Daneen tapped on her desk. “I don’t know why you’re giving her a hard time. From what I can tell, there’s a month to build the sets and a month for rehearsals. It will be fine, Sharee.”
John leaned back in his chair and eyed them both. “If there are no problems.”
Sharee wasn’t going to let him fluster her. “I’m depending on God to bring it all together.”
“That and a whole lot of workers.”
She wanted to say that God would bring the workers, and hadn’t He already brought John? But she bit her lip. She’d promised that she’d work on her tongue—on not spouting off before she thought.
She sighed. “Can we discuss this in the field? I can explain it better there.”
John rose from his chair and pulled a leather jacket from the back of it. “Okay. I need to see what I agreed to. Alan already has me wondering if I’ve bitten off a plug too thick to chew.” He walked toward the door.
Sharee cleared her throat. “Uh. Do you want a legal pad or something? You know, to write on?”
“A legal pad?” He slipped his arms into his jacket and shifted his gaze to Pastor Alan.
The pastor grinned at him. Sharee frowned. What was so funny?
John ran a hand over his stubbly beard. “Sure. Why not? Daneen, you have a legal pad there?”
Daneen opened a desk drawer, drew one out, and handed it to him along with a pencil. John turned and held the door for Sharee. She ducked under his arm. This should prove interesting. John either worked by himself or at the head of a group. How would he do taking instructions from her?
They walked in silence for a minute, while she tried to balance her enthusiasm with the undercurrents in the office.
“So.” She hesitated a moment before forging on. “Do you feel like you pulled the short straw or what?”
He tilted his head toward her. “Must have.”
The glimmer of light in his eyes stopped her from saying anything else. He and Pastor Alan doubtless had a great discussion before she arrived. At her expense. Well, good. Let him be amused, as long as he didn’t hold that debate about Bruce against her.
They stopped just inside the field under one of the large pines. The wind swept cool fingers along the ground. Sharee shifted in that direction, enjoying the feel of it in her hair. After temperatures in the high eighties, the unexpected cool front that moved through last night was a blessing. She zipped her light jacket.
The legal pad under one arm, John slid his hands into his pockets. “Tell me what you have in mind.”
Sharee tamped down her eagerness. If she poured everything out, she might find herself working the project like a giant panda. Alone. “I’m wondering where to start.”
“Let me ask some questions then.”
“Okay.”
“Since it’s a Christmas program, you’ll want a barn and a manger, right?”
“Right, but I’ll need two barns and two mangers.”
He raised a brow but didn’t ask the obvious question. “Okay. We’ll talk about that later. Let me get a handle on a few things. What needs to be completed first?”
“The bleachers.”
He crossed his arms and raised both brows this time. “Bleachers?”
“Yes. We have to have someplace for people to sit.”
Quiet settled over them. She grinned. She couldn’t stop herself.
“Hmm. Wait here.” Strolling across the parking lot, he disappeared into the garden shed.
Sharee hugged herself against the chill. How could she tell him when she didn’t feel like she knew it all herself? She had a vision. Well, no one else would call it a vision, but what else could she call it? Something stirring inside her. Bits and pieces had shifted together when she talked with Pastor Alan, but the whole thing appeared more like a lake brushed with morning fog.
Don’t let me mess up, Lord. And don’t let it seem ridiculous to John. Help him see it, too.
John returned with two folding chairs. He handed her one and opened the other, sat, and put the legal pad in front of him.
“All right, let me ask another question.”
His questions, she realized later, helped her take a brush to the picture inside and, with sure strokes, erase the fog. He challenged her basic theory of dividing the field into seven stages. Why not five or six areas, he wanted to know. Or why not one?
She explained the vision of the drama, how it would play out in seven areas with live animals, a choir, and costumed actors.
His eyebrows came into play again. So, they’d need holding pens for the animals? She had to admit she hadn’t thought about that.
Back to the seven areas. He wasn’t going to let that pass easily.
She folded her hands in her lap and prayed for patience. “It’s a huge six-pointed star on the ground, highlighted by a spotlight. The actors will move from one area to another as they go through the Christmas story, and the spotlight will follow them.”
The pencil stopped moving. His head rose once more. “A star on the ground? Why?”
“I don’t know. That’s the way I see it. Each area will have its own backdrop or building, and the characters will slip from one scene to another in the dark. It will work well if the set-up is a star. Not five-pointed, but six-pointed. The middle of the star is the seventh area and will be the city of Bethlehem.”
“A whole city?” His voice remained low.
She wanted to laugh at his tone. “No. No. Really. I told you earlier. Not the whole city. A backdrop. You know?”
“Just so we’re on the same page.”
She glanced at the notes he’d written. “Good thing I suggested the legal pad. We’ve got the page right there.” His look did nothing to stop her grin. “I’m sorry. I’m excited about this. I think it’s going to be wonderful. At the end, I’m going to ask someone to talk about Jesus and give an invitation.”
“An invitation?”
“You know, for them to accept Christ.”
He nodded but said nothing.
