Detour: Destination Abiding Love (6 page)

And just like that, she hopped in her car and was gone.

 

 

 

 

4

 

Sierra rested her knees in the soft grass at the edge of the garden bed and bent over the freshly tilled soil. She sifted dirt through her gloved fingers until she found a clump of grass, and then tossed it into the deep wheelbarrow next to her. A bead of sweat rolled down her spine when she sat back onto her heels.

Mrs. Whitten, who had set up a folding chair nearby, was drawing a plan of what she wanted planted where. She looked up from her project and inhaled deeply. “Don't you just love the smell of spring? It's as if your nose can sense hope, and”—she grinned her silly lopsided grin—”many
new
beginnings.”

After spending just a week with Mrs. Whitten, Sierra knew exactly where the matchmaker's thoughts lay. She pretended ignorance. She couldn't go there.

Yes, Cole was fascinating, caring, and honorable, but it wouldn't be fair to think of him as more than a friend. He was established here and her dreams were leading her elsewhere. Music was her love. Always had been, always would be.

Sierra rubbed the small of her back with a closed fist. “The only new beginning I'm confident of is the fact that I will be feeling muscles I didn't know I had come tomorrow morning,” she teased with a dramatic flair.

“A young thing like you?” Mrs. Whitten laughed, and her large hat flapped up and down. “I'm just a slave driver, aren't I? Are you sure you still want this job?”

Sierra dug back into the ground. “Of course. Where else could I get the scoop on Cole?”
Where did that come from?
Sierra felt like slapping the words back into her mouth.

Mrs. Whitten's eyebrow raised and a knowing smile split across her wrinkled face. She put the plans aside and leaned forward. “What would you like to know about Cole?”

Sierra's cheeks grew warm, and it wasn't from the sun. “Honestly, I have no idea why I said that. Please just forget it.” She pointed over to her right. “Have you made up your mind what you'd like planted over there yet?”

“Oh, no...” Mrs. Whitten shook her head. “You're not changing the subject on me, young lady!”

Sierra wouldn't argue. There really were things that she'd like to know, but she didn't want to give Mrs. Whitten the wrong impression. She assured herself the
only
reason she wanted to know more about Cole was to understand where he was coming from, and how she might be able to help him.
Yes, that's it. Definitely not for the sake of romance
. Perhaps she'd eventually believe it. She sighed. “Have you known him long?”

“For as long as he's been breathing.”

“I remember him from school, from a distance, anyway; he was a few years ahead of me. But I never really knew him, just
of
him.” It seemed as if that could change now, but... she shook her head. “His mother sure seems to have a vendetta against me.”

“So I noticed.”

“Do you think it's because of my past?”

“That Smith family is in a rough place right now. Laura has put a tremendous amount of pressure on not only herself, but the entire family. She's wrapped up and wound tighter than my granny's stockings.”

Sierra knew what it was like to be part of a family filled with stress and tension. “Is that why Cole works so hard, because his mother pushes him?”

“No. Granted, his parents' opinions are important to him, but he works hard because it's who God made him to be. That boy has always put his all into everything he undertakes.” Mrs. Whitten lowered her head and looked over the top of her glasses. “And he'll take that same care with the woman he gives his heart to.”

An unfamiliar sensation quivered in Sierra's stomach. “Why do you think he's stayed here? I mean, not that Daviston is much different than any other small town, but I've noticed that not many people in our age group have stuck around these parts.”

“That would be a good question to ask him directly. What I can tell you is that I'm glad he hasn't left. This town wouldn't be the same without him. Even though he's young, he's a pillar in our community. Take his store for example; it holds us together in a special way. I'm sure he could go somewhere else and make big bucks, but he doesn't. He's willing to stay, and I think those actions say more about how he feels for the folks in our little neck of the woods than words ever could.”

“It's more than a job for him.”

What would it be like to have the type of relationships Cole enjoyed within the community? To care enough to stay and work through her problems, rather than run as she had? Lord willing, one day she'd love to find out—in New York.

 



 

Cole only half listened to the sermon. His attention was on Sierra. Sometime during the church service, he came to a conclusion.
If you can't get the girl to come to you, go to the girl.

As the service ended, Sierra made her way to the front to collect her violin.

Cole ran his hand along the smooth wood grain on the pew ends as he made his way back to Pastor Bill, who stood outside of the sanctuary in the small narthex.

The double wooden front doors were open. Fresh air and sunshine spilled into the church.

With everyone milling around to greet Pastor Bill, now might not be the best time to initiate his plan, but he never claimed to be a patient person once he made up his mind to do something. Cole held out a hand and the pastor's warm palm clasped his. “The congregation loved your sermon this morning.” He only hoped the pastor didn't ask him what
he
found specifically meaningful, because he wouldn't be able to tell him.

Pastor Bill ran a hand down his blue silk tie and smiled. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

A long line of people in all shapes and sizes were behind him.

Melissa was standing beside her husband.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, I was wondering... I mean, I thought I'd mention to you that I'm thinking about joining the worship team.”

The pastor's eyes widened.

Melissa clasped her hand to her chest. “We've been trying to get you to do that for years, but you've always said you're too busy.”

“Yeah, well...”

“Guess we didn't have quite the right incentive until now.” Pastor Bill chuckled.

“Perhaps it wasn't God's timing.”

“Do you mean God's or yours?” Pastor Bill lowered his voice. “I don't blame you for your interest in a certain young woman, but that's not necessarily the motivation the worship team is looking for in their members.” He raised his voice to normal speaking level. “Look, why don't you give me a call later, and we can talk a bit more.”

“I can do that. But I want you to know, it's not
just
what you're thinking. Something is changing in me.”

Melissa chuckled.

