Abide With Me (The Barn Church Series Book 3)

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Abide With Me (The Barn Church Series Book 3) Page 4

by Shellie Arnold


  “I guess you’re right.” Nick slowed his pace. “How come you’re not beating me over the head with a Bible and screaming at me about hell like some street-preacher with a megaphone?”

  “Would that help you?”

  “No.”

  “That’s why.”

  They rocked in silence.

  “When you prayed over breakfast this morning, you said Heavenly Father. It got me thinking. I never knew my father.” Nick shifted in his seat. “He got my mother pregnant, left her right before I was born.”

  “Tough row to hoe.”

  “She worked two, sometimes three jobs at a time.” He’d lost count of the times they’d moved, the number of one-room apartments they’d lived in. Thankfully, he’d stuck with the same schools. He’d been smart, made friends easily, and his mother had made him study like crazy. “I hardly ever saw her, but I knew she loved me. My dad never looked back.”

  “I grew up without a father,” Daniel said. “Leaves a boy feeling like he’s got no safety net under him.”

  “Exactly. I don’t know how to relate to God as the kind of father you prayed to this morning. When I picture God, I think of someone distant and aloof. Not someone you have a conversation with.”

  “If you’ve never had that point of connection, it’s tough to get a grip on the idea. You get close to Him, you’ll want Him to tell you what to do, especially when you don’t know what to do. That’s asking for wisdom. The judge part, that’ll come one day, too, but not like how most people think. God would always rather show mercy than extend judgment.”

  “The contrasts confuse me. Do you have, like, a chart I can study?”

  Daniel laughed. “That’s the first time anyone’s asked me for a chart about God. I’ll give you a Bible. Read the book of John. Chapter fifteen talks about Jesus being a vine and those who believe in Him are the branches. A branch connected to the vine will grow. A disconnected branch just plumb dies.”

  “So I can get to know God by reading the Bible.”

  “Partly. How’d you get to know Angelina?”

  Nick smiled. “My junior year at college was her first. I saw her in the cafe, almost dropped my tray. Couldn’t think two words, you know? But I knew I had to meet her.”

  She’d been sitting alone at a two-seater booth. The whole time he’d stood in line he watched her, curious to see what guy would join her. No one did.

  “I’ll never forget it. I walked over, kind of sat at her table without asking. Our eyes met, and I knew everything had just changed. I said, ‘My mother says I’d be a great catch.’ Then I just looked at her until she laughed. I kept talking. Every time I saw her, every time we went out, I just kept talking, figuring I’d grow on her. If I didn’t know what to say, I’d laugh and smile and say, ‘Hey.’ We’d sit there staring at each other because neither of us could fight what was going on inside us. I fell quick; I fell hard. She did, too, but I didn’t know that at first.”

  “So, you spent time with her.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You talked about yourself and let her get to know you. You asked questions so she could tell you about herself.”

  “Well, yeah. I wanted her in my life. I wanted to know everything about her.”

  Daniel rocked and nodded. “That usually works.”

  ***

  Angelina opened the oven to check the peach cobbler. “How will I know when it’s done?”

  “When the top is firm.” Kay handed her a knife. “If this comes out clean, it’s done.”

  She tested the cobbler, closed the oven. “Not quite.”

  Until now, she and Nicholas ate cereal or mac-n-cheese at home, then a real meal at Denny’s during their shift. No more Denny’s meant she’d have to learn to cook.

  “Could I maybe have the recipe?”

  Kay grabbed bowls from a top cabinet. “My grandmother taught me how to make cobbler. I’ve never seen the instructions written out. I’ll have to make it again soon, pay attention, and write everything down.”

  “I can set the table.”

  Angelina arranged the bowls, silverware, and napkins. She sat. “What you said today about making friends being difficult for me? You were spot on. How did you know?”

  Kay stirred stew on the stove. She poured two glasses of tea, brought one to Angie, then sat as well.

