by Judy Duarte
“All right,” Ramon told the ragtag team. “That’s all for today. Let’s pack up the gear.”
As the boys scattered to do as they were told, Ramon turned to Craig. “I know you’re busy, and that you said you weren’t interested in coaching on a regular basis, but would you like to help me transport the boys to the batting cages on Monday? One of the local business owners has agreed to sponsor the outing, and he’s springing for pizza afterward.”
Craig wasn’t ready to jump into a full-time coaching gig, although he could certainly handle batting practice and pizza. “If we can do it after two o’clock, I’m available.”
“Great. Let’s meet here.”
After leaving the park, Craig no longer had time to drive by the house. Instead, he called Rod Gleason, the contractor, and volunteered to help out on Tuesday and Thursday next week. Rod said that if all went as expected, Craig should be able to start moving in on Friday.
When Craig got back to the church, it was nearly four. He’d just stepped off the sidewalk and onto the parking lot when the Delacourts’ Mercedes pulled up beside him, tires crunching upon the grit on the asphalt.
As the engine idled, Daniel lowered the passenger window. “Hey, Pastor. You got a minute?”
“Sure.”
“I hadn’t planned to stop here, but I thought it was only fair to tell you first since you’ll be the most supportive.”
“Tell me what?”
“I left the firm today, and for the first time since passing the bar, I feel good about my career. And about myself.” His broad smile boasted peace and relief. “You have no idea how much I appreciate that chat we had. Of course, I still have to tell Cassie what I’ve decided, and I hope she understands why I did it. But if not, I’m ready to face the consequences, whatever they might be.”
Stunned that his off-the-cuff talk with Daniel had resulted in a life-changing decision, Craig wanted to both thank him and apologize at the same time. As it was, he did neither.
“You know,” he said instead, “I think it would be a good idea if I found something to do tonight, something to keep me out until bedtime. You two ought to have some privacy.”
“You’re probably right. Shana will be home this evening, which is all right. My decision will have some effect on her, too. But with a wedding on the horizon, and with her starting a new life soon, it shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”
Daniel’s biggest hurdle was going to be Cassandra, Craig realized. Hopefully, Daniel’s long overdue decision wouldn’t place their marriage in jeopardy.
“Thanks again for talking to me, Pastor. Your advice was just what I needed to hear.”
His advice? For the most part, Craig had merely listened. “I’m still not sure what I said that you found so helpful.”
Daniel smiled. “It was simple and sage, short and to the point. You told me to follow my heart.”
“Sometimes that’s all a person can do,” Craig said, the truth settling over him.
“Well, I guess I’d better go and face the music.” Daniel placed one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gear shift.
“One question,” Craig said. “If you’re no longer going to work in the firm, what will you do instead?”
“I’m going to offer my services to the prosecutor’s office and take it from there. I might even run for district attorney in the next election. Either way, we’ll need to make some financial adjustments to our household budget. But I’ve got some sizable investments that will help us through the transition.” Daniel shifted the car into drive, but didn’t accelerate. “It’s not like I’m asking Cassandra to move into the poor house.”
Craig hoped he wouldn’t have to counsel the Delacourts through a divorce, but Daniel had a right to be happy in his job, to feel as though he was making a difference.
“Thanks again, Pastor. I’ll see you later.” Daniel raised the passenger window, let up on the brake, and continued on his way.
Craig stood in the parking lot for a while, thinking about the power of the simple advice he’d given Daniel.
Follow your heart. Three little words, but not always easy to do.
As he turned toward the church, he spotted Jesse seated on the steps that led to the red doors that opened to the sanctuary.
“Hey, Jesse,” he said, as he approached the homeless man. “What’s up?”
“Not much. I’m just killing a little time until the bus comes by.” He sat up a bit straighter, leaned forward. “I saw you in the park earlier. I’m glad you met Ramon.”
“He seems like a nice guy. I like what he’s trying to do with those kids.”
“I thought you would.”
Craig slid his hands into his pockets, warding off the growing chill in the air. “What made you think that I’d like working with him?”
“Because you have a heart for the downtrodden. And you like baseball. Seems like a perfect match to me.”
“I never told you that I liked baseball.”
“You didn’t have to.” Jesse stroked his knees, his clean but weathered hands gliding over the threadbare fabric of his khaki slacks. “I could see it in your eyes.”
He could?
The night they’d met, Jesse had said he had a gift, yet Craig wasn’t entirely convinced and couldn’t help asking, “What else can you see?”
“That you’re struggling with things.”
Craig tensed, giving far more weight to Jesse’s “gift” than he ought to. “Like what?”
“The ministry, for one. The assignment you were given.”
He’d touched a bit too much on the truth. “What makes you say that?”
“I get the feeling that you’re not sure you’re doing the right thing.”
Craig could deny it, but why should he? A simple chat had led to Daniel’s epiphany, although he doubted he could expect one for himself.
