“Working is a worthwhile endeavor,” Kavan said in polite response.
“That’s what I’ve been told,” Elizabeth said with an edge, handing Kavan his change and toothbrush.
Kavan reached for his purchase and dropped the loose change into a charity basket by the register. “If you have a day off soon, give me a call. Jeff has my number. We could go for pizza.”
Elizabeth struggled against the desire to say yes. She was leery of getting close to the man who made her wonder about romantic love for the first time since she was a giggly preteen.
“Have a nice night, Kavan.” The ranger turned and walked away. As she watched him leave, a distinguished-looking woman with silver hair and perfect makeup approached the service counter. The customer caught Elizabeth staring.
“He’s a handsome one, isn’t he?”
Startled, Elizabeth gasped, “Oh, hello, um, may I help you?”
“Kavan Donovan, right?” the woman asked.
Elizabeth stared at the older woman. “He’s a friend of my cousin’s.” Once more, she asked how she could serve the woman.
Instead of announcing what she needed, the woman persisted with the subject of Kavan. “Perhaps a friend of yours, too? A special friend?”
“No!” The word resounded around the service counter like a trumpet blast.
“Too bad,” the woman said, moving on to her Sinclair’s business.
Elizabeth succinctly finished the transaction, hoping for no more personal prying.
Joann passed by the service area as the woman left with her refund in hand. “Why is it that people are so intrigued with romance?” Elizabeth asked, tossing the woman’s returned items into a waiting cart with unusual force.
Her boss stopped. “What are you talking about? What people?”
“Never mind.” Elizabeth dismissed the question with a slight wave of her hand. “I’m just tired.”
“No, out with it.” Joann propped one elbow on the counter. “You got me curious now. Since I’m Queen of Romance—”
Joann’s moniker jolted a light laugh out of Elizabeth. She broke down and explained. “Some lady came to the counter as Kavan was leaving and—”
“Ah,” Joann interrupted. “This is about Kavan.”
“No, it’s about why the whole world thinks a young, single female must have a man.”
Joann chuckled. “The whole world?”
Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “You know what I mean.”
“Let me ask you a question,” Joann started, resting her hand lightly on Elizabeth’s arm. “Why are you so adamant against falling in love?”
“I’m not against falling in love. It’s fine for most people.”
“Just not for you,” Joann responded with a shake of her head. “You, my friend, are missing out on one of the best wonders of life. I can’t imagine life without David.”
Elizabeth didn’t know what to say. Since high school, she’d been so busy with academic achievement that love seemed more like a nuisance than a wonder.
When her friends lost all sense of themselves over a cute boy, she plowed ahead with school, making the grade and winning awards. While her friends crumbled with broken hearts, she soared.
During those days, Elizabeth determined never to become one of romance’s walking wounded, foiled by the illusions of lasting love.
“You’re one of the lucky ones, Joann.”
“No luck, Elizabeth. Love. David is a gift from God. And you better be watching, ’cause God just might grace you with the same amazing gift.”
Elizabeth sighed. “I’m going on break, Jo.”
“Good idea.”
❧
The golden day faded to twilight blue as Kavan drove down County Road toward home. A New Hampshire summer breeze passed through his open window, and he rested his tanned arm along the door of the truck.
He’d not made his routine stop by Sinclair’s to see Elizabeth, though he longed for an excuse to go by the super store. Yet, he needed nothing. His pantry shelves were starting to overflow with superfluous stuff he’d purchased on routine stops by the store to see her and say hello.
Careful, Kavan coached himself. She’ll get wise to you.
During the past week, he’d run into more Lamberts than he had in the past year. Each one thanked him for helping Jeff a few weeks ago by fetching Elizabeth.
Grandma Betty seemed especially pleased about his acquaintance with her granddaughter. He talked with her one afternoon when she brought several of the great-grandchildren to the state park.
She whispered in his ear, “If that granddaughter of mine would get her head out of the academia clouds for a moment, she’d see what a great catch you are, Kavan Donovan.”
