Hearts Crossing (Woodland) Read online

  Again, Daveny simply waited and watched.

  “Five years ago I was exactly where I wanted to be. I was happy. I was a semester away from graduating college with my teaching degree. I was engaged.” There he paused and looked at her. She didn’t flinch, and the tension in his shoulders and the lines of doubt on his face eased. But Daveny knew what would help even more. She had to tell him.

  “Collin, will it make this easier if I tell you I know about the engagement?”

  He looked at her for the longest time—studious at first, then with a smile that dawned slowly but with breathtaking impact. The moment stretched. Daveny blushed furiously beneath his intense regard and finally shrugged. “The Internet. God’s little miracle. I wondered about her. About her affect on you, and her reaction to your family.”

  The admission came freely once she found her equilibrium.

  Collin's smile warmed again, turning into an invitation that slid against her heart, and turned her logic into nothing more than dizzy, sweet longing.

  Collin leaned across the small table and Daveny found out that, oh yes, this moment, this vibration and pull, was well worth fighting for. His lips touched hers; then he moved in possessively, claiming her mouth with firm, but tender purpose. Perfectly attuned to the give and take of hers, his kiss, poured heat through Daveny—bone melting, pure and lush. Intoxicating in the very best sense of the word.

  Extraction required a mutual and supreme act of will, but Collin slowed the exchange and moved carefully away. The troubled expression on his face shook Daveny back to reality. She didn’t understand that reaction at all.

  “Daveny, I wish an engagement were the only issue.”

  “Then what is? Please trust me, and have faith enough to…”

  He cut her off sharply. “That’s the issue. Faith. Hope. Goodness. God and mercy and all the platitudes you hear preached from the pulpit every Sunday.”

  “Collin, what ended it for you? What happened? Tell me.”

  “Death happened. Aggravated Manslaughter, or so it’s called in a court of law. Scales of justice. What a joke. What a sick, pathetic joke.”

  Collin seemed far removed from her now, lost in a world only he truly saw and felt. All Daveny saw was that whatever circumstance he visited tore him apart.

  He told her the story of Lance’s last moments, relived the funeral, tasted the bitterness of anger he turned upon a God he no longer understood nor tolerated. She could feel the dam breaking free around his heart but at the same time witnessed his controlled fury and his pain.

  “So you’ve taken the blame and believe that because of your intervention God didn’t protect Lance from what happened—well-intended as it was? You’ve decided to simply get out of God’s way and leave Him alone?”

  “That sums it up. Yes.”

  “Then it seems to me you’re expecting life to be perfect for believers in God. You’re trying to reconcile pure goodness into a world that contains the knowledge of good and evil, Collin. It’s never going to happen. Faith has to enter into the equation somewhere along the line.”

  Daveny had his attention so she didn’t relent. This was far too important—for both their sakes. “It may seem trite and simplistic to cling to the truth that God is there anyway—that God will never, ever leave us, and in fact will heal us of the pain we feel. If we let Him. It’s about free will, Collin. We have to choose Him. He can’t exist where He isn’t allowed or invited. Let yourself believe again, and miracles happen. I promise you that. It’s guaranteed in God’s word. You may have left Him alone, but He’s never left you alone. If you need intrinsic proof, look at what you’ve done for Woodland. And look at what you’ve done for me.”

  “What have I truly done in either instance?”

  “Oh, I was hoping you’d ask.” She paused, snaring his full attention. “You’ve helped give new life to a parish in need of tender loving care. You did it by lending time and talent to the renovation project. What you’ve done for me is help recharge my faith. The project invigorated my faith, but you helped me rediscover all over again how unexpected and how absolutely beautiful God’s grace is. Especially when it’s revealed through love.”

  In his eyes, Daveny caught a glimpse of his hope and a contradictory fear.

  “I can’t even find words to describe the feeling I have when I’m around you, Daveny. I’ve been without it for so long.”

