by Mary Manners
****
Carin’s hair danced in a breeze that rushed through the passenger window of Jake’s Jeep. Soft music filtered from the radio as he steered south through traffic. He’d tugged a ball cap low over his brow and rolled the sleeves of his flannel work shirt so she saw the taut muscles of his forearms and the strength of his hands. That strength didn’t incite fear in her the way Phillip’s strength tended to when his temper flared. Instead, Carin felt a longing to know Jake better, to peel back the layers and find the man.
She remembered the kiss—two kisses, actually—that they’d shared last evening. Her lips still tingled from Jake’s touch, and though she knew it was best to keep her distance, she yearned for more.
“I love it out here,” Jake murmured as the traffic thinned and the Smoky Mountains soared majestically into an expanse of blue sky. “I never get tired of looking at the mountains, of seeing the burst of color that autumn brings.”
“It’s beautiful.” Carin inhaled the musty scent of leaves that changed color before her eyes. A cool breeze kissed her cheeks. “Do you smell the wild onions?”
“Yes…the last hint of summer before full-blown autumn kicks in.”
Jake rounded a curve and the road suddenly forked sharply. He swung the wheel to the right, and the Jeep scaled a winding gravel drive that ended abruptly in a grassy knoll.
“Walk with me?” He asked as he parked the Jeep. He grabbed a faded patchwork quilt from the backseat and gathered it into his arm as he hopped onto the grass and strode around the front of the Jeep to open her door. “I want to show you something.”
“OK.” Carin slid from the passenger seat, and Jake slipped his hand into hers. “I like it here. It’s…more than beautiful.”
“I think so, too.”
Together they made their way across the grass to where a massive oak tree stood sentinel. Its trunk spanned at least five feet in diameter, and the breadth of its branches formed a shady canopy over the knoll. The scent of its fallen leaves reminded Carin of the warm pumpkin-spice bread her mom always made for Thanksgiving, and she smiled at the memory.
“Oh, Jake. This tree is…” She struggled for a word that might do it justice, came up blank and had to settle for, “amazing…wonderful.” She stroked the rough bark and then hugged the tree, attempting to span the trunk with her arms until the futility made her laugh. “How old do you suppose it is?”
Jake pressed his hand to the back of hers and together they ran their fingers along the coarse trunk. “My guess is a couple hundred years, at least.”
“Wow.” Carin craned her neck to gaze through the branches into the cerulean sky. “That’s pretty old. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a tree this old.”
“I’d say it can tell a story or two,” Jake murmured, his breath warm against her cheek. Through the fabric of her cotton T-shirt, she felt the tautness of his chest muscles pressed to her back. “I call it my wisdom tree.”
“Your wisdom tree?” Carin turned to face him and the blue of his eyes, the strength of his stance, filled her with a sudden wave of longing. “W-why?”
“Come over here and sit with me, and you’ll see.” Jake left her long enough to spread the quilt along the base of the trunk, then coaxed her beside him with a pat of his hand against the carefully-stitched cotton squares. She settled in beside him, leaning her back against the trunk and stretching her legs over the quilt’s soft fabric. “Look out there.” Jake motioned with his hand.
Carin followed his gaze and her breath caught. The view of the valley below, backdropped by a crisp canvas of cloud-veiled mountains, was like a beautiful watercolor painting, expertly brush-stroked.
“Oh, my...” She couldn’t speak for the lump that crowded her throat. “It’s… breathtaking.” The sun formed a halo of light over the mountains, like a jeweled crown. And the mountains…they were a palette of maroon, earthy taupe and orange sherbet swirled together with the deepest blue-green. Carin felt as if she could reach out and touch their rounded tops.
“I know.” Jake sighed and took her hand. His gaze fell over the mountains, and she thought she saw a flicker of something…regret, maybe. Or perhaps he simply wished for simpler, less hectic times. It couldn’t be easy by any stretch of the imagination—the kinds of things he dealt with on a daily basis. Carin twined her fingers with his. “I come up here to sit when life gets all jumbled,” he continued. “It helps me to let go of the worry, and to remember how small I am and how great God’s power is.”
