by Delia Latham
10
Aria sighed as she slid behind the wheel and headed for work. Would this strange, heavy air never lift? In the thirty feet or so from the cottage to her driveway, a sheen of perspiration had already developed. Her blouse clung to her back. The makeup she’d applied with a feather-light hand felt heavy and grimy on her face. A prickly sensation seemed to fasten onto her from the air itself, setting her teeth on edge and her mood swinging like an out-of-time pendulum.
She glanced across the way as she backed out. Corbin’s pick-up wasn’t in his driveway. He was off and gone early this morning.
Nice of him to offer me a ride.
Aria gasped at the snippy thought. Where had that come from? Just because she and Corbin both worked in the church office did not mean he was responsible for getting her there. She had never taken advantage of a friend in her life, and she wouldn’t start now.
Still, she couldn’t deny a twinge of disappointment that he hadn’t asked her to ride along.
As she rounded the curve that would take her out the front gate, she slowed, peering toward Old Hart’s cherished flower garden. A woman stood beside it, near a box that appeared to hold pony packs of some kind of purple bloom. She held a trowel, and a floppy straw hat shaded her eyes from the sun. Her lips moved in rapid speech, and every few seconds, one hand came up in an expressive gesture. Who on earth was she talking to? Aria slowed the car to a crawl, scanning the area to see who might be standing just out of sight. Was Viv out there somewhere? Aria hadn’t seen the landlord’s wife since Old Hart’s funeral service.
But no one was there. Puzzled, she looked again at the lady in the hat, whom she recognized as Viv’s long-time friend. The woman lived in one of the cottages, but kept pretty much to herself, and spent a great deal of time helping out in the big house and on the grounds. She had seen her often, tending the flowers with Mr. Hart. What was her name? Corbin had mentioned it when he told her about Hart’s passing, hadn’t he? Millie? Madeline? No. Madison.
A strong sense of déjà vu hit her with near physical force as she took in the scene in the flower garden. Ridiculous. But as quickly as the thought crossed her mind, she knew why.
That listening attitude, the almost unearthly expression on Madison’s face…Andrew Hart had often worn exactly that look on his weathered visage. He too had often been spotted carrying on what appeared to be one-sided conversations. But a lot of people thought there was nothing one-sided about Hart’s little chats. The man had been speaking with angels.
Watching the attractive woman chattering away in the late landlord’s familiar stomping grounds, a thrill of something holy washed over Aria’s soul like a cool, refreshing rain. God wasn’t pulling His troops from Heart’s Haven just because Andrew Hart no longer occupied these earthly premises.
She had no proof whatsoever that Madison was speaking with heavenly beings, but Aria didn’t question it for a moment. She simply knew, and the knowledge comforted her.
A pair of tears eased past her eyelashes and down her face, but she was smiling as she drove through the gates, under the big Heart’s Haven sign, and turned her vehicle toward town and The Falls Tabernacle.
But the smile trembled and faded when another thought crowded into her mind, and she heaved a sigh.
If only Corbin believed. The boy in the barn could certainly use that kind of comfort.
****
The sermon was not coming together right.
Corbin sat at his desk, trying to study the topic he planned to present to the youth on Wednesday night. But his mind churned with memories of his adventures in prayer the night before.
He’d spotted David trudging into his office a few moments earlier. The pastor’s shoulders slumped, and he dragged his feet, as if he couldn’t find the strength to pick them up. He looked a full decade older than he had a week ago.
Corbin shook his head, absently drumming his pencil on his desk blotter. Something was off around here. And not only with David.
On the short ride to the church this morning, he’d witnessed two physical altercations—one of which involved a woman he was almost certain attended this church. He’d stopped for gasoline, and while he was filling his tank, the owner of the convenience store helped a customer out the door on the toe of his boot.