“My granddad was called to the ministry,” he said, “and over the years, he made a difference in a lot of people’s lives.”
“Is that what you’re struggling with? The need to follow in your grandfather’s footsteps?”
“Not exactly, but I would like to think that I’d made a difference in people’s lives. My dad was in the special forces during Operation Desert Storm and died a hero, so maybe it’s in my blood.”
“So why the ministry and not the military?”
The question took him aback. “I never considered joining the military. Of course, I never considered the ministry, either. But when I thought my grandfather was dying, I promised God that if he lived, I’d become a pastor.”
“So you’re here now because of a promise you made?”
That was about the size of it. Craig gave a half shrug, then nodded.
“Sounds like a bribe to me. You weren’t trying to barter with the Almighty, were you?”
“What are you getting at?”
“You might be holding yourself to a promise He never intended you to make.”
That possibility had never crossed Craig’s mind, and while he gave it some thought, he still couldn’t find it in himself to renege on a bargain with God.
“My granddad was healed,” he explained. “The doctors never expected him to pull through, and they all agreed it was nothing short of a miracle.”
“I’m sure it was.” A slow smile stretched across Jesse’s face. “Were you the only one praying?”
“No, the entire congregation hit their knees, and word went out to everyone my grandfather had ever even known, everyone whose life he’d ever touched.”
Jesse stroked his bearded chin. “Then it seems only logical to assume God had no way of healing the man without responding to your request in the process.”
The truth of his statement broadsided Craig. “Are you saying that my prayers were answered by default? And that I never should have become a minister?”
“No, I’m not saying that at all. But I imagine that you’re so caught up in the bargain, that you might have missed the actual ca
ll.”
“Missed it?”
“Maybe you should stop looking at your job as an obligation and consider it an opportunity. Open your heart and listen. And while you’re at it, you might ask yourself what you’re afraid of.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that there’s probably more going on inside your head and your heart than you realize. A fear of failure, maybe?”
“I’ve never failed at anything in my life.”
“Some people make sure that they don’t.”
The guy was talking in circles, making Craig crazy. He decided to end the conversation, but before he could make some kind of excuse to leave, Jesse slowly got to his feet, grimacing as he did so.
“Are you all right?” Craig asked.
Jesse straightened. “It’s just some stiff joints. I predict rain.”
Craig smiled and glanced at the darkened sky. “Oh, yeah? Even I could predict that with certainty.”
Jesse stooped to pick up a woman’s purse that had been sitting beside him, hidden by the bulk of his blue jacket.
“What are you doing with that?” Craig asked.
“I need to return this before the storm hits.” Jesse slipped his arm through the shoulder strap, then started toward the bus stop.
“Do you need a ride?” Craig asked. He also wondered where the guy had been staying, although he wasn’t sure where he could take him. Certainly not the Delacourts’ house, especially tonight.
Jesse offered him a smile. “I’m okay. The bus will be here in a minute or so.”
“Do you have shelter from the storm?”
“Not to worry. I’ll stay warm and dry.”
As big droplets of water began to fall from the sky, Craig remained rooted to the spot, watching the man go and wondering how he’d acquired so much common sense.
Or did he really have a gift?
Chapter 16
By the time Shana returned home, her stomach was churning, and her knuckles ached from gripping the steering wheel.
A part of her wanted to put off telling her mother what she’d done, but she’d decided to get it over with. Her mom was going to have the same reaction today as she would have next week, so admitting to the breakup now would save Shana from days of the pre-confrontation stress.
Her dad’s car was parked in the drive, which was a surprise. There weren’t many nights that he left the office before dark.
Maybe it was just as well. This way, she’d only need to make the announcement once.
After parking next to the Mercedes in the driveway, she let herself into the house, her movements as stiff as those of a tin soldier.
“I’m home,” she said from the entry.
She was met with silence.
That was odd. Her mom usually dropped what she was doing to welcome her back into the fold, and her dad always had a warm greeting.
The soles of her shoes clicked upon the travertine flooring in the entry until she reached the carpet. As she made her way to the living room, she called out again. This time, her father’s voice sounded from the kitchen. “We’re in here, Princess.”
His tone seemed a little flat today, and she was both hesitant and apprehensive, as she joined her parents in the kitchen.
They were seated at the table. Her dad, with his clasped hands resting on the tabletop, offered her a smile that failed to reach his eyes.
Her mom couldn’t seem to give her even that much, but Shana could see why—her mom’s red-rimmed, teary eyes suggested that they’d been having a heavy conversation.
Shana’s first thought was that something terrible had happened to one or both of her grandparents. The second was that Brad had already told his mother, and Mrs. Rensfield had just dropped the bomb.
But that wasn’t likely. Brad was more tight-lipped around his parents than Shana was.
“What’s the matter?” she asked her mom.
“Nothing, honey.” Her mom sniffled, then blotted her eyes with a tissue she’d wadded in her hand.
