That Wilder Boy

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  “But times have changed,” he argued.

  Eileen sputtered, “Don’t try telling me old values are out-dated! They aren’t! It’s people that’ve changed, not the times. People have become dissatisfied with having their needs met and get all caught up in wants.” She glowered at him. “You really think those rich people that live in East Briar are happy all the time? Bah! They’re still people, Rocky, and people all need the same thing to make them happy—love. Love of God first, and love of family second.”

  She rolled to her feet and peered down at him for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “Maybe you need to spend some time in prayer, young man. Ask God to get your priorities in alignment. And while you’re at it, you might let God know you trust Him to meet your needs. He can do it. And while He’s at it, He can give you the desires of your heart. But what you’ve got to remember is the biggest desire should always be to grow in your relationship with Him. That’s where true happiness resides—in recognizing just how much He loves you.”

  She turned her back and returned to her digging. Rocky watched her for a few minutes, his thoughts tumbling haphazardly, sorting out what she’d said. He got to his feet and emptied the rest of the fertilizer in the spreader, but his mind wasn’t on the task. He kept replaying what Eileen had said about God meeting his needs, God being the source of his happiness. He wanted to accept her words as fact, to set aside all the ideas of providing his family with the extras he’d mentioned, but a bit of doubt held him back.

  What if Carrie’s needs were different from most people’s? After all, having grown up in a mansion, given all the extras money could buy, wouldn’t those things that were wants to him have become needs to her? And how could he hope to provide those things for her with a simple landscaping business?

  “Eileen?” He waited until she raised her head. “I’m going to put the spreader away; then I’ll be back to help you put the rest of those mums in the ground. You okay out here by yourself?”

  She waved a dirty glove in his direction. “Go on. I’m old, not helpless.” As he started to walk away, she called, “And think about what I said! I’m not stupid, either.”

  He gave a nod in reply and rolled the spreader to the storage shed, cleaned it and put it away before heading back to assist Eileen in placing the remainder of the mums he had purchased. Let God know you trust Him to meet your needs. . . . Eileen’s words repeated themselves in his memory. His heart pounded as fear struck. Maybe his faith wasn’t strong enough for that yet. He had a lot of serious thinking and praying to do.

  Twelve

  Carrie awakened before her alarm clock sounded, jolted from sleep by a troubling dream. She scowled into the dusky room, trying to pinpoint what had bothered her, but as was so often the case with dreams she was unable to recall the details that would bring understanding. With a sigh she rolled sideways and blinked the sleep from her eyes. A glance at the calendar hanging above her desk reminded her that in only six more days she would be twenty-five. And she would be independently wealthy.

  She rolled the other way to avoid thinking about it.

  Her contact with Rocky for the past three weeks had been nonexistent. Frustration built in her chest as she thought about it. She had known school would occupy her time during the weeks, but she had intended to see Rocky each weekend. Between her stepfather’s interference and Rocky’s commitment to help his brother do some renovating at his job placement service, she hadn’t seen him since their dissatisfying picnic at the duck pond.

  A sigh escaped. It hadn’t seemed to matter much that she hadn’t spent time with Rocky in person. He was constantly present in her thoughts. And her prayers. Despite spending a portion of each day in prayer concerning the roadblock that stood between her and Rocky, she hadn’t found a solution. No matter how she looked at it, the trust fund would always be there.

  She groaned and buried her face in her pillows, petitioning heaven once more. “How can You make this work, Lord? I love Rocky, and I believe he loves me. Money should never stand in the way of how people feel about each other.” She threw back the covers and rose, padding to her desk and tapping her finger thoughtfully on the date that would change her life irrevocably.

  Not only would she become responsible for a large sum of money, Mac had informed her she needed to find her own place to live. “You’ve got the means to purchase a house. I’ll put you in touch with a realtor who can assist you in making a wise choice,” Mac had said two nights ago at supper. At the time Carrie had nearly fallen out of her seat in surprise. She hadn’t suspected Mac would throw her out of the only home she’d known since she was a very small girl. But now, thinking about it, it seemed like a good idea to go.