Was it possible the spiritual warfare the WINGS team was praying about extended beyond the church and into the town itself? Maybe he’d bring that up tonight during team prayer. But he’d probably not mention the fact that he was beginning to think the strange, heavy air outside might have something to do with it, as well. He wasn’t up for making himself look like a fanatic.
Right now, his concern was for David.
Given the final, cryptic instructions with which the angel had taken his leave the night before, Corbin knew something was up with the pastor. The man had just lost a beloved family member, of course, but that wasn’t it. Something else weighed heavy on Pastor David’s heart, and he was struggling beneath the load.
Corbin cringed, seeing again David’s mismatched shirt and trousers, hair that appeared untouched by a comb, and unshaven face. Pia must’ve slept through her husband’s departure this morning. Surely she wouldn’t have let him out the door looking like that.
“While David lacks strength, we have to be strong for him.”
Out of nowhere, Aria’s voice echoed in his memory. He groaned, remembering what else she’d said. “Someone’s going to have to stand in the gap and make up the hedge.”
He also recalled his own over-assured response. “I’m ready if you are.”
Would he ever learn to keep his mouth shut?
“God, I don’t want to do this,” he whispered.
If you love Me, keep My commandments.
He sighed. “OK, God, but I feel like an idiot here. You didn’t say what message I was to give Pastor, just ‘take My words to him.’ What words? If I knew that, I’d feel better about going in there.”
What God was asking hit him square in the middle of his pride. He couldn’t stand the thought of falling flat on his face because he wasn’t “prepared.”
When he’d left home, all he had were the worn out clothes stuffed in his pillowcase, a fierce determination to get away from Kirby, and his pride. He’d clawed his way through one back-breaking job after another, working wherever he could get someone to hire him. Abandoned shacks and shanties had sheltered him…or cardboard boxes when no other place could be found.
No one ever knew, because Corbin found ways to keep himself clean, a smile on his face, and something witty on his lips at all times. He soon drew the attention of people who mattered, and his hard work paid off in respect and, eventually, in promotions that allowed him to secure a modest apartment.
At night, he studied. Over time, he obtained a GED, then applied for and received financial aid to further his education, which brought him far more than a degree. One of his college professors took a special interest in him, and reached out in the love of Christ. That instructor led Corbin to give his heart to God. Much later, after the two of them became friends outside a curricular setting, Corbin asked his friend why he had gone out of his way to help him, out of dozens of students who might have benefited from his attention.
The professor said he’d first noticed Corbin because, in the midst of a college full of students who were there because their parents insisted and who often made zero effort to portray a professional persona, he stood out as a young man who cared about how he presented himself to the world.
Corbin never told him that his insistence on having every hair in place was a crutch. That his determined scrabbling to be at the top of the class, even if it meant he got no more than two hours’ sleep at night, was his way of making sure the world never saw who he really was.
Just a poor farm kid who still had nightmares about his father finding him and dragging him back home…back to the barn.
Even after he followed his heart into the ministry, his sermons were well thought out and
planned right down to the last amen, for the same reasons. And now…how could he walk into Pastor David’s office and come off looking halfway intelligent when God wouldn’t let him see more than a step ahead?
Trust Me, my son.
He huffed out a breath. “I do trust You, Lord. I do. But what am I supposed to say when I’m in his office? I can’t just stand there looking…lame.”
Trust Me. When the time is right, open your mouth, and I will fill it.
A stillness came over Corbin. Not quite peace, but…perhaps a touch of acceptance. Maybe this was God’s way of breaking his pride, teaching him to stop hiding behind a smokescreen of perfection. Risk failure, if that’s what was needed to make him malleable in God’s hands.
He started to push himself away from the desk, set on walking out of his comfort zone, through the reception area and into David’s office. But a colorful little Easter egg popped up on the bottom right corner of his monitor. Corbin waited, and the egg cracked open to reveal a tiny scroll, which quickly unrolled itself so that he could read its “secret,” which of course he already knew: “Mail time!”
