Hearts Surrender Read online

  “Who says you have to? Who says that’s even necessary? Knowing the Bible is important, of course, but more important to these kids is someone who leads by example.”

  That ideal crashed in, obliterating her fast-breaking happiness. “That’s definitely not me. I’m the Cosmo girl, remember?” He looked at her for a long, intent moment. Kiara’s automatic, teasing smile weakened a bit under his regard.

  “I tend to look a bit deeper than that, Kiara. In you, I see much more than a Cosmo girl and a beautiful face. Personally? I think STAGE was tailor-made for you.”

  OK, that was the last thing she expected to hear. Really? She wanted to ask.

  “Ken…I—”

  “These kids need engaging. Someone they want to relate to,” he continued, cutting off her disquieted protest. “Someone they admire. Someone who leads them to Christ in the manner by which they live, not just in their words, but in their actions as well. Look around you, Kiara, at what you’ve helped create. That’s you. And you have a history of success.”

  “But…Ken…”

  Her breath hitched and held somewhere deep in her chest. Kiara’s heart thundered; her bones turned fluid. Because, dang it, the idea pulled at her. Tempted. He honestly thought she was worthy and capable of such a challenge.

  Never had a man made her feel so precious and important. Ken seemed to believe she could be much more in this life than a trophy, a woman to be shown off and admired, yet never taken to heart with true relevance.

  Kiara didn’t realize she was staring at him, absorbing his words, until Ken leaned in with that mind-dizzying smile, and kissed her cheek. “By the way?” he murmured, “You might want to be careful.”

  Careful? Huh? His voice, low and smooth, danced across her skin in a flutter of sensation.

  “The way you said my name just now? Hit me harder than a long, deep look into your eyes. Thanks for leaving Pastor off this time.”

  Before Kiara could stammer out a response, he turned, making ready to rejoin the rooftop crew. Kiara floundered, in a number of ways. “Ah, didn’t you need my help?”

  Ken looked over his shoulder. “Nah. That was a diversionary tactic. I just wanted to talk to you alone for a minute.”

  He moved back, leaving her to stare, and melt, and wonder.

  Late that afternoon everyone returned to camp. Taking a break before dinner preparations, individual teams adjourned to their cabins. Finally, Kiara’s spotty cell phone reception decided to play nice, and she received a series of delayed text messages. The first one came from Daveny, just wanting to check in. That left Kiara smiling as she tumbled flat into bed with a delicious sigh, letting the girls blow off steam. Giggles echoed off the walls, and a pillow fight ensued—as did a simultaneous session of the Scoop, Info and Gossip Society.

  Content, thoroughly happy, Kiara tuned out the chatter and paged through a couple more messages from friends, then a final, more surprising entry from Drew.

  Miss u. Hear thru the grapevine u left 4 a church trip? Is that 4 real? Mission work over Paris? Whats up w/that? LOL. Fill me in. Ur silent these days. Why?

  Interested in deflecting the skeptical undercurrent of Drew’s missive, she decided to fill him in promptly. Ignoring the other messages, she started to type a reply.

  Dont b so surprised! Our pastor knows how to motivate. Hes awesome n experienced w/ projects like this. Im in PA w/the youth group helping a family of four get back on their feet. Doing landscape and basic home repair. Great program! Im inspired! TTY when I get back.

  A stuffed yellow duck whizzed through the air, zipping across Kiara’s prone form. The unfortunate, battered toy was the object of a game of keep-away. Squeals filled the air, followed by a chase full of thunder-feet. Did these kids ever get tired? Increasingly able to deflect the ruckus of exuberant teenage girls, Kiara clicked send, and her lips quirked into a private grin.

  Don’t be so surprised I’m on a mission. I’m inspired. He’s awesome…

  One thing was certain: Her eyes were opening up to a whole new world, and her joy and contentment within that world, while startling, could not be denied.

  Hearts Surrender: Woodland Series

  9

  An hour later, as dinnertime approached, Ken came upon Kiara in the mess hall. Alone, she prepped the evening’s entrée. The sight of her made him smile.

