Detour: Destination Abiding Love (3 page)

He scooted his chair closer to the table. “It's more than that, though. You have a sense of purpose that seems to go beyond even that.”

Sierra finally understood and sent up a quick prayer of thanks. “Cole, it's not me who's anchored. It's who's holding me, Christ. And you're right; I do have a sense of purpose.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I just hope the people in this town will come around to see what Jesus has done in my life and that He offers that same gift to anyone who will accept it. I want…” She looked around the room as if it could give her some sort of inspiration. “I want God to use me to be His hands and feet. But honestly, it's not coming easy. Not only do I have my past as baggage, but I'm kind of insecure and shy around people.”

Sue approached their table and set down the plates with a pile of napkins. “Can I get you folks anything else?”

“We're all set. Thanks,” Cole said. As the waitress walked away, he turned back to Sierra. “That's the anchor I'm talking about. You know where you've been, what you want to do now and where you're headed once you leave Daviston.”

The delicious aroma tickled her nose, but even more delicious was the thought that he was right. She gave him a wide smile. “It's a God thing.”

Cole seemed to have totally forgotten about eating. He pushed his plate aside. After resting his head in his hands for a moment, he looked up, his clear blue gaze unwavering. “I've been a Christian for as long as I can remember. But the passion I saw in your eyes this morning as you spoke, and as you speak now…it's made me realize that somewhere over the years my own love for the Lord has faded. I want it back. I want what you have.”

“You're serious?”

“Yup.”

Her heart rate picked up.
Wow, thank You, Lord.
“I didn't go into all the details at church, but I was at the lowest of lows when I finally surrendered my life and heart to Christ. Because of how He's picked me up, I know with all that is in me, He is trustworthy and true. He has given me a new lease on life, and I am passionate about Him.” She could see the struggle on his face.

“I wonder why my love for Him has waned,” he softly questioned.

Lord, please give me Your words
. “I think that's something only you and the Lord would know.”

He sighed as if disappointed in that answer. He pulled his plate back in front of him. “Shall we say a blessing?”

“Sure, that would be great.”

He bowed his head. “Thanks, God, for this food and for the fellowship. Amen.”

“Amen.” She picked up the ketchup bottle and made a scarlet mound on her plate. “I don't know if this would help or not, but I've noticed many people do good things to earn God's favor. But that's not what I'm trying to do. I serve Him because I want to”—she searched for the right words—”to please Him.”

“And that's the beauty that I see in you.”

Hearing him say that scared her even more than standing before the congregation. “Uh, Cole. Don't put me up on any pedestal. I don't even deserve a step-stool.”

 

 

 

 

2

 

Once upon a time Cole's family would have frowned upon working on a Sunday, or even eating out. That is unless one had a job in a hospital, fire department, or some other crucial service. His father had thrown a fit when Cole chose to leave the store open on Sundays.

Since his father had decided to run for governor, things changed. What was once “normal” for his family seemed to vanish with convenience.

Cole sighed as he closed the door to his parents' home. He was so tired of living up to the status quo and doing what was expected: nothing more—nothing less. Talking with Sierra made him think that perhaps he didn't need to live life that way. He wished he could have stayed at the restaurant with her, rather than play the part of the dutiful son here at home...but a promise was a promise.

“Colton, is that you?”

“Yup. I'm coming, Mom.”

She hurried through the living room door. “Finally. I was beginning to think that...that...girl kidnapped you.”

He shrugged out of his jacket. “Nah. Though I wouldn't mind if she had. She's refreshing.”

His mother's jaw dropped like a door hinge. She quickly snapped it shut. “Colton, be sensible. You need to consider what people will think and what they will say, especially now that your father is running in this race. People are watching us.”

With the mandate she had tried to impose on him this morning still fresh in his mind, he bit his tongue to keep from saying something he would regret. “Mom, we didn't do anything wrong. We simply met for lunch and talked.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Well, I certainly hope you don't plan to meet with her again. Our community might get the wrong impression.” She shuddered. “To think of the disgrace that family represents.” His mother tapped her foot. “There is no way we can afford to have our name linked to hers in any way.”

A strong urge ran through Cole. He wanted—no needed—to protect Sierra's reputation, and her goal in returning to Daviston. “Sierra was right to come back. What she wants to do is good.” His mom started to respond, but he went on. “Besides, we'll never be able to please everyone. If people are looking to find something to judge or criticize about our family, they'll find it, no matter what.”

“That's all the more reason not to throw this whole Sinclair thing their way. It's like waving a bone in front of a dog's face. He's bound to grab for it. Son, you need to think about the ramifications your actions can have for our whole family.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sierra admitted this morning in church that she and her father have made mistakes. She asked for our forgiveness.”

“To forgive is one thing. To forget is not only impossible, but foolish.”

Cole knew there would be no changing his mother's mind. Yet, one way or another, that was exactly what he intended to do. He tugged his jacket back on. “I know I told Dad I would help him today. Tell him to make me a list and call me at home or I'll catch him later this week.”

“Colton!”

He opened the door, and then turned back. “There's nothing shameful about Sierra coming back.” A sudden thought popped into his mind. “What if Christ forgave us with the forgiveness you're telling me I should offer to her?” As he closed the door, he heard her call out.

“She's bewitched you! Stay away from her.”

 



 

Sierra stepped out of the little rental car and heard someone call her name. She glanced over towards the main house. Melissa stood there in the doorway waving. “I just put on a pot of coffee. Want to join me?”

Sierra was still full from lunch, but she jumped at the offer of friendship. “I'd love to.”

“Great! Meet me in the kitchen.”

Melissa left the door open and Sierra followed her into a soft yellow country kitchen lined with cabinets and a colorful teacup border paper. Melissa worked over the granite countertop pulling down mugs and napkins from the walnut cabinet above.

