“Just for tonight.”
“Yes. Just for tonight.” Aunt Ella pulled back the comforter.
Brinley helped her get into bed, grime and all.
“Good night, Aunt Ella.” Brinley closed the door gently. It clicked. She rolled her suitcase to Dillon’s bedroom, but it was locked. She rolled it the other way and heard Dad snore. She rolled her suitcase back to the elevator and went upstairs. In the library, she shed her evening gown, changed into her flannel pajamas, and discovered that the library had no bathrooms or half bath or anything. She had to go down three floors to brush her teeth in the half bath near the family room, wash off her makeup, and get ready for bed.
Bed? What bed?
Back in the library, Brinley sat down on what seemed to be an antique—Mom detested reproductions—Grecian couch. If Brinley were to hasten a guess, she’d say it was pre-Civil War. Reupholstered, the couch was quite comfortable, and Brinley fell asleep wondering whether she was ever going to get up in four or five hours to beat Toby to the renovation site.
Chapter Eleven
Nothing matched on the long twin bed, not the pillowcase or bed sheets or the old thrift-shop blanket that Ivan had used since he was in high school. It kept him warm through cold winter nights when they turned down the heat to save money. With a roof over his head—not leaking now that it hadn’t rained in the last few weeks—there was no reason for Ivan to complain.
He sat down on the edge of his bed and swiped his iPad to get to his Bible app. At six o’clock the next morning, it would be his turn to teach in the Seaside Chapel Men’s Bible Study Group. He should have swapped teaching time with someone else, but it was too late by the time he realized it was the morning after the Thursday night SISO gig. He should learn to be more organized with his schedule.
Still, he was working off some talking points he’d discussed with Grandma Yun, so it wasn’t like he had to come up with a completely new exposition of the two verses in Proverbs. Besides, Pastor Gonzalez at church had preached on that verse when he challenged everyone to memorize it for the entire year.
This is a recap. Piece of cake.
He found the highlighted Proverbs 3:5-6 verse in the bookmarked page in his Bible ebook. There it was.
Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
Ivan wondered if he had trusted God lately. Didn’t trusting God bring peace? Then why had he been feeling a lot of stress lately, especially in his financial shambles?
Everything he had done these years was to pay off the family debt and provide a decent life for Grandma Yun. He wondered if that singular focus—his own understanding of what he needed to do—was in line with God’s will for his life.
If it were, then why did he feel as if the bottom of this box he was trying to hold together would disintegrate and everything fall out? Any day now they could miss a payment and Grandma’s house would go into foreclosure. He’d have to sell Grandpa’s 1945 Chevrolet truck. His part-time SISO job only paid him whenever he attended rehearsal or a performance, nothing more. No healthcare. No 401(k). No retirement.
How was he qualified to teach other men about trusting God when his own life was falling apart?
As Ivan stretched his arm to put the iPad back on the side table, he heard a ripping sound. The underarm seam on his undershirt came apart. Well, considering there were other holes and rips in this old shirt, the new tear didn’t make any difference. In a few months the shirt would be a rag, anyway.
He shut off the light. He lay down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. Through the rectangular windows, the grayish moon spilled some light into the room, creating geometric shadows in the room that still looked the same since his senior year in high school some twelve years ago now.
It had been an amazing ride, but it probably would never happen again. That four-year scholarship to Juilliard School had been a godsend. He’d made the best of it, even performing at Lincoln Center for Itzhak Perlman. That single encounter, a divine intervention, no less, had opened doors he hadn’t seen before.
After graduating from Juilliard, he had started Jade Strings with his pianist sister, Willow. Their crossover ensemble with orchestral accompaniment had toured the world for two years. Three CDs later, he had realized that he hadn’t taken full advantage of his classical training during the time Jade Strings had been on the road touting its showmanship to standing-room only audiences.
Then Grandpa Otto had passed away, leaving him and Quincy to care for Grandma Yun.
