Hidden Blessings

by Kim Cash Tate

  “Growing consensus?” Lance gave him the eye. “You got jokes?”

  “It would be funny if my name were mentioned,” Darrin said. “I don’t know why you can’t see it. You’re made to be a pastor.”

  “That’s what I am. A youth pastor.”

  “You know what I mean,” Darrin said.

  “If I may address the question,” Pastor Lyles began.

  Lance waited. No way could he sneak out now.

  “You’re right, Darrin,” Pastor Lyles said, “our discussions about the church plant have been informal, but there’s been a lot of prayer and deeper discussion among the elders.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t mind sharing that I did approach Lance to get his thoughts on heading it up. He says he’s not ready, so we continue to pray. We want to have a lead pastor in mind before we take the next steps.”

  “Wow.” Patricia, head of women’s ministry, was looking directly at him.

  Lance returned her gaze. “I guess I don’t need to ask why you said that.”

  “Lance, I remember when you first came to Living Word,” Patricia said. “You were like a kid in a candy store, reading everything you could get your hands on, making sure you had a ride to church for every Bible study.” She spoke like a big sister. “I saw God’s hand on you, young man, and years later when the youth pastor position opened, there was no question who should fill it.” She gave him a look. “But what did you say?”

  Lance looked a little sheepish. “That I wasn’t ready.”

  “And what did I tell you?”

  “To stop looking at myself.”

  “And what am I about to tell you now?”

  Lance smiled. “But, as I shared with Pastor Lyles, Clayton wouldn’t be a fit for me anyway.”

  “Well, here’s what brought all this to mind,” Darrin said. “I’m sure you all heard about the frat guys beating down another student over a drug transaction.”

  Lance couldn’t believe it had gotten news coverage.

  Darrin continued, “That’s just the latest in a string of stories. A few months ago, a different fraternity got kicked off of Wash U’s campus for drug use. People tend to put Wash U on a pedestal, but it’s like any other college campus—students are lost and need Christ. I think it would be so cool to target the area that surrounds the campus.” Darrin nudged him again. “Man, you’d be perfect for that.”

  “Something’s wrong with you, Darrin.” Lance shook his head, chuckling. “I can read the headline now: ‘High School Dropout Leads Church Plant Targeting Some of the Best and Brightest College Students in the Country.’ Right.”

  “Wow,” Patricia said again.

  Lance looked at her. “What?”

  Patricia only shook her head.

  “Can we all commit to praying on this?” Pastor Lyles asked.

  “Yes” rang out in the room, with all eyes on Lance.

  He laughed. “Why do I feel like there’s some conspiracy here?” He raised a hand. “Can I be excused to go outside and play now?”

  Pastor Lyles had that fatherly twinkle in his eye. “I’ll walk with you after we pray to dismiss.”

  A few moments later Lance stood near the door, wondering if the pastor had more to say about the plant. But Darrin approached him first.

  “Hey, did Adrienne contact you?” Darrin asked.

  “About what?”

  “She said she needed some photos, and I gave her your number,” Darrin said. He grinned. “Can you believe that? Providence.”

  Darrin had been talking up Adrienne, saying Lance should get to know her. A newer member of Living Word, she shared an apartment with Darrin’s girlfriend.

  “If it’s Providence, it’s only because it’s meant to give me more business.” Lance touched his shoulder. “Stop playing Cupid.”

  “What? I’m just—”

  Pastor Lyles walked up, interrupting them. Lance walked with the pastor, shaking his head at Darrin.

  “How’s it going?” Pastor Lyles asked.

  “Sir?”

  “At the Woodses’ home. I understand you moved in.”

  “Yes, this past weekend,” Lance said. “It’s been . . . interesting. Please pray for Trey. His life is totally spinning out of control.”

  “I’m definitely praying for him,” the pastor said. “When it rains it pours with that family.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I got word today that Kendra canceled her wedding.”

  “Really, why?” Lance hadn’t heard Trey mention the wedding at all, but he’d seen the invitation on the refrigerator.

