Kevin shook his head. “No, man, she’s not.”
There was just way too much subtext in Kevin’s voice to even contemplate the details. “Cooper…”
Kevin held up his hands in defense. “Hey, I’m just saying behind those glasses…”
“Man, when you jump to conclusions, you really jump to conclusions.” He looked at Kevin again, completely stunned. “Annie?”
“Okay, so it’s not Annie. Pretty clear on that. So if it’s not Annie, who is it?”
All of a sudden Drew wasn’t sure he wanted to say anything. “Look, forget it. I’ll work it out.”
Kevin came over and sat on the couch beside Drew. “You came in here stomping mad. You don’t normally get like that. If something really got to you, let me help. I’m brilliant, remember?”
Now didn’t seem like the best time for true confessions. Drew just eyed his friend. He was still reeling from being linked up with Annie. “Your humility is underwhelming.”
“C’mon, Drew, who’s getting to you?”
Drew pressed his fingers to his temples. Suddenly he felt exhausted. “Janet Bishop.”
That was obviously not the answer Kevin was expecting. “Bishop? The hardware lady?”
Drew nodded. It had made him crazy the whole walk back to the bus—it seemed even worse to admit it out loud. “The hardware lady.”
“Buddy.” Kevin shook his head slowly. “That’s a bad idea. On all levels.”
“I know.”
“This is work, Drew. Getting involved would only hurt you and a load of other people.”
“I know.”
“Even if it weren’t work, she’s got a wall five miles high and two miles thick.”
“Tell me about it. I just hit that wall head-on about an hour ago.”
Kevin gave a low whistle before taking another swig of coffee. “And you know, Drew, maybe that’s the trouble right there. You’re the kind of guy who gets way too much fun out of tearing down walls. Don’t do it. Nothing good can come out of it. It’ll only mess things up. Bad.”
Drew glared at Kevin. “Don’t you think I know that? On—as you put it—‘all levels’?” He fell back against the couch cushions. “What do I do?”
“Pray hard and do your job,” Kevin said, refilling his coffee cup. “Pray for the focus to do the job you were sent to do. A few weeks and you’ll be out of here, with Middleburg burg behind you and the season wrapped up and done. You’re tired. You picked a big project, you wanted to go out with a bang, and the workload’s just getting to you.”
“Yeah, sure,” Drew said with his eyes closed, the words sounding as hollow as they felt. “I’m just confused, and I guess I’ve been letting the workload put the squeeze on my prayer time. I’ve been making mistakes this week I never usually make.”
“You’ve been running full tilt for five months. It caught up with you, that’s all. Look, I know there were days when it was just you and Charlie and a whole lot of energy. You’ve done amazing things. God’s done amazing things through you. And, man, we’re all thrilled to be part of this. So hang on, buddy, we’ve got your back. You don’t have to hold this up all by your lonesome. Just refocus and get some of that prayer time back, and you’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”
“You’re right.” Drew actually yawned.
Kevin pulled one of the travel mugs out of the cabinet and dumped his coffee into it. “Tell you what—it’s almost an hour until the prayer meeting. I’ll clear out of here and go help Annie with the flyers outside. You put your feet up. Catch a chat with the Guy Upstairs. Then take a nap. I’ll come back and wake you before the meeting.” With that, Kevin pushed on Drew’s shoulders until he slumped down on the couch. “Welcome to the human race, Mr. Hardware Hero. We all gotta crack sometime. But it’ll be fine.”
Drew looked out the bus windows at the dawn coming up over the mountains. Sunrises were a lush, misty spectacle in this part of the country. The sun cast a stunning palate of colors as it eased its way over the rolling hills. A dozen different tones of orange and yellow, an array of silver fog and green shadow that melted as the day invaded over the treetops. You could paint the thing a million times and still not capture the quiet marvel of it all. How easy it was to see God the Creator in all the natural beauty here.