  “I had trouble making friends for the opposite reason.” Kay sipped. “I was a skinny child, cross-eyed. Wore coke-bottle glasses before having corrective surgery. I was a terrible klutz, always running into things. Back then, everyone thought any condition like that was practically contagious. No one wanted to be my friend; maybe that helps me recognize those who are friendless now. I know the look of lonely.”

  This woman, she could cut right to Angelina’s heart.

  “I was so spatially-challenged my mother enrolled me in modeling classes in hopes I’d learn how to walk straight,” Angie said.

  “You know, I wondered if you’d ever done professional modeling. Your posture and the way you carry yourself make you appear confident. You’re not, are you?”

  “No. I learned to walk a certain way, stand and sit a certain way. I guess now it’s second nature, but it’s not natural. The modeling classes plus my looks gave her the idea of entering me in beauty pageants, which I hated. I was always so nervous I threw up before walking across the stage. I’ve never liked having all eyes on me.”

  “Me, neither, not after growing up with people staring at me,” Kay said. “I wanted friends, but I didn’t like being a spectacle.”

  Angelina turned her glass on the table, drawing lines through the condensation with her finger. “I can’t remember a time I wasn’t lonely. Until I met Nicholas, who’s never been lonely.”

  Kay lowered her glass and set it aside. “Daniel was the same. My, that man—he could swoop into a room and make friends with anybody. He connected with people without even trying, while I sat there wringing my hands, scared spit-less I’d do or say the wrong thing.”

  “That’s how I’ve always been, too.”

  “When Daniel set his sights on me, well, at first I didn’t believe him. Why would he pick me? I figured it was some flight of fancy, a phase that would end with me having a broken heart.” She laughed. “But he kind of latched on and never went away.”

  Angie laughed, too. “That’s what Nick did to me. I couldn’t not think about him because he was always there.

  “One night, I had a late lab, and he knew it. He waited for me outside the classroom. But he was so tired from working nights, napping before classes, then going to school all day, he fell asleep on a couch in the hallway. I walked right past him. Didn’t even realize he was there. While waiting for the elevator, I dropped a book. He shot up, calling my name, having no clue where he was or that he’d fallen asleep. I told him he’d lost his mind. He said, ‘No, just my heart, to you.’”

  “That’s a good one,” Kay said. “Men like Daniel and Nick … they can knot up a girl’s feelings, can’t they?”

  “I feel like I can’t breathe when there’s conflict between us.”

  “Of course you do.”

  “How can that be a good thing?” Angie asked.

  “Why wouldn’t it be? If you feel like you can’t breathe, you know you’ve got to fix something.”

  “I know Daniel and Nick are out there talking about God and the Bible. Should I be scared of that?”

  The older woman reached for her hand. “Oh, sweetie, how you must have been hurt by those who should have loved you. You have no idea how much God loves you, do you?”

  “My dad always made fun of churches.”

  People don’t change, he’d say. Faith’s a crutch.

  “He liked bringing up the Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker scandal, Catholic priests molesting kids, and scary looking guys who shoot up abortion clinics.”

  “Poor representatives, I’m sad to say. And I think you’re confusing church people with God, although church folks should be imitators
of Him. No wonder you’re skeptical and worried your husband might be learning about God.” Kay rose, returned to the stove. “Want to check the cobbler again?”

  “Okay.” She followed. “I was never allowed to question him. It only took me disagreeing with him a couple of times for him to cut off all contact.” She realized now, her father was nothing if not a tyrant.

  “I’m so sorry,” Kay said.

  Angelina removed the cobbler, sat it on the stove.

  Kay carried the pot from the stove to the table and sat it on a trivet. “All done. I’ll call the men.”

  “Kay.” Angelina’s heart pounded. She wanted to talk more about God. To learn. But she didn’t know where to start. “Does God allow questions?”

  “Oh, yes.” Kay stopped with her hand on the front doorknob. “You can ask God anything.” She walked out to the porch.