  The words, the feeling behind them, were all she had ever dreamed of, but she wasn’t satisfied. Not quite. Daveny knew he was at a crossroads and needed to make his own choices about where to go next.

  “I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know, Collin, but you need to come to terms. Your soul needs peace, and I can’t give you that. Only God can. I should get back to work, but take this thought with you: God is good. Always. Only those who know they have been loved beyond all deserving can begin to understand the possibility of loving others in the same generous way. I want that kind of love, Collin. With a man of exceptional heart and faith. Is that you?”

  13

  That night Collin engaged his cell phone and auto dialed his folks’ number.

  “Collin!” his mom greeted enthusiastically. “How are you?”

  He smiled deeply and automatically. “Hey, Mom. I’m good.” He paused, stalling for a few seconds. “Ah...I know it’s a weekday and all, and we usually do dinner on Sundays, but—”

  “Yes?”

  The single word was spoken in a leading way, with anticipation he could all but taste. “Well, I was wondering if I could stop by. I know Dad's been wanting help fixing the lattice on the deck. If it sweetens the deal, I’ll be bringing a guest. One I think you’ll approve of.”

  “What time would you and Daveny like to eat?”

  He sputtered his way into a laugh. “Six thirty works. I’ll bring steaks for the grill.”

  “What a treat! That sounds wonderful, sweetheart. Can’t way to see you both.”

  He flipped the cell closed and grinned. It didn’t surprise him any that his mom had connect the dots between him and Daveny.

  His contentment faded. Of course he wanted to mix Daveny into the composition of his family. The other purpose of his visit was much more difficult. Collin breathed in, breathed out, steadied himself.

  Revelation needed to come full circle. Daveny would be at his side, though. That helped immeasurably. That fact, plus the renewal of hope she inspired, just might make all the difference.

  ****

  Collin held Daveny’s hand tight, bringing it to rest on the seat divider.

  “No need for this to be a big production, right?” he murmured, focused on the road ahead, his left hand gripped tight on the wheel. “I'll help with the deck then I'll talk to them both.”

  “Collin?” She didn’t continue until he glanced at her. In her eyes was a light that, like a sunbeam, worked right through him. She possessed the most reassuring serenity of spirit and calmness. “It’s going to be OK.”

  When they arrived, Ben was already prepped with hammers, nails and pre-measured wood pieces. Before exiting the cab of Collin's truck, Daveny stayed his leaving by placing a hand on his arm.

  “Hey.” She moved a bit closer.

  She opened herself to him in a kiss ripe and giving. Collin claimed the offering, mindless to all but her taste, the love that poured forward from her being into his starved, eager soul. Want, elemental and primitive, mixed with an emotion so sacred, so rich in flavor he could summon no resistance.

  At last, he traced a fingertip against the line of her jaw and looked into her eyes, hoping she could feel the passion and gratitude that filled him.

  “You talk to Ben,” she urged. “I’m going to go inside and see if I can help Elise. There’s something I want to talk to her about anyway. Church stuff.”

  Collin arched a brow, teasing, “Oh? Secrets already?”

  “Maybe,” she taunted in a saucy manner, giving him a last, lingering kiss before leaving the cab.

  Fr
om behind the seat, she gently lifted out a freshly purchased ice cream cake—pralines and cream—his parent’s favorite.

  “Collin?” He turned back as they went their separate ways. “Rest easy.”

  He nodded, truly trying to heed her advice.

  ****

  Sweat beaded Collin's hairline. The trickle of it slid down his neck and back. From his prone position on the patio he spaced and held in place small, angled wood pieces and then secured them with nails. Squatting next to him at the edge of the deck, his father handed him supplies while Collin fixed an open hole in the ground level lattice work.

  Collin cleared his throat, and ventured forward cautiously. “You know, I've been thinking a lot since I started helping out at Woodland.”

  “Yeah.” With a steady hand his father lined up the next angled wood slice. Collin proceeded to hammer.