  Standing in profile, she laid out defrosted Tilapia in a line. Before her were three bowls. Her motions as expert as any New York sous chef, she coated the fish in egg, dipped the piece into flour until it was dusted white, then flipped it repeatedly and methodically until bread crumbs formed a light coating. Setting the complete section of fish on a baking tray she hummed and swayed, unaware of his presence.

  Deliberately covert, he moved to join her. Ken realized now why she didn't hear him, and why her body moved in time to a beat. She tuned into an iPod, a set of telltale white ear buds tucked into place. Ken wondered. Was he now, officially, the only person on the planet without one?

  He wanted to touch her. He wanted connection. He craved her attention and the return of affection that rose up fast and overwhelmed him—but what about her? A feminine mystique enveloped her, and enticed.

  She turned her back for a moment, dialing the oven to 350 degrees. That's when he stepped up and checked out the meal progression. By design, when she returned to the counter, she came up against his solid, waiting form. She yelped in surprise.

  Ken settled his hands on her shoulders, and came upon skin so dewy soft he found himself looking at her bare arms, savoring their warmth and supple texture. Moisturizer. Of course she would moisturize her skin. The thought of massaging cream onto her arms, her shoulders and legs, left him decidedly lax in the concentration and focus department.

  “Ken…ah…hello there...”

  Her voice, the perfect combination of smoke satin that haunted his mind, took on a new measure of huskiness. Her smile trembled a bit—just like his fingertips, which twitched in a longing to skate against her arms, and caress her.

  Thus, his plan to take her by surprise utterly backfired. Now he was the one who came away jostled and hot-wired. It was one thing to have the goal of getting under her skin. It would be quite another figuring out what to do once he got there. If he got there. Why did he brave this exercise? Why did he long so urgently to move into her life?

  Because within her he sensed passion for life—joy and most important of all, an authentic heart.

  “Tilapia happens to be a favorite of mine,” he finally said.

  She looked down quickly, her cheeks an appealing hue of pink. “Glad to hear that.”

  Ken felt the way her body tightened, hated the way her eyes shuttered and her focus remained on everything else but him. In a way, he understood her shy avoidance—heady atmosphere ranged around them, intensifying each time they came together.

  So he couldn’t resist. He grazed his knuckles against her cheek and came away aching. Cheeks of satin—just like the skin of her arms. “Relax, Kiara.”

  “Easier said than done,” she murmured.

  Curious he lifted her iPod from where she had resettled it on the counter. He cycled through her play list and hummed with approval.

  “One Republic, Creed, David Gray, Mercy Me, Coldplay—” She blushed further and tried to swat his hand away but he dodged the effort and continued reciting: “The Fray, Five for Fighting…they’re great by the way.”

  “You know them?”

  Kiara’s surprise ignited a nipping bite of frustration. She was surprised because he knew and enjoyed current music as well as Christian offerings. In a way, she reflected the attitude of most of his parishioners, especially since Barb’s death. They saw him as something beyond a man with standard, relatable likes and dislikes, pains and joys.

  And needs.

  Ken stilled and fought back that dose of negativity by taking in a breath and observing a silence that caused Kiara’s brows to pucker. He took a chance on revelation. “I don’t know why
it surprises people so much that I’m a part of the world I live in. Part of its culture.” Absent of forethought he fingered the electronic device. He waited, hoping she might be curious enough—and care enough—to pick up the threads he laid out. He wished she would pursue a more personal, more meaningful conversation.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you.” Earnest eyes and genuine regret shaded her words. Ken shook his head and returned the iPod, wanting to rail at how formal, how forced her words sounded.

  He kept quiet and started to turn away but fought the leaving. He longed for her to somehow understand him and his life. Was that even a possibility?

  She touched his arm. “You wanted to say something. I wish you would.”

  Her gesture stayed Ken’s exit. He expelled a breath. “Oh, boy.”

  He looked her straight in the eye, thinking, you wanted her unguarded, right? That’s what appealed to you most about this moment, right? Well, apparently this was his chance, the answer to a prayer.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  She took a moment. Ken watched as she steeled herself a bit. But she nodded.

