by Diane Noble
She disappeared around the corner, then returned with a small manila envelope. She handed it to Kate.
On the front, typed with faded lettering, was Lorna’s name. Inside, were the typed words:
You & your children are invited to a prepaid dinnerat the cCountry Dinner on Nov.21 st.”
Kate looked up from the note to see the weary woman’s eyes tearing up again. “Who would want to do this for me and the kids?”
“Your husband?”
Lorna looked around the house, her face drawn, her shoulders slumping. “After what we said to each other, I’m sure it’s not him.”
Chapter Twelve
As the beautiful piano prelude washed over the sanctuary, Kate took her seat in the second row. Paul caught her eye and smiled as he stepped onto the platform.
They had prayed together at breakfast that God would pour out a special measure of grace on their little congregation, with blessings especially abundant through the new music. She closed her eyes briefly and prayed again for the musicians and parishioners of Faith Briar.
As she studied her husband’s face, she was reminded again of his desire to reach out to the young people of Copper Mill. If it weren’t for that—and the nudge he’d felt from the Lord—she knew he might have backed down. She admired his resolve.
Renee, who was sitting beside Kate, whispered behind her bulletin. “I heard there’s going to be a protest today. People are planning to get up and leave when the kids are playing. Now mind you, I don’t like their music, but I wouldn’t go that far.” She raised a penciled brow.
Kate’s heart sank. “Oh no,” she whispered back. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
Renee leaned in closer. “It was the church secretary who told me. I figure if anybody knows the scuttlebutt, it’s Millie.”
Kate sat back in the pew, wondering if Millie Lovelace had said anything to Paul about it. When he smiled at Kate, he didn’t look worried, so she assumed probably not.
As the service began, Kate detected no grumbling, and when the congregation sang, voices blended in heavenly harmony. The choir number “My Faith Looks Up to Thee” never sounded better. As they sang, Kate scanned the families and friends and new faces across the congregation, wondering who was behind the protest. She thought about slipping a note to Paul but didn’t know how she could manage it without causing a disruption.
Before the offering, Paul stood up to make the announcements. He went down the list of Bible studies and upcoming fun-and-fellowship events. Then he stood away from the pulpit and smiled at the congregation.
“Last week we were blessed with the addition of new music brought to us by three outstanding local youth.” He gestured toward the teens who stood to one side of the platform, and then introduced each one again. Caleb and Denver gave the congregation a half smile, and Ashley waved daintily, then blushed and looked down.
“Kate and I had the privilege of having them over to our house this past week, and I need to tell you, we were—are—so impressed with them and their humble spirits. I encourage you to get to know them. Enjoy their fresh outlook. Enjoy the fresh new music they’re bringing to Faith Briar.
“Now, once again they will play the offertory; only this time they join us as Flame, the new name they’ve chosen. Remember this name, folks,” he said, “because I think someday we’re going to hear it a lot. And we’ll be able to say, hey, we knew them back when.” He smiled and motioned to the group. “And now, I proudly present Flame.”
Just before they hit the first note, the back doors of the sanctuary opened noisily. Kate turned and saw three teenagers filing in, looking mildly disoriented. They glanced quizzically around the room, then quickly slumped into the last pew. Not thirty seconds later, a second group of teens entered, looked around with the same quizzical expressions, then slipped into the last pew across the aisle from the first three.
Paul was right. Flame and their music were already drawing young people to the church.
She sat back and whispered a prayer of thanksgiving and another for help through the next several minutes.
The music grew louder, and Ashley lifted her raspy, melodic voice in song. The combination of guitar, keyboard, and drums blended much better than the previous Sunday. It was obvious the teens had been working on the song throughout the week. And Denver seemed content to bring the snares down a few decibels, using a wire brush part of the time instead of drumsticks.
Just when Kate thought things were going well, there was a shifting and scuffling of feet a few pews back from the front. Kate held her breath as she watched ninety-three-year-old Joshua Parsons stand shakily, leaning on his cane. Joe Tucker followed, pushing himself up from the pew. He gave Paul a pointed look, then turned and headed for the aisle. Old Man Parsons hobbled along behind him.
Everyone turned to look, whispering and exchanging glances.
Then Millie Lovelace and her husband stood and moved to the aisle. Kate’s heart fell.
Slowly, with heads held high, they marched from their pews and down the aisle to the back of the sanctuary, letting the door shut noisily behind them. Kate had rarely felt more disappointed.
People craned to see who the protesters were and exchanged nervous glances. But then, much to Kate’s relief, the remaining congregation turned back to Flame and their music.
Just when Kate thought the protest was over, there was another scuffling, this time in the second pew from the front, opposite the choir. Caroline Johnston stood, wobbled slightly on her cane, adjusted the silk roses on her wide-brimmed hat, then made her way down the aisle, jeweled cane tapping the floor, chin held high, and Kisses trotting along behind her.
Renee had an incredulous look on her face. “Mama?” she whispered as if unable to believe her eyes. “How’d she get involved in this?”
Flame seemed impervious to the goings on around them. They played their music as if the world could have stopped spinning and they wouldn’t have noticed. Kate caught snatches of the lyrics—something about standing at a door, looking for forgiveness and mercy—and breathed a prayer that the teens would come to know the truth of those words.