Ivan had scrambled home only to fall out with the other Jade Strings members, particularly his sister, Willow, who still hated him to this day for disbanding the group. Ironically, the timing of Grandpa Otto’s death had coincided with Ivan’s feelings of being worn out after two years of non-stop traveling across twenty-four time zones. He had welcomed the time off to help Grandma Yun through her grief.
Well, then she had gone and broken a hip getting down the front porch steps.
Six years later, Ivan was still here on St. Simon’s Island.
Stuck.
Life had changed. Someday he’d go back to being a concert violinist. For now, being the concertmaster in SISO and teaching violin seemed to be where God wanted him to be. It was certainly not his first career choices, but Grandma’s well-being was paramount. Taking care of Grandma was what Grandpa Otto would have expected him to do.
In a way, it seemed like Ivan had never left town, and that his world tour had been nothing but a dream.
Above his bed, the dark painted beams across the ceiling made the attic room look taller and more imposing. He remembered helping Grandpa paint this room.
He and Quincy were horrible painters but they had been good company for Grandpa, the consummate do-it-yourself type. The entire house had been in perpetual renovation year after year as Grandpa had always found something to fix or update with money he didn’t have, bankrolled on jobs he couldn’t keep.
If Grandma Yun’s music studio hadn’t been as successful as it was, they would never have been able to afford to keep this house.
All in all, it had been twelve years since high school and he was still nowhere near his dream job. Pushing thirty, he felt like he had never really left home.
So much for wanting to be a concert violinist.
With Quincy uninterested in keeping the McMillan Music Studio going, it was up to Ivan to take over the violin and piano lessons six days a week and juggle his hourly position as first violin in the Sea Islands Symphony Orchestra. He’d fought for that position and was good enough to get it, but his longevity there was tenuous and depended on his ability to play the violin well.
Two full-time jobs and yet they still couldn’t pay off the mortgages that Grandpa Otto had taken out to fund various harebrained “investment” projects, that was, after he’d raided their retirement funds. Grandpa had been a wonderful man but he had no head for finances.
Not that I’m doing any better.
Nevertheless, Grandpa had left him that old 1945 Chevy truck.
Ivan wondered how much it would fetch at auction if he were to sell it. It had the original frame with a rebuilt engine. Never mind. He would never find out. Grandpa wouldn’t have wanted him to sell the truck as much as Grandma wouldn’t want to part with her old Victorian piano.
“Lord…” Ivan began to pray, but no further words came out of his mouth. No words.
He closed his eyes.
Can’t sleep.
Maybe it was too much coffee from the after-party. Maybe it was adrenaline. It had been quite a night.
He opened his eyes.
Moving clouds outside obscured the moonlight. The darkening night didn’t help him feel sleepy. At all. Maybe if he thought of some pleasant memories, prayers would come and sleep would follow.
Pleasant memories?
Of what? Of debt and drudgery? Of pain and pressure? Of life and labor?
And love.
Ivan thought of Brinley Bro
oks and their near-kiss.
She had seemed receptive to his desire, but he hadn’t gone through with it because it had dawned on him, standing there alone with her on the terrace, that he didn’t know Brinley Brooks at all, and it wasn’t in his nature to kiss strangers.
She might not be a Christian. Ivan didn’t know where she was coming from or where she was going. It was as if they had just run into each other at the bus stop waiting for buses going on different routes.
And he didn’t want to jeopardize his hard-earned new job as concertmaster at SISO.
Nope. Can’t pursue anybody now. Look what happened with Emmeline.
Well, dating that harpist had been a mistake, however brief it had been. Ivan vowed never to date a fellow orchestra member again.
He tried to sleep.
He still couldn’t.
All he saw when he closed his eyes was Brinley’s face.
Was it possible for a pretty lady like Brinley to go out with a man in such a sorry state as he? Maybe just for lunch? Or coffee since he might not be able to afford the lunch she was accustomed to.
Just once? It would make his day.
They had something in common, though.
Our song.
