by Arlene James
That feeling only intensified as the group linked hands and bowed their heads. Instead of one person leading the entire group, each individual was expected to pray aloud, squeezing the hand of the person to his or her left when finished so that the prayer could continue around the circle uninterrupted. A middle-aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair across the way from Tyler began.
“Sovereign Lord God, You have told us that where we gather in Your name, You are there also. Thank You for coming to meet us, Father, as we approach Your throne in the name of Your Holy Son…”
As she spoke, Tyler felt an unusual sensation, as if something brushed against his skin, all of his skin at the same time. Later, as others took their turns, Tyler felt a movement inside his chest, a spreading almost, as though something tightly knotted unfurled. He didn’t know what to call it, but he knew that he had never felt it before.
When Charlotte began to pray aloud, her voice a soft, gentle salve to his jangling senses, he perceived a presence, as if someone stood just behind him. This so unnerved him that he concentrated with fierce determination on Charlotte’s words.
“We praise You, Lord, and thank You for Your many blessings,” she was saying, “but then You know our needs even better than we do. You know that Granddad’s arthritis pains him more and more lately. He never complains, but I dread the coming winter for him. Please ease his discomfort and don’t let the cold rob him of enjoyment. Make me a blessing to him, as You have made him a blessing to me, and show us always what You would have us do.”
She paused, and Tyler waited in an agony of dread for the squeeze on his hand that would make it his turn to speak. Instead, warmth spread from his palm, up his arm and throughout his body as she went on.
“Thank You, too, for Ty. He’s been such help and he’s brought such enjoyment. You know his needs, Lord, better than I do, even better than he does. I just lift those up to You, heavenly Father, trusting You to fill each and every one. Bless him. Bring him peace and joy.”
When that dreaded squeeze finally came, Tyler couldn’t have spoken if his life had depended on it. His heart seemed to have swollen inside his chest to the point that it crowded his throat. He couldn’t shake the sudden conviction that he didn’t deserve the gratitude Charlotte had expressed, but what could he say to that? What could he say, period? He knew a moment of agonizing uncertainty; yet, in that same moment, a voice seemed to whisper inside his mind, and suddenly the words just flowed from his mouth.
“We are blessed whether we deserve it or not, even when we aren’t smart enough to ask for it. Thank You for that. A-and—”
His mind stuttered to a stop, suddenly blank. He shifted forward, and a calming hand settled upon his shoulder, bringing clarity and ease. His first thought was that it must be one of Charlotte’s brothers, come to offer support.
Apparently he hadn’t fooled them one bit. He’d wanted them to think that he was just like them, that he had experienced everything they had experienced, but he’d never participated in anything like this. He didn’t have closely held religious beliefs as they did, but it didn’t seem to matter at all. He felt deep gratitude just then for the kindness of the Jefford family.
They had taught him so much, more than he’d even realized until just that moment. Because of them, he saw what his own family lacked. Because of them, he understood that money and position didn’t matter and true happiness came from within. Because of them, he knew that God was real. He’d always believed that on some level, but now he knew, and for the first time he really believed that he could actually talk to God, one-on-one.
Smiling inwardly, Tyler let his chin touch his chest and spoke from his heart. “Thank You for bringing me here to Eden. Thank You for new friends and good fun, for relaxation and broadening experiences, for renewal and…just…thank You.” Something unexpected touched his mind, and he blurted it without thought. “Be with my family. We all need Your blessings even if we don’t know it.”
He started to say, “Amen,” but remembered just in time and squeezed the hand of the fellow next to him instead. For a moment silence filled the room, and then Tyler became aware of Holt’s voice from across the hall.
“We bow to Your leadership, Lord, seeking to do Your will and knowing that You alone can provide wisdom and joy in our lives. We are Your creatures, Your children. Make us men You are proud to call Your own.”
