VANCOUVER: The Gem of Canada Is Aglow with Four Romances

by Gail Sattler

  Lionel flopped down on his back and stared at the ceiling. First she’d participated in a convoy, and now she’d gone into a building full of truck drivers and night shift warehousemen, a gorgeous woman all by herself. Of course she hadn’t had a minute alone.

  “They bought me coffee and everything. Some of them even offered to share their lunches, since I couldn’t get to the fridge because you were sleeping. They were all so nice.”

  “I’ll bet they were.”

  “Since you’re awake, you might as well come with me. There are a few men here who invited me to come into the lunchroom while I wait for them to finish loading the shingles. They’re really nice too. I told them my driving partner was sleeping in the truck. They suggested I leave you alone, but I thought it best to wake you up.”

  Lionel slapped his hands over his eyes and groaned. “You did the right thing. Let’s go join them for coffee.”

  They made good time on the road, although driving alongside the tourists in the daytime slowed them down to some degree. They finally reached their destination mid-afternoon. Gwen promised Lionel they would book off for a day, no matter what, so they could both catch up on some much-needed sleep. She could feel the effects of three short nights’ sleep in a row herself. Knowing how tired he was after being away from home for so long made her almost feel guilty about accepting the load, but she had had to make a decision. She would have felt guiltier if he’d lost his job because of her.

  Gwen read the directions to Lionel as he drove through the small town. They headed into an older district in the town’s core, where the homes were smaller and—one thing Gwen would never have noticed before she started driving a truck—the roads were narrower.

  “It should be just after the next left.”

  They approached a rectangular old church building. Dark green bushes dotted with red flowers stood on either side of the front doors. They appeared to be in better condition than the building. The white slatboard walls were peeling in sections, and the short steeple was peeling more than the rest of the building. It didn’t have a cross on it, but the sides were open, indicating a bell inside. Gwen wondered if they actually rang the old bell on Sunday morning and what it would sound like. Orange tarps covered sections of the roof, and the parking lot was empty except for one small car and a huge blue disposal bin.

  Lionel drove carefully into the parking lot, going slowly over the old cracked surface.

  “What’s your church like at home?” he asked.

  Gwen looked at the tattered building. “It’s nothing like this. The church I go to at home is huge. The building is only about fifteen years old and very modern, inside and out. I’ve always appreciated a classic old building, although this one is more classic than most.”

  They walked inside and found their way to the pastor’s office. A man close to retirement age sat behind a very cluttered desk, talking on the phone. The room wasn’t much bigger than the desk. He motioned them to a couple of chairs and they squeezed into the limited space while he ended his call.

  “Welcome! I’m John Funk, the pastor of this humble place. What can I do for you?”

  Lionel stood and returned the pastor’s handshake. “We’ve got a load of shingles for you, Pastor Funk. They’re from a friend of yours in Indiana.”

  John Funk pumped Lionel’s hand faster. “Praise the Lord! The roof wasn’t in very good shape as it was, but the wind and hail finished it off. Those shingles are an answer to prayer. Please, call me John.”

  Lionel nodded. “Pleased to meet you, Pastor John. I’m Lionel, and this is Gwen.”

  Gwen shook the man’s hand in turn.

  Pastor John checked his watch. “You’re here much earlier than I ever hoped you would be, and I appreciate it. You must be hungry. Would the two of you like to be my guests for dinner?”

  Gwen shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I know my pastor at home is always having people over for dinner, and I don’t know how his wife does it on short notice. But thanks for the offer.”

  Pastor John smiled warmly. “Your pastor at home? So you’re a believer? Praise the Lord. About that dinner, I happen to know it’s leftover turkey dinner, and there’s lots.”

  Gwen opened her mouth to decline, but before she spoke, she turned to Lionel. At the mention of turkey dinner, his whole face lit up. She imagined he didn’t get many home-cooked meals and, of those he did, probably very few were full turkey dinners, first day or leftovers.

  She knew his answer without asking.

  “Thank you, that would be lovely. We’d be delighted to join you for dinner. But only if it’s no trouble for you or your wife.”

  “I’ll phone and check, but I know what the answer will be. I’ve been married to the same woman for thirty-seven years, and I’d like to think I know her reactions. Just don’t tell her she’s predictable.”

  The phone call yielded exactly the results he’d expected. While Pastor John locked up the church, Lionel locked up the truck. Within minutes they stopped in front of a small white slatboard house. Rather than fences, evergreen hedges separated the yards, the twisted old shrubbery denoting the age of the wellestablished and well-kept older neighborhood.

  A gray-haired woman dressed in jeans and a bright green T-shirt waited in the doorway. “Welcome, Lionel and Gwen. I’m Freda. You don’t know how much it means to have those shingles here so soon. John can get started on some of it tonight. Hopefully it will be done in a few days and we’ll be ready for the next rain.”

  “A few days?” Gwen asked. “Why do you think it’s going to take that long? It’s not that big a building. You don’t mean you’re going to do it all by yourself?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s a small congregation. Today is Friday, so everyone is at work. They have their own messes to clean up and repairs to make on Saturday. I won’t ask anyone to work on the church roof on Sunday. I doubt most of them are aware of the extent of the damage to the old roof. But it will get done.”

