Bluegrass Courtship

by Allie Pleiter

  “Um, that’s sort of my doing,” Drew admitted. “We had a bit of an argument last night…this morning.” Maybe right now wasn’t the time to go make peace with her.

  Kevin kept walking, heading toward the church. “What’s going on between you two? You haven’t gotten complicated with her, have you?”

  Drew gaped at him. “No. You know me better than that. I hope you know me better than that.”

  “Well, you’ve been acting all weird lately. Distracted. And you told me she caught your eye. I wouldn’t have thought you’d go for that type, but then again…”

  “Yeah,” Drew turned, coming around in front of Kevin. “Tell me about the ‘then again’ part. I happen to know you’ve got a little ‘then again’ going on in your life.”

  Kevin stopped, looking shocked but also not hiding a grin. “You know?”

  Drew started walking again. “You two are about as subtle as Mayor Epson. I wouldn’t have thought you’d go for that type, but then again.” He nudged Kevin’s elbow just a bit. “Way to go, sport. Although I think you could have caught her attention without falling off the church roof.”

  Kevin’s grin faded into a nervous glance. “You’re…um…okay with this?”

  “Yeah.” Drew smiled. Kevin looked absolutely smitten. “I’m fine with it. Really. Just dial down the public affection until we’re off the air, okay? I want to keep the attention where it belongs.”

  Kevin nudged him back as best he could while still maneuvering the crutches. “On you?”

  “On the church and the preschool. By the way, what did you learn looking at those plans?”

  “It’s just like you said,” Kevin replied. “If we had loads of time and money, and HomeBase weren’t giving it to us for such a deal, we could do the roof with the other materials. And yes, we could go through the whole complicated process of putting the cistern thing underground, but all that’d take us an extra week, if not more. Plus we’d lose our watering can.”

  “But is it better?”

  “Ideal, maybe yes, but it’s not a question of better. But this isn’t a perfect world, and we can’t always go with the ideal installations. Not by the twentieth, that’s for sure. Don’t forget—both of those items are add-ons. We were doing them a favor.”

  “So I made the right call?”

  “Yes. Look, Drew, it’s not like you’re sticking them with some inferior product because it’s the HomeBase weekly special. The HomeBase stuff is new, but it’s quality, and as good as the stuff we were planning to use before. Besides, they’d never have been able to afford either without us.” Kevin stopped walking for a moment and looked at him. “You done good, rest easy. Janet will calm down one of these days, and if she doesn’t, you’ll be long gone anyhow.”

  Drew rolled his eyes. “Nice Christian attitude.”

  “I’m wounded and I’ve been up for thirty hours. This is as nice as I get.”

  Before Drew knew it, the afternoon was gone and it was time to get ready for the last prayer service. The final evening was always the best, and this one was no exception. It drew the largest crowd yet, with an excitement that could have powered the floodlights clear through the end of the week. Drew felt his energy return as the team and the dozens upon dozens of volunteers began to gear up for the final taping and handing over of the keys. Mayor Epson even led the crowd in a hymn, his booming baritone thundering over the crowd with characteristic importance. He was a textbook “octopus”, wanting to be part of every aspect of Missionnovation’s final days. Even though they usually handed the keys over to the pastor on the final day, Howard insisted Drew hand the keys to him, and he would hand the keys to Pastor Anderson. And it was a giant, key-to-the-city kind of key Howard had made, rather than the ordinary Missionnovation key chain Drew normally used.

  To Drew’s great satisfaction, Annie led the meeting’s final prayer. Without notes, on stage and over the microphone. And, just as suspected, she was fabulous. Kevin had heaped such encouragement on her in the last day that Annie didn’t stand a chance of sinking back into the sidelines. Surprising as it was, Kevin really did bring out the best in her.

  Equally as surprising, Annie brought out the best in Kevin. Even with one foot propped up, he displayed guitar skills Drew didn’t know he had. More than once, Drew backed off and let Kevin take the lead. Those two really had come into their own this season. You’ve given me an amazing team, Lord. They’re ready to take Missionnovation to the next level. You’ve blessed them—and me—beyond measure. When Janet’s mother led a prayer of thanksgiving for all the workers who’d made the project a reality, Drew joined in with a heart full of gratitude.

