Whispers of the Heart (17 page)

Autumn didn't deny it. How could she when she knew her feelings were plastered all over her face? She merely smiled. She'd have plenty of time to let things slide into indifference another day.

The easy companionship and fun lasted the whole afternoon. The sailing, the sunshine, friendship and
laughter—and the loving glances Brent threw her way felt far too much like a storybook to be believed. Autumn couldn't imagine a time when another could match it for perfection.

It ended all too soon, for her. They watched the sun set as they docked.

“Let's go for supper,” Brent said as they completed the task of putting the boat away.

“Wish I could,” David said, shaking his head. “But I need to go over my sermon for tomorrow night a final time. Man, am I excited. We're coming closer to throwing open our doors full-time. D'you realize that day is around the corner? And we are lining up some special people for that day.”

“Yeah, that'll be a great day,” Brent agreed. He glanced at Autumn, then opened his car trunk to pack away the lunch basket. “Some musicians, too, I guess.”

“Um, yeah, you bet,” David answered. He removed his dark glasses and glanced at Autumn. “But not the ones you heard, Autumn. Never could find out anything about 'em.”

“That's all right,” Autumn responded. “I…guess maybe I've only imagined them, after all. Wendy and I searched the chapel after I thought I'd heard them again. Didn't she tell you? We didn't find a single clue or sign anyone had been there.”

Wendy reached over to pat her hand. “Never mind, Autumn. We'll figure it out sometime.”

“Well, Autumn isn't the only one who has heard that music,” Brent said, throwing his ball cap in alongside the basket.

“Oh, who else has heard it?” Autumn asked, a bit
startled. Her excitement rose. If someone else had heard it, too, then she wasn't quite off center.

“Yeah, well, I'd sure like to know how it's going on without my knowledge,” David grumped.

“Me, too,” Wendy said, her eyes full of curiosity.

“Timmy. Timmy told me and his grandmother that he's heard it.” Brent slammed the trunk door shut. “He calls it Autumn's music.”

They all turned as one and stared at the boy, yards away watching the boats bob in the water. The two dogs sat at his feet, too tired to do anything but remain quiet.

“Fascinating!” came from David.

“Sure is,” Wendy murmured. “Wonder how…”

“Well, we must get along,” David insisted. “Autumn, I hope you come along with Brent tomorrow evening.”

“Oh, yes, do come, Autumn,” Wendy said with warmth. “Sunday evening services have a way of feeling…oh, cozy, I suppose. We feel so close to the Lord and His love, it's as though He offers His best blessings then. Even better than our morning prayer hour.”

“Yes, I'll come if…yes, I'll come.” Autumn said. The acceptance came right out of her heart. She peeked at Brent. She hadn't given a thought to refusing. She couldn't bear to disappoint him.

“We'll be there,” Brent promised, his eyes shining. He reached for her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. And held.

Autumn hesitated only a heartbeat as they entered the church on Sunday evening just as the service be
gan. Most of the gathering clustered in the first few rows. They looked almost as lost in the huge auditorium as the morning Bible study did. That saved it from appearing crowded. She could breathe normally.

Until that moment, she hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath for most of the last hour. Since before Brent picked her up, her breathing consisted of taking tiny, shallow sips of air.

Now she drew air deep into starved lungs with a relieved satisfaction.

Nevertheless, as Brent walked down the aisle holding Timmy's hand, she tugged hard on his arm. She tipped her head at the first empty row just behind the gathering. They needn't sit closer into the…the
crowd
…did they?

Brent nodded, and she slipped into the pew after Brent and the boy. With Timmy between them, she felt a belonging, a lovely feeling that traveled all through her body.

As the service progressed, even the tightening in her stomach relaxed. When David began his sermon, she felt ready to truly listen. This wasn't too hard, she mused.

Mostly, David told of God's love and of how He knew each of them individually. Of how, if one would but accept Him as Lord, He would always be with them.

“You know, we're almost ready for our rededication,” David said toward the end of his talk. He came down from the podium and stood closer, looking directly into the faces of the congregation as was
his habit. As before, it made Autumn feel more at one with the whole.

“We've worked hard for this over the past few months,” he continued.

Someone in the front verbally agreed.

