Share with Me: Seaside Chapel Book 1

by Thompson, Jan

  Ivan didn’t reply. Everywhere I go that verse pops up!

  They filed into Matt’s dented and scratched cargo van. He had furniture in the back, but Ivan knew he couldn’t help him unload those with his bad wrist.

  His bad wrist.

  I’ve got to stop focusing on my bad wrist.

  Ivan fastened his safety belt and noticed a three-by-five card duct-taped to the door of the glove compartment. It was Proverbs 16:3.

  “‘Commit thy works unto the Lord, and thy thoughts shall be established,’” Matt recited for him. “Read it and think about it.”

  Ivan caught two words: works and thoughts.

  And began to get it.

  If he committed his works to God, then God would help line up his thoughts so he could accomplish those works, those plans, those goals.

  All right. Something for him to think about.

  But first, he had to get a job that matched his skills. Working in Matt’s shop was only temporary.

  Oh. There it is again: work.

  Silently, Ivan prayed in his heart and surrendered his career to God.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  “Good to see you back!” Pastor Tom Gonzalez pumped Ivan’s hand vigorously. His handshake was firm and purposeful.

  Ivan had no idea how Pastor Gonzalez had found him after church. He must’ve seen him enter the sanctuary with Matt Garnett at the start of the service. The Seaside Chapel pastor missed nothing. At all.

  Once again, his sermon was apropos. Ivan hoped Brinley was paying attention, if she were at church today.

  Why does everything make me think of her?

  After church, Ivan found a dark and obscure flower pot corner of the lobby to stand and wait for Matt Garnett to finish chatting with the ladies. He, on the other hand, had no intention of talking to anyone, no plans to explain why he was back in town though he doubted if anyone cared, and hoped nobody came to talk to him, especially Brinley. Well, she might have left through another door because he hadn’t seen her at all.

  And yet.

  Yet here, in a dark corner of the old church, his pastor had found him.

  “How’s the wrist?” Pastor Gonzalez asked. The fifty-something man towered over Ivan’s six feet. An imposing figure at the pulpit.

  “It’s healing, Pastor. Not a hundred percent, but getting there.”

  “Fractures take time to heal. I remember when my son fell off his bike and broke both wrists. We had to baby him. It was more painful for his mother than it was for him.”

  Ivan chuckled. “It’s no fun being down.”

  “Certainly. How long has it been for you? A few months?”

  “Yes. Two more months to go and I should be able to use my wrist again.” I hope. “There’s a bit of tendon damage, so it’s touch and go.”

  “Keep up the therapy.”

  “Painful therapy.”

  Pastor Gonzalez laughed. “If it were easy, it wouldn’t be called physical therapy.”

  “Good point.”

  “We’ve been praying for you. We’ll keep praying until God completely heals you however He chooses to.”

  However God chooses to?

  Ivan could take that in many ways. How God chose to heal him hadn’t been revealed. Ivan prayed it was what he wanted: to be able to play the violin again.

  “The most important healing, though, is never physical,” Pastor Gonzalez continued. “My son Lance had to learn patience. What’s God teaching you through this?”

  Ivan wasn’t sure how to deal with the pop quiz.

  “I think I’m learning to trust God more,” he finally said. “That was a good sermon this morning. It helped me.”

  “Glad to hear that,” Pastor Gonzalez said. “As Christians we know we have the basics in Christ such as salvation and eternal life in heaven. But speaking for myself, I sometimes miss out on the other intangibles such as peace and joy and the rest of the fruit of the Spirit when I let the tangibles, my corporeal needs, my physical problems, whatever, overwhelm me.”

  “You too?”

  “Yep. Me too. Like when that hurricane took out the roof of the church a few years back. You remember that?”

  “Oh yeah. The whole church was soaked.”

  “Just the building. No one died. No soul perished.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  “Yes. We had to meet outdoors on the beach on Sunday mornings, and in the YMCA when it rained. Quite an ordeal.”