Kavan appreciated Grandma Betty’s encouragement, but pushing Elizabeth would do the exact opposite of what he wanted. Already she resisted his attempts to get together outside of Sinclair’s main aisle. It frustrated him to think she might never surrender to his overtures, though he admired her decisiveness.
No, a clan of Lamberts wouldn’t bring Elizabeth into his arms. Only the hand of God could move her heart in his direction.
The blast of a gunshot pealed through the evening air. Kavan slammed on his brakes and stuck his head out the window. He quickly scanned the area.
What’s going on?
Another shot cut through the silence. Two white-tailed deer darted across the road followed by two young hunters.
The boys stopped in the road and fired a third time in the direction of the fleeing deer.
Poachers. “Stop!” Kavan jumped out of the truck, incensed.
The poachers swerved at the sound of his voice.
Kavan flashed his forestry badge. “Hunting season starts in November, boys. Put your guns down.” He started walking toward them.
The hunters appeared to be in their late teens. They stared at him for a moment, then raced away toward a dark cluster of trees.
“Drop your guns,” he hollered, chasing them into the growing shadows. He hurdled rocks and fallen limbs and waded through the thick green forest floor.
As he gained on the poachers, their rusty red pickup came into view.
“Let’s go. Let’s go,” one of the boys yelled, tumbling into the bed of the truck while the other fumbled with the driver’s side door. The engine roared to life.
“You’re in violation of New Hampshire hunting ordinances,” Kavan bellowed.
The truck accelerated, and the driver aimed it toward a dirt road. Kavan leapt toward the fleeing vehicle, counting on his authority as a ranger to intimidate the young men. “Stop!”
The driver jerked the wheel, grazing Kavan’s side with the right front fender. He twisted and turned, trying to maneuver out of the truck’s path. He tumbled headfirst down a steep ravine.
Bouncing head over heels toward the bottom, Kavan’s knee smacked the ground over and over. Finally, he slid to a stop. The walls of the narrow chasm claimed him like a fortress.
Every part of his body burned and ached. He struggled to stand, but a fiery pain shot through his knee and forced him down again.
“Lord, rescue me,” Kavan whispered and slumped to the forest floor. He hoped someone would drive by and see his truck, but few traveled along the side of County Road.
Falling back against the mossy growth covering the forest floor, he set his hand over his head and whispered prayers to Jesus.
❧
Elizabeth woke the next morning, weary. Feeling in a fog, she moved through her morning routine, grateful for her first Sunday off in a long time.
She hated to admit it, but perhaps she did need a break in her schedule. She’d gone straight from studying for finals to working day and night at Lambert’s Furniture and Sinclair’s.
“Good morning, Beth,” Grandma said, catching Elizabeth after she’d showered and dressed. The older woman peered around the door casing of Elizabeth’s room.
“Morning, Grandma.”
“You look tired,
Beth.”
“I’m fine, really.”
Grandma remained in the doorway. “You can’t keep up this pace.”
“I’ve endured worse.”
“Perhaps, but even in school you had breaks between terms. A night or two off during the week.” Grandma moved to the antique rocker by the bay window.
Elizabeth ran a comb though her wet curls. “I can’t remember that far back.”
“It’s only been a little over a month since you graduated,” Grandma chortled.
“Feels like years.”
“Well, this old woman here,” Grandma paused and tapped her chest with her finger for emphasis, “takes one day a week to literally rest. No cooking, cleaning, or running errands. You should consider doing the same.”
“That idea sounds foreign to me, Grandma. I’m used to being on the go, studying, or working on projects. Sitting around seems like a waste of time.”
“It’s good for the heart and the soul to slow down one day a week, rest, and ponder. I always hear the voice of the Lord so much clearer after a day of no activity.” Grandma got up, patted Elizabeth on the arm, and started to leave. She paused at the door. “Your grandpa and I would love for you to come to church with us this morning. Ponder it, and let me know.”
