Kate looked at the books in her lap. Could it really be so simple? Setting the Book of Mormon aside, she opened the journal. The book fell open to a page in the back that Kate didn’t immediately recognize. She thought she’d read the entire thing, but she must have somehow missed this entry.
23 June 1844
I do not know if I will ever find the truth I seek. I have grown weary of searching, the sermons, the pastors and preachers all claiming to know the way to salvation. The way for whom, I ask them. Your two hundred parishioners alone? What of the rest of us, then? When and if I find the truth, I believe I will feel peace and joy in my heart like I have never known. I will know of the truth because God will reveal it unto me. He has not let me down yet. I do not believe He will let me down this time either.
Many years ago, when I first learned that Da was dead, old Mr. Watson, the baker, walked me down to the churchyard and pointed out his grave. It was still fresh, the exposed earth barely visible in the pale moonlight. Watson left me, I guess, thinking I needed time to cope. But he said something just before leaving that has stayed with me for years and years since. He looked at me and said, “God is aware of you, Ian. He’ll not leave you alone.” And He has not left me alone. I have strived to walk with Him as my father counseled, and He has been with me. Those first hours after I learned of Da’s death were the darkest I experienced in my young life and the darkest still today. But it was in those hours that I felt the confirming presence of my Savior. I felt Him lift me up and give me the strength to move forward. I had no idea where or what I was going to do. But I knew I would be fine. Because of God’s grace and love, I knew I would be all right.
Fresh tears coursed down Kate’s cheeks as she read the entry again and then again. There was someone Kate could turn to, someone who would help her know what she needed to do and then help her have the strength and courage to do it. God was there for her. He knew who she was and knew specifically what she needed. She needed only to ask Him for help.
But could she do it? She thought of Andrew and the faith she knew he had in her and the person she was capable of becoming. She thought of the Spencers, the missionaries, her cousins, her aunt. She thought of Mary and Grey and her own parents. They deserved so much more than what Kate had given them.
She could do this. She could change. She had to change—for her family, for Andrew, for God. She had to change because it was the right thing to do. In her heart, she knew it.
The words came slowly at first, Kate embarrassingly aware of her solitary presence in the room. Yet she persisted, forming her sentences carefully, patterning them after the examples the missionaries had given so many weeks ago when they’d taught her to pray.
“Help me feel of Thy love, Father. Help me to feel Thy goodness and mercy. Forgive me for my sins, for being so selfish, for hurting my family. And give me the strength and the courage to be a better person . . .”
She paused, feeling foolish. “Agghh, I can’t do this.” She rose from the window seat and paced about the room. More tears, more frustration.
She looked upward as if to address God face-to-face. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be, is it? It should be easy to talk to You and know that You’re there, that You know who I am. But it’s not! I don’t know. I don’t know anything at all.” She sank back down onto the window seat, her balled fists finally relaxing into her lap. “God, help me . . .” she said softly. “Help me know You’re there . . .”
The feeling was like a soft warm breeze, except it started on the inside and radiated, expanding, filling Kate to her very fingertips and quickening her heart. She closed her eyes, tears washing her cheeks as she realized what she now knew. God knew her. He loved her, and He always had loved her. And He would not, not ever, leave her alone.
Kate sank to her knees, overwhelmed with relief, grateful for the sudden peace that filled her heart. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Dear God in heaven, thank you so much . . .”
Kate slept better than she had all month. She awoke with a new energy, and she was determined and, much to her surprise, happy. Her circumstances were hardly different than they had been the night before, but she was different. And that changed everything.
She dressed quickly and packed her suitcase. With the board of commissioners voting on her petition that evening, she did not have a lot of time to waste. Her mind raced as she drove back to Rose Creek. She glanced at the clock on her dashboard. She would be at Linny’s house by 11 a.m. There was no question of her going there first. She owed Linny an apology and wanted to reassure her that not only would she be at the meeting that night, but she would also be in Rose Creek from now on. Linny was never one to give up on her. She deserved to know that Kate knew what she was fighting for and that she wasn’t going to give up.
Linny was also Kate’s most trusted source of information about the rest of her family. She would know if anyone else was planning on attending the meeting and would know what Kate might expect when she saw them there. Kate guessed Sam would drive over, and Leslie would probably be there, assuming she believed Kate was gone for good. She dreaded a conversation with Leslie but knew it would have to happen sooner rather than later. No matter how much Leslie doubted her, Kate could not—would not—relinquish her claim on the farmhouse. Leslie needed to see that and realize Kate was there to fight. She would not willingly yield to the board of commissioners, nor would she shrink from Leslie’s pressure or criticism.
Kate was full of hopeful energy as she pulled down the little dirt road that led to Linny’s home. Her mind was filled with more peace and clarity than she had ever experienced before, her resolve unbending to accomplish the tasks set out before her.
Kate knocked and listened, recognizing the thud of Linny’s walking cast on the floor as she came to the door.
“Well, I’ll be dumbfiddled,” Linny said as she looked at Kate through the screen door. A wide smile spread across her face, and she shook her head. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away. I knew it.”