  “I kinda liked having church on the beach.”

  “Well, that’s the thing. That entire episode began our Fire-Pit Services, and we have one Wednesday night, as you saw in the bulletin.”

  Ivan nodded.

  “You coming to that?”

  “I might.”

  “I want to see you there.” Pastor Gonzalez slapped Ivan’s shoulder. “Want to have lunch with us?”

  “What are we having?” Ivan already knew.

  “The usual. My daughters only know how to cook one thing.”

  “I know. Enchilada.” Ivan figured almost every member of Seaside Chapel had had lunch as the Gonzalez's home after church on Sundays at one time or another. Some might have gone over there more than once. They lived across the street from the church and their doors were never closed.

  Ivan wondered why he hadn’t spoken to Pastor Gonzalez about his problems. He might have given him some good pointers. Maybe Ivan could have suffered less and endured more. Or something.

  This morning’s sermon was yet another one of Pastor Gonzalez's convicting messages. Straight from God and one more thing Ivan needed to hear. If he lined up all the verses that he had heard since December, they all really boiled down to one thing. And he’d better learn it fast if he wanted to get out of his mental slump.

  Trust God.

  Pastor Gonzalez waved to his son down a hallway, motioning to him that it was time to go. To Ivan, he said, “We can walk to my house, and then you can come back and get your car.”

  “I rode in with Matt. Let me tell him.” There was Matt over there, surrounded by what looked like a growing audience.

  That was Matt. The popular one. People around him were roaring with laughter. Ivan didn’t want to interrupt the flow of adulation.

  “Invite Matt too if he wants to come. I have to go get my wife now. I’ll see you at the house.”

  “Okay, Pastor.”

  As Ivan crossed the lobby to get to Matt, he spotted Brinley walking down another hallway. She was wearing a long floral skirt and a matching lavender blouse. Her hair had grown longer past her shoulders, but it was still as straight as sawgrass.

  Oops. I don’t think she’d want me to compare her hair to sawgrass.

  She was alone, and somehow that made Ivan happy. Not that she was alone, but that she wasn’t with some guy other than her father. As he was thinking that, he saw Brinley stop at the glass doors leading to the parking lot. She stood to one side, as if waiting. For her father?

  Ivan wondered whether he should go up to her to talk to her. Or whether he should leave her alone.

  But his feet didn’t move.

  Just then Brinley looked his way. She didn’t smile. Didn’t wave. Maybe she didn’t even see him.

  I’m here!

  He wanted to shout, but shame filled him. He remembered clearly how badly he had handled his misfortunes, how he had told Brinley to get lost and get out of his life. His exact words at the studio were what he could not forgive himself for.

  Don’t you get it? You ruined my career, my life, everything!

  He didn’t mean it. But he couldn’t take every word back now. Maybe he could ask her to forgive him.

  She was still standing there under the Exit sign. People walked past her. She didn’t move. She was still looking in his direction.

  Was she waiting for him to make the first move?

  This was a showdown. Someone had to blink first. Ivan decided he was the one who had to do it. He had handled his own tragedies poorly. Now he had to be the f
irst one to go to Brinley and ask her to forgive him.

  As Ivan was thinking about his next step, some guy showed up to open the door for Brinley.

  Dr. Tristan Rao.

  Maybe they were at the door at the same time. A coincidence. That thought went out the door when Ivan saw Tristan put his hand on Brinley’s waist.

  I’m too late!

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  That was Ivan. As clear as day, it was Ivan.

  Brinley couldn’t focus on what Tristan Rao was rambling about as he drove them to lunch. Something about a duet. No, she didn’t want to do a duet with Tristan when her heart belonged to someone else.

  Someone who is now back on St. Simon’s Island.

  It should be a happy day, but Brinley didn’t feel it. Why did Ivan stand there down the hallway? Why didn’t he come to her and say hello? He was still wearing something on his left wrist, but it looked more like a brace than a cast.

  Thank You, God.