  “No reason given. Her maid of honor said it was due to unforeseen circumstances.”

  “Was Mr. Woods planning to return to the States for the wedding?”

  Pastor Lyles hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. “From what I understand, he wasn’t invited.”

  Lance got home past one in the morning, after holding open his booth until every kid got a turn, then breaking it down and packing it up. But that wasn’t what prolonged the night. Cleanup time among the volunteers had become battle time as popcorn began flying. The challenge: to pop someone directly on the nose. Having been accused of starting it—though Lance maintained it was Darrin—he stayed, industrial broom in hand, until the lot was kernel-free.

  Lance entered through the back door and walked to his room, impressed by the quiet. He hadn’t seen much of Trey this week and wondered what he might be up to. But he had to remind himself that he wasn’t here to keep tabs on him. Trey was a grown man. The only way Lance could help him was if he wanted the help.

  Lance dropped his camera bag and other backpack full of equipment in the room and headed upstairs. He’d eat some of the spaghetti he’d made last night and hit the bed. He had a photo shoot first thing in the morning.

  Lance walked into the kitchen and stopped short, startled to see Trey and Molly—at the table, eating his spaghetti. “Good evening,” he said.

  Trey nodded at him, sucking up a noodle. “What’s up?”

  “Hiya,” Molly said from under a black fedora hat, her fork twirling pasta.

  Lance spied the spaghetti container on the counter, empty. “Is it good?” he asked.

  “Real good.” Trey looked back at him. “Wait, you made this?”

  Molly looked at him. “Who else could’ve made it?”

  Lance was thinking the same.

  “My bad,” Trey said. “You were saving it?”

  “It’s cool.” Lance’s stomach growled. “Did you get some French bread?”

  Trey stood, looking. “There’s French bread too?”

  Lance got it from the bread basket and turned on the broiler. “I can toast it a little, with butter, if you want.”

  Trey eyed him, as if trying to figure out the catch. “Cool. Thanks.”

  Lance brought it to them minutes later. Spaghetti gone, they now tore into the toasted bread. He joined them at the table, taking a piece himself.

  “So what’d you two do tonight?” Lance asked.

  “Why?” Trey licked his fingers. “So you can report to my dad, and he can kick me out sooner rather than later?”

  “Just making conversation.”

  “Okay then,” Trey said, “what did we do tonight? Let’s see . . .” He let his head rest on the back of the chair, staring upward. “Partied with friends. Drank. Got high. No arrests. And no sex, yet.” He looked at Molly. “That about sums it up, right?”

  “You can be such a jerk sometimes,” she said.

  Trey popped a piece of bread into his mouth. “You’re always crabby when you’re coming down from a high. I love you anyway, though.” He deftly snatched her hat from her head.

  “Stop playing.” Molly stood, reaching to get it back, her little dress hiked high.

  Lance diverted his eyes.

  She got it, hitting Trey over the head with it before putting it back on.

  Still amused, Trey looked at Lance. “So, what’d you do this evening, Pastor?”
/>
  Lance went with the question, though Trey’s tone was insincere. “We had the VBS carnival at church.”

  Trey toyed with his bread. “So you worked the photo booth?”

  “You know it.” Lance pulled out his phone, scrolled to a picture, and handed it to him. “Check out the backdrop I made this year.”

  “Oh, that’s dope,” Trey said, and seemed to mean it.

  “Let me see,” Molly said.

  Trey passed her the phone and got up seconds later, leaving the kitchen.

  Molly scrolled through pictures he’d taken of the kids. “Whenever I saw a photo booth as a girl, I wanted to stop and take a picture. But we barely had money for essentials, so anything ‘extra’ was out of the question.”

  Lance was tuned in. He’d wondered what her story was.

