Alec shot him a quelling look. “She didn’t exactly say she wanted to attend. It’s just a hunch.”
“Judy, let’s you and me go over and ask,” Debbie suggested, getting up from the armchair.
“Maybe I’d better go along,” Alec said.
“Why don’t we all just go over, and if she says no, we’ll come back here,” Tim proposed.
“You don’t think we’ll scare her, do you?” Judy asked seriously. “I mean, if a group of strangers knocked on my door and asked to come in for a Bible study, I’d feel a little nervous.”
“Well, Alec will be there,” Debbie reasoned, picking up her Bible. “She knows him, right?”
“Sort of,” he said. “We’ve only been neighbors for a week.”
“Good enough. Larry, you take the pizza. Tim, you bring the pop. Everyone got their Bibles? Okay. Come on, gang,” Debbie ordered, “let’s go.”
Out she marched, leading the way, and Alec shook his head as he followed. Bossy woman. . .
❧
Lydia ditched her ideas about phoning her mother and started turning off lights beginning in the den. Glancing around the room and making sure everything was in its place, Lydia switched off the lamp. The darkness of the room increased her loneliness and for a brief moment, she thought it might consume her. She felt disconnected from the total universe. Friends had become scarce over the years since many people seemed intimidated by the fact that she was a Boswick. She spent most of her life at church, surrounded by its members. And the women there were cordial, but distant. Men, in general, were polite and those who were single voiced their desire to date her, although none of them piqued Lydia’s interest. The only man who caused her head to turn lately was her new neighbor. But she scarcely knew him, other than that he came from up north and had an intense aversion to blind dates. What had he said? He’d been hurt?
Mulling over his apology, Lydia walked into the living room as the doorbell rang again, but this time when she peeked out the curtains, she saw more than just Alec standing on her porch. Intuitively, she knew he was accompanied by the “friends” he’d mentioned when he invited her to the Bible study. But what did they want with her? More than curious, she walked to the door and opened it.
“Hi,” said a short-haired woman wearing jeans and a T-shirt. “I’m Debbie Thompson and this is Judy Landers, Larry Matthews, Tim Parker. . .and you know Alec.”
Lydia managed a polite smile, nodding at everyone. “Hi,” she replied.
“Alec had an inkling you might like to join our Bible study tonight, and since you don’t have a baby-sitter, we figured we’d come on over to your place. That is, if you really want to participate. We’d love it if you would, but we don’t want to intrude if you’re busy.”
“Well, I. . .” Surprised by the offer, Lydia didn’t know what to say. She glanced at Alec, who stood off to the side.
He smiled easily. “Just thought maybe you’d appreciate some Christian fellowship tonight.”
“We’re not part of a cult or anything, looking for converts,” Tim told her, “so don’t get scared. All of us are from Berean Baptist Church. Ever heard of it?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I know your pastor.” Lydia recalled an evening long ago when Mark Spencer and his wife, Jerrica Dawn, attended a dinner party right here at her house. Lydia remembered the pastor as a man with an easy smile and a solid faith.
“Well, what’s it gonna be? Pizza’s getting cold,” Larry said, prompting her decision.
Lydia laughed softly in spite of herself. “Sure. Come on in. Alec’s right,” she said, casting a glance his way. “I’m in the mood for some company.”
The group of five filed into the foyer, oohing and aahing over her awesome house.
“Please, come in and make yourselves comfortable,” Lydia invited, showing them into the living room.
“It looks so perfect in here that I’m afraid to sit down on the furniture,” said Judy. She was a plump woman, but nice looking, and Lydia found herself impressed by her hair. It hung in dark blond waves that fell past her hips.
“Nonsense,” she replied. “My children are known for jumping all over it.”
She heard Alec’s deep chuckle as he walked into the room, and she felt immensely relieved that the animosity between them had dissipated. Watching him settle into the couch, she tried to imagine why and how he’d been hurt before. Once bitten, twice shy—wasn’t that what he’d said? Lydia suddenly found herself longing to prove the old “love of a good woman” theory true—except she couldn’t understand her feelings. They barely knew each other. Still, there was just something about him. . .