  Gwen looked at Lionel, and Lionel looked at her. They both raised their eyebrows and nodded at the same time.

  Lionel turned back to Pastor John. “We’ve got a day here before we have to take another load out. If you’ve got a couple of extra hammers, we can help with the roof, and it will be done before Sunday morning.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that. You’re not even a member of our congregation.”

  Lionel glanced at Gwen and smiled. Her heart swelled with pride for him as he spoke.

  “We’re all members of God’s congregation, no matter where in the world we live. If you’ve got hammers, you’ve got help.”

  Gwen nodded. She didn’t want to be a burden, and she certainly didn’t want to sit and do nothing while Lionel worked during the short amount of time they had off. “I’m not too bad with a hammer either,” she said.

  The Funks joined hands. “I don’t know what to say …,” Pastor John drawled.

  Lionel grinned from ear to ear and patted his stomach. “Just say it’s supper time!”

  Gwen elbowed him in the ribs. “That was delicate,” she muttered under her breath so only Lionel could hear.

  He laughed and followed the Funks into the house.

  After a prayer of thanks for the food, the gift of the shingles, and the unexpected help to install them, they enjoyed the wonderful meal Freda set before them. Not that the truck stop food had been bad, but it hadn’t taken long for Gwen to become tired of greasy fare, which made her consider the leftovers an extra special treat. Lionel ate with utter abandon, devouring everything on his plate as if it were a king’s meal placed before a starving man.

  She nudged his ankle under the table. She had meant just to get his attention, but at the contact he froze, fork in midair, and stared at her. “Yes?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” Gwen mumbled.

  He obviously didn’t get the hint, because when Freda passed him more food, he gratefully accepted it.

  Freda offered more to Gwen, but she sho
ok her head. “This has been wonderful, but I’ve eaten so much. Thank you, I couldn’t eat another bite.”

  “But I have homemade cherry pie for dessert.”

  Gwen really was full, but she couldn’t refuse the kind woman. “Just a small piece would be lovely. Thank you.”

  Lionel’s eyes lit up. “Homemade pie?”

  Gwen couldn’t stand it anymore. When Pastor John rose to clear the table and Freda went to the counter to cut the pie, Gwen turned and whispered to Lionel. “I can’t believe you. You look like you haven’t seen food for a week. Aren’t you embarrassed?”

  “Me? You should talk. You’re the one with the hollow leg. I eat like this once and you think it’s a big deal, but you’re the one who orders a second helping of fries at six in the morning.”

  She was about to comment on the unique seasoning of the fries in question, when Freda returned and placed two plates of pie, topped with ice cream, in front of them. “So, where are you folks from?”

  “We’re from Vancouver, Canada.”

  “You’re a long way from home.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “I hear it rains a lot there.”

  Gwen smiled. “It rains a lot, but it’s not as much as people think it does. I really don’t mind the rain.”

  Lionel harumphed beside her as he dug into the delicious homemade pie. “I hate the rain.”

  Gwen took a nibble of her pie. “You were the one praying for rain just before we ran into the hail.”

  “I never did.”

  “You did so. You said that you wanted a little rain to break the heat.”

  One eyebrow quirked. “I might have said that, but I certainly never prayed for it. You like rain so much, you probably prayed for it. You just won’t admit it.”

  The sparkle in his eye gave his thoughts away. Even though she knew he was teasing and goading her to put her foot in her mouth, she was having too much fun to stop. Gwen opened her mouth to tell him that the reason they were caught in the storm was his fault, when she heard the older couple chuckling. She snapped her mouth shut and lowered her head to pick at the piece of pie in front of her.

  Freda smiled and snickered. “Don’t mind us. As pastor and wife, we’ve seen a lot of marriages over the course of the years. More couples would benefit from this kind of friendly banter. How long have you two been married?”

  Gwen felt her face heat up. She glanced at Lionel out of the corner of her eye, noting that he was also blushing.

  Gwen delicately dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “We’re not married.”

  Freda’s cheeks reddened as well. “I just assumed … You’re traveling together …”

  Lionel laid his cutlery down on his plate. “Gwen started driving with her uncle, but an emergency breakdown teamed us together on short notice. Since we’re driving team, the company sent us on another priority trip, which was your shingles. We actually just met at the beginning of the summer.”

  Freda’s hands rose to her cheeks. “Oh!”

  “Yes. I must say it was a surprise to both of us, but God was gracious to team us together as Christians. To tell the truth, this is the first time since we’ve been traveling together that we have some time off and don’t have to drive all night. I was wondering if you could recommend a motel nearby.”

  Both of them stared at Lionel as he spoke. Gwen chose to keep silent. She knew what they were thinking.

  Lionel’s ears flamed. “The motel room is for Gwen. I’ll be sleeping in the truck.”

  Freda turned to Gwen. “Nonsense. You don’t have to get a motel. Please, be our guest in our home for the night. There’s just the two of us here, we have a spare bedroom. You’re more than welcome.” She stopped to smile, making Gwen think of how much of an art it was for the woman to recover her composure so quickly. “You’d be welcome even if you weren’t helping fix the roof of the church.”