  Purchasing a house and getting it ready for her habitation was a challenge in itself. Doing that while facing the starting rush of a taxing, final school year seemed daunting. But it also seemed exciting. She could make her own choices, decorate as she pleased—and she certainly had ideas for décor! Nothing flashy. She wanted homey, warm, and welcoming. Soft colors, durable furniture, and lots of flowers.

  The thought of flowers brought her back to Rocky, and suddenly the dream that had awakened her drifted through her memory. Only a whisper of it, but enough to grasp the meaning. She’d dreamt she stood in the middle of a huge flower garden, with Rocky darting from cluster to cluster, his hands reaching, as if trying to decide which bloom to pick. She waited, holding her breath, for him to finally choose one, knowing it would be a flower with special significance; but finally he turned to her with great sorrow in his eyes. Holding out his hands in defeat, he said, “I’m sorry. I can’t afford any of them.” And instantly she’d awakened.

  Now she jerked upright, an idea striking like a lightning bolt from the sky. So Rocky couldn’t afford those flowers—she could! With her trust fund she could buy a field of flowers. But she didn’t want a field of flowers already blooming; she wanted to buy the field in which to plant flowers, and a greenhouse, and tools and equipment needed to get a landscaping business on its feet. Remembering the sadness in the dream—Rocky’s eyes when he was unable to gift her—was all the motivation she needed to start her plan in motion.

  So Rocky couldn’t afford to start his own business. All he needed was the capital. He’d asked her to pray for the means to make his dream a reality, and she’d overlooked the most obvious answer to the prayer—her very own trust fund. She wouldn’t use it for herself; she’d use it for the good of others, starting with Rocky.

  She dashed through a shower, dressed in a soft linen suit of beige, and pulled sling-back pumps onto her feet. Back in the bathroom she twisted her still-damp hair into a coil on the back of her head and secured it well with pins then applied makeup with a careful hand. Just enough to bring out her cheekbones and enhance her already thick, full eyelashes. Taking a step back, she surveyed her reflection in the mirror. Satisfied, she marched out of the bathroom, snatched up her purse and keys, and headed for her car.

  It was Saturday, and people would be busy, but they’d make time for Mac Steinwood’s stepdaughter. A twinge of guilt struck as she realized she was doing exactly what she’d always disdained—using money to gain favors—but this favor wasn’t for her. This was for the man she loved. It would be worth it.

  ❧

  Rocky rolled over in bed and stretched, yawning widely, as he forced his body to awaken. Normally on Saturdays he let himself sleep in since during the weekdays he was at work by five a.m. But today, as he had the past two Saturdays, he would be meeting Philip at New Beginnings to work on updating the training center.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes. They should finish today—just touchup painting and putting everything back where it belonged. It had been a challenge for Philip to operate with things in a mess—many of his clients didn’t adjust well to change, and the odd placement of partitions and furnishings had made things rather tense—but all would be in order by the end of this weekend.

  And maybe, after th
is weekend, he could get his own life in order. While he’d worked with Philip, his thoughts often drifted to Carrie. It had been hard on his heart, not seeing her at all for twenty straight days. He hadn’t called her, either. It didn’t feel right to call the Steinwood mansion, so he’d waited for her to call him. But she hadn’t. That bothered him. Maybe she’d decided a relationship with him wasn’t a good idea after all.

  He shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that. What an unpleasant way to start a day. But he knew how to turn it around. Eyes still open, he prayed, “Dear God, thank You for this day and the chance to do some good work. Be with me as I help Philip finish up at New Beginnings. Be with Carrie, whatever she’s doing. Bless her time and protect her. Let us both bring glory to You today. Amen.”

  The prayer made his heart feel light. Rising, he entered the bathroom and ran a washcloth over his face, scrubbing away the remainder of sleepiness. He gave his whiskery chin a quick shave, pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt, then locked up the house and headed to New Beginnings.