  “Same with school pictures,” she was saying. “Not in the budget. And then my dad would say . . .” She hesitated. “He’d say, ‘You don’t need to be in front of the camera anyway. It’s not like you’re pretty.’ ”

  Trey breezed back into the kitchen. “I can’t believe I found these.” He held them up. “Carnival photo-booth pictures I took when I volunteered to help in high school.”

  “You saved them?” Lance said. “Let’s see.” Lance couldn’t remember taking the photos, but he remembered this Trey, fun and playful.

  Molly came to see. “I see you were into hats yourself.”

  Trey laughed. “The kids picked that Dr. Seuss hat out of the prop basket and dressed me.”

  “Aww, you looked so cute,” Molly said, pinching his cheek.

  “I’m not cute now?”

  She folded her arms, studying him. “I guess you still got it.”

  He put an arm around her. “Good. We can look cute together at my sister’s wedding.”

  “I didn’t say I was going.” Molly rolled her eyes. “I’m tired of trying to fit in where I’m not wanted.”

  “Whatever. My sister’s tripping, telling me I can’t bring a guest.”

  “Um,” Lance said, “you haven’t heard the wedding’s canceled?”

  “Kendra’s wedding?” Trey said. “How do you know?”

  “Pastor Lyles told me today. Said the maid of honor called.”

  Trey took out his phone. “I got a call from a number I didn’t recognize and let it go to voice mail.” He listened. “This is the message. But why am I not getting the news directly from my sister?”

  “Why was it canceled?” Molly asked.

  “Didn’t say,” Trey said. “Derek probably made her mad, and she cut him off.” He put his phone in his pocket. “One thing I know. Kendra’s gonna do Kendra. Always has, always will.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  FOR TWO DAYS KENDRA LAY ACROSS THE WIDTH OF HER BED, head angled near the side with a bucket below to catch the vomit, in case she couldn’t make it to the bathroom. Or didn’t care to. But the vomit never came—just dry, horrible heaves that stalked her while awake.

  So she slept. And when she was tired of sleeping, she made herself sleep some more, to dodge the nightmares that haunted her every waking moment. Nightmares like having to notify every single guest that you’ve canceled your wedding.

  “Let me contact everybody for you,” Charlene offered after the first day. She had called umpteen times and finally came banging on the door. What a joke that Derek had broken the news—only part of the news—and asked her to check on Kendra. “What should I say, just that the wedding is canceled?”

  “Tell them life is canceled.”

  “Oh, there’ll be life without Derek,” Charlene said. “He did you a favor, showed you what he was really about.”

  Ready to heave, Kendra had only half listened. Charlene didn’t know her diagnosis, and Kendra wasn’t ready to tell her.

  “What about the Textile Museum—you contacted them, right?” Charlene was saying. “And the photographer, videographer, florist . . . ?”

  “Ugh. No.” The fog of her new existence . . . doing nothing that needed to be done and not caring.

  “I’m sure you’ve got all the information detailed in some computer file. I’ll make those calls too.”

  Kendra thanked her and slipped back into the arms of slumber, unaware that another night had passed until she heard incessant banging at the door again.

  Deep down she hoped it was Derek. Maybe he’d been calling. He’d realized his love—their love—outweighed anything that might come against them. They’d endure together. And they didn’t need a big wedding anyway. They could get married today, a week earlier. The man full of romantic surprises had probably called and arranged it with Judge Cardwell.

  It was the fog talking.

  Instead of finding Derek at the door, Kendra found her litigation supervisor, Grace. For an hour she wept in Grace’s arms on the sofa, unloading everything from the past two weeks. And Grace listened, weeping with her at the news of the diagnosis, sharing the hurt of the breakup, even rolling her eyes at the realization that Derek had gone to work the next day as if nothing had happened. When Grace couldn’t reach Kendra for two days, she had gone to him, and he’d told her the same thing he’d said to Charlene . . . “You should go check on her.”

  Grace looked Kendra in the eye. “I hope I can speak plainly to you, not as a boss or colleague, but as your friend.”

  Kendra nodded.