Ponder. What a choice word for Grandma to use.
Now that the demand of school was over, Elizabeth had time to ponder things she never had before. During nights at Sinclair’s, when the hustle and bustle died down and a hush fell over the store, she allowed her thoughts to dance with images of Kavan and her heart to awaken with love for Jesus. She reveled in childhood memories of Sunday school, comforted by the notion that the Lord loved her.
But ever since high school, her commitment to the Lord remained casual. Instead, she believed more in personal destiny and triumph over the idea of a personal, intimate God.
Elizabeth decided she thought of the handsome Ranger Donovan far too often. She spent most of her shift on Saturday wishing he’d stop by for a purchase and maybe hang around for awhile. But he never showed.
Grandma stepped into the room again. “Did you decide to join us?”
Elizabeth faced the pretty, plump Lambert matriarch and said, “I’d love to.”
“Good,” Grandma said with a quick clap of her hands. “Cereal and bread for toast is out on the kitchen counter. Help yourself.” She left to get ready.
Elizabeth dressed for church and went downstairs. She poured a small bowl of wheat cereal and sat at the polished cherry table her grandpa made just after the Second World War. Nervous twitters mixed with flashes of excitement about going to church for the first time in awhile.
She took a bite of cold cereal. Grandpa entered the kitchen through the back door.
“Where have you been?” Elizabeth asked, winking.
Grandpa looked at her seriously. “They found Kavan Donovan’s truck by the side of the road yesterday afternoon. No one had heard from him in almost twenty-four hours. The Division of Forests and Lands sent out a search-and-rescue team.”
Elizabeth dropped her spoon in the cereal bowl. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. “Did they find him?”
Grandpa nodded. “He climbed out of an eighty-foot ravine on his backside, pulling along a busted knee.”
“Is he all right?”
Grandpa reached for a coffee cup and poured. “A little cold and hungry, but he’ll live.” He sported a saucy grin as he sat down at the table.
“So, you were out helping to rescue him?” Elizabeth asked, spooning another bit of cereal, squirming under her grandpa’s stare.
“Me? No, I was taking my morning constitutional. I think it might rain today.”
Elizabeth sat back and stared at him. “Then why’d you make it sound as if he was still missing when you came in the door?”
“I just wanted to see the look on your face. They rescued Kavan last night.”
“Har, har. You’re a regular riot, Grandpa. A regular riot.”
“You looked pretty flustered.”
“Well, of course. You come in here somberly announcing that a man is missing.”
“Oh, I beg to differ. Not just any man. Kavan Donovan.”
Elizabeth rapped her knuckles lightly on the table. “You haven’t gone senile on me, have you, Grandpa? Why would Kavan Donovan be more important to me than anyone else?” she bantered.
“You tell me? Handsome forest ranger, single, loves the Lord. . . Has a nice home up off I-89. . .”
Elizabeth sighed. Gazing into her grandpa’s twinkling eyes, she shook her spoon under his nose. “I have two words for you, Grandpa: graduate school. Can you say ‘graduate school’?”
“Oh sure,” he said, shifting sideways in his chair and slinging one arm over the back. “Grad-u-ate school. But can you say ‘true love’? ‘Kavan’?”
“Honestly! What is with this town and romance? It’s like reliving junior high school.”
“What are you two going on about?” Grandma asked as she entered the large, airy kitchen.
“I hate to tell you, Grandma, but Grandpa has finally gone senile.”
Grandma laughed and played along. “Well, then, guess we’d better get going to church so the preaching can give your grandpa the sound mind of Christ. Matt, hurry and change.”
He pushed away from the table. “Two words, Bethy, two words: ‘Kavan Donovan.’ ”
Laughing, Elizabeth tossed a wadded-up paper napkin after the older man. “How do you put up with him, Grandma?”
“Love. More than sixty years’ worth.”
The word sank into Elizabeth’s soul like a pebble in the sand. Love. How could one simple, four-letter word pack so much power?