She sobered and sat straighter. “You know, perhaps I wasn’t fair when I asked Pastor Alan if he thought you would help us.” His quiet watchfulness unsettled her. “I mean, you might not believe in what we’re doing. I had no right to ask you to give up your Saturdays between now and Christmas. I wasn’t thinking. I—”
“Sharee.” His voice stopped her. “I said I would do it. Don’t belabor it.”
She studied him for a minute. “Okay, but I…”
“You’re doing this for the neighborhood, for the community, Alan said.”
“Yes, I wouldn’t be asking you or the congregation to do this if it was just for us. We could have a nice little celebration inside, sing songs, have food. We’ve done that before, but I told Pastor Alan I want to send invites to the addresses within a couple of miles around. I’ll invite those who come to my work, too. We minister to a lot of people. I think Downtown Ministries would offer to bus them over.”
“Are you planning on using the youth?”
“I haven’t thought about it.”
“Think about it.” His eyes focused on the legal pad again. “So we start with the shepherds and angels, then the manger scene, move to the wise men coming, Herod’s court, the Inn, then the wise men bringing gifts—where you want another manger scene—and a final scene where everyone will sing and someone give their testimony and an invitation?”
“Wow. You condensed that.”
“Why don’t you just use the same manger scene for the wise men and their gifts?”
“I want it to look different. Many people think it was actually two years later. That Jesus was no longer a baby, but a child.” He said nothing, so she continued. “Anyway, I don’t want to do that, but I do want the scene to look different than the first.”
He nodded. “Give me a couple minutes.” He flipped the page and began sketching.
Sharee rose, moved next to him, and cocked her head to s
ee it better. “You do that well.”
A smile appeared and left. “Wait, and I’ll show it to you.”
His hands moved over the pad with a deft artistry, a line here and there brought the buildings, even some of the animals, into quick relief.
“But you know…” She leaned over and studied the sketch.
He raised his head. “Yes?”
Eyes as warm and dark as coffee searched hers. A touch of amusement showed in their depths. She’d noticed that already, but his look held no animosity, no hardness.
Something clicked inside her. He wasn’t giving her a hard time. The questions he asked had meaning and focus—finding out what she wanted and narrowing it down. His workmanship had excellence as an epitaph. Everyone in the congregation had commented on it. And if he was to do what she wanted, he had to know what that was.
She took a step back from the closeness of his eyes, trying to think what she’d just said to him. “I…uh…the star has six different scenes. The space in the middle is the seventh. The last scene.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgment. A breeze circled them. She stepped back further, rubbing her arms.
“Are you cold?”
“No, I’m fine.” Her concentration switched to his sketch. “Can we make the middle of the star…” She pointed to his drawing. “Can we make that bigger? That will be the backdrop for Bethlehem. It includes everyone in the program. Can we do that and keep the shape of the star?” The layout was in her mind, but was she getting it across to him?
She stuck out her hand for his sketch. His lips quirked, and he handed it to her. She took it and moved away from him, overlaying it with the diagram in her mind. The quick walk generated welcomed heat. In a minute, she returned.
“You know, if we take a fat triangle and put another fat triangle on top of it going the other direction...” She put her hands together, finger splayed and turned them opposite each other. “It will form the six-pointed star, and it will make a fat middle. Yours are too skinny.”
“You want fat triangles? We can do fat triangles.” He flipped to another page, drew one triangle, flipped the pad around and drew the other on top of the first and raised a brow for confirmation. Sharee bobbed her head. He labeled each section and stood.
Sharee jumped back to get out of his way and knocked her chair over. It clattered to the ground. His smile widened, and warmth filled her face. She bent to pick up the chair.
“Do you have any idea how big this star will be?” he asked.
“Well…”
“I didn’t think so. I’ll do some measuring tomorrow. Alan wasn’t far off, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“You want us to build a city.”
“I don’t think…I mean…I—”
“Don’t stumble all over yourself.” He studied the pad for a moment. “Let me digest this, do some measurements, and talk with a couple of the other men.”
“Okay.”
“You’re excited about it.”
“What?” She tilted her head back and met his look. “Yeah, I am. I feel that God has given me something to do. It is exciting.”
He nodded. “Look, when you come next time, wear something warm, will you?”
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. She just gawked at him.
He slipped both chairs under his arms. “I couldn’t decide if I needed to offer you my jacket or not.”
“Oh.” Offer his jacket? He’d opened the office door for her, too. Someone had raised him with manners.
He indicated the tablet under his arm. “You’ve given this some thought. And we honed in on a few things that needed attention. Makes my job easier. We’ll talk in a few days.” He headed across the parking lot.
She hugged herself and smiled as the wind swept past. Talking with John had been less difficult than expected. Perhaps he’d do the spotlight. The old one the church owned was heavy and would need someone strong. John had the type of wiry strength needed. He’d lifted and carried much heavier things when they had work parties out here.
She grinned again and scanned the field. Anticipation rose like a kindling fire.
~.~.~
John put the chairs down in the shed and glanced out the window. Sharee stood with her arms crossed, a smile lighting her face, her auburn hair shifting in the wind. Like a lion’s mane—only curly. He grinned at the thought and caught himself.