“Oh, wow,” Debbie exclaimed, drawing Lydia’s attention away from Alec, “look at this fireplace.” She whirled around. “Let’s make a fire. I live in an apartment. I never get to enjoy such a luxury. But don’t worry,” she stated hastily, “I’ll start it. You just sit down and relax, Lydia. I’ll take care of everything.”
“I’d better do it,” Alec remarked, standing. “I don’t want you burning this whole house down.”
“Oh, quiet. I know what I’m doing,” Debbie insisted.
“Lydia,” Alec asked, turning toward her, “is it all right with you?”
Lydia nodded, relishing the thought of a cozy fire as they studied God’s Word.
He leaned forward. “Listen, don’t mind Debbie,” he whispered. “She could make a Marine cower.”
“I heard that, Alec,” the short-haired woman stated over her shoulder while hunkering in front of the stone hearth.
Everyone chuckled at the exchange, including Lydia. “Well,” she managed at last, “I’ll go get some plates for the pizza and glasses and ice for the pop.” Turning, she headed for the kitchen.
“Allow me to help you,” Larry called from behind her.
“Well, thank you,” she replied gratefully.
In the kitchen, she pulled out a large serving tray before collecting the necessary items and handing them to Larry, who carried everything back into the living room.
“Maybe we should all introduce ourselves for Lydia’s sake,” Judy suggested from her place in one of the swivel rockers. Larry took the other matching rocker, and Debbie sat on the floor by the fire, which was well on its way. Tim and Alec were seated at opposite ends of the couch, leaving the middle cushion vacant, so Lydia politely settled herself in between the two men.
“Ladies first,” Tim said, “and since you came up with the idea, why don’t you begin, Judy?”
“Okeydokey.”
Judy gave a brief autobiography, including salvation testimony.
“Lydia, you’re our hostess, so you go next.”
She looked across the room at Debbie and shrugged. “Not much to tell. I’ve lived in North Carolina all my life. I became a Christian at nine years old and met my husband when I was sixteen. We dated until I was twenty-one, and then we had eight blissful years of marriage before God took Michael home. I’m a widow now, but I’m thankful that I’ve got two precious children, ages eight and five.”
“Do you work outside the home?” Larry asked.
“Yes. I’m a secretary at Southern Pride Community Church.”
“And your father-in-law is the Gerald Boswick,” Tim added. “Didn’t he write a book awhile ago? He’s pretty well known, especially around here.”
“Yes, he’s authored several books,” Lydia stated, turning toward the man with the strawberry blond hair and glasses, sitting to her right.
“Hey, is all that true about him? His fall from grace, so to speak? Boy, there’s an example of how power and money’ll lead a man down the path of destruction.” Larry sat forward in his chair, reaching for a slice of pizza. He was a fairly nice-looking man, in Lydia’s opinion, with his slim build, dark brown hair, and hazel eyes. But his comment caused her to bristle.
“The allegations against my father-in-law are vicious lies!” she declared, hearing the terseness in her own voice. The room grew uncomfortably quiet a
nd Larry had the good grace to look chagrined. Then Alec stretched his arm across the back of couch just behind her in a reassuring gesture. Lydia suddenly felt foolish for her display of emotion. “I’m sorry,” she said, examining her folded hands. “It’s just very upsetting.”
“Nothing for you to be sorry about,” Alec stated. “Larry was out of line.”
“I was,” he admitted. “Forgive me. Guess I wasn’t thinking.”
Lydia managed a tight smile, willing herself not to burst into tears.
Alec’s arm came down around her, his hand briefly touching her shoulder consolingly before he stood. “Want some pop? Hey, Debbie, pour some pop into that glass and hand it to me.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Drill Sergeant,” she quipped, although she readily complied.
Laughingly, Judy turned to Lydia. “Since the day these two met, they’ve been on each other’s case.”
“Yeah, the last two Saturday nights, they’ve sort of been our entertainment,” Tim added, wearing a wide grin.