  None of that stopped him from scanning the audience for a certain set of brown eyes.

  He knew she wouldn’t be there. He knew he’d probably not get the chance to say goodbye, nor did he think forcing one would do anyone any good. She had too much history to see the situation objectively, and he didn’t think one more conversation would change that. Drew wasn’t a man given to many regrets, but as he packed up the sound equipment that night, he had the sinking feeling that Janet Bishop would always be one of them. Call her back to Yourself, Lord, Drew prayed. Redeem what that man took. Send someone to heal her. I understand it can’t be me.

  The great Drew Downing really had finally met the one wall he couldn’t tear down.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The state fair had nothing on Middleburg today. Janet sat on the hood of her Jeep and watched the crowd cheer as Howard Epson handed a giant green-and-white key to Pastor Anderson. There were twice as many cameras as usual, and that wasn’t counting the four local television crews. The church lawn was a sea of green T-shirts and white baseball hats. Janet imagined she was one of the only people in town not standing on the church lawn. Half the businesses shut down for the day, and Howard even got in a fight with the school board over whether or not to let classes out early.

  She couldn’t bring herself to go, even though she ought to have been there—she was, after all, a vendor and a participant. It had cut too close, however, become too personal, to allow her to stand among the happy crowd and cheer. It felt safer to watch from a distance.

  Camera crews followed Drew and the others around to the west side of the church, and Janet was certain she could hear the “oohs” and “aahs” as they unveiled God’s watering can and the adorable preschool garden. The garden she couldn’t go back to just yet.

  The next day, every time a plane flew overhead, Janet looked up, wondering if Drew and the rest of the team were on their way to the legendary meeting Annie had told her about. Big things were about to happen for them. She really did wish them well. They were mostly good people doing good things. Missionnovation had just become about too many things for her, and she needed distance. From them. From him. The preschool was open and running now, and things would be edging their way back to normal over the next week.

  Janet hadn’t even realized she’d been standing staring at the extra cans of Preservation Task Force Approved Church Door Blue paint until Vern came up and stood beside her. For a moment he just let out a deep breath and thrust his hands deeper into his overalls pockets. Then he looked at her and said, “You don’t think it’s perfect, do you? And that makes you mad.”

  “Well, yes.” It was that, but it was more than that—only she wasn’t ready to talk about the rest of it. She put down the can. “They let us down, Vern. They came in here all promises and big talk and…they let us down.”

  Vern looked around the empty store. “Let who down? I don’t see anyone else looking unhappy. Middleburg got a new preschool just like they promised. Pastor Anderson tells me he got a whole bunch of stuff he didn’t need even before the storm. Prayers got answered.”

  “They installed the roof and cistern wrong. There was a right way to do it and they took shortcuts instead.”

  “That’s just how you choose to see it. Jannybean, you got this perfect world in your head. Some idea of how the world
should be, and it burns you up when the world don’t agree. I ain’t never met a perfect person. Or a perfect plan, a perfect house, a perfect marriage or a perfect church. If life and people were perfect, Jesus’d be out of a job, don’t you think?”

  “He let me down, Vern. He was supposed to be the real deal, this guy who cared about doing the right thing, and he took shortcuts.”

  “I ain’t so sure I share your opinion, but okay, what if he did? What if Drew Downing messed up on that tank? What if the roof leaks? Does that take away everything else—every good thing—he did?”

  “It does to me.”

  Vern heaved a sigh that broadcast his disappointment and walked back down the aisle.

  “Mr. Missionnovation himself, Drew Downing!” The announcer’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers in the hotel banquet room. The lights came up as a huge screen that had just played segments of half a dozen Missionnovation programs retracted into the ceiling. Drew walked over to the HomeBase CEO and shook his hand.