“Saved by the mail,” Corbin muttered, and then clicked on his inbox. Several messages awaited his attention, but the only one that mattered to him at the moment was the latest, which was from Aria. He hadn’t even heard her arrive.
“Good morning, Corbin,” her message read, and Corbin found himself smiling a little, hearing her soft Texas drawl as he read the words on his screen. “Hey, about that sheet music you left on my desk...” The smile tugged itself up a notch. What excuse would she have for not using it? He’d never met a woman more determined to prove she neither needed nor wanted anyone’s help with her ministry—least of all his.
His eyes widened with the next words. “I like it. Came up with a couple ideas for an arrangement, but sure would like to know what you think of it.” Corbin reached up to rub his eyes, fairly certain his internal tug-of-war had blurred his vision. But when he peeked at the message again, there it was. Aria was asking for his opinion. “I’m practicing with the praise team tomorrow night. Any chance of you joining us?”
Corbin grinned. Not a chance of keeping me away. He typed his reply, hit send, then leaned back in his chair and looked around.
Having been jerked out of his deep pondering, he breathed in the rich aroma of French roast. Aria had to have walked right past his office to get that pot going. He cast a quick glance out the door, and sure enough, the lights were on in the reception area. Neither he nor David had bothered to turn them on this morning, and with that realization, Corbin frowned. Were both of them so wrapped up in their internal darkness that they weren’t functioning in the Light? The thought shamed him.
Help him through his darkness, Corbin Bishop, as Aria has helped you through yours.
He set his jaw and hauled in a massive breath.
“I will, Lord. I will. Right now.”
He stopped at the coffee station on his way to David’s office, filled two cups with the hot liquid, added a splash of half and half to his, then stood staring uncertainly at the other cup.
“He takes one sugar. No cream.”
He spun around to find Aria leaning against the opposite wall. The warm smile on her full lips turned his stomach into a whirligig, but he ignored it and narrowed his eyes. “How did you know what I was thinking?”
“I’m good at reading minds.” She hiked one gorgeous, wing-shaped eyebrow and cocked her head to the side, sending the sunset fall of her hair spilling over her shoulder.
He blinked. “Your hair’s down.”
“It is?” She gasped and reached up with one hand to touch the silky strands. Her dark caramel eyes widened, and mischief danced in their depths. “Oh, no, it really is! I should be ashamed of myself, coming to work in such a state.”
Corbin chuckled and busied his hands adding sugar to David’s coffee. What he wanted to do was march over there and bury both hands in that thick cascade of rich color. Then he’d use that leverage to tug her head backward and lift her chin for his kiss…
The spoon he’d used to stir David’s coffee fell from his fingers and clattered to the floor. Tiny spots of dark liquid shone like amber eyes, staring accusingly up into his own. Warmth flooded his neck and cheeks as he grabbed for a paper towel.
Aria beat him to it. “I’ll get it.” She wiped away all evidence of his blunder with a couple of quick strokes, then dropped the spoon into the sink and turned to study his face. “You OK?”
“Yeah, sure. I’m fine.” He reached for his coffee and downed a huge gulp—then hissed in reaction to the scalding liquid.
“Sure you are. Corbin…” She stepped close and touched her fingertips to his cheek. Her gaze, shadowed with concern, lifted to his. “What’s going on?” The other hand came up to cradle the other side of his face. “I know yesterday was difficult for you. Did you get any sleep at all last night?”
He nodded. “Actually, I did.” Thank God he had a mug in each hand, otherwise…well, just thank God he had a mug in each hand. “Hey, Aria, uhm…” He held the mugs a little higher and cocked his head toward one of them.
“Oh!” She dropped her hands and stepped backward, taking a piece of his soul with her. “I’m sorry. Go. But—” She pinched her lip between pearly teeth, then sighed and gave him a little smile. “I’m here if you need me.”
“I know. Thank you.” He turned as quickly as he could holding two cups of black fire, and headed off to help his pastor find peace…and to keep from making an utter fool of himself.