Not Holt, then, Tyler thought, though whoever had been behind him appeared to have silently moved off now. The fellow next to Tyler began to speak, but Holt’s words seemed to have caught in Tyler’s mind.
Make us men You are proud to call Your own.
With stabbing dismay, Tyler realized that he had not always been such a man. In fact, he did not really even know how to be such a man. Troubled, he mentally added a new prayer to those spoken in the circle.
Make me a man You are proud to call Your own.
The service moved back into the sanctuary. Tyler felt a warmth, an ease that he had not felt earlier. The smiles of those around him seemed softer, their laughter brighter, conversation more serene. Grover thanked everyone for coming, read a verse of Scripture, spoke a final prayer over the gathering and let the service close with a hymn.
Tyler did not catch the chapter and verse of the Scripture, but the words settled inside him.
“Therefore I say to you, all things for which you pray and ask, believe that you have received them, and they shall be granted you.”
Could it really be so simple? he wondered. Was it truly just a matter of belief?
Obviously, he mused, Charlotte’s faith and that of her brothers and grandfather meant more than he’d assumed. But what did it mean for him?
He looked across the room to where Holt stood shaking hands with a gentleman so elderly that his frail body seemed to curl inward over the cane against which he balanced his slight weight. Their mutual affection lit the building. Ryan, meanwhile, laughed with a fortyish couple and Charlotte hugged a middle-aged woman with tightly curled hair.
Tyler had thought these people poor. He saw no designer suit in the place, no expensive watch, no artificial beauty, but he knew that no one here was poor. They were rich in spirit, far richer than he, in fact.
Perhaps their bank balances would not impress anyone, but what did that matter? No doubt they had their own troubles, their own concerns, perhaps even secrets that would shock their friends, but they were better off in many ways than the people he knew.
He found it disconcerting, to say the least, to realize that he might well be the poorest person in the building. Any unimportant claims to wealth that he could make had come to him purely through an accident of birth. These people had found their riches in a place where he had never before thought to look. They had found their wealth in their families and friends and their faith in God.
He looked to Charlotte’s brothers again. A man’s man, as strong and tough as they came, Holt also had brains and an indomitable will balanced by an honest spirit. Holt had everything it took to it make in Tyler’s world, but when Tyler had said as much the other day, Holt had merely laughed.
“Been there, done that,” he’d said. “Won’t be going there again.” He’d stopped what he’d been doing then and stood tall, legs braced wide apart, dirty, gloved hands at his sides. “I am where I belong,” he’d added, no shred of doubt in his voice.
At the time, Tyler had thought he, too, knew where he belonged. Now he wondered.
He thought of Hap, the single most loving individual whom Ty had ever known. Being loving hadn’t seemed much like a manly attribute to Tyler until the last few days, but Hap could show him just how it should be done.
Ryan, on the other hand, might be the happiest person Tyler knew. He bore the weight of his responsibilities with delight and facility, sincerity shining from his every pore. He loved his job and his family, his students and his teams, his town and his life. Not only could Ryan succeed in Tyler’s world, he could succeed in a big way, but Tyler hadn’t ev
en bothered to say as much. He’d learned his lesson with Holt.
Or had he? He sensed that he still had lessons to learn here in Eden, Oklahoma. Important lessons.
Such thoughts occupied his mind as the meeting dispersed and he escorted Charlotte to his car. Only as he reached down to open the door for her did he ask the question that had been bothering him for some time.
“Who was that behind us in the prayer circle?” Someone had noticed his distress and calmed him with a touch. He owed that person a debt of thanks. It hadn’t been Holt, but it might have been Ryan. Or perhaps the pastor?
Charlotte paused with one foot in the car and one foot out. She turned a puzzled look on him. “I don’t know who you mean.”
“There was someone standing just outside the circle, someone right behind us.”
She thought a moment. He could see her mentally placing everyone present. Finally, she shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“He put his hand on my shoulder,” Tyler insisted, but she simply stared. “Ryan, maybe. Or Grover?”