Last night’s prayer meeting had been great. Solid and inspiring—drawing a larger crowd each night. To Drew, however, his participation still felt hollow. Rote. He couldn’t shake the notion that he’d added nothing—that they could have done the meeting without him.
Maybe God was trying to tell him something.
He looked at Charlie’s fax and thought maybe it was his place to fly out of here and attend that meeting. Perhaps Charlie was right—he didn’t need to be as hands-on as he had in the previous seasons. He’d found great people and formed them into an incredible team. What if God really was calling him to be running out ahead of that team, being the visionary, clearing the way for the others instead of working beside them? What if it really was his own ego—not his integrity—holding him to the job site? The illusion of his indispensability?
Maybe he should leave. It surely couldn’t hurt to clear his head and get out of Middleburg for a day. Twenty-four hours made it a good test for the team to take the reins. To strengthen their skills and sense of teamwork for the seasons ahead.
He picked up a Muffinnovation and peeled off the paper before downing it as breakfast. He ought to take an order of these to the meeting as a treat. A little down-home goodie for all those slick producer types.
Charlie was right. If Hollywood wouldn’t come to Kentucky, then he’d bring Kentucky to Hollywood—Missionnovation style. He licked the green glaze off his fingers before punching Charlie’s speed dial into his cell phone.
“But you never leave a site.” Annie stared at him, more surprised than the rest of the team even though she’d been the one to hand Drew the fax earlier in the week. “In three seasons I’ve never seen you leave a site—not once. I thought it was a rule of yours.”
“It was,” Drew explained as he met with the team that afternoon to outline his upcoming schedule. “And it was a good policy then. But I’ve got you guys now, and I trust you with anything. This meeting could be taking us to a new level of sponsorship next season. I’ve prayed about this and I think God’s calling me to take on some new roles. Meetings and stuff. Charlie’s worked wonders out there on the coast and it’s time for me to step in and secure Missionnovation’s future.”
“I know I said we had your back, but now?” Kevin narrowed his eyes. “It can’t wait two weeks until we’re done here? I mean, we’re not that big a deal that it can’t wait two weeks.”
Drew shrugged his shoulders. “Charlie says now. I trust Charlie to know his job as much as I trust you guys to know yours. He said now because now is when it has to be. You know these network types—they think the whole world revolves around them and they’re used to getting what they want. So, I’ve got to humor them, and if it works out, we’ll have twice the budget and twice the outreach we’ve had before.”
Annie looked skeptical, drumming her fingers against her coffee mug. “Humoring? This isn’t your style, Drew.”
“I admit I wasn’t a fan of the idea. And I know Charlie’s tried a dozen alternatives. But this is what we’ve got to work with. I think maybe God’s telling me it’s time I was less hands-on.”
“You don’t know how to do ‘less hands-on.’” Mike hardly ever said anything, so this qualified as an outburst from him.
“Oh, this is out of the box for me, no doubt about it. Don’t think I’m not walking in faith on this one. But God’s called us to new territory before, and He hasn’t let us down yet.” Drew looked around the bus, catching each team member’s eyes. “I’ve thought long and hard about this. It’s not that big a deal—we’re getting bogged down in the principle and forgetting the logistics. It’s only twenty-four hours. God’s big enough to hold us up for one measly Tuesday. Possibly one very beneficial, very futur
e-expanding Tuesday.”
“Well,” said Annie, blowing out a breath and opening her notebook to what Drew guessed was next Tuesday’s production schedule, “I suppose you may have a point. It is only one day.”
Annie’s approval was enough to get the rest of the team on board—and Drew knew that would be the case. Annie knew how everything worked together to make Missionnovation happen. Kevin might have sensed a warm, mutual respect between them, but he was pretty sure it didn’t extend beyond the professional. Kevin’s remark still baffled him. He needed Annie, but not in the way Kevin thought. If Annie decided they could survive without Drew on-site, everyone else would follow her lead.
He was far less clear about the subject of Janet Bishop, however. The only thing he knew for sure was that he had to set things right with her before he took one step out of Middleburg.