  Angelina took a deep breath. Dear God, are You real?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Nick groaned as he lay on the bed. His back and arms were sunburned, his shoulders ached from overuse, and he’d cut his finger. One of his most fun days ever.

  Angelina entered and closed the door. “Kay gave me this lotion for your neck and arms. It’ll take out the sting.”

  He took off his clean shirt, turned onto his stomach. As he had moments ago when taking a shower, he hissed as she spread the cold onto his skin.

  She rubbed in the lotion. “You’ll be paying for this the next few days.”

  “It was too hot to wear a shirt.”

  “You’re from Florida. You should know better.”

  “There were five of us out there today,” Nick said. “Daniel and a wiry guy named Clyde. A big guy they call Deacon Floyd; he’s a deacon in the church. And a guy who works at the hardware store. Angus. He’s thick, you know? Really strong for his height. Angus was bossing Clyde at the table saw. The deacon and I kept plodding along hanging the siding. Daniel pitched in here and there, but he never stopped talking and telling jokes. Some of them were doozies. Still, I laughed most of the day. I think my face hurts almost as much as my back.”

  She set aside the lotion.

  “Angie. I’ve never been around men like them. Kind, but still men.” They made him want to be a good man, a good husband.

  “The women were nice. I didn’t feel like they were talking about me or staring at me,” she said. “Before long, Kay had maneuvered me through the group until I was hugged by all of them.”

  Nick grinned. “Kay maneuvered you?”

  “Don’t think for one second she doesn’t run Daniel.”

  “Yeah, but in a good way. Have you noticed how they talk to each other?”

  “You mean teasing like we do?”

  “They flirt like they’re still in love,” he said.

  “Kay says Daniel’s always been that way. They’re such a team. My parents? The only thing they ever agreed on was disagreeing.” She paused. “I wonder how they learned to work together so well.”

  He rolled over and pinned her to the mattress. “I know a good way to practice working together.”

  She laughed. “Oh, do you?”

  “Yeah.” He kissed her. “Any chance you want to stay here? Live here?”

  He kissed her again. She pulled away and sat up.

  “What?” she asked.

  “What if we start over here? Have your sister mail our important stuff, or we could drive down later and pick it up. I really like it here. There’s nothing for us back in Florida.”

  She wrapped her arms around her bent knees. “You do seem happy here even though you didn’t get a new job yesterday. Was that yesterday? It seems like weeks ago.”

  He sat up, too. “I like it here, Angie. Let’s stay.”

  “Where? How?”

  “Daniel said we could stay with them until we get on our feet.”

  “You asked him without telling me?”

  “I didn’t want to say anything to you if there wasn’t a way. You’ve done without a lot of things because of me.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Yes, you have. We could get on our feet here if I work two jobs. You’d be safe here with Kay even if I have to work nights. Even if we help pay for food, we could save money faster.”

  “Money won’t make us happy, Nick. My parents had more than enough money, and they weren’t happy.”

  “Why can’t I make you understand? We can’t live without money. I know what it’s like to be evicted, to see your belongings thrown out by the curb, to sleep on the city bus. I ate state-funded breakfast and lunch at school. I spent my childhood living hand-to-mouth. We can’t eat only cereal for the rest of our lives.”

  “I like cereal.”

  “Angie. I want to give you a home. I want to provide for you.”

  Like his father had never provided for him and his mother.

  She twirled the curls at his brow. “This city’s mostly farms. How are you going to find one job, let alone two?”

  “Angus and Daniel both say Benson’s is always hiring.”

  “You want to work at a hardware store. I guess it’s more secure than flipping real estate.”

  “It’s not perfect. I’ll still look for another job. But I have to wait until Monday to apply. The manager’s off on Sundays. Although he will be at church tomorrow. Want to go?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “A new start’s a new start, right? Maybe we give Daniel’s church a try.”

  She looked deep into his eyes. “This is about Daniel, isn’t it? And the dad you never had.”