“Your kitchen feels so cozy.”

“Well you know Vermont, we have so many gray and cloudy days I need something to keep me cheery.”

Sierra rubbed the goose bumps on her arms. “I hear you. I can't believe it's May. I'm so cold.”

Melissa laughed. “Remember what they say? If you don't like the weather, stay around five minutes and it's liable to change.” She set a cup of steaming coffee in front of Sierra. “Here, this will warm you up.”

“Thanks.”

“So, how do you think things went this morning?”

“OK, I guess. Talking to the entire congregation is definitely out of my comfort zone. I'm just glad it's done.”

“It's good to get out of our comfort zones every once in a while. Besides, I know I'm only one person, but I think you did great.”

“I just hope the congregation...” Sierra let the thought go. There was no sense in worrying about what they thought. Instead, it was time to focus on the present and the amazing woman sitting here with her. She sent Melissa a quick smile and took a tentative sip of coffee. “Thanks for offering me a place to stay. It means more to me than you could ever know. Especially after, well, after what your Aunt went through those last weeks of her life in hospice...when my dad...” Sierra choked back a sob as guilt pressed down on her chest.

Melissa gently reached across the table and took Sierra's hand. “Your father's actions aren't your fault, you know.”

Here was one person who had every right to hold a grudge, yet Melissa was trying to comfort her. Tears welled in her eyes. “But...”

“No.” Melissa shook her head. “Don't. What's in the past stays in the past. Leave it there.” She squeezed Sierra's hand. “We all need to move on,” she said softly.

Sierra nodded. “I suppose you're right. Just please know that I'm so sorry for everything and I'll do anything...”

“I have forgiven your father already. It's time to let it go.” After one more squeeze, Melissa pulled her hand away, sat up straight in her chair, and took a deep breath. “So, do you have a plan on how to go about accomplishing your mission in our little town?”

“Not really.” Sierra chuckled, feeling a bit self-conscious. “I figured God will give me one when the time is right.”

“Hmm.” Melissa sat back and grinned. “Last night I woke up in the middle of the night with an idea. I'd love to run it by you if you don't mind.”

“No, not at all. I'm open for any suggestions.”

“Good.” She leaned forward again. “Do you remember the free concerts they sometimes hold in the park?”

Sierra grinned as things began to click into place. “Sure I do. Do you think they'd let me play?”

“Are you kidding? They're always on the lookout for musicians. I know they'd be thrilled to have someone with your level of accomplishment perform.”

Sierra rolled the idea around for a few seconds. “I like it and it just might work. It would be an easy way for me to reconnect to some of our community and to give back to them via music.”

Melissa walked to the counter. She pulled open a drawer and rummaged around. “I have the number of the contact person here somewhere.” She shuffled through papers.

“Once we have the date, I guess I could make up some flyers to hang around in the Country Store, library, and post office.”

“Sure. I know the town does some publicity, but you can never have too much.” Melissa suddenly straightened and held up a slip of paper in victory. “Ah-ha. Here it is. I knew it was in my junk drawer.”

“Thanks...” She broke off. Words were sometimes so inadequate. Sierra held Melissa's gaze, hoping she would understand how much her friendship meant. “For everything.”

“Glad to help.”

Sierra tucked the paper in her pocket then rubbed her finger against the rim of her mug. “This will be a great starting point. I know this doesn't even begin to pay the debt I owe to this town, but hopefully people will be able to see my heart in the offering.”

“Even if they can't, God does. And when it comes right down to it, He's the only one you need to please. Don't give up on Daviston before you even start. I think God has something very special in store for our little community, and you, my dear, are His special agent.” Melissa wrapped her hands around her mug, leaned forward and winked. “Speaking of softening hearts, I heard you had a lunch date with Colton Smith.”

Sierra's neck grew warm. “It wasn't a date.”

Melissa softly chuckled. “Would you have liked it to have been?”

“Nope.”

Melissa's eyebrows rose at the force of Sierra's words.

“I mean, I'm glad we had lunch. I think God's going to do great things in Cole's life if he lets Him. But as for romance and dating,” she shook her head, “that wouldn't work.”

Melissa raised an eyebrow. “Uh huh. Well, I guess that's a subject for a later date.”

 



 

As Cole rang up Mrs. Whitten's order, the bell tinkled over the door, and he glanced over to see who was coming in. “Sierra.” His heart hammered, and he grinned like a fool as he tried hard not to stare; today her clothing was even more eye catching than yesterday's. He conscientiously focused on her brown eyes. “It's good to see you. What are you up to?”

Sierra stepped towards the counter. “Wow. I didn't expect to see you here.” She tilted her head to the side and soft strands of her dark hair brushed the fringe of her ruffled neon green top with bright pink flowers.

“Why not?”

Sierra smiled at Mrs. Whitten and then turned her attention back to Cole. “I knew you worked here as a teen but since you left for college, I just assumed...”

He propped his hip against the antique wood and gingerly stroked the smooth, worn counter top. “Yeah, pretty amazing that I ended up right back here running the Country Store but hey, someone has to do it.” He stood straight. “After all, this store has been here since the eighteen hundreds. It would be a shame if our town lost this special bit of its history.”

“True, but why you?”

He let his gaze drop to the floor. Even after five years, he missed his godfather so much. Especially now that his folks were so caught up in their own lives and agendas. He missed Frank's wit, friendship, and wisdom. Colton spoke around the slight catch in his throat. “I inherited this business from a very special man. My godfather.”

“Wow.”

“I know I'll never be able to replace him, but I do my best for him and for our town. I hope if he can see me from heaven, that he's proud of me.”

Mrs. Whitten slapped the counter top. “There's no way Frank could
not
be proud of you. You've done well here by him and the store.”