  “Working there brings some stuff back. I can't help but think—think about—”

  “Lance,” his father filled in easily, nodding as he studied the results of their work so far. “I can imagine.” He held the position of the next crisscrossing segment of wood while Collin nailed. “You've been OK with it? With working at the church? Seems to me you've enjoyed it.”

  Collin glanced up just in time to catch sight of his father's pleased, knowing grin.

  “Yeah. Daveny is incredible, so I've enjoyed the project and getting to know her, but—”

  “But you never wanted to go back.”

  Condemnation couldn't be found. Nor could any other form of judgment. It was simple statement of fact.

  “True.”

  “Pain runs deep, Collin. We understand that, but we keep hoping.”

  Collin half laughed, half sighed in reply to that not-surprising admission. “You, Mom and everyone else, it seems.”

  They continued repairs—wood overlaying wood, secured by nails—and the job was nearly finished, the lattice work refurbished and filled in perfectly once more.

  “Dad, I...” Let it go. The words rang through Collin, powerful and promising. “I realize I've had a lot of trouble moving ahead since Lance's death.”

  “It was a gut-punch to all of us. You especially. You saw it happen. I know that added a huge weight for you to carry, son.”

  “But Dad it goes beyond that. It goes way beyond that—into responsibility and even involvement.” Deliberately Collin drew out the last word, willing his dad to pick up on its meaning.

  His father paused, swiped a short sleeve across his sweat-stained face, and then sat back on his heels, finally asking, “What do you mean by involvement?” He focused on Collin exclusively, directing them to the nearby wooden steps of the deck. They settled there side by side.

  “I tried, Dad. I tried to help.” Collin's words were a choked whisper. Rather than look his father in the eye, he looked straight ahead, to a yard dotted by large, old trees and enlivened by dashing black and brown squirrels, birds and swaying branches.

  After a pause, Collin went on. “I wanted to help him. And in the end, the guy? He tripped over himself. The gun went off, and Lance ended up shot, and killed. Lance had told me to stay put. I ignored him, Dad. Like some kind of a stupid naïve wanna-be hero, I jumped into a situation where I had no business. But all I wanted to do was protect him. Instead...Instead I...”

  Collin felt a hand on his arm, strong, calloused and warm.

  “Son.” Collin stopped talking and finally braved a look at his father. “Son, is this why? My God, you didn't think we knew? Collin, we knew what happened all along. We knew you were in the thick of it. Doug Kennal was a first responder. He spoke to the wife of the perp. She saw everything. We knew you tried to look out for your brother and help. Yes, he asked you to stay put. Rightfully so. But you acted on pure, loving instinct. Do you honestly believe there's fault to be found in that? Did you think we wouldn't understand? Is that what drove you into—into”—he gestured flatly with outspread hands—“spiritual seclusion?”

  Collin's heart thundered against his ribs, freedom setting its pace. Freedom, hope and a promise trying desperately to take root and come to life.

  “So you knew? Mom and everybody—you knew?”

  “Yes, Collin.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Do you think we'd want to open up sores, revisit that awful night by bringing back something that wounded you so deeply?” He blew out through pursed lips, seeming to consider everything. “Maybe we were wrong to try to shield you from that pain. It might have helped you let go of your troubles a lot sooner.”

  “I'm just as guilty on that count, Dad.”

  His father placed an arm around Collin's shoulders, nodding toward the work they had finished. He breathed out a satisfied sound. “Repair jobs. They're hard, sweaty work, you know? No arguing with the results though. Sometimes you just need to hunker down and start again. Right?”

  Yes, Collin knew what he was saying. But was he ready for that last, fateful step?

  Honestly, right now, he just didn't know.

  14

  Collin sighed, nervously twitching at his tie. Blasted thing refused to lie correctly. Loosening the knot, he worked at it all over again. His reflection in the bathroom mirror was somewhat comforting. White dress shirt in place. Khaki slacks, too. A blue blazer hung on the back of the door, ready to be worn.

  And a confounded tie of royal blue silk that possessed a will of its own.

