Detour: Destination Abiding Love (7 page)

“Phooey! Don't give fear or discouragement the victory here.” Melissa grabbed hold of Sierra's hand. “Cole is a wonderful man. I could tell you great things about him until I'm out of breath because he gives and gives to this community, to the point where I think it's been too much.”

“What? How is that possible?”

“He's so busy doing good things; he's forgotten the best thing; his relationship with the Lord. Since you've arrived, I'm beginning to see a bit of that hunger for his Savior come back. God is using you. Give Him the time He needs to work in Cole's heart.”

“How can God use me? I have nothing to give except the music.”

“There's a passage I love in Second Corinthians chapter four verses six through nine. It says, ‘For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God's glory displayed in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.' We all are but jars of clay and weak vessels, but God can use a willing heart to accomplish great things for His glory. I guess it all boils down to one question, are you willing to be used by Him?”

“Honestly, my head says yes, but my heart says I need to be careful and set up some major boundaries or I'm going to be hurt.”

“Pray about it, and you'll figure it out.” Melissa squeezed Sierra's hand, then let go and stood up. “I need to run, or I'm going to be late.”

“OK. Thanks for stopping by.”

Melissa reached for the doorknob and then turned back. “I'll be praying for you, too.”

 



 

Cole balanced the phone on his shoulder and walked to his living room couch. He didn't usually seek advice, but now was one of those times when pride needed to be laid aside and truth spoken. Pastor Bill was someone Cole trusted enough to take into his confidence. “I guess I dropped the ball somewhere, Pastor.”

“What do you mean?”

He jammed his fingers through his thick hair. “I can remember when I first asked Christ to forgive my sins and be Lord of my life. I was so on fire, just like Sierra is. But now...” He pounded on the couch with a fist. “I don't even know if there's much of a spark. What should I do?”

“Have you been reading the Word?”

Cole itched to hedge the question. “No. I haven't had the time.”

“How's your prayer life?” the pastor asked in an unpresuming voice.

“Besides Grace before meals, pretty nonexistent.”

“Hmm.” Pastor was quiet for a moment. “Did you know I played baseball as a kid?”

“Ah…no.”

“I remember one time, we were in the bottom of the ninth with two outs, bases loaded. Our team needed just one run to win. I was up to bat.” Pastor Bill took a deep breath. “I can remember like it was yesterday. The first pitch was high; I knew better than to swing, but I just wanted to get my bat on the ball. It didn't work out the way I wanted. My team cheered me on, though. They knew I could do it, and so did I.” He chuckled. “I was actually a very good player. Anyway, I stepped out of the batter's box, took a few swings, and then stepped back in. The next pitch was headed outside, but last minute, it curved in and across the plate. Strike two.” The pastor's words came quicker now. “Third pitch. I knew I had to do something or I'd let my whole team down. We needed this win, and the team was counting on me. The pitcher took his windup and let it sail. I swung too early, the ball popped up and went over the back stop. With my heart pounding, I reassured myself I was still in the game. Fourth pitch delivered. I held my bat back, kept my knees bent and my arm up. The ball came at lightning speed. I took the cut and followed through... only to meet with air.”

“You struck out?”

“I failed. And in my mind, that made
me
a failure.” The line was quiet for a moment. “That's what I thought until my wise dad set me straight.”

“How did he do that?”

“He used this experience to remind me that just because I didn't get the hit the team needed, that didn't change who
I
was. A failed hit didn't make me a failure.”

“Interesting, but what does this have to do with me?”

“Well, going with the baseball analogy, even when we're in the game and have given our lives to Christ, sometimes God pitches us a light that shines on sin in our lives that we hadn't been aware of. When we see that sin, we feel like we missed the ball. It makes us feel like a failure, just like my game did for me all those years ago.”

“You think God is showing me something.”

“I think He's been trying to get your attention for a while, and it wasn't until a certain young lady walked through our church doors that you realized it. Regardless of my thoughts, though, the more important question is: do
you
think He's showing you something?”

Cole didn't know if he felt like a complete failure, but he didn't have the closeness that Sierra obviously shared with Christ. He felt separated from God and guilty that he hadn't been making time for Him. “I think somewhere along the line I've bumped God off the throne of my heart and have put other things and people in His place.”

“You know what you need to do, right?”

Cole could hear the smile in Pastor Bill's voice over the phone. He nodded as if the pastor could see him. “I need to go pray for a while.”

“I'll catch up with you later then, my friend.” Pastor paused. “Oh, and Cole, if you still want to, you have my blessing on joining the worship team...and pursuing Sierra, too.” The phone line went dead.

Cole grinned.
Hey, who am I to argue with clergy?

 

 

 

 

5

 

Wilma's fingers ran up and down the keyboard as the last strains of the song faded.

Stan whooped. “You two are steaming on the strings tonight!”

Wilma and Sierra grinned in unison.

“See, I told you Sierra would make a great addition to our worship team,” Wilma said.

Stan sheepishly admitted, “I wasn't too sure about having you join us at first, but I'm getting kind of used to having you around.”

Sierra bit her lip so she wouldn't laugh at this hangdog expression. “Glad to be here.”

“Even though they may not actually tell you, I know several church members are enjoying hearing you play,” Wilma said.

“You think so?”
Oh, if that could be true
.

“Absolutely! Mrs. Wilson said she's never heard angels play, but if she had, they'd sound like you do.”

Stan laughed. “She plays the violin, not the harp.”

Wilma rolled her eyes. “Humor the woman, Stan. She's ninety-two.”

“You have a point there.”

Wilma turned back to Sierra. “You're going to leave a hole in our group when you move on to greener pastures. We'll miss you, you know.”