“Many people thought God abandoned this church some years back when the neighborhood lost its luster,” David said, his tone sad. “People became afraid….”

“But friends, God didn't abandon this location.” His voice picked up enthusiasm. “And He won't, not as long as we're here. He's here, folks, He lives in us.
We're
His church.”

Autumn heard two amens at that.

“We have nothing to fear except fear itself,” David continued, walking a few paces, then back again, turning to face then once more. “This church is coming back, my friends. And the Lord promised never to leave us or forsake us. That promise is as true today, right this minute, as it was two thousand years ago.”

Were those promises true? Real? Alive?

Turning, she gazed at Brent. He'd already turned to gaze at her; she felt all her unspoken questions take on form and substance.

I will never leave or forsake you….

T
he following week, Autumn's emotions fluctuated from floating among the clouds drifting high above the city to scuffing her feet against the rough concrete sidewalks as she sprinted to the church each morning. The run had become a part of her. So had the church life.

And Brent…

Brent called her every evening after Timmy went to bed; they talked about everything and nothing. About his business appointments and projects, about her decision to take on the nursery mural, and the fact Curtis wanted to move into larger quarters and had asked Brent's advice about location. About her sister Spring, living in New York City, and Catherine's projected visit to see her sister out in California. About cute things Timmy said or did.

But never about her disability. It seemed they'd mutually agreed to let the subject alone. How long this halcyon period would last, Autumn didn't know,
but she willingly drifted with it, unable yet to let Brent go.

Twice during the week, she made lunch for him. Brent dashed across the street five minutes before their appointed time, openly eager and excited to see her. In return, it went right to her head. And heart.

They sat together at her little table munching on sandwiches or stuffed shells and gazed out of the window at the city. But never for long. His gaze would command hers. She'd stare back as though stockpiling against starvation.

When Brent had to leave to return to work, they said goodbye with one kiss. One carefully controlled, sweet meeting of lips and entwined arms. It never lasted more than a few long seconds before Brent broke away, but it left her wanting with fire in her veins.

She didn't have to imagine how it affected Brent. She saw the desire flash across his face the first time. The second time, he averted his gaze with the speed of a hummingbird and left her more abruptly than any time since they'd met.

“I don't know what's happening, Spring,” she said one evening after she'd talked to Brent. “Nothing seems to discourage him. I only wish he…”

“Hmm? What?” Spring murmured, distracted. “What is it you wish?”

They'd been sharing their daily lives since their conception and often finished each other's sentences. It was unusual for Spring not to understand her unspoken doubts.

Autumn knew when her sister needed to talk more than listen. She picked up her hairbrush and began
brushing her hair. “Never mind, I'll work it out. Okay, Spring. Spill it.”

Spring was having her own love troubles, and it was midnight before Autumn hung up. She felt helpless to do anything for her sister, felt the separation of miles as a great gulf. And she knew nothing of the man with whom Spring was involved except what Spring had told her—that she'd fallen in love with a guy better-looking than Brad or Leonardo and he infuriated her with a know-it-all attitude. It sounded to Autumn as though they clashed over everything.

She could only pray everything would work itself out, she thought as she readied for bed.

Pray? She?
Staring at her lace-edged pillow, she'd realized what she'd been thinking. She'd never prayed about anything in her life.

Pulling back her coverlet and sheet, she climbed into bed and lay back, thinking of the possibility. Maybe—just maybe—she could pray about her disability. About what to do when Brent expected more of her than she did of herself.

How could she pray? She didn't know how, she'd never been taught. Yet she'd heard David and a few others over these past weeks talk to God as though they were personal friends. Even Wendy and Ashley had done so.

“All right, Lord,” she said aloud, folding her hands across her chest “this is Autumn Dawn Barbour speaking. We don't know each other very well, but you know my friends, David and Wendy Collier?”

She didn't figure a little name-dropping could hurt.
Curtis always said so, anyway. “And you know Brent…”

She trailed off with the realization of just how deeply entrenched Brent was in his faith. His mother felt the same, she thought, and although she liked Catherine, it struck Autumn as another example of the division between Brent and her. She'd never be able to live up to his mother's expectations of the right woman for Brent on the spiritual level, either.