“No, I saw them both with the men’s group. I’d have known if either had risen.”
Tyler frowned. “Well, someone put his hand on my shoulder.”
She bit her lip, then a smile tugged it free again. Shrugging delicately, she dropped down into the seat. Tyler closed her inside and moved around the vehicle, his mind awhirl.
This place and these people suddenly had him questioning everything, especially himself.
“You did not!” Charlotte exclaimed, sure he was teasing.
The afternoon had turned fair and bright, hinting at a beautiful weekend, although the sunshine seemed fragile, almost crystalline, as if a sharp breeze might shatter it. Should Friday hold the same promise, she might start to believe and plan something frivolous like a final picnic before winter settled in. Sitting here on the patio with Tyler, sipping coffee and talking about youthful escapades, anything felt possible, anything at all.
“I did,” Tyler admitted sheepishly, “I totaled the car leaving the dealership.”
“What did your father do about that?” she asked, remembering that a broken window at the age of ten had resulted in a year at boarding school for Tyler. She prepared to sympathize, but Ty shrugged.
“Bought me another one.”
Charlotte let her jaw drop. “No boarding school?”
“Not even a scolding.”
She sagged, at a complete loss to understand. “That makes no sense whatsoever.”
Ty spread his hands. “It seemed to at the time. I had a driver’s license, so I had to have a car. Besides, by that age I was no bother to them any longer.”
“I’d call wrecking a brand-new car a bother.”
“Problems that could be fixed with money were not problems to my parents,” Tyler pointed out. He lifted a hand to his temple, confessing, “The fact is, I got pretty wild there for a while, but as long as it didn’t particularly disturb their lives they didn’t seem to mind. Even after I graduated college and my father brought me into the company, so long as I showed up and took care of business, that was all that mattered.” He went on to explain that he’d come into his trust fund by then and so had his own money.
Charlotte shook her head. “I’ll hope you’ll pardon me for saying so, but I’m amazed you turned out so well.”
He flashed her a grin. “So you think I turned out okay, do you?”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”
“I don’t know sometimes,” he said with jarring honesty. “I think I was mostly trying to get their attention back then. Eventually I realized that my father respected just one thing, though, and I won his regard in that, at least. I think.”
“Business,” she surmised.
Nodding, he looked up into the sunlight. “I’m just not sure business acumen is all that should be passed from one generation to the next.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll do better with your own children,” she said with sincerity, ignoring the foolish little pang that accompanied the thought.
Tyler stretched out on the chaise and crossed his ankles. “I’m not sure I’ll ever have children,” he told her.
“But of course you will.”
“Will you, do you think?” he asked lightly.
For a moment she couldn’t breathe, but then she remembered that regret and longing belied her faith. She had trusted God long ago to see to her future, and she’d accepted that the gifts she had in her grandfather and brothers surpassed any she could imagine for herself. What would she have done after the deaths of her parents without Hap and Holt and Ryan?
“These things are in God’s hands,” she said, “and capable hands they are.”
The unmistakable sound of a car turning off the highway reached her ears, but she ignored it. Hap would take care of whoever had stopped in—guest, salesman or passerby seeking directions.
“I had a wreck once,” she said, launching into the story.
Like Holt, her father had always run a few head of cattle on their place, and one day returning from town with a girlfriend of hers, they’d discovered a cow had gotten out and gone wandering around the yard. Her father had left the truck idling while he’d gone on foot to drive the cow back into the pasture. Charlotte, all of twelve, had decided to pull the truck up to the house. She’d been driving around the ranch for years, but her friend, who lived in town and hadn’t known that, had panicked as soon as the truck started moving. She’d grabbed hold of Charlotte and tried to hide her face against Charlotte’s shoulder.
“All I could see was black hair,” Charlotte recalled with a chortle. “I tried to stomp the break but kept hitting the clutch. It didn’t seem like I’d driven ten feet, but it had to be more like ten yards.”
