by Amanda Tru
He shouldn’t have asked, but he did. “What about your veil?”
“It was just a super long piece of tulle to attach to the back of my hair—came with the dress. That would look stupid with this dress.” She looked at him, wiping at her eyes with the effectiveness of a toddler wiping his nose. “I’ll end up with one of those mantilla styles or something. Gross.”
“Would you like me to talk to him? Maybe I could say something in a way a guy could understand.”
Lara rose, gave the lilies a malevolent glare—who knew you could feel malevolent toward flowers?—and turned to go. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“What about his pastor? From one minister to another?”
She paused. “Maybe…” But a second later, she turned. “No, I don’t think that’s wise. Thanks, Ty. I knew I’d feel better if I saw you, but I wasn’t going to let myself come down and bug you. You’re the best.”
At those words, she turned back, hugged his shoulders in that awkward way that pews require, and left. Ty sat there, hating the lilies that looked even better in the window than the roses had. If he had to be so insensitive, couldn’t he at least have been wrong, Lord?
The encounter made up his mind on one thing, though. Ty rose, snatched up the spray, and dumped it in a garbage can on his way out the door. Once back in his office, a new hunt began.
He opened a new browser window and multiple Google tabs. In each one, he typed a fresh search. Monica Eddington murder, Monica Eddington murder suspect, Monica Eddington person of interest, Preston St. James arrest…
From a place deep inside his soul, a whispered question emerged. Do you really think that because the wedding isn’t what Lara wants, that Preston St. James murdered his fiancée? Isn’t that taking it too far?
Ty agreed with the whisper, but still, he searched. The whisper returned. Before he could justify it further, Ty closed out the entire window and did a hard-shutdown of the computer. He jumped up and strode from the office. Up Greenaway Road, down High Street, down Abbey Lane, up North Piccadilly Square and over to The Birches.
I’ll just ask if we can have a meeting—his pastor, her, and me. We’ll talk about making this a wedding that reflects everyone’s tastes.
The door jerked open before he could reach the last step to her upstairs apartment. “Ty?”
Eyes red and puffy, nose still running, she looked a mess, and to his chagrin, Ty realized he thought she’d never looked better. Keep it platonic. She’s taken… mostly.
“I was concerned.”
She opened the door wider, and against his better judgment, he entered. A round table with a black and white checkerboard top and brightly painted chairs sat at one end of the kitchen. Lara led him there and offered him a soda, tea, or water. He chose soda.
“Thank goodness. I needed, just once, not to feel guilty for drinking a Cherry Pepsi!”
Oookaaay…
What he’d thought or expected would happen, Ty couldn’t imagine. However, sitting at the funky little table that both personified Lara and looked completely out of place in her life and saying nothing at all wouldn’t have entered the realm of possibility. They sat there, each sipping soda from a can, and occasionally meeting one another’s gaze.
With each passing second, though, Lara relaxed. The red blotches disappeared from her face. Only a few black streaks at the corners of her eyes hinted that she’d ever cried. The tension in the room dissolved, and all that remained was them. Sitting there. Sipping soda. Just being.
Her gaze met his and skittered away again. He stole glances while taking the smallest drinks he could, to drag out a moment he had no right to. Then it happened. His gaze met hers—held it. This time, she didn’t look away, and Ty knew. She knew.
No, not that he’d fallen in love with her. Thank the Lord for that one. But she did—she knew. Lara knew he was there. She’d become aware of his existence as more than the minister who sang too loud on Sundays, prayed too long on Wednesdays, and made her Friday pre-marriage counseling sessions tough moments in her week. Lara Priest now acknowledged that Ty Jamison was more than just a minister. He was a man.
Neither of them said anything about it. They sat in comfortable silence, drank their sodas, and simply existed. Together. In the same space.