“That’s not true.” Shana continued walking to the table, but didn’t take a seat. “You’re crying, and this time you can’t tell me they’re tears of joy. This family hasn’t been happy for a long time.”
The indisputable truth was met with silence.
Finally, her father leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I gave my resignation at the firm today, Shana. I won’t be working as a defense attorney any longer, and your mother isn’t pleased with my decision.”
Her mom dabbed at her nose with the crumpled tissue. “You’re giving up so much, Daniel. I can’t believe you’d do something like that without discussing it with me first.”
“I’ve given up a lot over the years, Cassie. And as for discussing this with you ahead of time, maybe I should have, but whenever I brought it up in the past, either you or your father shot me down.”
“Speaking of Daddy, he’s going to be shocked to hear of your resignation.”
“This isn’t about your father, Cassie. Leave him out of our family discussions for once, will you?”
Shana felt like a voyeur, and for a moment, wondered if she should slip quietly away.
You’re braver than you think, the homeless man had said. Not that Shana had put much stock in that crazy encounter, but some of what he’d said had been true.
“What about the money?” Her mother’s gaze searched her father’s. “We won’t have the income we’ve become accustomed to.”
“Money isn’t the most important thing in life.”
“It is when you don’t have any.”
“Cassie, we’ve saved over the years, so we won’t be destitute. You can still be involved in your philanthropic endeavors.” He glanced at Shana, as if just remembering she was standing there, privy to the marital discord for the first time in her life. “We’ve set aside plenty of money for your wedding, honey. So you don’t have to worry about that.”
The wedding? Great. Shana now had the perfect opening for her announcement, but the timing was lousy. Her mom had already suffered one huge disappointment today.
But there had been enough tiptoeing around problems and disappointments in the past, and Shana couldn’t continue to play those games any longer. “I hate to drop this on you two now, but we may as well lay everything on the table. I just broke my engagement. I’m not going to marry Brad.”
“What?” Her mother’s eyes grew wide. “Why not? What happened?”
“Nothing happened.” Shana glanced at her father before explaining, saw the questions in his eyes. “I care about Brad, but I’m not in love with him.”
“Then why did you agree to marry him in the first place?” her father asked.
Why had she?
They were friends. She cared about him. And he’d always made her laugh.
His unannounced visit to Australia had flattered her, and she’d found him charming. So, with graduation closing in on her and no more reasons to postpone a return home to Fairbrook, accepting his proposal had seemed like the … perfect thing to do.
At that moment, the telephone rang—just like the bell in a boxing match, allowing the combatants to take a much needed break.
Her dad snatched the portable phone from its cradle. “Hello? Yes, Frank. Thanks for returning my call.” He opened the sliding door and took the call out on the deck.
“Who’s Frank?” Shana asked her mom.
“The district attorney. Your father would like to work for him, either as a consultant or as an attorney.” Her mother blew out a ragged breath, then slowly shook her head. “I can’t believe he did this. It makes no sense at all. Not now. Not at his age. He’ll be starting over.”
“Maybe he should have worked for the DA all along,” Shana said.
Isn’t that what he’d told her he’d wanted to do when he got out of law school?
“It would have made more sense than making a move like this now.” Her mother sighed again, as though expelling the air in her lungs would r
elieve the problems at hand. Then she fiddled with the edge of the crumpled tissue, tearing at it. “Your grandfather is going to be shocked.”
“Like Dad said, Mom. It’s not about Grandpa. It’s about all of us. But mostly, it’s about Dad and what he feels is the right thing for him to do.”
Her mom glanced up. “Of course, it is, but—”
“Oh, wow.” Shana finally took a seat. “I am guilty of repeating my parents’ mistakes.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Someone said something to me, but I didn’t get it at the time.” She raked her fingers through her damp hair. “I get it now, though. It’s all falling into place.”
“How can you say that I’ve made mistakes,” her mother said. “My whole life has been spent trying to be a good wife and mother.”
“I realize that. But I think you’ve tried a bit too hard to be a good daughter, too.”
“What’s wrong with that? My parents were good to me, and I owe them that much.”
“Do you?”
“This isn’t like you, Shana.”
“What? Challenging you and your way of doing things? I’m sorry, Mom. I love you, but we’ve all been forced to live by Grandpa’s standards, even if they’re wrong for us.”
“He’s not the bad guy here. He never forced me or you to do things his way.”
“He has a very persuasive way about him, and I’ve just followed your lead. But not anymore. At least, not when I think he or you are wrong.”
Her mother massaged her temples, as if she could work out the knots in their relationships.
“You’ve been unhappy, too,” Shana said, her voice soft, sympathetic. “You can’t deny it. But this has got to stop.”
“What does?”
“Living someone else’s life.”
Her mom looked up, clearly confused. “Whose life do you think I’m living?”
“I don’t know. Your parents’? Dad’s? Mine? I’m not sure, but if you were more in tune with what’s in your own heart, you’d be a happier person.”
And so would Shana, especially if she took that same advice.