Kate smiled. “Linny, I’m so sorry about our conversation yesterday. I . . . I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Linny opened the door for Kate and gave her a warm hug before ushering her inside.
“I know what you were thinking,” she said as they walked to the kitchen. “You were scared and overwhelmed and you had your head stuck in the sand. What finally made you pull it out?”
“Let’s call it a bit of personal revelation,” Kate said. “How is everything? Have you been to the farmhouse lately?”
Linny nodded. “I was just there yesterday. Things are fine. The weeds are a bit out of control. You didn’t go there first?”
“No. I wanted to come apologize.”
Linny sighed and sat down at the kitchen table across from Kate.
“Well, I appreciate that, and I accept your apology. We’re human, every one of us. We stumble, we fall, we make mistakes. But when all the sand finally clears out of our ears and we start hearing plain again, well, then we do the right thing, don’t we?”
“I shouldn’t have run away. I was here, I was happy, I was so close to having things worked out, and then it just got so complicated all over again.”
“Leslie didn’t help matters there, did she?” Linny asked.
“How is Leslie?”
“As fine as one might expect. Does she know you’re here?”
“No. The only person who knows is you.”
“You’d better call Sam,” Linny said. “He’s planning on speaking for you at the meeting tonight. I’m sure he’ll be glad you can be there yourself.”
“Is Leslie going?”
“I expect she might, though you’d better make certain you talk to her before you both just show up. It wouldn’t do anybody any good for the board to see fireworks just before they vote.”
“I don’t want any more fireworks. In a way, I guess Leslie still has the right not to trust me. I’m just going to have to show her that I’m here for good and t
hat I’m not giving up. It may take a long time, but what else can I do? She’ll have to see eventually, right?”
“Of course she’ll see. And she’ll get over the sting of feeling slighted by her mama when that house went to you instead of her. She’s still angry about that. But she can’t be angry at her mom ’cause that just feels wrong, so the anger goes straight to you. It’ll pass though, Katie. Everything will be fine in the end.”
“It’s scary to think it might not matter at all if the vote doesn’t go our way,” Kate said.
“It will all be fine,” Linny said. “Trust an old lady. It will all be just fine.”
Chapter 34
Kate stood at the back of the meeting room at the Harrison County Board of Commissioners office with Sam and Linny, waiting for the meeting to commence. Mr. Marshall was also present, as well as Angus McFinley, the elderly gentleman from the preservation museum. Kate had gone to see him that afternoon, inviting him to the meeting and thanking him in person for all of the additional documents he had sent to her when she had prepared the final petition. Kate was humbled by the support her family and friends provided. In all of her fickleness, she didn’t feel she deserved their consistent, unwavering faith. She never would have made it so far on her own.
Leslie was not at the meeting. Kate had called her a few hours before and tried to talk but had found Leslie cold and cynical. It frustrated Kate. She couldn’t help but feel she was being blamed for things that were not her fault. She had apologized more than once and had made a valiant effort at improving and repairing their relationship. It was Leslie who had chosen to belittle her efforts and ignore her apology. Linny was probably right in that the house most certainly had something to do with Leslie’s bitterness, but what else would she have Kate do?
Linny wobbled over to Kate and interrupted her thoughts. “You look nervous enough, dear. Just relax.”
“Much easier said than done; I’m just ready for this entire thing to be over,” Kate said.
“How many times have I told you today that things will work out just fine? For better or worse, with or without the house, you will be fine,” Linny said. She shifted her weight and leaned against the wall behind them. “So whatever happened to that man of yours, Andrew?” she asked.
Kate’s face fell as she thought of him. “I don’t know,” she said. “We talked a few times after I left for the city, but I don’t really know if we’ll be able to make it work.”
“Well, like I said before, I reckon in the end, that’s better for everyone, though I certainly don’t relish your disappointment in the matter.”
It was the second time Linny had implied her satisfaction over the potential end to Kate and Andrew’s relationship.
“Better for who?” Kate asked, a slight edge to her voice. “What are you trying to say?”
“Now, now, it doesn’t matter, really,” Linny said gently. She fiddled with the straps of her shoulder bag, rubbing her fingers up and down the smooth leather. “I guess it just seems like with this family barely managing to get ourselves back together, throwing a new religion in the mix wouldn’t really help matters. I liked Andrew just fine, but if I’m being honest, I’m relieved the two of you aren’t seeing each other.”
“So what if I decide to become a Mormon, regardless of whether Andrew and I are in a relationship?” Kate asked. “And what if things aren’t necessarily over between Andrew and me? I’m not ready to hammer the last nail in the coffin just yet. Maybe things will still work out. If they do, I hope my family can learn to handle it.”
Kate sounded more defensive than she’d intended, and Linny’s eyes grew wide with surprise at her little outburst. Linny pinched her lips together and folded her arms tightly. “Well, I expect we’ll handle it just fine,” she said coolly. “But that doesn’t mean we have to like it.” Linny looked smug but did not push the conversation further. She looked over Kate’s shoulder. “Well, there’s Andrew now,” she said. “Did you know he was coming?”