Before Sierra could form a reply around the golf ball in her throat, a smile crept onto Stan's lips. “Yeah, and not only that, but I don't think you're half as mixed up as everyone thinks you are.”

That did the trick of dislodging the threat of tears, but Sierra wasn't sure how to take the compliment. “Thanks...I think.”

Wilma walked over to Stan and whacked the back of his head. “Knock it off, you big goon.”

“Hello in there!” Cole's voice called out. He jogged into the room with his guitar. “Sorry I'm late.”

Sierra squeezed the neck of her violin so it wouldn't slip out of her grip. “What are you doing here?”

“Surprised, huh?” He held up his guitar case. “I'm going to play.”

Stan welcomed him with a pat on his shoulder. “Hey, it's great to have you here, man. Pastor mentioned you'd be joining us. Listen, Tim couldn't be here tonight, what do you say you take the drums?” He handed Cole an opened song book.

Cole took it and winked at Sierra before he made his way to the drum set. “Will do.”

Sierra was doing her best to understand what was happening, but her brain didn't seem to be working very well. “You play both the drums and guitar?”

He picked up the sticks, pounded out a few quick beats and ended with one tap on the cymbal. “You got it.”

Suddenly, she wanted to be anywhere but here. How would she keep her distance when she found Cole involved in another area of her life? Already she felt too much of a connection with him. Making music together could only serve to strengthen that bond.

Isabelle held up her flute. “Sorry to be a party pooper, but I need to be out of here in a half hour. Shall we pick up on measure four?”

Sierra was glad for Isabelle's announcement. There was no time to ruminate.

“Sure thing.” Wilma sat back down at her keyboard. “One, two, three, four...”

Somewhere in the middle of the set, God gave Sierra a different type of revelation. She had been struggling to be forgiven and accepted in Daviston, but the town wasn't the only one dealing with prejudice. She knew she was no better than anyone else. If anything, the scales were tipped in their favor. However, there was one area she prided herself in...she was a professional musician, a cut above the rest.

Yet, while playing with this worship team tonight she realized, pro or not, they all warmed up, tuned their instruments, and practiced in similar ways. Most importantly, they all had a huge heart for music and ministering to people through it. Though they came from different walks of life, they all weren't so different after all.

Even with the worship team's welcome, though, she still felt uneasy over her precarious position in the town and at church, and therefore with this group.

Perhaps it doesn't need to be so.

They finally stopped practicing and began to pack up.

Tiny laugh lines crinkled the corners of Cole's eyes. He spoke in a kind, yet confident manner with an easy rapport between the group members.

Even though Melissa and Mrs. Whitten had eluded that he needed her help, from what she saw, if anything, it was the other way around. She was inept at talking with ease to people.

Cole had no such problem. He waved a good-bye to Stan and meandered over to Sierra. “How are things working out between you and Mrs. Whitten?”

Sierra closed the violin case. “Great. She's a gem.”

“What have you been up to?”

Sierra picked up her purse. “Tending the garden. Mrs. Whitten wants to sell produce at the Farmer's Market.”

Cole chuckled. “I don't know if that woman will ever slow down.” He glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “Have you got a second to talk?” His blue eyes were clear and bright, yet the furrow on his brow was telling.

“Sure, is everything all right?”

He placed his hand on the small of her back and ushered her toward the exit. “I think eventually it will all work out.”

Sierra turned and called over her shoulder. “See you folks on Sunday.”

“‘Night, Sierra. ‘Night Cole.” They called as the door closed.

 



 

Cole had been trying to think of a way to start the conversation. He sipped his coffee and rested his hand against the back of the bench that sat right outside of the store. “My mother has been busy.”

“Oh?” Sierra inquired with a raised brow, inviting him to continue.

“My parents heard you're to play in the park on Saturday.” He took a deep breath.
Why is this so hard?
“I found out tonight my mom has invited Clara Jenkins to join me that afternoon. Do you remember her?”

“The prom queen? Wasn't she like your ex-girlfriend or something?”

“Guess you remember her, then.” Cole took another sip and looked out into the night. The air was crisp and clear for early June, and the stars shone bright. But nothing felt “bright” about his mother's latest shenanigans.

“Makes sense.”

“What?”

“Don't look at me like I have two heads. She's trying to keep you safe.”

“Safe from what? This whole thing is crazy.”

“Me, of course. She wants to remind you that there are better-suited ‘fish in the sea.'” She screwed up her nose. “Not that you were fishing...”

“If I did happen to be
...fishing
as you put it, would you be interested in taking the bait?” Even under the porch lights, he could see her face grow cherry. “Sorry. I've made you uncomfortable. You don't need to answer that.” He removed his arm from the back of the bench and leaned forward. “In fact, your attention probably has been caught by another guy.” He clenched his fists, noting bitterness in his thoughts.

Sierra stretched out her legs and tapped her shoes together. “Cole, I've been a druggie up until this past year. I've done things no 'good' man would want in a wife. I'll never be good enough for the type of godly man I would want to marry. He would deserve so much more.” She slid her feet back under the bench.

He tucked a finger under her chin and turned her to face him. “Don't say that. Any man would be blessed to call you his. You are a princess now...a daughter of the King. And don't you forget it.”

She smiled through a sheen of tears. “Thanks,” she said softly. “I guess I need a little reminder now and then.”

A few moments passed in comfortable silence.

“How about you, any special ladies in your life, Clara perhaps?” she asked.

Cole laced his fingers together and placed them behind his head. “Including or excluding the lady beside me?”

“Cole.”

He grinned. “No. There is no special lady in my life, especially not Clara. That was over a long time ago. Besides, this is a pretty small town to ask someone to settle down in.”