Swallowing hard, she brushed her bangs from her forehead and began again. “Okay, Lord. You know what David says, that You always answer when we talk to You. I wish…that is, I pray…well, never mind me right now. But my sister Spring could use a little of Your help. I sure would count it a favor if You would step in there and see that she gets it. Thank You. I'll let you know how things work out. Good night, now.”

She waited a moment, watching the now familiar shadows play against her walls and the soft billowing of the gauzy bed curtains. She didn't hear anything. Not a sound, except the faint traffic far beyond her windows. Even so, the oddest sense of peace stole over her as she let her eyes drift shut. Maybe there was something to this thing called prayer.

The next morning, Brent intercepted Autumn as she left her building, ready to jog to Hope Community Church. He pulled alongside her, letting his motor idle. Downtown traffic had begun, yet their street remained fairly calm so early.

“Hi, Autumn,” he greeted, his voice low and in
viting. It buzzed right through to her bones with little bursts of love.

“Hi, Brent.” She kept her tone as even as she could as her smile spread. She'd given up on her pulse rate. “What's brought you down so early this morning?”

The sun's rays barely lit the morning sky, but Brent's eyes sparked with the knowledge he'd been thinking of her already. It didn't seem fair. How was she supposed to concentrate on her last day on the big mural with his image dancing in her head?

“Have a few things to catch up on and a breakfast prayer meeting. Say, Autumn, I was wondering…”

“Yes?”

“Um, as you know, Mom is leaving today for a couple of weeks at her sister's, and something's come up that needs my attention tomorrow. I…well, Timmy…”

“Does Timmy need somewhere to stay?”

“Yep.” He pursed his mouth. “Are you working at Mirror Images tomorrow?”

“No, as it happens. Curtis allows me to make my own hours. Timmy's welcome to stay with me.”

“I know it's short notice, but I didn't know before last night. I have to go out to Johnson County in the morning, I just can't squeeze it in today. Would you mind?”

“No, of course not. You know Timmy and I get along very well.”

He sighed. “You're a lifesaver, Autumn. I'd have had to ask Sheila to keep an eye on him—” he jerked his chin toward his office building “—if you weren't available, and she's already ticked off at having to
come into the office on a Saturday. Sheila's a great assistant, but she's not into anybody under three feet tall. I'm only glad it's John she's mad at and not me. Anyway, the office will be open tomorrow morning if you should need anything and I'll have my cell phone with me.”

They agreed on a time frame. A car passed them, the driver slowing to see what was happening. Obviously, it wasn't a good time to block the street.

Brent's gaze didn't waver. Autumn hesitated to leave while he did. “Remember, pizza and a movie at my house tonight.”

“Sure.” Why not? So many of her doubts had been fading lately. So many things had gone right. She'd keep a lid on her fears and simply not look too far into the future. Something she'd done all week.

“All right. See you about six.”

The lovely promise of an evening spent with Brent and Timmy stayed with her all day. The promise fulfilled itself in the easy laughter and pure fun they shared over an old comedy and ice-cream sundaes after pizza.

Their kiss good-night, standing in the middle of Brent's front hall, remained very chaste while Timmy watched. Cooler by ninety degrees than the ones they'd shared during their noon lunch hours, but no less sweet, in Autumn's opinion.

“We have to do something to, um, change things, you know,” Brent murmured into her ear. “Soon.”

“I'm ready, Autumn.” Wide-eyed, Timmy held his pj's, wadded into a roll, up to show her.

“Me, too,” Brent said under his breath as he dropped his hands and stepped away from her.

They'd decided Timmy and Samson would go home with Autumn for the night. She could put Timmy to bed on her couch, so that Brent wouldn't have to get up quite so early. Or Autumn and Timmy, either.

Brent dropped to his haunches and hugged his son.

“Okay, Tim. I'll pick you up about noon. We can do something in the afternoon. Putt-putt golf, maybe, or—” he glanced at Autumn “—ah, take a country drive.”

“Putt-putt,” Timmy declared.

“We'll see,” Brent countered. His gaze asked for more. Far more…

The next morning, the doorbell rang about nine-thirty. Timmy, listening to a children's tape while running his fleet of miniature trucks under the furniture, sat up as the dogs barked. Autumn left the last of the breakfast dishes to dry and went to answer it.

