable it so they can’t get away.”

“Not everybody who rides a bike is dangerous. The Harley’s mine.” He sensed that she’d stopped behind him in the hallway so he ordered, “Stay with me. Like you said, we’re not sure the vandals are gone. I wouldn’t want you getting hurt.”

“Or Fang, either.”

“Fang?” James knew he was scowling at her and the kitten but he allowed himself the momentary expression of disdain. “You named that Fang?”

Lillie giggled. “Sure. Why not?” She sobered. “Sorry. I know you’re in no mood for jokes. And I apologize for overreacting about the motorcycle. Go ahead and make your call. We’ll be right behind you.”

James paused and let his gaze travel over her. “Try not to move around too much or we’ll have to vacuum this place. Your hair and clothes are full of those little white flower petals and you’re shedding them all over everything.”

The local sheriff had lived in that area his whole life. Therefore, he and Lillie were well acquainted. She was sitting outside on the concrete steps to the sanctuary, the kitten napping cozily inside the front of her pink nylon jacket, when he arrived.

She wasn’t surprised to see him but she was a little taken aback that there was now so much of him. Caleb Frost was twice the man he used to be and a goodly portion of him lapped over his belt in a jiggling roll.

She smiled. “Hey, Caleb.”

“Well, well, little Miss Lillie. I heard you was back. Finally got your fill of Chicago, eh?”

“Something like that.” She got to her feet so she could speak more quietly, more privately, taking care to secure the kitten as she moved. “Tell me, Caleb. What’s going on around here? We never used to have trouble like this in Gumption.”

“Times change,” the lawman said. He eyed the church. “You meet the new preacher?”

“Yes. He seems okay. Why?”

“Nothin’. Just seems a tad odd that nobody had any problems with this church, or any other, till he showed up.”

“He must have come with credentials and good recommendations. The pastoral search committee would never have hired him otherwise.”

“That’s true I guess.” He snorted. “’Course, I don’t belong to this particular church so I can’t say for certain.”

“It’s not the name over the door that matters and you know it, Caleb.”

He guffawed. Lillie wouldn’t have been surprised to see him slap his knee, too.

“You have growed up, haven’t you, missy? Well, just you remember, folks around here take care of their own. Been doin’ it for more years than you’ve been on this earth.”

“Like Annabelle Pike, you mean?” Lillie straightened and stood tall with the remembrance of her local historical idol. It had been a long time since she’d thought of Annabelle’s bravery back in 1838 and the memory strengthened her. If that pioneer woman could face down the whole U.S. Army to save the life of a Cherokee baby she’d rescued from the Trail of Tears, Lillie could certainly stand up to the likes of Caleb Frost.

The portly sheriff chose to disregard her antagonistic attitude. “I hear the preacher’s got another problem. Best be gettin’ inside to see about it before he gripes to the city council.” He touched the brim of his cap and gave as much of a bow as his pendulous gut would permit. “Evening, Miss Lillie.”

She waited until he’d turned his back and entered the church before she gave in to the childish urge to make a face and stick out her tongue at him.

James was sitting behind his desk when Lillie entered the office a half hour later. “I just saw Caleb leave,” she said. “What did he say?”

“Same thing he said when the church and my Harley were egged a few weeks ago. He’s sure I did something to tick somebody off.” James raked his fingers through his hair. “I wish I knew if he was right.”

“Even if he is, it’s not your fault. I’m sure that whatever you said or did, you had the right motives.”

“Thanks.”

“I understand this congregation has grown a lot since you became its pastor.”

“It has. And we really do need bigger facilities, which is why we’re in the process of working up plans for a whole new building. I suspect my problems may be because of that.”

“There are always folks who resist change, but if this church is really too small, it’s your duty to enlarge it, right?”

“That was my conclusion.”

“Then you have nothing to blame yourself for. You can’t please everybody.” She smiled. “And certainly not in a small town like Gumption. Like they say, stub your toe once around here and a dozen people fall down.”