When the last three sips of his can brought not even the taste of a Cherry Pepsi, Ty knew it was time. “Before I go, I need to know you’re okay. I need to know that when you walk down that aisle on June 28th, you’ll be okay.” He swallowed a lump that threatened to choke him. “I need to know that you won’t regret that day a year, ten years, fifty years from now.”
The slightest shake of her head told him all he needed to know, but she spoke the words he didn’t want to hear. “I don’t know that, so I can’t promise it, but I promise to bring it up to Preston. He loves me. That has to count for something, right?”
I love you. Since Ty couldn’t say that, he said the only other thing he could. “It should count for everything.” He reached across the table, squeezed her hand, and bolted from the apartment.
Lara sat there, staring at the closed door and more confused than ever. “Why can’t Preston be more like you?”
Easter Sabbath had swept away any curiosity about church services at Preston’s church. So, after fielding half a dozen texts from her assistant manager, Lara strode from her car and to the double doors that led to the sanctuary of Redbrook Seventh-Day Adventist Church.
A man greeted her on his way… somewhere. A young mother with two small children gave her a shy smile and asked if she needed help. “I was looking for Preston St. James? I saw his car out there…”
As if he heard his name, or perhaps he heard her voice—Lara could hope—Preston rose from a pew a few rows from the front. Their eyes met, and the joy on his face… Well, Lara couldn’t doubt that he was happy to see her. At least there’s that.
Mr. St. James glanced over as well and rose. He whispered something to Preston and scooted past as he strode to meet her. “Lara, we didn’t know you were coming. One of us would have waited outside.”
“I wasn’t sure until just a couple of hours ago, and I knew work could call, so I just…” The excuses sounded lame even to her own ears.
“Well, you’re here, and we’re thrilled to have you. Come sit with us.”
He meant it, too. Miss Stella rose and hugged her, a continental kiss on each cheek—or nearly so. Preston squeezed her hand and kissed her cheek as well, but it held a promise of more. His whispered, “I can’t believe you came,” was all it took to convince her.
You’ve been treating this spiritual difference as if it was something he’d “come to his senses” about—and he knows it.
A quartet sang “In Christ Alone,” accompanied by a cello and a piano before a young teen girl rose and read from the Bible. Beginning with Lamentations, she moved to Timothy, to Ephesians, Corinthians, and I John. By that point, Lara discerned what the references meant—the scriptural progression of the song they’d just heard. Once the girl finished, the congregation sang the song together before moving to “The Solid Rock.”
A man rose—the pastor she’d met the previous Saturday. “Let’s continue with our praying through the Bible. This week, we’re in Ephesians chapter three. Let’s pray.”
The words felt familiar—yet different. Lara didn’t know what “praying through the Bible” meant, but as she listened, it became obvious. They were actually praying the words of Ephesians chapter three, and the previous week, they’d probably prayed Ephesians chapter two—next week, presumably, chapter four.
“—thank You that we have boldness and confident access to Jesus Christ, our Lord, through our faith in Him. Therefore, I ask You, Lord, to help us not lose heart at our tribulations and trials—for ourselves and others—because through them You will be glorified. We bow our knees before You, Father, and praise You that every family in heaven and on earth derives its name from You. We ask that according to the riches o
f Your glory, we may be strengthened with power through Your Spirit in the inner man so that Christ may dwell in our hearts through faith. We pray that we may be rooted and grounded in love and able to comprehend—all of us who are saints—what is the breadth and length and height and depth. We plead with You that we will know the love of Christ—the love that surpasses all knowledge—and that we may be filled with the fullness of God. To Jesus Who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all we ask or think, according to the power working within us—to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever… Amen.”
At that very moment, Lara ignored where she was and pulled out her phone. She made a note. Buy a journal and begin writing out the Bible as prayers.
Preston elbowed her, a scowl on his face. Lara passed the phone, gave him a pointed look, and retrieved it again, ready to listen and learn. His whispered, “I’m sorry,” soothed the pain of his previous displeasure.