Kate spun around and watched as he moved into the room, taking a seat in the back row. “I didn’t know,” she said.
Nervously glancing at her watch, she walked across the room and sat down in the row just in front of his. She turned around to face him. “Hi,” she said. “I wasn’t sure I would see you here.”
“I thought it best to be here in case any questions were asked regarding the survey,” Andrew answered.
“Oh, well, thank you. I really do appreciate your help,” Kate said.
Andrew’s eyes darted all over the room, looking in every direction but at Kate. He was trying not to make eye contact, she could tell.
The room grew quiet as the board members took their seats. Kate looked around. She wanted to reach out and take Andrew’s face, make him look at her and listen. She wanted him to see that Steve meant nothing, that from their first conversation, Andrew was all she’d ever wanted. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It wasn’t the right time. Kate needed to focus on getting through the meeting. She turned and faced forward.
Sam and Linny came and sat down next to Kate as Douglas Bradley, chairman of the board and the man Kate had spoken with on the phone when she’d first learned of her dilemma, called the meeting to order.
Kate looked at the chairman, wondering if he would be one to support her cause. He looked nice enough—tall and thin, generally unimposing. As he welcomed everyone to the meeting and conducted a few items of unrelated business, he seemed rushed and a bit intolerant of distractions or secondary conversation. It made Kate uneasy. Finally, her petition was next on the agenda.
“Next on tap for this evening is a petition for landmark status regarding the Walker farmhouse on Red Dogwood Lane, owned by Katherine Sinclair. Ms. Sinclair, are you present?” Mr. Bradley looked up, scanning the room in search of Kate.
“I’m here,” she said, forcing confidence into her voice as she stood up.
Mr. Bradley nodded. “All should have received a copy of Ms. Sinclair’s petition prior to this meeting and been allowed a reasonable and substantial amount of time to review it. We will now open the floor for discussion,” he said, addressing his fellow board members. Then he turned back to Kate. “Ms. Sinclair, I assume you’re willing to answer any questions the board may have?”
Kate nodded.
“And I believe the architect who conducted the survey is also available should his opinion be needed as well. Mr. Porterfield, I believe?” Mr. Bradley said.
Andrew stood. “I’m Andrew Porterfield. I’d be happy to answer any questions, if need be.”
Mr. Bradley paused and looked at Andrew. “I don’t believe I recognize your name. Do you work locally?”
“I have family in Rose Creek that brings me here on occasion, but I haven’t done any other work in the area,” Andrew answered.
“Where do you work, then?” Mr. Bradley asked.
Andrew paused long enough that Kate started to feel uncomfortable.
“Actually, I’ve just been offered a position in Raleigh,” he finally said.
Kate struggled to hide her response. She closed her eyes for a moment and forced her attention back to the front of the room.
“Ah, yes. I see your credentials listed here. Very well,” Mr. Bradley said. “Now, to get us started, I’d like to make a few observations that I believe are pertinent to how we consider this case. There are, after all, special circumstances concerning this house. The board is aware that nearly two months ago Ms. Sinclair received notice that the North Carolina State Department of Transportation was initiating eminent domain to acquire her property for construction of the Mountain Way bypass, a highway that we all know has been in the planning stages for quite some time. Now, I did a little bit of research, and it seems, Ms. Sinclair, that you’ve only owned this property a short time. Is that correct?”
“I grew up in the house,” Kate answered. “But when my aunt Mary Walker passed away last month, she left the house to me.”
“I see,” Mr. B
radley said. “Ms. Sinclair,” he continued, “I struggle to understand why this petition was only just filed. Obviously your goal is to create a blanket of protection for your house that will nullify the state’s ability to take it. But this process, this highway has been in the works for months, years even. Ms. Walker had ample time to protest, to attend the countless meetings we’ve had about this, about the numerous properties involved in this project. Why have we not heard from your family before now?”
“Commissioner, I assure you my aunt was a responsible, intelligent woman. She would not have sat idly by, knowing that her property was going to be taken, her home bulldozed to the ground. My family was under the impression that the house was not to be involved in the construction of the highway. On the twenty-fifth of April, my aunt received a notice indicating a change in the proposed route that would include the house after all. It was that very afternoon that my aunt died, sir—perhaps just moments after reading the letter. However it happened, Mary did not tell anyone in the family about the letter before she passed away.”
“I am sorry for your loss, but even still,” Mr. Bradley said, “do you realize where we are in this process? Your property is the only one still in stages of negotiation.”
“Commissioner,” Kate said, “this house is not the kind of house one can easily exchange for any sum of money. As the petition states, it is rich with history and meets all requirements to qualify for landmark status.”
“But the highway is a project that will benefit all citizens of Harrison County. Months and months of research have gone into determining the best possible route. Do you really feel you and your little petition are qualified to negate all the efforts and hours spent by others to get this highway built most efficiently?”
The House at Rose Creek Page 24
