Bratwurst and Bridges

by Baganz, Susan M. ;

  “What were you afraid of?”

  “That you’d quit. That you’d toss it all away. Ministry, music…and maybe even your life.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t ask me to sign a suicide contract.”

  “I thought about it.”

  “So did I.” Silence hung between them. Dan swallowed hard. “Listen. I’m sorry for causing so much concern. I was angry and resentful. I did consider whether it was time to move on, and not necessarily in ministry. I’ve learned a lot in the few weeks you’ve given me. It forced me to face myself and come to grips with some hard truths.”

  “Hard? Like how?”

  “I thought my marriage to Sharon was good. I’ve realized I wasn’t as great a husband as I thought I was. She never complained, but I shortchanged her in so many ways. And I shortchanged myself. I never got to tell her I’m sorry.”

  “You weren’t aware. Maybe the gift now is learning this so you’ll be a better husband next time around.”

  “If there’s a next time.”

  “You liked being married.”

  “I did, but I never gave myself permission to play. That’s where I hurt myself.”

  “Play is hard, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. I think if I had kids it would be easier. It’s not like Sharon and I didn’t do things together, but it was mostly work around the house…I’m trying some new things though and when my ribs are healed up, wanna try some racquetball at the YMCA?”

  “You know how to play?”

  “Nope, but I’m willing to learn and look like a fool while I try.”

  “I’ll teach you. I’d enjoy that.”

  “Andrew, we’re cool. I’m grateful now that you forced this time away. Thanks for caring enough to push me even when I resisted.”

  “Anytime, Dan. I’m glad you’re still around to serve with. So, another two weeks?”

  “Yeah. Sounds reasonable.”

  “And remember, coming back doesn’t mean you have to put in sixty-hour weeks. Take what you’ve learned, scale back, and do what’s reasonable.”

  “Got it. Easier said than done, but I think I understand this all a whole lot better for having had this time.”

  “Good.” They both rose and shook hands.

  Two weeks. Pretty tall order to be all healed up in two weeks. Almost as tall an order to be over your wife after a year. Was he ready to come back?

  He’d find out soon enough.

  TEN

  Paintings have a life of their own that derives

  from the painter’s soul.

  Vincent Van Gogh

  Skye hung up the phone in a daze. New York? She really needed to go to New York. But how? She snagged the interest of an agent who wanted her out there to do a showing and sign a contract for larger retailing of some of her work in the Christian market? That was never on her radar. She needed to be gone for two nights and three days.

  She heard the key in the door across the hall and ran to open hers. “Dan.”

  He turned and gave her a smile. “Hey, how are you, Skye? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “Doing OK. How are the ribs?”

  “Tender. No Zumba or heavy weights for a while yet and the most I can manage for cardio is the bike.”

  “Well, at least it’s something.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can I ask a favor?”

  “Sure. I can’t guarantee I’ll grant it.”

  “Fair enough. Would you pray for me?”

  “Sure. Anything specific?”

  “My agent wants me in New York for an art show. Next week. I can’t take the kids. I need to figure out what to do.”

  “Your mom will help, right?”

  “Mom can pick them up and take them to their morning programming but beyond that, she has her own work. Her own life.”

  “So you need someone who will be with the kids when they come home and during the night.”

  Skye bit her lip. “Yeah. For two nights. But I don’t know anyone and I don’t want to hire someone I’ve never met. I’ve hardly ever used a sitter. Well, except for you.”

  “When’s the trip?”

  “I’m supposed to fly out next Thursday morning and get back Saturday night.”

  “Flying out of Milwaukee?”

  “Yeah. I’m a little nervous about that. I’ve never flown before.”

  “I like it. Exhausting, but it can be fun.”

  Skye smiled. “Thanks for praying.”

  “I’ll do more than that, Skye. I’ll take care of the kids.”

  Her mouth dropped open. She shook her head. “I couldn’t ask that of you.”

  “Do you trust me with your kids?” Dan asked, leaning against the door.

  “Well, yes.”

  “I can’t exercise much and I’m still off work.”

  “You really don’t have much experience.”

  “Well. The offer is on the table. I’ll pray, but if you are willing to trust me I’d be glad to help. You’ve got great kids.”

  “For two hours they can be angels. Three days might be enough for you to swear off ever having any of your own someday.”

  Dan’s eyes sank to the floor as he shook his head.

  Skye covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry. Dan. I didn’t mean…”

  “No. I get it. Being a parent is hard and I’ve not experienced that pleasure, or pain. Just don’t count me out because of it.” He closed the door to his apartment and she heard the latch click.

  Skye slid back into hers as well. She loved her kids. She really did. There were just days when being a single mom was too much to bear. Quinn was better since they’d not seen their father, but he was still a precocious four-year-old, up to mischief. She couldn’t believe she would have been so insensitive to Dan’s pain to say something like that to him knowing that he wanted kids but he and his wife had lost several to miscarriage. Skye had never been down that road and couldn’t imagine the heartache. Even when things were bad in her marriage, she eagerly anticipated becoming a mom. To have been robbed of those dreams time after time…

  It didn’t make sense how someone could go through all that and still trust God. How did a loving God do that? Take babies from their mother’s and father’s eager arms? Deny those children a chance at a loving family? Sure he was single now, but didn’t that just prove God’s negligence? He not only took Dan’s kids, but his wife as well. She didn’t understand how Dan could still believe.