Chapter Thirteen
Drew found Janet sitting on the floor at the back of the cleaning products aisle, pricing a case of spray bottles with a marker. He loved that about this place. The store was cluttered, but in an organized, “got everything you’ll ever need” kind of way. It had character and individuality. Narrow aisles lined with wooden bins and a real counter, not a check-out aisle. No bar codes, no price tags—everything had a price written on it by hand. By her, he guessed, for every product was priced with the neatly drawn numbers one generally attributes to artists or engineers. A sharp but decidedly feminine script.
He tucked his hands in his pockets and stood there until she looked up from her task. He didn’t know what to make of her expression. It was softer than the glare she’d given him when he first arrived in Middleburg, but it was far harder than the looks she’d given him over pie at Deacon’s Grill. “Hey,” he said, oddly tongue-tied for a further greeting.
“’Afternoon,” she said, picking up another spray can. “Your blue paint came in. I had Emily look it over just as a precaution.”
All business. He supposed he deserved no less. “Thanks for that.”
She priced the can and picked up another without looking up. Drew moved over and sat down a foot or two away from her. “Look, I messed up. I knew better than to push like that. That’s not the way God is supposed to work, and it’s my fault, not His. Missionnovation invades enough as it is—it’s not supposed to be shoved personally down your throat like that. I’m asking you to forgive my thoughtlessness and let us start over for the sake of the preschool. Can we do that?”
Her pen stilled but she didn’t look up. He waited, saying a prayer that God could cover his dumb mistake and make things right between them. He needed Janet’s cooperation if this thing was going to come off well. He needed Janet’s forgiveness for a whole other bunch of reasons.
“Yes,” she said, finally looking up. Her eyes were softer now, but still very cautious. “We can do that.”
Drew started to say something clever and charming to cover the moment, but stopped himself. “Thank you,” he said simply, and turned to go.
“Drew,” she called as he started down the aisle.
He turned.
“Vern has your paint up by the counter. Why don’t you ask Emily and Gil to come help you paint the door? Might go a long way with those two.” She nodded, and the faintest hint of a smile found its way to the corners of her mouth.
“Brilliant idea. I’ll do that.”
That night, Janet dropped her mother off at the prayer meeting after they’d had dinner together. After the unavoidable “you’re sure you won’t stay?” pleading, Janet let her mother out of the car and pulled her Jeep up over the hill towards home. Her cell phone slid and fell between the seat, and she had to stop the car to reach down and fetch it back. At that moment, she heard the sounds of the prayer meeting floating out into the night.
She heard Drew’s voice as he spoke to the crowd. He was eloquent—as eloquent as Tony had been, if not more. Tony was a gifted speaker, one of those natural-born leaders who could inspire others to follow him. It wasn’t hard to see where most of her suspicion of Drew came from; he was far too much like Tony—like Tony in the early days, that is—not to compare the two. Not being much of the leader type herself, she admired those gifts. She wasn’t blind to how people naturally followed Drew’s dynamic lead.
But it was precisely that “natural following” that made her nervous. She’d “naturally followed” Tony, and it had led to nothing but pain. She no longer trusted the tug she felt when she watched someone give an impassioned speech.
In some way, though, that was the difference between what Tony did and what Drew was doing. There was another side to Drew—one she saw when he apologized this afternoon—that wouldn’t let her dismiss him as yet another “visionary” church guy stirring up support. She realized, as she listened, that she’d been so quick to see the “hype” that she’d dismissed the passion. They weren’t the same thing. She’d expected a flamboyant, energetic speech—something to beget handclapping and shouting. Instead, she heard someone was picking on a guitar, lilting and soft. She realized she’d been envisioning the meetings as a sort of God-soaked pep rally, but this wasn’t like that at all.
Drew’s voice was different than what she saw on television or even on site. The voice she heard now was miles away from the frenetic show host—this voice belonged to the Drew she saw in the store this afternoon. For some reason, while she could easily dismiss the theatrical Drew, this quieter Drew made it impossible to drive away.