  Ivan would never know that she had been praying every day the last three months for his wrist to heal. Sometimes she’d been in tears that it had been her fault, but God had comforted her through His Word.

  So much she had yet to learn. She wished Yun McMillan were still alive to guide her through the Bible, but she had been enjoying Pastor Gonzalez's wife’s weekly Seaside Chapel Women’s Bible Study. Olivia Gonzalez had been quite insistent that the Holy Spirit of God was her real teacher.

  So all was not lost.

  Not that lost, anyway.

  She could picture Yun in heaven now without her walker or her titanium hip. She would be carefree and loving life with Jesus. She could just see the Lord Jesus telling Yun, “Well done, good and faithful servant. Here are your rewards.”

  Brinley thought of her salvation as Demere Road came into view. People cycled on the sidewalks under green trees. The McKinnon St. Simon’s Island Airport was to the left. Small planes were landing and taking off.

  The sky was clear and blue. It was a perfect spring morning. Easter was next Sunday, and it would be Yun’s first Easter in heaven. It would be so much more perfect than this.

  Southern Soul Barbecue was packed as usual. Brinley remembered getting takeout from here that day so long ago after Ivan’s wrist accident on the day he told her to get lost and never come back to that house.

  How ironic it was that she had bought that house when it went into foreclosure to save it from being razed down for rampant oceanfront development. She had rescued the house for future McMillans. No matter who Ivan eventually married, she could only wish him God’s blessings.

  She could not bring herself to hate him in spite of all that he’d spewed at her that day.

  You ruined my career, my life, everything!

  “Quiet, aren’t you?” Tristan said after they ordered and as they waited for an empty table. His hands were in his pockets.

  “I saw someone at church after the service today.”

  “Someone from your past?”

  Well, Brinley wasn’t sure if he was still in the past. Ivan and she had some unfinished business and until that was resolved, neither could move on.

  “The man who broke my heart.”

  “You still won’t tell me his name.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “We want to be transparent with each other if there is to be the possibility of us.”

  “There is no us, Tristan. We’re only going out to lunch.” They had met in Sunday School, the one that Ivan had been in until he left town.

  As if on cue, Brinley’s iPhone pinged, saving her from further talk about being an item with Tristan. “It’s Helen. I’ve been waiting for this.”

  “Good news, I hope.”

  Brinley was still texting when she followed Tristan to a table vacated by customers. They waited for the server to wipe the table before they sat down. Their food came soon afterwards. Beef briskets for her and whatever it was for Tristan. Tristan said the blessings and they dug in.

  “What did Helen say?”

  “They’re still in Vienna, but they couldn’t find the you-know-what.” Brinley didn’t want to say it aloud. The place was crowded. Not just walls, but people had ears. Considering she had refused any security personnel around her—much to Dad’s protest—it was best if she stayed low key wherever she went on St. Simon’s Island.

  “You mean the Stra—”

  “Yeah.” Sigh.

  “Now what?” Tristan tore off a piece of white bread.

  “Now I pay to get it back.”

  “Sounds expensive.”

  Not much more than what Grandpa Brooks had spent in his lifetime to find it. The 1698 Damaris Brooks Stradivarius violin must return to the Brooks collection. And Brinley would do everything she could and pay any amount to get it back.

  And Ivan will play Air on it for me. He promised.

  Ivan again.

  “What are you going to do the afternoon before the Fire-Pit Service Wednesday night?” Tristan asked.

  Brinley checked her calendar. Meeting with Tobias Vega over another renovation job. An elderly couple couldn’t afford to fix up the home they had been staying in since they were married in the fifties. Brooks Renovations would do it for charity. She hoped the meeting would be over by five. The church event didn’t start until the sun went down.

  “Since we’re not helping with the food, we don’t have to be there until six o’clock, right?” she asked.

  “I want to get there early in case there’s something I can help with.”

  “Good for you.” Brinley forked more beef, but knew she had to take the rest to go. The portions were enormous. She would be eating more delicious beef brisket for dinner tonight.