  “I know it doesn’t make sense, but it’s like I’m hungry for something he can give me.”

  “What time does church start?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll get up when we smell breakfast cooking.”

  “You mean you’ll get up when you smell breakfast.” She looked at him. “Everything’s changing so fast. Where I thought we’d work, where we live. Wondering about God. Will you love me now? Be with me? When you love me, I believe we’ll be okay.”

  “We’ll be okay. I promise.” He lowered his mouth to hers.

  ***

  Angelina held Nick’s hand as they approached the church’s grassy lot. Other than Friday night when they’d arrived and stopped to ask directions, she’d never been in a barn. Had seldom been in a church except for a funeral or a wedding, the last being over a decade ago. The weathered, brown-gray exterior of The Barn Church looked old and welcoming and cared for. Kay’s doing, Angelina was sure.

  Nicholas pointed up. “Check out the window.”

  “Is that a horse silhouette? In a church?”

  “Lots of barns around here have them.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I paid attention when Daniel drove us out to that farm yesterday. What do you think? You want a house with a barn?”

  “I’ve always wanted horses.”

  “One day, Angie. I promise.”

  They passed a small, fenced cemetery. A cemetery. Right beside where people talked about God. It was kind of creepy.

  She squeezed his hand and stopped. “Can we go inside after everyone else?”

  “I guess. Are you worried about a weird meet-and-greet like in those Hallmark movies?”

  “Sort of.”

  “But you said the ladies were nice.”

  “They were. I just … I’d rather slip in when everyone’s distracted.”

  He veered her away from the main path to the entrance. “We’ll wait here until they’ve started. But not too long. It’s going to be hot again today.”

  “Thank you. At least I’m not the only one wearing jeans.”

  “This is a farming community. I don’t think you have to worry too much about a dress code.”

  The large black man Nicholas had said everyone called Deacon and the shorter man named Clyde closed the double doors. Within moments, piano and choir music flowed from the church and seemed to wrap her heart in a loving embrace, much as Kay and Millie and the ot
her women had done yesterday.

  Nick led her in. They walked to the far end of the back row. The church was about half full, the congregation and choir stood singing.

  The song ended, but the pianist continued playing softly. Deacon walked to the platform, the music stopped. Everyone sat.

  He produced a small stack of cards from his pocket. “We have a lot to be thankful for this morning, and we also have a lot of needs.

  “The Bartons received an offer on their farm. We’ll be sad to see them go but rejoice with them about God providing them new jobs in Tennessee.

  “Naomi and I are thankful we heard from our son, Julius, so we know he’s alive. We believe he’s finally hit bottom, so to speak. He’s going back into the drug rehab program in Troy. He wanted us to apologize publicly on his behalf to everyone he stole from—especially you, Pastor. He said he didn’t get much for the church speakers.” Deacon shook his head. “You all know how we’ve grieved our boy’s choices. We’re grateful God always kept reaching for him, as He does for all of us. Let’s pray.”

  Angie scanned the crowd, finally locating Naomi. The short woman was half the deacon’s size and wore a crocheted shawl as she had yesterday, although this one was baby blue. When everyone prepared to leave, she’d given Angie a bowl of corn casserole to take with her. “I heard you say you liked it,” she’d said.

  Kay and Daniel sat on the front row, their heads bowed with others in the congregation.

  But Deacon Floyd looked to heaven and raised a hand. “Father, thank You again for loving us all. For loving my son even more than me and Naomi do. Our church’s needs are many—wisdom, help facing grief, strength to endure difficult times. We all need a better understanding of Your love and Your character. At least one marriage here is near breaking. God, help us all submit to Your love; let it work in us and through us.”

  Never before had she heard anyone talk to God like that. The large man pulled a handkerchief from his other pocket and wiped his eyes.

  Nick bumped her shoulder with his. “Isn’t this cool? I told you, they’re like a big family.”

  They weren’t like the family she’d grown up with, or ever seen before.

 

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