“So that’s why you gave it the name—”
“Yeah.” He nodded to emphasize. “My wisdom tree.”
“Oh, Jake, whose land is this?”
“It belonged to my grandparents and then my parents. And now it’s been passed down to me.”
“It’s so amazing.” Carin couldn’t draw her gaze away. “I could sit here all day, just taking in the view, the scents…the soothing brush of the breeze through the leaves.”
“God made all this.” Jake’s hand swept across the mountains. “Everything you see, He made just for us. How can anyone doubt His love…or His plan?”
Carin sighed, remembering the night of Cameron’s funeral, so soon after her mom’s…and the way Phillip had mocked her grief. Angry, overwhelmed by resentment, she’d turned her back on God.
“I…I’m embarrassed to say I’ve doubted, Jake.” She twisted a curl around her index finger. “Things have happened…things I’m not proud of.”
“You can trust me, Carin.”
You can trust me…the threatening echo of Phillip’s voice gave her chills. He’d taken her trust and shattered it. Could she really trust anyone—ever again?
Jake seemed to sense her unease. “If you can’t trust me—yet, then trust God. He brought you here for a reason. He knows what He’s doing.”
“Maybe, but—” Carin sat up suddenly and pointed across the valley below. “Look, Jake. Is that the senior center? I think I see the pond.”
“It is.” Jake nodded. “You have eagle eyes, Carin.”
“The water sparkles beneath the sunlight like a precious jewel.”
“It always seems to sparkle, even when clouds cover the sky.” Jake leaned in, brushed the pad of his thumb across her cheek. “Maybe it does have some healing powers…at least as far as it seems to calm Pastor Julian when he’s near it.”
“Lilly always seems more aware, less restless, when she’s near the water, too.”
“I have to admit, I find a bit of serenity there, too.” Jake leaned back against the trunk and sighed. “The pond…my wisdom tree…there’s not a care in the world when you look at things from here.”
“Why didn’t your grandparents or your parents build a house here?” Carin asked. “They must have loved it as much as you do.”
“I’m not sure. My dad always said that my grandparents bought it as an investment, and my grandfather used to pitch a chair up here and just get lost in the sights and smells. I don’t think he ever had any intention of building—he simply liked to look. And my parents planned to construct their dream house when my dad retired from his job as an architect. But they never got the chance.”
“And you? Do you think you’ll ever build here?”
Jake shrugged. “I had plans to, but things fell through.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure I want to talk about it.” He lifted a corner of the quilt, twisted it between his fingers. “But I know we shouldn’t keep secrets.”
The words tossed Carin off kilter. How long would it be right—fair—to keep her secrets to herself? “You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to.” Guilt filled her, because she said the words in part to keep herself off the hook. She wanted to know everything about Jake…yet she didn’t…because that would mean sharing things about herself as well. Was she ready to open that door?
“No, it’s just…” He hesitated. “I was…engaged. It didn’t work out.”
“Why?” One simple word—a landmine of answers.
“My schedule—and Corey—got in the way.” Jake released the quilt and tugged the ball cap low over his eyes. “The truth is it was more than tough enough being pastor of the church when I lived alone. Toss in a rambunctious kid, and you might as well ignite a case of dynamite. It has the same effect.”
“Such imagery.”
“Comes in handy, being a pastor—keeps the congregation listening.” He ran his hands through a sea of leaves that crunched beneath his fingers. “But I’m serious. My time is never really my own. It’s definitely not your typical nine-to-five job, and the money won’t keep a girl in Gucci.”
“Gucci?” Carin laughed at the thought. “Who cares about Gucci?”
“You?”
She shook her head. “Not in the least.”
“Hmm…anyway, Corey and Rachelle were like kerosene and matches. It wasn’t exactly the makings of a happily ever after.”
“So you had to choose?”
Jake nodded. “But by the end it was hardly difficult.”
“Maybe you should have brought Rachelle here to your wisdom tree more often, and she might have grown to know you better, and learned to love what you do, as well.”