  He kept his tone low. Soft. “First of all, you didn’t offend. You reacted in a way that made me want to make something clear, that’s all.”

  “What’s that?”

  He moved very close. Perhaps leading her forward based on his own strident emotions was just this side of aggressive, but Ken didn’t want to fight himself any more. God’s hand was here; he just needed to take hold, and have faith.

  So he invaded her space to such a degree that she had to look up. Her eyes were wide—and alluring. She didn’t step back, or away, so neither did he.

  “I believe in being an engaged part of the world around me, Kiara. In fact, I enjoy it. John Muir once wrote that we should be in the world, not just on it. That philosophy hit home with me. I believe that’s what God wants for all of us. No matter what our calling. After all, that’s why we’re here, right?”

  Her mouth opened, as if she wanted to respond, but she remained silent, looking at him intently. He reached out, stroked a fingertip against her cheek once more. He couldn’t get enough of the sensation that slid through his body when he touched her.

  “Secondly I want you to think about something for me.”

  “What’s that?”

  The cadence of her voice ignited a dance of sparks through his bloodstream. Ken looked nowhere else but her eyes. “Think about finding a way to see past me being a pastor and understand there’s more to me than church leadership. That would mean a lot, Kiara.”

  Not waiting on an answer, he ended the moment. “I’m going to rally our crew to start helping set up for dinner. The food looks great.”

  “It certainly does,” came the voice of Maggie Voorhees. She stood at the entry of the mess hall, and moved slowly forward. “I wanted to be sure Kiara found everything she needed to cook the fish. Everything okay?”

  Startled, a shower of cold, prickling ice danced through Ken’s body. Openly curious, openly suspicious of the blatantly cozy stance he presently shared with Kiara, Maggie joined them, but quickly moved her features into smoother, friendlier lines.

  “Can I help with veggies? Or some rice, maybe?”

  Kiara drifted, as unobtrusively as possible, back toward the baking tray. “That’d be great. Perfect timing, actually. I’m sure the oven has preheated by now, and these won’t take long to cook.”

  Ken prepared to take his leave, figuring it would be for the best. They shared a lingering look before he turned away, and he swore he could feel her eyes on his back when he pushed open the squeaky screen door and walked outside.

  ****

  The following day, Kiara yanked weeds. She chopped back excess evergreen branches. She worked herself to a wicked extreme, consumed by her thoughts.

  Of course Pastor Ken—Ken, she corrected firmly—possessed a multitude of facets and layers as a person. He was obviously more than a pastor, active and attuned to his time and place in culture. Of course she realized that truth.

  A convicting voice spoke up, though: Then why is it so difficult for you to call him Ken? Why is it so uncomfortable for you to let this wonderful, textured person into your heart—not as a preacher, but as a man?

  She knelt in the front yard, before the Kidwell’s freshly soiled flowerbed. Day two was on the wane, and niggling thoughts kept playing and replaying through her mind. She dove into hard labor and the process of planting a variety of annuals and perennials. She paused to swipe beads of sweat from her forehead while she studied the gradually improving grounds.

  Kiara answered that inner voice while she resumed working. The situation with Ken is difficult because letting him inside my life would open up an even more personal channel between the two of us at a point when I don’t know if I’m right for him. Plus, I’ve just uncovered a whole new element to exploring a relationship with him—parishioner response. Oh, she played silent and uninvolved while we finished up dinner preps last night, but Maggie’s intrigue and almost disapproving suspicions only affirm the fact that there are members of Woodland Church who would be disconcerted by romantic developments in the life of their shepherd—no matter how innocent or above-board.

  Especially with a woman like me.

  Stop trying to handle this, Kiara, came that irritatingly irrefutable voice of reason.

  She’d always been attracted to Ken, ever since meeting him years ago at the church renovation project. Married at the time, he became a safe point—a man she could admire from afar, and even learn from, without risking her heart.

  Or so she had thought.