“I pity you, living next door to him,” Debbie told Lydia. “I’ll pray for you daily.”
Lydia couldn’t help feeling amused as Alec handed her the glass. “Hey, don’t smile at her wisecracks,” he said with an indignant expression. Just when Lydia was about to apologize, he sent her a wink.
She sipped her soda while Alec sat back down beside her.
Debbie introduced herself next. She was born and raised in New York City and got transferred to Charlotte eighteen months ago. “It’s been quite an adjustment for me,” she confessed. “But I’m really beginning to like it down here.”
Then came Larry’s turn, followed by Tim’s, and as Lydia heard their testimonies, she felt impressed by them. They really were committed Christians. Other than their pastor, she hadn’t met people with such a strong faith outside of her own church in a long while. She wondered why Gerald was so adamant about not fellowshipping with those from other churches, and she also found herself recalling Michelle Marx’s questions. Is it true that many more women are accepted into the fold here at Southern Pride Community Church than are men? Is it true that scores of men are turned away from this church every year because Pastor Boswick will not abide anyone disagreeing with his theology? Is it true? Is it true?
Of course not, Lydia thought, shifting slightly on the couch, and yet she tumultuously wondered if the three men sitting in her living room tonight would be “accepted into the fold.” She had a feeling they would not. They didn’t seem the SPCC type. Then, again, neither had Michael, and that “perfect man syndrome,” as he called it, had always irked him. He often said some of the men at SPCC were nothing more than “plastic people.” Until now, however, Lydia hadn’t paid much attention to his remarks, thinking he’d made them in jest. And hadn’t he?
“I’m from Milwaukee, Wisconsin,” Alec began, pulling Lydia from her reverie. “I was engaged to be married, but it busted up and I felt like starting over someplace new. So I put in for a transfer at work and wound up here. My first week in Woodruff has been. . .interesting. Guess I didn’t make a great first impression on my neighbor.” He gave Lydia a hooded glance and she felt herself blush. “But my job’s going well. I think I’ll stick around awhile.”
“What’s your occupation?” Lydia asked curiously.
“I’m a carpenter and I’m employed by a national firm that does a lot of cabinetry work—especially in new homes.”
“A carpenter? Really?” Lydia smiled. “We sure could have used your help around here when we first bought this place.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I imagine.”
“A carpenter,” she repeated somewhat reverently. “After fixing up this house, I certainly have a great respect for men who work with wood. Besides, it’s quite likely that Jesus was a carpenter before He began His ministry.”
“Oh, why’d you have to say that?” Debbie groaned. “I can see Alec’s ego inflating before my very eyes.”
“You’re just jealous,” he shot back, wearing a wry grin.
“Of you? Hardly.”
“Children, children,” Larry said exaggeratedly with uplifted hands. “We’re here to have a Bible study, remember? What will Miss Lydia think?”
“A good thing she’s used to kids,” Tim muttered glibly.
And on and on it went. Soon Lydia found herself giggling until her eyes teared. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such a good laugh.
Finally, they got down to the whole purpose of the evening. Alec offered to share his Bible with Lydia so she wouldn’t have to get up and fetch hers. Tim led the study of Isaiah 40:28–31. Tying it in with the theme of singleness, he concluded, “If we trust the Lord to bring the right person into our lives, He’ll give us His strength and we won’t ‘faint’ while we wait—in other words, we won’t be discouraged while we wait on Him.”
“What if He never does bring someone into your life?” Lydia asked sincerely.
“Weeks ago, we did a study of Psalm 37,” Judy explained, “and determined that if God has placed a desire in our hearts to marry, He will make it happen. We just need to trust Him for the right timing—and the right one.”
“And in the case of my broken engagement,” Alec added candidly, “I realized tonight I need to trust that God made the right decision there. I know He never makes mistakes, but it’s taken me all these months to accept the fact that He allowed it to happen. . .for my own good.”
“That’s right,” Larry said.
“And what about your husband’s death, Lydia?” Debbie asked. “Have you been able to accept it?”