  The third time was a charm, and his stalling ended. Collin slid the sport coat on. With an attitude of resolution he left his home behind beneath gray skies that foreshadowed a soft summer rain. Climbing into his truck, Collin trembled as he started the engine and pulled out—turning right onto Jefferson Avenue.

  Toward Sunday services at Woodland Church of Christ.

  ****

  If walking into Woodland a week ago had been accomplished on shaky legs, this time they felt like overcooked spaghetti.

  Collin looked around, feeling such familiarity, yet such a sense of disconnect. So many people wandered past—so many faces with a light he could only attribute to an aura fostered by God. By a commitment to faith and hope.

  It would take time for him to reach that point again; there remained a strong willed, stubborn part of his heart that felt like he was giving in and surrendering to something he promised never to revisit. But then he thought of Daveny, who had instigated a domino-style chain reaction in his life that culminated right here—in this moment of returning.

  Those thoughts so enveloped Collin he made it to the halfway point of the main aisle without fully realizing it. To the right, as always, a pew full of Edwardses were in attendance.

  He paused by his family, but only for a moment. When Collin looked into his mom's eyes, he could have sworn they sparkled and filled, but it may have been a trick of the light slanting in through the stained glass windows.

  She held out a hand but followed the track of Collin's gaze, seeming to realize he was headed to a pew a few rows ahead. That's where Daveny sat, unaware of his arrival, chatting amiably with her seatmate, Kiara.

  Collin held and squeezed his mom's hand then kissed the back. He felt sure she sensed his wariness, even before he quietly disclaimed, “Don't make a big deal out of this, OK?”

  “Out of what?” she retorted. “You're where you're supposed to be. See you after services.”

  Collin forced down the fear and continued on. Thank God—and that was the first time he'd had that thought in a very long while—the second spot next to Daveny remained empty. He tucked into place, touching her shoulder lightly.

  “Collin!”

  His name came out as a murmured exclamation of delight and welcome.

  She gave him a quick, tight hug then Pastor Ken began worship, precluding further conversation.

  ****

  After services his mother stepped up to Daveny. “You know, it’s far past time we had you over for a full-blown Sunday dinner. It’s the very least we can do after all the work you and Collin have
put in here at Woodland. Can you join us?”

  Standing in the narthex after church, Collin looked over Daveny's head and rolled his eyes at his mother. Romantic machinations dispensed with, his mother just smiled serenely.

  “How sweet,” Daveny replied. “I'd love it—but first can I steal him away for a minute?”

  “Absolutely. We’ll see you at the house later?”

  Daveny nodded and linked her arm though Collin's. Her happiness enveloped him in a sensation so absolute it sucked him in like a thirsty soul questing for water.

  “Come here,” she beckoned. “I want to show you something.”

  When Collin nodded, Daveny led him outside.

  To the bridge.

  Rain drizzled, gliding down the umbrella she extended, making it gleam. For now, Collin stood just outside the edge of its shelter. He preferred the cool wetness on his skin. Rain dampened clothes were the least of his concerns. Like a baptism of sorts, he felt reborn.

  “Pastor Ken still knows how to deliver a great sermon,” he observed. In fact, Collin wondered if the entire sermon had been directed to him. Pastor Ken had used the example of Parishioner's Bridge to illustrate the power of God's people in action and to address the pain and loss of releasing loved ones from an earthly existence while still maintaining a loving remembrance.

  Through God, Collin discovered anew, love lives on in a timeless cycle of variety and consistency—just like Daveny had observed in her presentation.

  The flat rocks positioned around the pond looked like stepping-stones; they shimmered with moist gloss. The sky featured luminous, blue-gray cloud cover. The church grounds were deep green beneath a bank of fat, low-rolling clouds. Bright flowers, the heightened finish of the bright pine wood, combined into a softly focused glow that took Collin's breath away despite the rain.

  Daveny had shown him the beauty to behold in God's creation. No longer would he run and hide, blind to that truth. Everything led to one place. God's kingdom. Now, Collin decided firmly, it was time to get busy living that truth.