  Times had changed. His single status left Kiara floundering now—to the point of being uncharacteristically on edge. Acutely aware. Thing was, he knew it. She recognized as much by the way he kept tabs, and stayed near—but not too near. He paid close attention, stoked a fever then slid tantalizingly back, allowing her to absorb. Beneath it all simmered heat. Desire. An inviting, although unnerving, degree of tension.

  Kiara’s volunteer team continued to focus on landscaping. The roof now restored, Ken’s team focused on interior renovations side by side with a crew of contractors from local businesses and churches who donated their time. Margaret Voorhees and her husband led Woodland’s third and fourth teams in reshaping the backyard.

  A hand glided against Kiara’s shoulder, warm and large, stirring a jolt. She knew it was him. She recognized his touch.

  “You doing OK?” Ken asked. He didn’t look at her. He looked instead at a freshly prepped flowerbed now set for flowers.

  “Great,” she answered—too quickly.

  He grinned at Amy who pulled off her work gloves and paused for a long gulp of bottled water. Ken directed his next comment to her, not Kiara. “Well, I’m not one for micro-managing so I’ll leave you to it, but I wanted to say it looks really good out here. I’m headed back inside.”

  “See ya, Pastor Ken,” Amy answered breezily, recapping her drink. She continued to pull away the last of the overgrowth.

  Kiara returned to work as well, but hang it all, Ken had her chasing after her tail these days.

  “Miss Kiara?” A pair of identical twin pixies, Casey Kidwell’s twin daughters, stepped up and stood near her side.

  “Hi, Amber! Hi, Alyssa!” Matching, gap-toothed smiles were her return greeting. “How are you?”

  “Good,” came the unison answer. The little girls shared a quick glance then Alyssa spoke. “Can you and Miss Amy come to our room for a sec? We got somethin’ to show you.”

  Amy looked up, and Kiara gave a slight shrug and nodded. Amy replied, “Sure, guys. What’s up?”

  “Nothin.’ Just a surprise,” answered Amber. She pulled Kiara’s hand while Alyssa grabbed Amy by the arm.

  Inside, at the far end of the hallway, plastic sheeting trapped the dust and floating debris where the more substantial outer wall demolition was taking place. Soon this area would become a third bedroom for the house. Presently, a s
econd bedroom was shared by the three children, the space divided in half by a colorful if threadbare quilt to give the oldest child, Phil some semblance of privacy. Before the week was out, though, Phil would have his own room. The girls would continue to share, following an upgrade and proper maintenance to the room where they now stood. Ken worked outside the doorway, pulling down drywall and hauling away litter.

  Oblivious to the construction chaos, Amber said, “It’s right in here. C’mere.”

  Kiara shared an expectant look with Amy, waiting while the girls dug through a large plastic tub where they stored a few of their possessions during this temporary displacement.

  At last, they pulled out two small, cloth pouches and handed one to Kiara, and one to Amy. Puzzled, Kiara opened the one from Amber. She tipped the contents into her palm and out tumbled a colorful, beaded bracelet. The beads were the kind of tiny, rainbow colored trinkets to be found in any dime-store jewelry making kit, and her throat swelled. Alyssa tended to Amy; Amber, meanwhile, took custody of Kiara’s bracelet, pulling the elastic band just wide enough to slip it onto her wrist.

  “We made ’em on our own. It was fun.” Amber turned Kiara’s wrist this way and that, studying the placement and shine of the piece. “Lots of stuff is fun now. Mommy smiles all the time now. She hasn’t done that in a long, long time. It’s because of you guys—we just know it. This is a gift. It’s to say thank you. OK?”

  Kiara bit her trembling lower lip. No use. Tears still filled her eyes, and she tried to blink them back so as not to embarrass the little girls. Meanwhile, the twins waited and watched them with expectant eyes, smiling with the humble joy of giving someone a present.

  Thank God for Amy, who, though choked up as well, chimed right in. “You guys are awesome. This is gorgeous. I’m not taking it off.”

  “Me either. And you certainly don’t need to do this to thank us, but we’ll treasure these bracelets. Always. Thank you.”