He didn’t know, and I do get obsessed with making sure everything is okay at work.
She listened to Bible study—the questions people asked, the teaching the pastor gave, and even took a few notes on her phone again. This time, she showed Preston before putting it away, and if the way he leaned closer meant anything, he really was sorry.
Pastor David Clary met them after the study had ended. “You brought Lara for our session!” He shook her hand and just as he had on Saturday, stared for a moment before saying, “Preston was certain your work would keep you from our meetings.”
“Well, I can’t promise I’ll be able to come again, but I’m trying to give my assistant manager time on our busier nights so he’s in practice while we’re on our honeymoon.”
“Excellent. Why don’t you two go wait in my office? I’ll be there shortly.”
They’d barely stepped from the sanctuary when Preston pulled her in for a kiss. “You don’t know how much it means to me that you came.”
Do you know how much it would mean to me if you came to one of my services? The moment the thought formed, Lara stuffed it back. She’d come to work toward unity, rather than find new ways to divide them.
Nothing she could say sounded anything but critical, so Lara chose just to kiss him again and ask which way to the office. Pastor Clary joined them just as Lara assured Preston that the dress fit perfectly. “She just has to shorten it.”
“And how do you like the St. James wedding dress, Lara?”
She jumped. “It’s different from what I’d chosen, but it’s a beautiful dress.”
The pastor pulled his chair from behind his desk and rolled it closer to them. “You’d chosen a different dress?”
“Well, yeah. I didn’t know about the family dress—”
“But Lara saw how important it was that we keep up tradition and agreed to wear it.”
That’s not quite how I remember it, Preston. You practically told me you wouldn’t marry me if I wasn’t in it. Lara’s conscience protested that this wasn’t entirely true either. I said practically. That’s what it felt like.
“That was considerate of you. And how are the other wedding plans coming?”
Even as he asked, Lara realized what the perfect role for Preston’s pastor would be in the wedding. “It’s… coming. Blending two different lifestyles into one wedding isn’t easy.”
“And how does your pastor feel about this blending of related but not completely meshing faiths?”
“Ty would tell you he’s just a minister—a man under the elders and without authority to do anything but teach and counsel. Anyway, he’s concerned, of course, but he likes that we’re each holding to our beliefs until we can come to unity.”
Pastor Clary shot Preston a look. “And how is that going?”
“We haven’t had time to discuss it.” Preston took Lara’s hand and held it firmly in his. “Did you have something we needed to go over this week?”
“It’s an important discussion, Preston. We’re talking about the potential for confused children when Daddy brings them to church on Sabbath, and Mommy goes off alone on Sunday.”
“Oh, they’d come with me, too, of course. And I’d come on Saturdays when work permitted. I’m already trying to work that into my schedule, and I assume Preston is, too.”
His hand squeezed hers a bit. “We’ll discuss it when we have time. I went over the verses you shared with me last week—”
“Before we get into those,” Lara began. “I wanted to ask Pastor Clary if he would pray through several of the Scriptures on love and marriage in our ceremony.” Lara relaxed as Preston’s grip lessened on her hand, and she turned to the pastor. “Like you did tonight?”
“I would be pleased to. Thank you for including me.”
Hadn’t Preston invited you to be a part yet? That was his job!
“And how are the rest of the wedding plans? How will your family’s traditions be incorporated?”
Again, her hand felt cut off from a healthy supply of blood flow. Lara swallowed. “Well, that’s been harder, what with your dietary convictions. We’re used to a lot of beef and chocolate pound cake. I think maybe the Portobello steaks will be a hit. Except with my cousin. He’s allergic to mushrooms.” She turned to Preston. “Sorry, but we might have to have at least one piece of salmon for him.”
“Why not have the pound cake and salmon? There’s no reason not to have what your family is accustomed to eating.”
Preston spoke up. “Our family is vegan, Pastor Clary. It would make many of our guests uncomfortable.”