  “This is the beginning of a great partnership,” the man said into the podium microphone. “A whole host of products and promotions lay ahead as HomeBase takes the warmth and values of Missionnovation to prime-time network television.”

  True to their word, HomeBase hadn’t edited any of the faith out of the Missionnovation segments they aired to their shareholders. Granted, Drew didn’t much care for America’s families of faith being referred to as a “rich, untapped market segment,” but if it got the word out undiluted and expanded, he didn’t see how he could complain. Eyes lit up around the room as Drew talked about his vision for an expanded Missionnovation. People were getting it. They were buying into the show’s concept. A few people even told him afterward that they’d started shopping at HomeBase because of its willingness to put its weight behind a faith-based show like Missionnovation. Drew had the overwhelming sensation that God had big plans for Missionnovation, and it was his job to hold on tight and take the wild ride.

  Charlie was positively beaming when they met up at the end of the session. “Can you believe it? Did you ever imagine we’d be here? Doing this? On this scale?” Charlie slapped Drew on the back and shook his hand. “After tomorrow, the whole country will know what Missionnovation is and what it stands for.”

  “I can’t wait for the rest of the team to get here. I want them to see this.”

  “They get in at ten o’clock tonight. I had my assistant check in with Kevin earlier, and everything is wrapping up nicely in Kentucky.” Charlie guided Drew through the sea of new fans toward the table where a lot of important looking people sat starting in on their dessert. With a sad twinge, Drew noted that the plates were filled with very ordinary looking chocolate sheet cake—a serious let-down from the delicious originality of Milk and Cookies Pie and Muffinnovations. “The editor says the tapes look great,” Charlie continued. “We should have a rough edit of the final episode within a few weeks. I think we’ll even have a thirty-second segment talking about the new expanded season and the HomeBase sponsorship. Gentlemen, we’re one our way to an amazing success.”

  The rest of the day was a blur of handshakes, photographs, planning meetings and congratulations. He was introduced to loads of people, but he didn’t really meet any of them. They were a sea of nameless faces, not unique individuals. When he finally sank onto his hotel bed at eleven o’clock that night, Drew thought he couldn’t keep his eyes open one minute longer. Which was funny, because jam-packed days usually left Drew feeling charged-up, not wiped out. He was glad of the chance to get his first full night’s sleep in weeks.

  Glad, that is, until a knock came on his door. Drew dragged himself off the bed and stumbled wearily to the peephole. Kevin stood on the other side of the door, flanked by his green-and-white crutches.

  Drew pulled the door open. “You made it. Everybody get settled in okay?”

  “Best flight ever. I love it that you get to board first if you’re on crutches.” Kevin grinned. “They put me in first class because my leg wouldn’t bend enough to fit in coach. Outstanding.”

  Drew laughed. “I’m glad. Who knows, they may fly us first class from here on in when we’re not on our spiffy new busses.”

  “Whatever. I’m beat. I’m gonna sink like a stone onto that big fluffy bed and wake up a new man.” His voice took on a teasing tone as he fumbled to pull an envelope from his back pocket. “First, though, I’ve got to deliver a little message someone left for you.” To Drew’s surprise, Kevin waved a Bishop Hardware envelope in the air. “Seems like someone finally came around. That’s my Drew. Wins ’em over every time.” Kevin pointed at Drew with a smirk. “I gotta admit, I wasn’t sure you were going to pull this one off.”

  Drew took the envelope, speechless. He was glad Kevin gathered his crutches and hobbled off down the hall without waiting for him to open the message from Janet. He suspected it was of a private nature, anyway. Thanks, God. I didn’t want it to end the way it did.

  Drew sank slowly down onto a chair and slid his finger under the envelope seal. Nothing fancy, just plain white paper with no-nonsense lettering in the corner. No spiffy colors or catchy logos—pure Janet Bishop practicality.

  His heart sank as the contents of the envelope fluttered out onto the floor.

  A single piece of paper. A check.

  She’d filled out the check he gave her on his first day. The blank check he’d given her to fund repairs if she ever felt Missionnovation hadn’t lived up to its promise of quality work.