  He offered to babysit so she could pursue her art dreams in New York. Tears sprang to her eyes at his kind gesture. But surely that’s all it was.

  ~*~

  Her mom dropped off the kids.

  “Mom, I asked my neighbor to pray about this trip next week.”

  “And?” Her mom walked over to her drawing table and fingered through some of the portfolio she had started to put together for her trip.

  “He offered to watch the kids for me.”

  “Well, guess you got your answer to prayer, then.”

  “No. Mom. I can’t expect him to watch my kids.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well…I…”

  “Listen. He’s watched them before. He’s a pastor and from what I understand, a good one. I’ve heard him preach and he’s solid. He’s also pretty talented with the guitar and can sing. If he’s offered, you should take him up on that.”

  “I can’t afford to pay him.”

  “Did he ask for money?”

  “No. We didn’t talk about it.”

  “Maybe you should. From the looks of these pictures he’s had some influence over your work.”

  “Why do you say that?” Skye walked over to the table. Her mom pointed to the print of the painting that had been her one big sale.

  “That is Pastor Dan Wink.”

  “It could be anyone.”

  “Nope. It’s him. And you know how I know?”

  “How?”

  “His eyes. It is the way you painted his eyes.” Her mom p
ointed at the print. “Painting an anonymous person, you would never have put a gray star in his blue eyes like that—almost white to the outer edge and rimmed in a dark gray. Not many people have eyes like that.”

  “How did you know?”

  “I met him at a wedding and noticed his eyes. They are stunning, even when he hides them behind those geeky glasses. I’m not surprised that you noticed those details even if you weren’t aware of it at the time. This is not an ‘anonymous’ man. Does Dan know you painted him?”

  “I wasn’t even intending to paint him. It just…happened, and I was as surprised as you at the similarities.”

  “He didn’t sit for this portrait?”

  “No. Sure he’s handsome, but I haven’t used live models since high school. Well, except for my children.”

  “Well, you might want to tell him since you’re selling his image for big bucks.”

  “Do you really think I need to?”

  Her mom nodded. “It would be a kindness.”

  “He might get the wrong idea.”

  “About what? That you like him? That you find him attractive? That he’s handsome?”

  Skye shook her head. “I couldn’t.”

  “Well, you better hope that you don’t sell too many of that print. It is stunning and probably your best work, although some of these others are special too. Listen, sweetheart, you do what you think you need to do. But let that boy take care of the kids. Go and follow your dream in New York and see where it leads you.”

  “Riley would have never let me go, much less taken care of the kids while I was gone.”

  “And Riley is currently in jail and not around to interfere or sabotage your dream. And even if he were, I suspect your neighbor next door is man enough to handle him.”

  “Mom…”

  “Well, ’nough said. I’m off. Tell me what you decide.”

  Skye walked her to the door. “Thanks, Mom.”

  The door closed and Skye leaned her forehead against it. Tell Dan that he had inspired some of her best work? Some of those paintings came out of the turmoil his questions caused her. Sleepless nights and moody days as she struggled. It wasn’t fair that the first man she was attracted to after her disaster of a marriage happened to be the man least likely to ever even look at her with romantic interest. And she had no interest in God…well, not enough to consider ever being a pastor’s wife. Didn’t they need to know how to play the organ or something?

  She never saw an organ at Orchard Hill. Hmm. The last keyboard player she saw there was a man. Interesting. She wondered what pastors’ wives at this church did? Work in the nursery? She’d shave her head before saddling herself with a ton of kids for over an hour. It was one thing to take care of her own, but others? Even as a teenager she hated babysitting. It was one of those things about herself that made her wonder if she would ever be an adequate mother for her own kids. Well, so far they appeared happy, healthy, and she had managed to keep them alive. Maybe she wasn’t doing too badly.

  ~*~

  She almost ran over Dan the next day at the YMCA. He caught her in his arms and she jumped back as if shocked. Her heart rate quickened faster than if she had taken a high intensity aerobics class.

  “Hey, you OK?” Dan frowned.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” Only you’ve stolen my ability to breathe. Why did he need to be so good looking in that T-shirt and work out shorts?

  “You looked like you were escaping a fire,” Dan joked.

  She smiled. “No. Just spastic today. Don’t want to miss the yoga class I sometimes take. You coming to Zumba?”

  Dan shook his head. “Got a few more weeks, unfortunately, and by then I’ll be back at work when your class is being held.”

  “Everyone has their excuses not to work out, don’t they?” she quipped.

  “That and it seems some single women at church think hunting season is open on the widowed pastor. If they found out I was doing Zumba I’d have them all here and probably sticking their number in my pockets. I’d feel like I was at a strip club.”

  “And how do you know what a strip club is like?” Skye was curious.