Lara pulled her hand from his and picked at her cuticles while the room smothered itself in silence. At last, Pastor Clary changed the subject to the Scriptures they’d been working through the previous week.
And Lara counted the seconds until she could get out of there. He’d understand why I want some things to be how I’ve always dreamed of, but Preston just doesn’t. It’s probably not their faith as much as his mother’s proper Southern upbringing or something. That’s nice to know, anyway.
Ty walked through the streets of New Cheltenham, praying for each store owner, each customer, each business and family represented by the stores that made up the little tourist town. As he neared and watched Lara lock up the side door to The Birches, he began praying for her and her upcoming marriage—about his own disappointment. Help me be content and rest only in You.
“Ty?”
He looked up and at the sight of her gazing down at him, ordered his heart to beat a regular rhythm again. As had become usual of late, it ignored those instructions. “Hey, Lara.”
“Praying for our little hamlet?”
“Don’t you know it.”
“Say an extra prayer for me tonight?”
Any hope of moving along failed at that request. Ty strolled to the base of her stairs and leaned against the railing. “What’s up?”
“Went to Preston’s church for Bible study tonight. You know, so I could go to his counseling session with him. I thought it would be tacky just to show up for that and miss church.”
Would he have been so considerate? The question wasn’t really fair, but Ty didn’t care. “How’d that go?”
“They prayed right out of the Bible—just rephrased a few things to make them a prayer. I asked him to do that with love and marriage verses at the wedding. I thought it would be a meaningful way to include him.”
“Good idea. I’d like to see it first, but—”
“Oh! Right. I asked him to email me with what he comes up with so we can put it in the program, but I’ll get you a copy first.”
The way she fidgeted told him that, despite a rousing prayer session, something had not gone right. “What’s wrong, Lara?”
She took a step down… two. Three. Once she stood only a step above him, she leaned against the opposite railing and folded her arms over her chest in a way that made him think of Lauren Kinsey. “He’s nice, Ty. Pastor Clary is super kind and understanding. He didn’t understand why we wouldn’t have s
almon for our non-vegan guests. He thought it would be okay for us to have chocolate pound cake for people who wanted it. When I left, he said he hoped I’d reconsider, because some of the church members there have no problem with dairy and unfertilized eggs. Some even eat fish.”
“Oookaaay… so what does it mean?”
“Why is Preston so against it all, then? Pastor Clary kept asking what about the wedding is my family’s tradition—what I had that I wanted.” Though her voice cracked, no tears fell. “I realized that he was more concerned about me having a special day than Preston is, and…” She dropped her voice. “The only thing that’s happening right now… the only thing aside from bridesmaids’ dresses is that prayer I requested.”
And that I’m officiating—that I’m going to stand up there and rip out my heart while you give yours to him.
“Well, and I have you there to keep me feeling like I’m not all alone in this. My parents hate him because he’s rich. He hates my choices because they’re not ‘tradition.’ Even his father thinks he’s ridiculous about some of it, but I can see his mom is behind him some, too. I just don’t know…”
He shouldn’t say it, but Ty couldn’t help himself. “Lara, if you have any doubt at all, you don’t have to do this now. Postponing isn’t saying no, it’s just saying, “We need time to work on a few things.”
“I almost said that tonight,” she whispered. “As we left, I heard Pastor Clary say, ‘Are you sure you’re marrying her for herself?’ It got me all panicky. Do guys have biological clocks? I know Preston wants to be married for a few years before children, so is he just rushing through and ticking off a ‘to do’ list box?”
His conscience protested that he did it only as an excuse to hold her hand, but Ty ignored that conscience, took her hand, and prayed. After a promise to go over the vows she’d sent for approval, he dashed off for home and for his computer.
Time to make this search serious.
The sun rose over New Cheltenham, first in gray-green streaks, then with a pale yellow glow, and finally bursting over the fields right outside his window where sheep already munched on new grass. Ty stretched, stood, and stretched again.