Ivan wondered if there was something more between them than Bach. What was the probability of—
Ivan cringed and covered his face with both palms. “I can’t believe I tried to kiss her.”
I have to apologize to Brinley Brooks.
“Lord, please forgive me for my indiscretion.” Once Ivan began praying, the rest of his prayers tumbled out, prayers for Grandma and prayers for Brinley, and he fell asleep with songs of praise to God on his lips.
Chapter Twelve
The air was nippy as Ivan McMillan pedaled his bike to the Seaside Chapel Men’s Bible Study at Argo Perry’s independent bookstore by the pier surrounded by numerous cafés. He had sometime taken his dates to those cafés. The cafés were still there, but Ivan’s relationships had been short-lived.
He couldn’t date anyone long-term at this time. He had Grandma Yun’s mortgages to pay off, an old house to save from foreclosure, massive medical bills to settle, and a music studio to maintain. Earning money was all he could think of right now.
It had been a mistake to go out with Emmeline the summer before. The harpist had just arrived on St. Simon’s Island and had no friends. Ivan decided not to repeat the same mistake again with newcomers.
Brinley Brooks is not a newcomer to the islands.
Brinley? How did she enter his mind?
Ivan hit the brakes. He chained his old bicycle outside the bookstore. The word Scrolls was etched on the old door under the Closed sign. During warmer months, the Men’s Bible Study Group often met at the Seaside Chapel beach pavilion every Friday morning at six o’clock if no wedding was being conducted in the vicinity that day. In the winter, they met in any available heated room that generous church members could offer them to use for free.
When Argo Perry, one of the deacons at Seaside Chapel, had found out about the need, he said they could meet at the café nook inside his bookstore from six to seven every Friday morning.
Once inside the bookstore, Ivan made a beeline for the coffeemaker. Sitting at the counter and chatting with Argo Perry’s daughter, Talia, was his friend Sebastian Langston, restaurateur and caterer. Sebastian always made it a point to show up at the Bible Study especially now that it was held in his future father-in-law’s bookstore.
Sebastian and Talia had been dating on and off, and had been engaged on and off. Ivan wasn’t sure if it was Talia’s indecisiveness or Sebastian’s assertiveness that had caused the two of them to go nowhere. Perhaps it was God’s intervention to prevent a disastrous relationship.
“Coffee!” Ivan embraced the cup as the door chimes went off a couple of times. Matt Garnett, whose antique store was a few blocks away, filed in, followed by a couple of other guys who weren’t regulars, Gunther and another guy whose name escaped Ivan. He was glad to see them attend more frequently now.
“Several guys are out of town so attendance is going to be a bit thin this morning,” he said.
The door chimed again. A couple more guys trudged in.
“Coffee, bagels, whatnots are on the counter here,” Sebastian said from his perch. “If you need anything else, speak up now before Talia leaves.”
No one needed anything else.
Ivan watched Talia give Sebastian a peck on the cheek. Sebastian grabbed her and kissed her soundly before letting her go.
“Let’s not forget we’re in a Bible Study here.” And Ivan wasn’t joking.
“Shut up, Ivan,” Sebastian said. “You don’t know what it means to be in love.”
The hoots and howls were too much to bear. Ivan tried to take the high road and not respond, but Sebastian’s words grated him. He counted to ten and then some and then prayed for the right response. He loved his brothers in Christ.
“I’m glad you brought that up, Seb. It’s exactly what we’re talking about this morning.” Ivan swiped his iPad. “Turn with me to Proverbs 3:5-6 as we focus on how to trust God no matter what people say or do to you and no matter how difficult life is day by day.”
There was near silence in the café save for the flipping of pages in Bibles or stray notification sounds from iPads and Galaxy tablets.
“Let’s open with prayer before we check out these verses.” Ivan looked at each face. “Matt, would you pray for us?”