  Philip was already there, as was his wife, Marin, and Marin’s brother, John. He greeted Philip with a clap on the back, gave Marin a hug and a kiss on the cheek, then turned to John.

  “Good morning, John.” Rocky kept his hands at his sides. Even though nearly a dozen years had passed since his youth, when he had tormented John and others like him, the guilt of his former behavior still plagued him when he saw John.

  John’s almond eyes crinkled into a smile as he replied, “Good morning, Rocky. Today we are finishing so things will be neat and tidy.” His stubby hands signed the words as he spoke.

  “Neat and tidy sounds good to me,” Rocky agreed then hesitantly gave John a light pat on the shoulder.

  John didn’t shrink away, just slung his arm around Rocky’s back and patted, too. How forgiving John was. Rocky wished he could be as accepting as John was of others.

  “Well, let’s get going,” Philip said. “Paint cans and brushes are over there. Be sure to lay out the plastic sheet before you get started. I don’t want paint spatters on my new floor.”

  “Okay, okay, tyrant.” Rocky forced a grumbling tone as he grinned at his brother and headed toward the paint.

  John shook his head. “Rocky, this is not tyrant. This is Philip. You do not remember your brother?”

  Philip laughed lightly. “He remembers, John. He’s just teasing me.”

  John laughed, too. “Oh, he is teasing. Okay.” Then he shook his finger at Rocky. “But no more teasing. Teasing is not nice.”

  Another pang of guilt struck. John was right—often teasing hurt. John would know. He saluted. “No more teasing.”

  They all got busy. Philip cranked up his radio on a Christian music station, and the soul-stirring songs inspired Rocky as he worked. He hummed along with the tunes, mouthing the words occasionally, while his paint brush swished in beat with the music. He heard the phrase “Jesus makes all things new. . .” come through the speaker, and it reminded him of the verse in Second Corinthians that had captured his attention a few nights ago during his reading.

  He paused, the paintbrush still, as he tried to recapture the exact wording from his Bible. In a whisper he recited, “ ‘Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.’ ” He was pretty sure he got it word for word. He said it to himself again, absorbing the meaning of the words.

  Dipping the brush once more, he reflected on old things passing away. He glanced over his shoulder to spot John with his shoulder against a partition, pushing while Philip guided it into place. John’s face creased in concentration, his tongue showing in the corner of his mouth, made Rocky smile.

  Who would have thought Rocky Wilder would spend time with a man with Down Syndrome? The old Rocky wouldn’t have, except to torment him, but the new Rocky was finding an admiration for people with disabilities. Despite any shortcomings perceived by society, John continued to do his best with what he’d been given. Everyone should be as friendly, accepting, and diligent as John.

  “ ‘All things are become new. . .’ ” Rocky whispered the words as he stroked paint onto the wall. New. Shiny. Rocky hadn’t owned very many new, shiny things in his lifetime. His folks had shopped garage sales and donation sites for clothes and toys. His first car had been fifteen years old when he’d bought it, all the new worn off. Hard to take something like that, buff it up, and make it appear new.

  Not so with a man’s heart, though, he thought with a rush of joy. When God got hold of a person, He didn’t just blow off the dust, sandblast the rust, then polish it to hide the old worn-out parts. God replaced the old parts with brand-new, shiny parts. He made things new.

  Rocky glanced once more at John. “God, I sure wish I could go back and change the mean things I did,” he whispered, his heart aching as he thought of the pain he’d caused. “But thank You for the opportunity to be John’s friend now. I hope I can keep things shiny in my relationship with him.”

  He turned back to the wall, examined his handiwork then stooped to touch up a scuff mark near the baseboard. The swish of paint eradicated the mar, giving the entire wall a new appearance. He smiled, satisfied with his work. Suddenly, against the backdrop of pale beige, Carrie’s image appeared. Fresh, clean, honest. How did that verse in Second Corinthians apply to people like Carrie, whose lives had been lived with everything shiny and new?