Hmm.
He’d smiled more this past hour than he had for…well, for a while. Of course, the pain inside his chest had eased over the last couple of months, the overwhelming emptiness giving way to an ache like a valve tapping. Its constant drumbeat kept him aware that something needed fixing. But no fix would change his life.
When he accepted Alan’s job offer two years ago, he’d wanted to get away from the questions, the reminders. And he wanted nothing else now—no reminders, no complications, no relationships. He rubbed his chin.
Not that Sharee would create a problem. Except for that first day when he’d found her sobbing by the pond, they’d stayed apart. He’d made sure of that, made sure she realized that first day was unusual. Not that he had to worry. She’d stayed as far away from him as possible, too.
He turned from the window. No, she wouldn’t be a problem. Too skittish for one thing, too serious about her faith for another. He’d agreed to help with the sets, and that’s what he’d do. Nothing else.
He reached for the door, stopped and rolled his shoulders. Something didn’t feel right, though. He looked out the window again, watched Sharee walk back to her SUV and frowned. He hadn’t played chess with God this long not to be aware of the moves.
~.~.~
On Wednesday evening, Sharee pulled into the church parking lot a few minutes before the service began. She climbed from her SUV and leaned back against the door. The sun-smeared sky glowed with color—pinks, melons, salmon. Deep gray clouds stretched across it, pulled like angel hair, their edges alive with fire.
Stunning, Lord. You do good work.
Her gaze dropped to the SUV, and she sighed. The problem with her Honda CR-V might prove to be something else altogether.
Moving to the front, she popped the hood and secured it with a prop rod. At her apartment, the car had sputtered and stopped—had done it twice, in fact—before it caught. What if she had trouble after church? Holding back her long curls with one hand, she reached to loosen a connection with the other. The terminals appeared all right, but maybe they needed cleaning with steel wool. She’d seen her dad do it. She would try that, and if that didn’t work, then the battery…
“Anything interesting under there?”
Sharee jumped and jerked her head around. “Oh! John. You startled me.”
He rested his hands next to hers on the car. “Are you having trouble?”
She stepped back and reached for the prop rod. “Not really. Just checking the connections.” Her voice trailed off as she took in his appearance.
He had on a dinner jacket, dress pants, and a white shirt, open at the collar. Since he’d started doing maintenance around the church, she’d never seen him in anything but jeans and t-shirts.
Something crunched behind him. Without moving, John asked, “Do you think the lady has a problem?”
“That’s what I came to see.” Pastor Alan appeared next to him.
“I’m fine.” Sharee pulled her gaze from John’s. “It just had trouble starting earlier, and I thought, well, maybe I needed to clean the terminals.”
“Could be.” Pastor Alan stepped next to her. “Why don’t you climb back in and crank her up?”
Sharee rolled her eyes. Did they think she couldn’t take care of this? She’d been on her own for eight years—since college graduation. She could take care of herself. Pushing past John, she climbed into the driver’s seat. And when she turned the key, the car acted like the proverbial cat and purred to life. Of course.
Through the
window, she caught John doing his best to keep a grin off his face. He’d seen her reaction. Great. She scowled at him and searched for something to say but could not get past his new look. The long-sleeved white shirt, dark olive pants and matching jacket highlighted his tan face and dark eyes. A now-smooth, not scruffy, chin completed the look.
“Well, don’t you look different.”
Pastor Alan poked his head around the hood. “It sounds all right to me, Sharee. Catch me if you have any trouble after the service. John, your ride’s here. Let me talk with her a moment.”
Sharee climbed from the car and watched a black Jaguar slide to a stop. An attractive woman close to her own age rolled down the driver’s window. Black lace covered the girl’s shoulders. A teardrop diamond necklace and long, straight hair accentuated her attractiveness.
Sharee’s hands went to her own unruly hair. She shoved the curls back from her face.
The driver leaned her head out the window. “Pastor Alan, so nice to see you.” Amusement edged the words. “I can’t get over how much you remind me of a kid I once knew. Of course, I’m sure that boy’s enjoying hard time these days.”
The pastor leaned over and said something that Sharee didn’t hear. The girl laughed. Sharee brought her gaze back to John.
“So, how many times have you cleaned battery terminals?” he asked.
“I…well…enough.”
“Which means never, I take it.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“This coming from a Christian woman who would never lie.”
“I’m not…” She frowned. “Well…” Sharee stumbled to a halt. She was lying.
“Just what I thought. Look, if you—”
“John.” The voice came from behind him. “My birthday won’t last forever. Are you coming? Or do I have to hijack the Man of God to take me to dinner?”
Pastor Alan leaned against the car door, his mouth forming a wide smile. John turned and strolled toward the passenger side of the Jaguar. He rested his hand on the top and looked across at Sharee.
“If you have trouble with the car, girl, swallow your pride and ask for help.” He dropped into the passenger seat, and the car pulled away.
Amber Alert: Christian Contemporary Romance with Suspense (Dangerous Series Book 1) Page 3