Matt Garnett. Such a good friend to him when Ivan had struggled both emotionally and spiritually. He was getting out of the funk now and things were looking up. Although not the life he had planned for himself, he felt that what he was doing, where he was on St. Simon’s Island, was where God had wanted him to be at this time of his life.
For such a time as this, God had chosen to deny his request to tour the world as a concert violinist.
And yet…
Taking care of Grandma Yun after Grandpa Otto died should be more fulfilling for Ivan though he didn’t feel it. Not yet. Some days he felt that he was just going through the motions of family obligations. And there was no one to talk to about it except his best friend from high school, Matt. He couldn’t broach the subject with Grandma Yun because it was about her.
“Let’s pray.” Matt closed his eyes and everyone else followed. “Father God, thank You for another day. Help us to listen to Your Word and learn from You. In Jesus’ Name I pray. Amen.”
Ivan straightened up as he read Proverbs 3:5-6. “‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.’”
Ivan checked off his outline. “Thing is, I’m still learning about this. You know my grandma reads the Bible all the time and this is her favorite verse. I wrote down what she highlighted in a devotional entry about this verse. Let me read it to you. ‘Unless I trust God with all my heart, I would fall back to trusting my own finite vision. If I fall back on human understanding, I would be too proud to acknowledge the Hand of God and His Lordship over my life. As a result, I wouldn’t have God’s perfect navigational skills applied to my life’s paths.’ Anyone has examples you’d like to share?”
“I’m trusting God for Talia,” Sebastian Langston said. “Pray for me that she’ll come around and marry me. This on-again, off-again thing is wearing me down. I want a long honeymoon and at least six or seven kids.”
Ivan gagged, and started to cough and choke as the coffee went down the wrong way. Sebastian scooted over and slapped him hard on his back. Ivan elbowed him away.
“Do you see the progression?” Ivan said after he cleared his throat.
No one said anything.
“There are four steps to Proverbs 3:5-6. Let me paraphrase the verse.” Ivan scrolled down the screen on his iPad and read aloud. “Firstly, I trust in God with all my heart. Secondly, I don’t depend on my own understanding. Thirdly, I acknowledge God at all times. Fourthly, He will dir
ect my steps.”
“So it begins with trusting God and ends with His direction for our lives,” Matt said.
“Exactly. It’s not the other way around. We aren’t going to get directions from God if we don’t trust Him. We trust Him first and then He’ll show us what His perfect will is, and we’ll know where to go and what to do.”
“What if we already know what to do?” Sebastian asked.
“I would want to be sure that what I want to do lines up with God’s best for my life.” Ivan paused at his own words. Wow. I need to hear that myself. “Okay, guys. Excellent discussion. Any praises and prayer requests?”
“I have another one.” Sebastian raised his hand. “Most of you know that my sister, Skye, is a personal chef. One of her clients moved away, so she needs a new client.”
“Pray for Skye.” Ivan tapped his iPad.
“Business is going well at my antique store,” Matt said. “Things could be better at my thrift shop next door. Not sure if it’s too late to pray that I had made the right move buying the thrift shop. If not, I need to get this straightened out so I can have God’s will for my life.”
Everyone made notes.
Ivan had a prayer request too, but he wasn’t sure how to say it. I’m interested in a nonbeliever, so help me God?
“My grandma is witnessing to my brother’s sister-in-law,” he said instead. “Please pray for her to be saved. Her name is Brinley Brooks.”
“Oh, super rich heiress,” Gunther said. “Twenty six years old. Trust fund material. Very eligible.”
Ivan ignored him. “And I need more students for my music studio and more gigs for SISO. No work, no pay.”
“I know what you mean,” Sebastian said. “Same here with Saffron on Jekyll and Sage Cafe down at the Village. I need more customers. No cooking, no pay.”
Ivan’s iPad said that it was already 6:40 a.m. “Let’s be thinking about Proverbs 3:5-6 and ask God to show us points of application this week. You know what’s going to happen if we do that?”
“We’re gonna be tested,” one of the other men replied.
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