  The telephone jangled. Philip answered it then called, “Hey, Rocky? It’s for you.”

  For me? Rocky trotted to the phone, took the receiver with two fingers and pressed it to his ear. “This is Rocky.”

  “Hi, Rocky, it’s Carrie.”

  Carrie! His knees turned to jelly. Bracing himself on the edge of Philip’s desk, he squeaked out, “Hi. How’d you find me here?”

  A soft laugh came through the line, causing Rocky’s heart to double its tempo. “I’ve called all over Petersburg, it seems. You weren’t home, your brother wasn’t home, so I finally called Eileen, and she told me where you were. Oh—she said to tell you she’ll bring lunch over for all of you.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “But—”

  “And speaking of food. . .” Did he hear hesitance in her voice? “You know I’ve got a birthday around the corner. I’d like you to have dinner with my parents and me to celebrate. Can you come?”

  A lump formed in his throat. Dinner in the Steinwood mansion? There wasn’t enough polish in the world to shine him up enough to match that place. But how could he refuse? “I’d enjoy that. Thanks for asking.”

  “Good.” She told him the day and time then added, her voice tender, “And don’t be nervous. Just be yourself. That’s good enough.”

  The lump nearly strangled him. How he loved this woman. He swallowed hard. “Thanks, Carrie. I’ll see you then.”

  ❧

  Carrie hung up the phone then leaned back in her desk chair, satisfied. She’d had a productive morning. In front of her were the forms used in filing for a new business, a list of probable expenses related to starting said business, paperwork from the bank to transfer funds from her account to Rocky’s as it was needed to cover startup expenses, and donation forms from the college to establish a scholarship for his use.

  Her fingers trembled as she stacked the papers and slid them into a folder marked simply “for Rocky.” It pleased her that the money left by her father could be put to use for good. She suspected Rocky’s pride might make him balk at first, but she hoped she could persuade him to accept this gift in the manner intended. She wanted it to convey her belief in his abilities. Everything had fallen so neatly into place this morning that she couldn’t help but believe it was God’s will for Rocky to start his business, and it gave her great joy to be part of the answer to his prayer.

  While out, she had also stopped by a realtor’s office and requested a listing of all available single-dwelling houses in town. The agent who greeted her had been only too eager to show her the
most ostentatious, costliest houses on the market. He’d looked at her as if she’d lost her mind when she indicated she wanted a modest home, but he had given her the information she wanted. She knew she needed to look right away—Mac seemed eager to have her out on her own—yet she felt uneasy choosing a house by herself.

  It wasn’t as if she didn’t know what to look for. Mac was in the business of constructing quality houses and businesses. She’d grown up watching, listening, learning. So she could choose a house that was structurally sound. What she wanted was someone at her side who would see the house from the viewpoint of its becoming a home.

  She wanted Rocky to help her. But would he? She thought of his trailer house—its lack of pretension. He’d seemed embarrassed by its simplicity, and her heart had ached when he’d apologized for it. If she asked him to help her choose a home for herself, would he be able to do so without feeling second-best? She wanted to build Rocky up, not intimidate him.

  Sighing, she tucked the folder into a drawer in her desk, out of the sight of prying eyes. She’d just have to do some more praying, ask God to open Rocky’s heart to understand her intentions. Because, if she had her way, Rocky would be a permanent fixture in her life from here on out.

  Thirteen

  Rocky pulled up to the curb outside the Steinwood mansion and turned off the ignition. He sat for a minute, his heart thudding painfully, as he gathered the courage needed to get out of the car. He looked up and down the street—no other vehicles in sight. Had the other guests pulled into the drive and parked behind the house? A large garage and expanse of concrete provided a parking area back there. Should he do the same? Then he shook his head—no, his older model car would look ridiculous next to the cars driven by the no doubt wealthy guests waiting inside.

  Carrie waited inside, too.