  “You’ve grieved the relationship for three days,” Grace said. “I’m not saying it will be easy, but it’s time to put Derek and the wedding behind you and focus on your health.”

  Kendra looked down. “I know.”

  Grace continued, “And this is even tougher for me to say . . .”

  Kendra focused on her.

  “I think you need to go home,” Grace said.

  “What do you mean, go home?”

  “A new environment would do you well right now,” Grace said. “You said you need a new oncologist. Dr. Contee would be the perfect choice. You could receive your chemo treatments in St. Louis.”

  Kendra struggled to understand. “Why would I do that? I’ve got responsibilities on some pretty big cases, with deadlines approaching. Many people work through their chemo treatments.”

  “If they’re able,” Grace said. “Josh tried it for a while . . .”

  Kendra remembered. Early in her time with the firm, an attorney named Josh had been diagnosed with lung cancer and eventually succumbed to it.

  “I’m not concerned about your caseload, Kendra.” Grace was earnest. “We were making accommodations anyway for your time away for the wedding and honeymoon, and we can extend that. I’m concerned about you.” She looked at her dead-on. “You’ve had not one, but two major life shifts. Give yourself time. You have so much to think through and process.” She paused. “And would you really want to be coming to work every day, where you could run into Derek at any time?”

  Kendra hated him even more at that moment. Fleming & Stein was her firm. She’d been there eight years, even longer if she counted her time as a law student. He’d been there less than two. Now she had to avoid the place—and the people and the work she loved—because of him?

  But Grace was right. She didn’t want to see Derek. Ever.

  “Kendra, honestly,” Grace continued, “this is a time to be with family.”

  Whatever family she had left. Kendra sighed. She hadn’t considered going home, but maybe that was what she needed. Maybe Trey could even help get her to chemo appointments, since she didn’t think he was working or taking classes this summer. Then she could re-evaluate things toward the end of the summer.

  The more she thought about it, especially the prospect of getting away from Derek and the entire wedding fiasco, the more she liked it.

  The taxi pulled up to the Woodses’ home late Sunday night. Kendra paid the driver and stood with her bags on the sidewalk, remembering the last time she was home, for her mother’s funeral. She hadn’t lived here since she left for college fourteen years ago. And with all that had transpir
ed in the last year, the soul of the place seemed to be gone. In another year her brother would graduate college and head who-knows-where for grad school or a job. She wondered if her father would sell the house then. What would it be like when there really wasn’t a place to call home?

  Kendra grabbed her luggage as a car came down the street and parked a few houses down. As she glanced around she noticed lots of cars in the immediate area. Somebody must be having a get-together.

  She headed up the walkway as footsteps and voices came nearer, then joined her on the walkway. Two girls and three guys moved past her, up the front porch and into the house.

  Kendra stopped, frowning. What is this about? As she approached the door she felt the throbbing beat of a bass. And when she opened it, she couldn’t believe the scene.

  Music pulsating. Bodies gyrating—in the hallway in front of her, on the stairs, in the dining room to the right, all over the living room to her left. In almost every hand was a beer bottle or plastic cup.

  A party—a wild party—in the Woodses’ home? Only once, near the end of senior year, did she dream of it, when her parents had planned a short overnight trip and left her in charge. But she was too afraid of neighbors telling, or more likely, her Goody Two-shoes little brother. She couldn’t get away with anything around Trey.

  Now it dawned on her that he must be the one hosting this. Leaving her bags near the door, she began scanning faces for Trey. She moved through the living room, thinking she must be getting old because she was almost embarrassed by the way the young women were dancing with the young men. More people were in the sunroom off of the living room, and when she opened the French doors, she couldn’t believe she smelled smoke, marijuana smoke.

  She doubled back, making her way to the kitchen. Standing over a big pot on the counter, stirring some sort of red punch, was her brother.

  “Trey, what is going on?”

  Trey turned. “Hey, what’s up, sis?” He dropped the wooden spoon in the pot and hugged her tight. “I didn’t know you were coming, but you’re right on time for the party.”