  “I’ve seen bits in movies. Never could understand the appeal or why women would want to do that.”

  “Some don’t think they have a choice. Make money or starve. Some are forced.”

  “Sounds like first-hand experience.”

  “Friends from my former life…”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply.”

  “No, Dan. It’s me that needs to apologize. I was unpardonably rude yesterday, and I’m so sorry I hurt you with my thoughtless words.”

  “You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

  “Maybe so, but I didn’t need to rub your nose in your losses.”

  “They are invisible, gaping wounds I carry with me. I can’t expect everyone to recognize and remember that every time they are around me. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wearing a black band on my sleeve to remind people of all I lost.”

  “How do you continue to believe God, given your history?”

  “How could I not?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I still had my best friend. The One who created me. The One who called me. The One who died for me, walking by my side through the power of His Holy Spirit to lead and guide me in my deepest, darkest hours. Honestly, He is the only reason I’m still alive today.”

  “You thought of…?”

  Dan nodded. “The last year was rough.”

  “Are you doing better?”

  “Yes. By the grace and mercy of God, yes. And you’ve been a part of that.”

  “Me? What did I do? I’m nothing. I’m a nobody.”

  “No. You’re an extraordinary woman, a great mom, and a phenomenal artist. You are honest about your questions and struggles. I admire you for that. You’re not a victim. You’ve worked hard and risen above your past.”

  “Maybe outwardly. Inside I’m still a loser.”

  “Hey, God calls you His child. His heir. That would make you a princess. I don’t think princesses are allowed to call themselves losers.”

  “A princess?”

  “Yup.”

  She wiped away a tear. “How am I supposed to make it through a yoga class now?”

  He bent over and whispered in her ear sending off a chain reaction of goose bumps. “You could always skip. The world won’t fall apart.”

  “You are a temptation, Mr. Dan Wink.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “Really?”

  “Yeah. And I’m going to take you up on your offer.”

  “My offer?”

  “To watch my kids next week.”

  A smile spread wide across his face. “Really?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Thank you for trusting me. I’m so glad you’re going to go. You deserve a little time away and the opportunity to see where your dreams and your art takes you.”

  “Thanks for believing in me.”

  “I’d be a fool not to. You have talent.”

  “I appreciate that.” She glanced at the clock. “I have one minute. Later, Dan. Gotta go.” She took off for her class at an easy lope. It was a challenge to get her heart to slow down though at the thought of Dan, snug T-shirt and all, along with his sweet comments. He really did seem too good to be true. And then she remembered the old saying.

  If it’s too good to be true, it probably is.

  ~*~

  Skye managed to stay away from Dan until the day before she was to leave. She knocked on his door.

  She was stunned again at how attractive he was.

  “Hey, Skye. What time do you need me tomorrow?”

  Thrusting a piece of paper his way, he took it and glanced it over. “I have another request.”

  An eyebrow shot up on his handsome face, and she looked into those eyes—for the first time really registering the stars. Her mother was right. Fascinating. She shook herself. “I’m not feeling s
afe leaving my car down at long-term parking at the airport. Plus, it would cost a fortune. I could reimburse you gas if you would be willing to—”

  “Give you a ride?”

  She nodded.

  He frowned. “Your car would be safe enough down there. It’s not that I don’t want to take you, it’s just a policy I have…”

  “A policy?”

  “Well, boundary is probably a better word. Guideline. I don’t allow myself to be alone with a woman for any period of time that would be conducive to intimacy.”

  “In a car? You’re afraid I’m going to debauch you in a car? On the highway to the airport? I think I can restrain myself.”

  To her astonishment, he blushed. She didn’t realize men could do that. “Listen. I’ll give you the money for the parking or cab fare both ways. And it’s not because I’m afraid you’ll do something to me. It’s because, well, I’m a single man. Lonely and over time it could lead to temptations I’m not sure I’m strong enough to withstand. So I err on the side of caution…”

  “And there’s that whole ‘appearances’ thing too, right?”

  He nodded. “It’s part of the burden of being a pastor. People are watching all the time. Even something innocent can become fodder for gossip or for hindering someone in their faith.”

  “Apparently, not everyone holds to your values.”

  “Amy. Listen. I’m sorry that happened. She was wrong. Sitting next to you in church seemed to throw the gauntlet down amongst the single ladies looking for me to ‘put a ring on it.’” His left hand flung forward and he did a little wiggle with his hips as he sang the last words.

  “Didn’t know you listened to that singer.” Skye was impressed.

  “I’m a musician as well as a pastor and I try to stay abreast of the trends in the culture. The song’s actually not that bad. The video? Well, I wish she would have put more clothes on.”

  “She was covered.”

  “Leaving nothing to the imagination.”

  “So did your wife wear denim jumpers that go practically to the ankles, have long hair, and refuse makeup?”

  “No. She wore jeans and T-shirts and dresses on occasion. Her hair was short because that’s the way she liked it. She wore a little makeup most of the time. But she was modest. She was heavier set than some women, didn’t like working out at all, but she dressed attractively. We didn’t always have a ton of money so she liked hitting the thrift shops.”