****
Aria watched him go, feeling a bit amused, a hair confused, and altogether topsy-turvy. Just ridiculous! Only weeks ago, she couldn’t stand to be anywhere near Corbin Bishop. And now it hurt to watch him disappear into Pastor David’s office, because that meant he was out of her sight.
What had gotten into her?
But she knew what it was, so might as well admit it. She’d never been good at playing games—not with anyone, and certainly not with herself. Love was the answer. Aria had fallen hard for the new youth minister. She seriously needed to have her head examined, but the fact remained…Aria Robbins had turned into one of the simpering females she’d sworn never to become.
She wandered back to her desk, but her mind would not be corralled. What was Corbin doing in there with David? He’d looked as if he were being prodded along with an invisible hot poker, and still couldn’t quite fall into formation.
Cover him in wings of prayer.
She dropped the pen in her hand, totally shocked to see she’d been doodling on her desk blotter…Corbin’s name. Inside a large wing.
Her heartbeat raced as if on wings of its own. “Lord?” she whispered, unable to take her eyes off the piece of innocent-looking “art” she’d accomplished without knowing she was doing so. “What’s—?”
Wrap them both in wings of prayer.
Aria locked the office and headed for the prayer room off the sanctuary. Her WINGS hour had arrived a little early today.
11
Corbin couldn’t knock with a hot mug in each hand. Good thing the door wasn’t actually closed, though he did wonder about that. Given the fact it was even partially closed, David might have meant to shut out the world today.
He nudged it with the toe of his shoe and walked in—uninvited, and uncomfortable with the situation. Normally, he wouldn’t have considered intruding on anyone who’d all but hung out a “No Trespassing” sign.
Pastor David sat behind his desk, but he wasn’t really there. Corbin paused just inside the room. A chill raced down his spine, and a worried frown tugged his eyebrows toward each other.
“David?” He spoke quietly, hoping not to startle the guy.
Dark shadows played across the pastor’s normally bright and fun-filled eyes. His gaze was fixed on the opposite wall, his lips set in a tight line. New grooves bracketed his mouth and cut twin furrows above his nose.
Corbin swallowed hard. Had he thought e
arlier that David had aged a decade? Make that two of them. The pastor appeared unaware of Corbin’s presence, despite his greeting and the aroma of the coffee he’d brought with him.
Well, time to try another tactic.
“Good morning!” He raised his voice and marched across the floor to set David’s mug on the desk. “Thought maybe you could use a little go juice.”
David’s gaze traveled in slow, halting motion from his intense study of the wall to the steaming cup on his desk blotter, and then edged upward to Corbin’s face. Still he said nothing, and a shiver of dread slithered through Corbin’s soul.
The minister had no idea who he was, or why he was standing there looking like a fool.
He sent up a desperate plea for guidance…and then gasped as the air around him did something strange. It fluttered a bit, and the same angel who’d visited his cottage the night before appeared beside him.
Corbin’s breath came in short gasps, until the beautiful creature touched a finger to his heart. “Be at peace, Corbin Bishop. You asked for guidance. I am Guidance.”
Suddenly calm, Corbin found that he could speak—and without a tremble to his voice. “Thank you.” He tilted his head toward David, who still stared in his direction, even though Corbin was certain he wasn’t seeing him. “Please…how can I help Pastor David?”
Guidance turned his head toward the man behind the desk. Sadness filled his eyes, and he shook his head. “David must choose to see what he refuses to see.”
Corbin frowned. “What does that mean?”
“I’ve been with you for a long time, Corbin Bishop, guiding your steps, leading you in many small ways toward this day, this moment in your life. But you didn’t see me until last night.”
“That’s true, but I didn’t believe you existed.” Heat crawled up his neck with the admission. “David does.”
“Yes.” The angel nodded. “He does believe. But he doesn’t want to see.”
Corbin huffed out a frustrated breath. “I don’t understand, but I don’t suppose I need to. I just want to know how to help him.”