  She’d filled it out for the amount of the original roofing supplies and returned it to him, uncashed.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It can’t be helped. I did everything I could do, didn’t I, Lord? We did a fine job for Middleburg. We went beyond what they requested. It’s not my fault, is it, Lord? Drew fingered his way through the Gospel of Matthew, his favorite, looking for something to speak to his heavy spirit. He read through the parable of the seeds. Janet was “scorched earth” right now, any seed that was sown wouldn’t take root. He’d always known he couldn’t bring everyone around, but he couldn’t get past his frustration over Janet. Every soul mattered to him, but Janet was different. And it wasn’t even just about faith. He couldn’t shake the notion he’d let her down professionally. Personally.

  Feeling no reassurance, Drew read further, looking for something to allow him to move on. He read over the parable of the lost sheep, sympathizing with the man Jesus said would leave his ninety-nine sheep to go find the one lost lamb. But he couldn’t find Janet—that was Jesus’s job. Go after her, Lord, he prayed. Be relentless. Don’t let her go.

  Janet made it crystal clear she felt as if she’d been wronged. He didn’t agree with her, but he knew that logic didn’t necessarily explain how someone felt. So Drew wandered into Luke’s gospel, looking for what Jesus did with people who’d been wronged. When he hit upon the Pharisee asking Jesus “Who is my neighbor?” in Chapter ten, he halted. Wasn’t he, in fact, asking himself the same thing? If Janet’s wounds were his responsibility to heal? He sat up in bed and read the parable of the Good Samaritan further.

  No one had to help the man who’d been robbed. They were visitors—bystanders who happened upon the victim. And compassion did require you to help someone like that. While no one else had, the Good Samaritan did a whole lot of good on behalf of the victimized man in the story.

  But he didn’t stop there. He went way beyond the expected. Beyond what he ought to do into all he knew he could do. Beyond just his obligation and into the depth of his capacity.

  Drew stilled, knowing he’d hit upon the passage God intended him to find. He was wide awake, even at three in the morning.

  Missionnovation had done its job. They’d given Middleburg burg more than it asked for. Sowed all kinds of seed in that quaint little town. Pastor Anderson told him several stories of people whose faith had been strengthened by the work of Missionnovation. They’d not only repaired the preschool, they’d made dozens of improvements on t
he church itself. Howard Epson was so proud, Drew thought he’d explode before the day was over. They’d filmed a spectacular final episode, wrapping up one season only to vault into a new, expanded format. No one could fault him for the work he did. But deep inside, Drew knew he held the capacity to do more for one particular woman. Even if it meant going to extraordinary lengths.

  It was no accident he’d given Janet that blank check. God had placed Janet in his life, and he in Janet’s. Drew’s constant ache for her was God telling him to make Janet’s healing his problem, because perhaps God chose him to be the solution. Hadn’t Dinah Hopkins told him as much? Yes, Janet’s “repair” was something only God could accomplish, but Drew knew he was supposed to play a part in her healing. A big part. Because God had planted a caring for her in his heart that was stronger than he could ever hope to ignore.

  And, truth be told, he was kidding himself to think that all of his unrest had solely been about Janet. In reality, Janet’s situation had only been the barometer for lots of things Drew had been sweeping under his own personal rug. Missionnovation was a different enterprise than when he started. He thought he’d wanted expansion, visibility, all the qualities of “bigger and better,” but it wasn’t what he really wanted.

  He wanted what Missionnovation used to be. Middleburg was feeling too much like the last of its kind—like something he wasn’t ready to let go. He thought it was simply projects like Middleburg, the face-to-face, get-to-know-you projects, but Drew realized it was Middleburg, itself. Missionnovation was moving on, but Drew knew he no longer wanted to move with it. The show had grown beyond his dreams, beyond what made him happy.

  That didn’t make it bad, it just made it time to say goodbye.

  Drew dialed Charlie’s cell phone as early as he dared. “Can’t wait for the big day, huh?” Charlie yawned into the phone.

  “We have to talk, Charlie. Now.”