A verse from her Sunday school days flashed across her mind. For God so loved the world. . .
Elizabeth studied her grandparents for a moment, realizing how much a part of each other they’d become. The lines of their individuality blurred so that it had become hard to define where one stopped and the other began. The two had become one.
She shook her head, trying to loosen the hold her thoughts were taking on her soul. A love like her grandparents’, no matter how beautiful, was too much for her. She preferred the independent life of a single woman. It was heart safe.
On the drive to church, Grandma serenaded her with hymns. Grandpa sang along, his bass harmony supporting Grandma’s clear, wispy melody.
Inside the sanctuary, Grandpa led them to a pew already filled with Lambert children and grandchildren. Feeling a bit overwhelmed, Elizabeth opted to sit in the back alone.
As the pastor stood to call the congregation to worship, a warm masculine voice whispered over her shoulder. “Is this seat taken?”
Four
Kavan slipped in beside Elizabeth before she had a chance to respond. Stiff and sore, he slowly sat down and settled his crutches in the aisle alongside the pew.
“What are you doing here?” Elizabeth whispered. Her blue eyes focused on his bandaged knee as she scooted over an inch or two.
“It’s Sunday,” he whispered back. “Time to worship the Lord with the rest of the saints.”
“You’re hurt!”
Kavan slipped his arm along the back of the pew and leaned in toward Elizabeth. “Hurt, not dead.”
“How did you get here? You didn’t drive, did you?”
“Got a ride from a good Samaritan.”
The three children sitting in front of Kavan and Elizabeth stole a peek at them. Their mother motioned for them to face forward with a fast flick of her wrist, then gave Kavan and Elizabeth a stern, you-should-know-better glance.
Elizabeth hid a laugh behind her slender hand.
“Shh,” Kavan said softly into her ear, “you’re setting a bad example for the children.”
Elizabeth answered him with a dark blue–eyed wink. The urge to envelop the delicate woman in an embrace almost overwhelmed him.
Elizabeth Lambert, someday you’ll be mine. Before God and man. Someday.
<
br /> From the front of the sanctuary, the worship leader strummed the first chords of the opening song on his guitar. “Let’s stand and worship the Lord,” he said.
Awkwardly, Kavan tried to rise. His damaged knee throbbed with pain. To his surprise, Elizabeth slipped her hand into his and aided him to his feet.
“You don’t have to stand, you know. I think people will understand.”
Kavan leaned on the forward pew for support. “Feels good to stretch,” he said in a low voice. He kept a light grip on Elizabeth’s hand, loving the touch of her soft skin against his. He didn’t want her to feel obligated to hold on to him, so he relaxed his fingers a little more so she could let go anytime she wanted.
Yet, her hand remained in his, eyes fixed forward, her smooth contralto voice rising in worship.
Smiling, Kavan offered thanks to his Lord and King, his Friend. Last night in the ravine was a reminder of the Lord’s love and protection. His injuries could have been severe. Worse, the poachers might have returned, realizing he could identify them.
What an awesome God You are, he thought.
Elizabeth’s hand still clung to his even after worship and the offering, until Pastor Marlow stood at the pulpit, his Bible open. “Glad to see Kavan Donovan with us this morning,” he said first thing, motioning to the back where Kavan sat with Elizabeth. “For those of you who don’t know—”
Kavan listened as the pastor shared the details of his ordeal. With a sidelong gaze, he watched Elizabeth. A crimson hue spread across her pretty face. All eyes were on them. She moved her hand out of his and nestled it in her lap.
Across the way, Jeff Simmons smiled broadly and waved. I’ll never hear the end of this one. He hoped none of the Lamberts had seen him holding Elizabeth’s hand. He’d rather take a ribbing about being bested by a couple of poachers than have Elizabeth scared off by good-natured teasing.
“Today’s text is John, chapter three,” Pastor Marlow said after concluding Kavan’s story.
Lambert's Pride Page 3