James had to smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Gram used to tell me that if I sneezed, a hundred folks would say, ‘God bless you,’ before the dust had settled. That used to strike me as a drawback but now I sort of see it as a comfort.”

“It should be.”

Still carrying the kitten, this time on the outside of her jacket, she slowly strolled around the room. “You’ve cleaned up this office nicely. I used to come to youth group here on Saturdays and I remember all the stacks of books and paper Brother Smallwood had piled everywhere. It was a real mess.”

“I moved a lot of that stuff to the basement but I kept it for the day when the church has its own library. That’s just one more reason why we need a larger building.”

“I suppose it will be expensive.”

“God will provide.”

James wasn’t about to admit that the idea of borrowing all that money for the building project occasionally gave him pause, in spite of the hours of prayer and discussion he and his deacons and trustees had dedicated to the decision. He really did believe God was in control. Looking back, the handiwork of the Lord was easy to see. Looking forward, however, it was a little more difficult to be positive you were on the right track.

He huffed. Who was he kidding? It was a lot more difficult.

Lillie paused and zeroed in on a framed diploma hanging on the far wall. “Wow. Massachusetts? I’m impressed. You actually graduated from a seminary there?”

“Yes.” James joined her, his hands stuffed nonchalantly into the pockets of his jeans. “I wasn’t raised in the church like a lot of people are. When I finally gave my life to the Lord I wanted to do it right, so I decided to go to school to learn about the Bible. One thing led to another and here I am.”

“Amazing.” Lillie read aloud from the certificate. “James Robert Warner.”

“That’s me.” To his consternation, she began to giggle. “What’s so funny?”

“You really don’t know?” Chuckling, Lillie turned to face him. A wide grin split her face and made her blue eyes sparkle with delight.

“Know what?” Of all the reactions he’d had to his higher education, hers was the strangest. He couldn’t imagine that she disapproved, yet she certainly wasn’t taking his hard-won ordination seriously.

“You’ve missed a great opportunity here,” she said, obviously struggling to keep from breaking up as she spoke.

“I have?”

“Yes. You shouldn’t go by Brother James or Brother Warner.”

“I shouldn’t?”

“No.” A chortle shook her shoulders and roused the kitten, so she absently scratched it behind the ears. “This may not be Georgia or Louisiana but it’s still the South,” she said. “If you really want to fit in around here you have to start calling yourself Brother Jim Bob!”

His eyebrow arched. “That’s a joke, right?”

“Yes. And no. In case you haven’t noticed, most of us have two first names.”

“Like Darla Sue?” He paused, smiling. “So, what’s your other name?”

“Just Lillie.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. You started this. Come on. If you don’t fess up I’ll keep asking around until somebody tells me. What’s your middle name, Miss Lillie?”

She pulled a face. “I forget.”

He crossed his arms and shook his head. “Uh-uh. Not good enough. Shall I guess? Sue? Lynn? Mary?”

“Much worse than that,” she said with resignation. “My mother was a flower lover. She couldn’t decide which of four names to use so she tagged me with all of them. I’m officially Lillie Rose Iris Daisy Delaney.”

Grinning, James was incredulous. “You have to be joking.”

She snorted derisively. “I wish I was. You’d be doing me a big favor if you didn’t use any of them. Okay?”

“Okay. As long as you don’t start calling me Jim Bob and inspire everybody else to do it, too.”

She stuck out her hand. “Deal.”

As James took it to shake on their agreement, he was struck by how soft her skin was, how lovely she looked with those loose flower petals dusting her silky light brown hair.

He quickly pulled away. The last thing he intended to let himself do was admire another woman. He’d been married once and had experienced the agony of his wife’s disloyalty and their subsequent divorce. When she had died unexpectedly, he had still grieved, yet his mind was made up. Never again would he trust like that, love like that. It had hurt too much.

Besides, he reminded himself, he had work to do for the Lord. That was all he needed or wanted. His congregation was the only family he required and his life was already complete. Period.

Looking at Lillie and seeing her guileless smile, he wondered why, for the first time in years, he was tempted to question that sensible conclusion.