He began singing a hymn, and she heard the crowd join in. It was an extraordinary sound, to hear so many voices echoing into the fading light. No wonder they never showed these on television. Even from this distance, the meeting sounded too personal, too intimate to broadcast. It felt almost like church, and she was surprised that the sensation didn’t cause her to bristle.
This wasn’t hype.
This was worship.
Janet allowed herself to listen, just for a minute. Drew’s voice sounded hungry for faith. It was hard to think of him hungering for more. He had enough faith for six people.
She’d grown comfortable with a life without faith. Learned to stand on her own in the practical, pragmatic world she made. She was never the kind of woman who pre tended to be something other than who she was—never dyed her hair or wore lots of makeup or needed to run off to college far away from Middleburg. She was who she was—always had been.
But they were both lonely.
She knew why he’d invited her, why he’d blurted that request before he could even realize that she wasn’t ready for it. He’d felt it.
That thing she felt, that thing she was trying not to feel. There was something between them. Something so impractical, that it seemed ridiculous to entertain.
Janet shook her head and drove away. “Not a chance,” she told herself in the rearview mirror. “Not even the slightest chance.”
Janet meant to stay away from the work site; she wasn’t ready to see Drew again. Theoretically, he was still the same man, but the sides of him she’d seen wouldn’t mesh in her head no matter what she tried, and it seemed better just to stay away.
Vern, however, had gone to the prayer meeting for the first time last night and wouldn’t stop talking about it. “No hoopla there,” he said as he and Janet opened the store that morning. “Just fine, upstandin’ hymn singin’. Like the revivals we had when I was young.” Janet heard him mutter “good people” three or four more times before she couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Run this over to the church, will you?” she interrupted, handing Vern a tin of drywall compound. “Ask somebody if this is the kind they want.” Of course, no one had even ordered drywall compound. The outer walls were just barely up. Still, if she didn’t get Vern and his green-bus-gushing out of here she was sure she’d go bananas. “We’re more than covered for the morning,” Janet lied, “why don’t you have some fun and hang around the site for a few hours. Let me know what you think of the way they’ve run the utilities over there.”
He jumped at
the invitation. She knew he would. Besides, a morning alone in the shop seemed like just the tonic for her frazzled insides.
Drew looked at Vern and Mike as the pair of them hauled some equipment across the lawn. Side by side like that, Vern and Mike looked like father and son. Like Mike—Missionnovation’s long and lanky electrics expert whom punsters often called “wiry”—Vern hadn’t a pound to spare on his tall frame. They’d obviously hit it off; they were absorbed in an animated conversation. This was half the fun of Missionnovation—watching folks make friendships. Drew himself kept up regular correspondence with several people from projects from each of the seasons—it had become an extended family of sorts for him. Despite the doubtful eye Vern had given the bus when it first pulled up, Drew liked the guy. They’d talked several times over the past few days. The old man had asked pointed questions, but he also seemed satisfied with the answers Drew provided. He was a straight shooter all right, honest but fair, and he had the wisdom of age Drew missed with his father now gone.
They were debating some technical point when Drew caught up with them. “Have you met Vern here?” Mike said, putting down the wheelbarrow he was pushing.
“I most certainly have,” Drew pulled off his work glove and shook Vern’s hand again. Vern had come over just after nine, and it was well past noon, but still the man showed no signs of wanting to either go home or get back to Bishop Hardware. “Good to have your help, sir.”
“Your man knows his way around his pipes and wires,” Vern said, inclining his head toward Mike. “It’s been a long time since someone showed me something I didn’t already know.”
Mike beamed. He really was an expert with electrics and plumbing, but the general public wasn’t always appreciative of the wonders behind their walls. Mike always grumbled, “People don’t give a hoot about their wiring until it stops working. Then all they do is hoot and holler.” It was true.
“I was just showing him how we rigged the upstairs conduit boxes,” Mike started in. “He liked how we…”
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