“What finally stopped you?” he asked, chuckling.
“The barn.”
“It’s a miracle you weren’t killed!”
“You’re telling me. I had to drive right past the propane tank to get there.”
Hap rounded the corner of the building just then, saying, “Here they are. Ty, you got company, son.”
Tyler twisted around in his seat just as a tall, slender, elegantly attired blonde walked into view. Charlotte sat up a little straighter, suddenly conscious of her shaggy sweater, rumpled shirt, faded jeans and run-down sneakers. Hoping that the hole in her left sock didn’t show, she crossed her ankles primly, not that it helped anything.
The blonde might have walked straight out of the pages of a fashion magazine. The slender skirt of her moss-green suit emphasized the svelte length of her legs, while the short, belted jacket and the filmy silk blouse beneath it called attention to the feminine lushness of her figure. Her pale hair had been twisted into a sleek, sophisticated knot that could not have been accomplished without expertise while the pearls at her earlobes and the diamond at her throat fairly shouted wealth.
Charlotte’s stomach dropped to the rubber-clad soles of her feet while Tyler literally groaned. The blonde folded her arms, one foot swinging out to the side in an obviously practiced pose.
“Ty?” she queried, making that single syllable sound like an indictment as well as irony. Abruptly, her focus switched to Charlotte, her subtly made-up eyes narrowing.
Tyler sighed and asked, “How did you find me?”
“If you don’t want to be found, you shouldn’t use your company credit card,” the blonde retorted.
Ty winced. Charlotte remembered how often he’d used that card during the past few days. He’d been shopping with that card, and last night after prayer meeting he’d driven Charlotte all the way to Waurika for malts. Just this morning he’d insisted on paying his bill with it so Hap could balance the accounts. He’d remarked repeatedly that he really needed to get some cash because not everyone around here took plastic.
Somehow, though, Charlotte didn’t think the credit card was the problem. The problem stood in front of them. Who was this woman? Employee? Coworker? Girlfriend?
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bsp; Charlotte couldn’t bear to think the latter, but the possibility could not be ignored, not with this cool blonde standing here alternately smirking and glaring at her.
Ty bowed his head, pressing thumb and fingers to his temples. Then he looked up and smiled wanly at Charlotte.
“Sorry. I haven’t introduced my sister.”
Sister! Charlotte felt an instant of relief, followed swiftly by dismay, which she attempted to hide with a bright smile. If Tyler’s sister represented the kind of woman who moved in Tyler’s world, and she no doubt did, then Charlotte could never expect to meet his standards. Only then did she realize that on some level she had hoped to do just that.
Tyler stood, indicating his sister with a wave of his hand. “Cassandra Aldrich.” He looked to her and placed a hand on the back of Charlotte’s chair. “Allow me to introduce my hostess, Charlotte Jefford. You’ve already met her grandfather, Hap.”
“Charlotte,” Cassandra parroted with a little smirk, her gaze sweeping over Charlotte again. “What an old-fashioned name.” Tyler’s shoe scraped on the patio paving, and she quickly corrected herself, smile broadening. “Classic, I should’ve said. My own is a classic name. Tell me, do they call you Lottie? Now that would be old-fashioned.”
“Cut it out, Cassandra.”
“Whatever do you mean, Ty?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
Cassandra laughed. The sound contained nothing of amusement or pleasure. “It’s a little hang-up of our mother’s,” she said to Charlotte. “She can’t abide sobriquets. That means nicknames, by the way.”
“I know what it means,” Charlotte informed her quietly.
If she had needed proof that she would not fit into Tyler’s world, she now had it in spades, not that she had been considering any such thing. Had she? No, of course not. She knew where she belonged. When had she started to second-guess that?
“What are you doing here, Cassandra?” Tyler asked coldly.
An unpleasant expression tightened Cassandra’s pink mouth. “Perhaps little Lottie and her grandpa will excuse us while we discuss it.”