  Gwen noticed she didn’t offer for Lionel to also be a guest in their home, nor had Freda suggested that she take her to the motel after all and that Lionel stay in their guest room so he wouldn’t have to sleep in the truck.

  She tried to think of a way to politely decline in favor of the motel, when Pastor John spoke.

  “If you sleep here instead of across town at the motel, we’ll get an earlier start on the roof.”

  Gwen smiled. “That would be lovely. Thank you. Now let me help with the dishes.”

  Chapter 9

  Lionel sat outside the church and waited for everyone to arrive. The sun was up and he was refreshed and ready.

  He couldn’t believe it when Pastor John had left him with the key to the church so he could have washroom facilities when he needed them. The old building didn’t have a kitchen or a shower, but it had the basics, and that was all he needed. In his travels as a trucker, it was more than he had most trips.

  What astounded him the most was the trust involved in giving him the key. They had just met the night before, and nothing would have stopped him from loading up anything of value from inside the church and leaving in the middle of the night. Of course, they had Gwen at their home, and he wasn’t going anywhere without her.

  He’d phoned the nearest terminal to book off the day, and they had told him he would have had the weekend off anyway, since there wasn’t a load out, which was fine with Lionel.

  It gave him extra time with Gwen, which was exactly what he wanted since they would now be on their way home and their time together would soon be over. Not that being up on the roof and banging away at shingles was exactly quality time, but it was as close as he would get. It was quieter and more private in the truck when they were driving, but that was work, and with work came limitations and boundaries.

  He looked up at the roof. Whatever he said and did today with Gwen would be on display to not only a minister but the entire neighborhood. He looked up at the clear blue sky. God was always watching, day or night, in public or in the privacy of his home and his truck. Rather than being intimidating, the knowledge gave him great comfort. Today he didn’t have to think about calculating maximum driving hours or crossing any personal lines while in the confines of his truck. He could concentrate everything he had on Gwen, and he prayed that God would bless their short time together away from business.

  Pastor John’s small car pulled into the parking lot, and Pastor John, Freda, and Gwen climbed out.

  “Good morning, Son. Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes, Sir, I did.”

  He had slept well. After dinner they’d cleaned up and talked and prayed together before Pastor John dropped him off for the night. On the short drive back to the church, Lionel thought Pastor John was on the verge of asking him about his relationship with Gwen, but at the last minute held back, which was a good thing. Lionel didn’t know the answer.

  After their experience with the edge of the tornado, he’d thought briefly that he could have been in love with her, but recognized that the panic of the situation had intensified his emotions. Of course he liked her, and he liked her a lot, but it couldn’t be love, not after such a short amount of time. However, whatever was happening between them had hit him hard and fast. When they parted ways, Gwen would be taking a piece of him with her. He vowed that, today, he would do all he could to discover more about this fast friendship and make the most of it, although what he felt for her at this point extended beyond anything he’d ever felt in his heart for any friend, male or female.

  “I haven’t re-shingled a roof in years, but I remember how it’s done and all the steps. I want to tell you again how much I appreciate this. Freda won’t be coming up on the roof, she’ll be inside the church doing some paperwork, and she’s brought drinks and meals. We brought something for breakfast for you, since we all ate at home.”

  Lionel wiped his hands on his pants and accepted an English muffin with bacon and eggs inside. “This is great. Thanks.” He gobbled it down while Gwen and Pastor John set the ladder against the eaves.

  Gwen returned with
something in her hand. He expected her to hand him a napkin, but instead it was a small white bottle. “Put this on. It’s sunscreen.”

  “Sunscreen? What do I need this for?”

  “For your right arm, but do both.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  She grabbed both his wrists and pulled his arms forward and together. Her touch caught him so off guard that he nearly dropped the bottle.

  “See? Look at the difference. Your left arm is nice and tanned, and your right arm is white.”

  “So? That happens all the time. It’s from driving with my arm out the window.”

  “Exactly my point. Don’t you think you’ll look stupid with one normal arm and one beet red arm if you don’t put on lots of sunscreen?”

  He wanted to protest, but for such a minor point, despite how silly, he didn’t want to look stupid in front of Gwen. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did.

  Lionel splashed on the sunscreen and rubbed it into his arms and face. “This stuff stinks. I’m only doing this for you, you know.”

  She harumphed and turned her back to him, but he caught her rolling her eyes. “Spare me. Such a sacrifice. How will I ever live with myself?”

  “You can make it up to me later.”

  She made a sound almost like a snort, which surprised him. He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

  Once everyone was sufficiently coated with sunscreen, Freda held the ladder and they climbed up to the roof. The first chore was to pull off the old shingles and tarpaper and toss everything into the disposal bins below. He’d discovered one bin on each side of the building. He imagined they would overflow them both by the time they were done.

  The old shingles were brittle and often cracked. He cleared one section, then moved to start in another place when a hunk of shingles and tarpaper flew over the peak toward him. It fell apart mid-flight, with a large section falling near his feet and sliding down the roof and into the bin. A smaller section of broken shingle sailed over his head, and another small section hit his back.