The teens in the back row were now sitting forward, slightly moving their shoulders to the beat, heads bobbing, and obviously enjoying Flame.
Kate sat back again, thankful for the small reminder that no matter who protested what, God was still in the business of changing hearts.
And Paul’s sermon couldn’t have been more fitting.
“Beloved friends,” he said, looking out across the congregation, “I want to speak to you this morning about grace and what it can mean in our lives, even though I must admit that those who left earlier need to hear this as much as we do.
“What we all need to know is that grace looks at others with a spirit of compassion and acceptance. Grace is love given freely, without limit, without condition.
“This is the foundation of God’s love for us. Because of his grace, we stand perfect and beautiful in his sight, not because of who we are, but because of who he is in us.
“I have good news, friends. God’s not finished with us. He will continue to work in our hearts all our days on earth.”
Paul paused and looked out across the congregation.
“And while he is working within us, we need to extend grace to others, keeping in mind that God isn’t finished with them either.
“They will see his love shining through us, through your lives and mine. They will be blessed as they understand the meaning of grace—God’s grace—because of the grace we extend to them.
“I want to leave you with a thought to hold in your heart this week. It’s from a poem written by a godly woman who lived five hundred years ago—Teresa of Avila—but it couldn’t be more relevant to us today:
From this time forward, Christ has no body on earth but yours; no hands but yours; no feet but yours. Yours are the eyes through which his compassion will look upon the world; yours are the feet with which he will go about doing good
; yours are the hands with which he will bless others.
He paused again. “In this congregation we may not agree with others on some issues—maybe a lot of issues—but my prayer this day, beloved friends, is that we keep in mind the meaning of grace in our lives—the grace we receive from God and the grace we extend to others, without judgment, without condition, freely and with deep and abiding joy.”
Renee leaned toward Kate, whispering, “I am thankful for that man.”
Kate smiled, remembering why Renee, quirks and all, sometimes gave her a dose of unexpected joy.
AFTER THE SERVICE, Kate had just stepped into place at Paul’s elbow when she noticed Caroline and Kisses taking their places in the line of parishioners waiting to greet the pastor.
Kate and Paul greeted the next two in line, Livvy and Danny Jenner, then Loretta Sweet came up and gave Kate a hug and shook Paul’s hand.
A cloud of Youth-Dew descended on them, and Kate looked up to see Renee step in line next to her mother and Kisses.
“Mama, you didn’t tell me you were joining the protest.” Renee’s voice carried toward Kate. “I didn’t know you felt so strongly about the music.”
Caroline turned to her daughter, her forehead creased into a quizzical frown beneath the brim of her hat. “What are you talking about?”
“You stood up with the other protesters during the service, then stomped down the aisle right behind them.”
Caroline sniffed and pointed her cane toward Renee. “You watch what you’re saying, young lady. I’ve never stomped in my life. Ladies do not stomp.”
“Mother,” Renee said, dropping her voice, but not so low that Kate couldn’t hear. “I was merely asking about the protest. I didn’t know you were involved.”
Caroline’s wide-brimmed hat with its froth of silk flowers shook as she chuckled. “Why, darlin’, there’s a lot you don’t know about your mother, believe you me.”
She surprised Kate by looking her way and giving her a wink, then she took a few steps forward in line. “I don’t know what moved the other folks to get up when they did. As for me, I just needed to go to the powder room.” She then held out her gloved hand to Paul as if she thought he should bow and kiss her hand.
“I love the new music,” she said. “It’s about time we lit a fire under these old fogeys’ britches. Get ’em up and moving, I say, so they know they’re still alive. I’m bringing my tambourine next Sunday.”
Behind her, Renee looked scandalized. “Mother, surely you wouldn’t.”
Caroline winked at Kate again, then with a little smile, straightened her shoulders and headed through the door, Renee and Kisses trotting behind.
“DID I TELL YOU about Stephen Easterwood?” Paul said as he stood to stoke the fire.
Kate walked out of the kitchen with tray in hand and set their hot cocoa on the small coffee table by the couch.
“He was in church this morning,” he continued. “Came up to introduce himself after the service.”
Kate had told Paul about her visit with Lorna on Friday at the old house on Pine Ridge Road.
“Oh, I’m so glad he was there. Your sermon couldn’t have been more perfect.”
Paul smiled as he sat down again. “That’s what Stephen said. Then he asked if he could come by and talk to me this week sometime. For counseling, he said.”
“It sounds like he might be ready to work on the marriage.”
“I don’t know. He seemed pretty worked up over what’s happened.” He took a sip of cocoa, then set his mug on the table. “But he did tell me something else that was interesting. When he left Lorna, he rented a room at one of the boardinghouses. He said it was broken into last night. Whoever it was didn’t take anything—”
Kate smiled. “But left something instead.” She could have predicted it; Stephen Easterwood’s name was next on the list.
“An old Underwood typewriter, three ribbons, a ream of typing paper, and a box of number-two pencils.”
“Did Stephen say why these might be significant?”