  “Do you want me to pick you up at 5:45 p.m. then?”

  “I don’t know, Tristan. I’m not sure when my meeting will end. I think it’s five but I never know with Toby’s schedule. I’ll let you know.”

  Tristan seemed satisfied with the explanation. He looked nervous and then slowly began to speak again. “Brinley?”

  “Yeah?” Brinley was sipping unsweetened tea.

  “This is the third lunch we’ve had together,” Tristan said.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I do enjoy your company, Brinley.”

  Uh-oh.

  “I know you agreed to go out with me. I hope it’s not because I’m safe.”

  It’s exactly because you’re safe. “Look, Tristan. We’re not dating.”

  “We could be.”

  “I’m still recovering from my last relationship, and from what I’ve learned over the past years, it’s a bad idea to start a new relationship on the rebound.”

  “I hear you.”

  “The thing is that I am not sure if we’re right for each other.”

  “We aren’t?” He looked shocked.

  “I am seeking God’s perfect will for my life, and I need to focus on Him.”

  “I see.” Tristan was visibly uncomfortable. “So you think maybe we should stop having lunches with each other?”

  “Alone, yes. Your prospective dates would think you’re taken.”

  “But I want to be taken.”

  Brinley smiled. “You’re a hoot, Tristan. Funny, clever, brilliant, helpful, handsome—”

  “I get it. Parting shots.”

  “Don’t look at it that way.” Brinley asked the server for a to-go box. “Look at it from God’s perspective. He has someone special in store for you. And when you see that person, you’ll know. You have no doubt in your mind and heart whatsoever that she’s the one who will share your life with you, have your kids, and love you until her dying day. And someday, she will realize it too if she hasn’t already. Don’t let me get in the way of your personal bliss, Tristan. It’s not worth it.”

  “Wow. Sounds like you speak from experience.”

  Silence.

  “Whoever he is, he’s an idiot to let you go.”

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Ivan’s hopes we
nt up a sixteenth note when he saw that Brinley wasn’t sitting next to Tristan at the Fire-Pit Service on Wednesday evening. Perhaps it was because she was over there surrounded by other women.

  He was a bit alarmed when he saw Emmeline O’Hanlon in the group. Skye Langston, he wasn’t worried about, but Em? It could be bad if she and Brinley had talked about him—

  Lighten up. Not everyone talks about you all the time.

  To be sure, Ivan paid closer attention to Tristan Rao. He was chatting with some other church members now and wasn’t even looking in Brinley’s direction. Good news?

  Ivan spotted some other church people in the crowd of twenty or thirty. Thin group tonight. According to Matt, some people were going to visit family for Easter this coming Sunday, so they didn’t expect many regulars to show up tonight if they had to finish up work before heading out of town for their long weekend.

  The people in attendance tonight were scattered about in the church pavilion and on the beach with their beach chairs, waiting for the sun to set and the fire to rise from the fire-pit. He sure missed these outdoor services since he’d been on his self-imposed exile in Atlanta.

  Good to be back. Or is it?

  “What are you feeding off?” Pastor Gonzalez spoke without a microphone tonight.

  That made Ivan straighten up on his thrift shop beach chair, one of his very few worldly possessions these days.

  “Are you feeding off what people say or what God says? Are you feeding off my sermons or God’s Word?”

  Pastor Gonzalez made his “I’m watching you” rounds with his eyes. He was strolling around the fire-pit, his voice lifting above the Atlantic waves some thirty feet away from where Ivan was sitting in a dark corner, where he had hoped to gather his thoughts before confronting Brinley later.

  Inevitably, Pastor Gonzalez stopped in front of Ivan. Said nothing. Then moved on.

  Thank God.

  “I challenge you to study God’s Word for yourself, to discover the unfathomable riches in Christ that all of us believers are privy to. Don’t be a bottom feeder, eating crumbs off the table like dogs. Sit at the table with the Master, Jesus Christ Himself, and learn from Him.”