“I…never brought her here.”
“No?” The admission startled Carin. “Why?”
“I’m not sure. I guess somewhere deep inside I just sensed it wasn’t the right thing to do, to share this with her.” Jake shook off the idea. “That sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”
“Depends on your definition of crazy, I guess.”
“It’s a special place to me, kind of sacred, something of my own, untouched by the daily lives of others. It was selfish, wasn’t it—to keep something so important from someone I was planning to share my life with?”
“There’s nothing selfish about you, Jake.” Carin wrapped a thread from the quilt around her finger, tugging to dispel the tension that gnawed her belly. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I’m sorry you were hurt.”
“I’m not hurt…not anymore. Dealing with the whole situation taught me something important—to cherish what really matters.”
“And what really matters is…?”
“My family…the church…my friends, and keeping Corey on the right path. He’s my responsibility, and I owe it to my parents to do things right. I want to be like them and like my grandparents. I want to build a legacy of the simplest kind that will stand strong long after I’m gone.”
“Hmmm…” Carin noted the determination in his gaze. It punched a hole right through the wall that eclipsed her heart. “That’s very wise.”
“Yeah…my wisdom tree.” Jake took her hand, drew her closer. “How about you, Carin? Have you ever been serious with anyone?”
A chill washed over her. Trusting Phillip…naïvely believing he was nothing but sincere in his feelings for her, had been the worst mistake of her life. Oh, how could she have been so foolish?
“That’s a story for another day. Maybe we should head back to the church. It’s getting late.” Carin wiggled from his touch and leaned against the tree trunk to balance as she found her footing.
“Nice move.” Jake watched as she brushed grass from the seat of her jeans. “Very smooth change of subject. But I’ll respect your desire not to share right now, OK?”
“Thanks. I don’t want to…spoil all this.” Carin swept a hand across the cloud-wisped expanse of sky.
“That bad, huh?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I could definitely get used to sharing time with you here at the wisdom tree.”
Carin’s breath hitched. She swallowed hard to force back the lump that filled her throat. “That’s the nicest, sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me, Jake.” She hid her tears as she helped him gather the quilt. “And, for the record, I could definitely get used to it, too.”
“How about we stop for some lunch on the way back?” Jake bundled the quilt in one arm and reached for her hand. “It’s way past noon, and we worked hard on the garden this morning.”
“OK.” Carin swiped her eyes and attempted a smile. “On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“I want to show you something—someone, I mean—who can use a bit of company and a nice, warm meal, too.”
****
“Lilly, we brought you lunch.” Carin set the bucket of fried chicken on the table beside bowls of mashed potatoes smothered in gravy and buttered green beans. Warm, fluffy biscuits, and sweet tea rounded out the meal. “It’s your favorite again.”
“We?” Lilly gazed up from the rocking chair with crisp, gray eyes and squinted. “Who’s that with you?”
“This is Jake Samuels. And he brought a friend from next door—Pastor Julian.”
“Pastor Jake, from East Ridge Church?” Lilly leaned forward in the chair and set her crochet hook on her lap. “Come closer. I can’t see you.”
Jake removed his ball cap, took a few steps, and knelt beside the chair. The scent of spearmint gave the room a fresh feel, and he suddenly understood why Pastor Julian, whose room was just next door, often insisted his wife was close by. The spearmint scent must travel down the hall. “Here I am. Is this better?”
“Oh, much better.” Lilly turned to Pastor Julian. “Now, it’s your turn.”
Jake eased Pastor Julian closer, and he and Lilly gaped at each other. “So, you’re the lady who grows spearmint?” Pastor Julian asked.
“Sure.” Lilly nodded. “You want a sprig?”
“Nothing finer. Sure, I’ll have one. You got any sweet tea to go with that?”
“Right here.” Carin poured a round of glasses from the jug she and Jake had brought. She handed one to Pastor Julian. “Here you go.”
“What are you making?” Jake touched the tightly-stitched loops of soft pink yarn nestled on Lilly’s lap and admired the handiwork. “It looks complicated.”