“He’s always wanted to write a novel, but he’s never had the time. He’s convinced Lorna is the one who broke in and left these as a way of giving him permission to do what he’s always wanted to do. Though he’s puzzled, because he hadn’t told her where he was living.” Paul reached for his mug and took another sip of cocoa. “He did say that just the thought that she might still care is what prompted him to come to church this morning.”
“The lights?” Kate lifted a brow, already knowing the answer.
Paul grinned. “Every light in his room was on when he discovered the break-in.”
Kate smiled and leaned back in her rocker. “It seems our intruder has a heart for helping others.”
“That’s becoming more and more evident.”
“He’s good at breaking and entering without leaving a scratch. He makes his move late afternoon or evening, apparently after casing the homes he breaks into. And he has access to information about his victims that it seems no one else has.” Kate pondered each detail carefully.
Paul was watching her intently. “It sounds like you’re beginning to figure out who it is.”
Kate stood to collect their mugs. “I’ve got some ideas, but it may take some cookie baking in the morning to connect the dots.”
“I love it when that happens,” Paul said, patting his stomach as he followed her into the kitchen.
Chapter Thirteen
Kate spent two days puzzling over the break-ins while trying out new double-chocolate fudge brownie recipes in the mornings and working in her stained-glass studio in the afternoons. The new brownie recipe needed some fine tuning, but she was delighted with how the first three angel votives turned out. And yet she felt no closer to connecting the dots that Wednesday morning than she had been the previous Sunday.
She set the votives side by side on her worktable and placed a lighted candle in each. Then she stood back, astonished. Each was unique, the colors blending in ways she hadn’t anticipated. The angel on Clementine’s, with its deep indigo, violet, and white hues, seemed to speak of wisdom, comfort, and peace. Lorna Easterwood’s angel, with its teal, white, and beige motif, seemed to be the embodiment of trust, optimism, and calm. Stephen Easterwood’s angel design was more masculine with its purple, gold, and aqua for energy, truth, leadership, and courage. The flickering candlelight behind each angel brought the votives to life.
They were exquisite. Whoever this anonymous person was, who had instructed her to follow his rough pattern, at least had a heart for beautiful simplicity and color.
And really, what did it matter if he was never identified?
Weren’t the anonymous acts of kindness what counted most?
As for calling this goodwill messenger an intruder, that was beginning to wear on her as well. She stared at the angel design and smiled. No more calling him an intruder. From now on she would refer to the mysterious visitor as an angel, and she would be content with him—or her—remaining anonymous.
THE PHONE RANG just as Kate finished washing the last of the breakfast dishes. Paul had dashed out the door minutes before to an early morning meeting at church to discuss the music program, and Kate had planned to return to her studio as soon as she straightened up the kitchen.
She dried her hands on a dishtowel, then grabbed the phone from its cradle on the fourth ring.
“Kate, it’s Liv.” Her friend sounded worried.
“What is it?”
“The museum has asked me to provide more information about the theft. They’re moving forward with proceedings for the formal investigation. Their insurance carrier is getting involved and wants to meet with me. I get the distinct impression they want to charge me with negligence.” She paused. “Can you meet me for lunch today? I need a good dose of your wisdom and optimism.”
“Lunch sounds great. The diner at noon?”
“It’s a date.”
“And Livvy?”
“Yes?”
“I’ll be praying...”
“Thank you, Kate. That’s my greatest need of all.”
KATE BEGAN the preliminary work on Loretta Sweet’s votive, wondering when the anonymous angel of Copper Mill might pay the diner a visit. Then she changed into a jean skirt, her favorite red sweater, and boots and headed out the door. At the last minute, she decided to slip on a jean jacket her daughter Rebecca had sent her for her birthday the previous year.
She smiled at herself in the entry-hall mirror. Her daughters knew she would never buy something like this for herself, and that’s why they had so much fun shopping for her. The denim jacket sported a lacy design adorned with tiny beads, pearls, and sparkly stones around the collar and down the front placket. Paul called it her froufrou jacket.
The day was overcast with dark clouds and a hint of rain, and Kate was hit by a gust of wind the moment she stepped out the front door.
She climbed into her Honda and glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Just enough time for the two stops she wanted to make before meeting Livvy. Beside her, on the passenger side, were two gift bags, the contents of each wrapped in tissue paper.
As she drove, the clouds opened up, and a heavy rain began falling. She turned on her windshield wipers. The streets were slick, so she slowed as she drove toward Pine Ridge Road.
She pulled into the Easterwood’s driveway and rolled to a stop. Even before she got out of the car, she could hear the children playing inside the house.
Lorna must have heard Kate’s car because she appeared at the door a minute later. The young woman looked more haggard than the first time Kate saw her. She was holding Lucy on one hip and Baby John in the opposite arm. Both were crying.
Kate gathered Lucy into her arms as she stepped inside. She quickly placed the gift bag out of the children’s reach on top of a lamp table near the door.
“Thank you for coming by,” Lorna said. Her eyes were red and swollen. “It’s been a tough morning.”
“I stopped by for two reasons. First, how about letting me babysit sometime soon so you can have a day to yourself?”