“Oh yes. I accepted it long ago. I know Michael is in a place so wonderful he wouldn’t come back here to me and the children for anything. Besides, the Bible says a day with the Lord is like a thousand on earth. Michael will meet the Savior and then look over his shoulder and there we’ll be.”
“But what about you?” Judy asked, looking concerned.
“Me? Oh, I’m all right.” Despite her guests’ ability to wear their hearts on their sleeves, Lydia couldn’t get herself to admit to the loneliness that frequently haunted her.
“I’m sure you get plenty of support from your church, huh?” Larry asked.
“Yes, that’s right,” Lydia replied. “I’m most grateful to my father-in-law for all his care of Tyler, Brooke, and me.”
There was a moment’s pause and then Tim began speaking about a young woman with whom he worked. He was interested in her, but she didn’t know the Lord. . .yet. Next Debbie talked about a man she’d met through the Internet. Was it safe for singles to meet each other on the web? Was it of God?
It was nearly midnight when they wrapped up their topics and closed in prayer. Lydia felt as though she’d gotten more out of this casual Bible study and its following discussion than she did a month’s worth of Sunday morning sermons.
“I’m glad y’all came over tonight,” she drawled, seeing them to the door.
“Well, how ’bout next Saturday night, too?” Debbie asked. “Can you get a sitter?”
“Perhaps. I’ll do my best.”
“It’s at my apartment,” Debbie said. “Alec will give you my address and phone number if you want to come.”
“Bossy,” Alec muttered. Looking at Lydia, he said, “But, yes, I will give you the information.”
“Thank you.”
Bidding her new friends farewell, Lydia closed the front door after they left. She proceeded to clear the dishes and empty boxes of pizza, thinking how much she’d enjoyed their company tonight. And Alec. . .she had certainly seen a different side of him. Beneath that gruff exterior beat a tender heart.
With everything cleaned up, she sat back down in the living room and watched the last of the embers in the fireplace die out. Maybe she wouldn’t mind remarrying after all—if the Lord brought about the right one. But Alec Corbett? He couldn’t possibly be a running candidate for her husband. Gerald would never approve of him. He wasn’t a member of SPCC, for one thing. Besides
, what on earth was she thinking? She barely knew the man!
“Mama?”
Lydia snapped from her musings. “Tyler. What are you doing awake at this hour?”
“I’ve been awake a long time,” he said, coming down the stairs slowly. “Who were all those people?”
“Just some friends. We had a Bible study tonight.”
“Oh.” Tyler paused, looking confused. “Mama, I saw you sitting next to Mr. Alec and smiling. You’re not mad at him anymore, huh?”
“No. I’m not mad at him anymore.”
He immediately beamed. “Cool!”
“Shh. . .you’re going to wake up Brooke.”
The boy broke into a whisper. “Sorry, Mama, but I’ve been praying and praying that you wouldn’t be angry with Mr. Alec anymore.”
“Seems God answered your prayers,” she said, turning off the living room light. She slipped her arm around Tyler’s shoulders as she walked him upstairs.
“Does that mean I can still talk to him?”
“Yes. But, Ty, you mustn’t try to create situations to get Mr. Alec and me together.”
“Like last night?”
“Yes. That was wrong of you and Brooke, just like we talked about at the supper table. If the Lord wants Mr. Alec. . . or anyone else to have a part of our lives, then we need to let Him work everything out.”
Tyler searched her face as they stood at his bedroom door. “You like him, don’t you, Mama?”
She tried not to grin at the direct question that caught her somewhat off guard. Still, she had a hard time hiding her feelings.
“You do! I knew it!”
“Shh. . .lower your voice.”
He ran into his room, leaping into his bed. “I knew it!”
Lydia suddenly felt nervous—she didn’t want her in-laws privy to this new, unexpected turn of her heart, and she certainly didn’t want Alec to know. He’d most likely decide his initial suspicions of her were correct.
“Tyler,” she said, padding across the carpeted floor and sitting on the edge of his bed, “let’s just keep this a secret between you and me, all right?”
Southern Sympathies Page 7