“Nothing in life is too complicated when you take it one step at a time,” Lilly assured him.
“It’s a baby cap,” Carin explained. “Lilly makes them for the preemies in the NICU at Children’s Hospital.”
“So, you’re the one…I’ve seen the babies wearing them when I’ve gone to visit. I always wondered where they came from.”
“Mystery solved.” Lilly squinted again and placed a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Do you think you and Carin can drop them by the hospital on your way home? The lady who usually picks them up is under the weather this week, so she didn’t come to get them this morning.”
“Of course,” Jake agreed. “We drive right by there. It’s no problem at all.”
“Thank you.”
Carin set the dinette table with paper plates and plastic forks. “Where are your eyeglasses, Lilly? You’ll need them to stitch the caps.”
“I don’t know. I thought I set them on the table with my Bible, but…”
“I’ll mount a search,” Jake offered, standing to make a round of the room. “They can’t have gone too far.”
“Check the trash can,” Pastor Julian instructed. “I’ve found my fair share of lost things in the trash can.”
“Come on over to the table while Jake hunts, Lilly.” Carin placed the skein of yarn in the knitting bag beside the rocker and helped her from the chair. “You can drink your tea there.”
Lilly tilted her head, pausing to gaze at Carin as she eased herself from the chair. “You know what I like to drink, Elise, just like your father always did. He had to go away on business again, but he’ll be home Friday.”
“Where did he go, Lilly?” Carin asked. Jake heard the catch in her voice and glanced over to see a shadow of sadness cross her eyes as she helped Lilly settle in at the table.
“To Nashville, of course. He always had to go to Nashville.” Lilly spooned potatoes into her mouth. “We should save a piece of chicken for him, and a scoop of potatoes. He’ll be home in a few days.”
Carin was slow to respond. But when she did, her tone was light and even.
“Of course we should. Maybe he’d like a biscuit, too?”
“Oh, yes. Biscuits are his favorite.”
Jake found a trash can beside Lilly’s desk. He lifted it, jostled the contents, and saw the wire-rimmed spectacles. “You were right, Pastor Julian. I found the glasses.” Jake reached into the trash can. “They must have gotten mixed up with breakfast.” A banana peel covered one wire arm, and Jake shook it from the metal. “I’ll clean them for you, Lilly.”
“See, I told you. Ava’s favorite hiding place.” Pastor Julian sipped his tea.
“Pastor Jake, right?” Lilly turned in her chair at the sound of his voice, and as quickly as she’d slipped away, she came back to them. But her gaze was a bit dazed, her voice hesitant. “Are you a friend of Carin’s?”
“Yes,” Jake said softly as he wiped the glasses with the hem of his T-shirt then handed them to Lilly. He settled in beside her near the table. “That’s right. Let’s eat now, OK? You don’t want the food to get cold.”
Lilly reached for a piece of chicken. “Did I tell you about the time Elise got into my makeup?”
“No.” The worried look on Carin’s face made it difficult for Jake to swallow the bite of biscuit he’d stuffed into his mouth. He chewed and washed the crumbs down with a sip of tea.
“Why don’t you tell us now?” Pastor Julian urged in his gravelly voice. “Get on with it.”
Lilly dug into the bowl of green beans. “She was six, I think, and school was out for the summer. Oh, I loved the summers! Elise and I had such wonderful times together playing in the sunshine. I taught her how to plant a garden and how to can squash and carrots.” She slipped a forkful of green beans into her mouth. “Anyway, Elise liked to go into my room and play dress- up with my clothes and jewelry, and especially with my shoes. Those days I wore all the high heels, because they were the latest fashion and I was young and foolish.” She drew a sigh. “She would put those heels on her little feet, dress herself up, and parade around the house like a movie star. I remember how the heels used to clack across the linoleum in the kitchen while I cooked dinner for Albert.”
Jake could almost picture it…a little girl dreaming of the adventures to come while her mom fussed over the stove. “What happened with the makeup, Lilly?”