“Hush, Buttons. Sit, Samson,” she shushed the dogs as she walked. “I'll take care of the door.”

To her total surprise, Laureen stood there, dressed in a peach slack suit, with her hair brushed smoothly into a hugging cap. Autumn thought her quite pretty, in her cold steel sort of way.

“Oh, hello Laureen,” she greeted. “What brings you to see us this morning?”

“I'm showing the space on your second floor this morning, among a few others in the neighborhood,” Laureen answered. “And I stopped by to see Brent, but he wasn't there. I thought… Well, never mind,
but his assistant said she'd misplaced Brent's schedule and didn't know his appointment location for this morning, can you imagine? I'm sure Brent will want to speak to her when I tell him, but…”

“Would you like to come in?” Autumn said.

“Well, yes, for a moment, if you don't mind, Autumn.” Laureen glanced around the apartment as she waltzed through, as though to see just what Autumn had done with the space. A flash of surprised approval crossed her face before she covered her thoughts.

“Please sit down, Laureen.” Autumn gestured toward the lounge area. “I can make coffee if you'd like.”

Buttons danced on her hind legs, bidding for attention. She hated to be left out of any conversation. Samson seemed to think he deserved a little petting, too.

“That's sweet of you, Autumn,” Laureen said as she perched on the edge of the striped lounger. She cast a distasteful glance toward the dogs. “But no, not this time. I have to meet my clients at ten. Sheila did say you have Timmy this morning?”

“Yes, as you see.”

After a brief glance, the boy had gone back to his play, “varooming” with his trucks. He ignored Laureen.

Autumn picked the dogs up and put them into the playpen. She no longer used it much for Buttons, and had been thinking about discarding it altogether, but felt grateful to have it now.

“Oh,
you
have Brent's schedule then,” Laureen
said, leaning forward. “Good. Where is he? I called his number, but he doesn't answer.”

“He was at a prayer breakfast this morning,” Autumn said, wondering what was so vital that Laureen would need him immediately. She refrained from saying she'd observed that Brent sometimes turned off his phone after he checked his caller ID; he'd respond when he was ready. However, she added, “And then he planned to meet with someone out south in Olathe.”

“What time is he picking up Timmy?”

“About noon or so.”

“That'll be too late for me. I'd hoped to see him about a matter and perhaps introduce my clients, as well.” Laureen glanced at her watch. “My car is in his parking lot—I told Sheila I'd just leave it there for now.” She rose and glanced at Timmy.

“Well, I'd better be on my way. I hope my people haven't run into too much traffic. There's a big Native American Festival going on this morning at the River Market, and people are pouring in.”

“Yes, some trucks parked there overnight,” Autumn murmured, standing too. “Lots of lights still on at the market when we came home last night and a few tepees in sight already.”

“We should've postponed our appointment, perhaps,” Laureen said with a sigh. She glanced at her watch again and moved toward the door. “But at least my clients can see the neighborhood as it frequently is on a Saturday. Dancing Indians and all.”

“Indians?” Timmy asked, sitting up on his heels, looking from Laureen to Autumn. “Can we go see them?”

“I don't think we…have time, Tim,” Autumn responded.

“Oh, they'll be there the whole weekend, Timothy,” Laureen injected. “I'm sure your dad will take you.”

Laureen looked around the apartment again as she reached the door. “I don't suppose…”

“Yes?”

“Well, I'd hoped to show Brent's offices, but that Sheila isn't very accommodating, is she? And John didn't bother to come out of his office at all.”

“Well, the office is usually closed on Saturdays,” Autumn said. “And I think Sheila and John are only trying to get caught up on a few things.”

“Hmm…yes. Well, I don't suppose…no, never mind.” She seemed to come to a resolution, because her manner returned to her normal firmness. “If you hear from Brent, please tell him to call me. I'll check in with Sheila again after my appointment.”

When Autumn turned back into the apartment after letting Laureen out, Timmy had scooted a chair up to her south window. Standing on tiptoe, he stretched to see out. “Can we see, Autumn?”

“I'm sorry, Timmy, but we can't really see the marketplace from my windows. We can listen, though. Sometimes I can hear the music when they're having a group there.”

She opened the lower half a few inches. From the half-mile distance, the strains of a Native American chant drummed the air.