Cole face burned with embarrassment. Yup, they were reading him like an open book. “I mean
spiritually.
I'm not real happy where I am in my walk with the Lord.” He grinned sheepishly at Melissa. “Nor, as you've been insinuating, certain other aspects of my life.” He focused back on the pastor. “I haven't been for a long time, only I didn't realize it until recently.”

Pastor's eyes lost the teasing glint, but shone with something else. “That's not necessarily a bad place to be. Let's talk.”

The woman behind them cleared her throat.

“I'll look forward to it.”

The pastor clasped him on the side of his right arm. “Me, too.”

Cole nodded once more at Melissa and then strode through the doorway and out into the fresh sunshine. At his store, business was steady with the usual after-church rush. He stuffed his hands into his pants pockets, and made his way across the town green to join folks from his congregation.

“Cole, have you got a second?” The sound of Sierra's voice stopped him in his tracks.

He smiled. What a picture she made with her lavender dress gently blowing in the breeze set against the backdrop of yellow tulips and daffodils.
Beautiful.
“I have all the time you need.”

She jogged a few steps to catch up to him.

“Can I tempt you with a sandwich from the store?” he asked.

“Thanks, but I really need to get home to practice. I was just hoping to talk to you for a second.”

Cole pointed to a bench over on the green. “Why don't we sit for a moment?”

“Sure.” She followed him to the shade of the large maple tree. “I know your parents and I got off on the wrong foot. I was wondering if perhaps I could smooth things over by volunteering to work for your Dad's campaign or something.”

A quick intake of breath came from behind the bench. “Why would we want
your
help?”

Cole scowled at his mother. Her blue eyes and a lean, muscular frame were similar to his, but her scathing expression, rigid posture, and no-nonsense tone of voice spoiled her femininity. It wasn't all that long ago that he remembered her having a softer side. He could still feel the warm hugs she gave him during his grade school years before he left each morning to catch the school bus. But he couldn't recall the last time that nurturing mother had appeared. She'd been her driven, controlling, manipulative self for a while now.

Perhaps part of it was his fault. When was the last time he reached out to her and talked to her of something other than the campaign? He needed to help his mother or she would drive everyone away. Unfortunately, when she started to push him, it was hard not to retreat. It would take time—something he had precious little of—but he needed to intentionally brush past the wall she had erected. “Mom, don't. She was just offering...”

His mother opened her mouth to interrupt, but his father called to her. “Laura, I need to get back for that conference call I'm expecting.”

She held up a hand to his father and then turned an icy glare Sierra's way. “We all know help from her would be no help at all.” She stalked off.

“Sierra…I…her behavior is…”—
How can I explain it?—
“she is always concerned what everyone is thinking, especially now that my father is running for office. If something could even cause the slightest wave in his campaign, she's after it quicker than a pack of hounds after a rabbit. Be patient. She'll come around.”

“I seem to hear that a lot from everyone around here. Excuse me; I need to get back to the guest apartment.”

“Wait. Why don't I at least make you a sandwich to take back home with you.”

“That's OK. I don't want to make any waves over at your store.”

Now there were two angry females on his hands. Exasperated he said, “Sierra, don't be like that.”

“Now do you see why I couldn't take the job you offered?”

 



 

Sierra rushed home, wishing she could hide from Cole's scrutiny and his family's. But her own wayward heart was just as frustrating. She shouldn't even care. Not if she was here only to seek forgiveness and restitution so she'd be free to go to New York with a clear conscience. She pushed open her door.
Just do what you need to do to escape Daviston as soon as possible. Practice and give them the best concert this town has ever had. That will have to be enough payback, because I need to get out of here.
Instead of opening her violin case, she plopped down at the small kitchenette table.

She had no desire to play her violin, something that happened less than a handful of times in her life.

She picked an apple out of the bowl on the table, rubbed it on her pants, and then took a big bite. Tangy juice and crisp apple meat pleased her taste buds. At least there were still a few sweet things in this world. An image of Mrs. Whitten, Pastor, and Melissa popped into her mind and she felt a twinge of guilt for not being more thankful for them.
I know, God, I know.

With a deep sigh, she walked toward the large bay window and glanced out while she munched. A dog romped around on the lawn next door chasing a tennis ball. The next door over from that, an older woman was working in her flower bed. It all looked so “hometown.”

Disgusted with this hometown, she turned her back on the warm sun coming in through the window and approached her violin. She wasn't even through warm-up scales before the heaviness on her heart began to lift. Soon, she was in an all-out jam session worshiping and thanking the Lord for His faithfulness, patience, kindness, and gentleness towards her. It could have been ten minutes or two hours, but at some point, a loud knock finally penetrated through her music.

“Be right there,” Sierra called as she walked to the door. With her violin in one hand, she opened the door with the other.

“You go, girl!” Melissa grinned. “I could hear you from out here. It's awesome. I'd love to listen to you all day, only I have to go to a prayer meeting in thirty minutes. I just wanted to swing by to see if you needed anything.”

“Thanks, I'm good, but would you like to come in for a few minutes?”

“Love to.” Melissa followed her in and took a seat on the plaid chair by the window. “Listen, I don't mean to pry or anything, but when I was leaving church this morning, I noticed you were on the green with Cole and Laura. Things looked...a little strained.”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

Melissa patted the chair cushion next to her seat. “Here; come talk to me.”

Sierra set her violin on the stand next to the table, and then sat. “There's really nothing to talk about.”

“Don't let her push you away. Cole needs you.”

She rubbed her forehead. “Mrs. Whitten said something to the same effect a while ago, but I don't know why you two think that. Whatever he may need, I'm not the girl for the job. His mother is convinced I'm going to spoil his father's campaign.” She threw up her hands. “And you know what; she may very well have a valid point.”