by Rachel Hauck
He continued with a sentimental lilt in his voice as he recounted the summers and school holidays Burke worked around the Bar J. "Reese accused me of cheatin' when he wanted to use Burke at the Circle B, and he chose to work over here. Said it wasn't fair having a purty girl to lure away his help."
Belle's mind replayed memories of Burke as Duke spoke: swimming in the pond after a hot summer day's work, riding into town after lunch for a Charlie's chocolate milkshake, racing Trixie and Tracer over the range to the most northern point and back again, every Friday night meeting the gang in town for burgers and a movie.
All through high school, they taught Sunday school to the five and six year olds. Every Saturday night they would plan their morning lesson, then met at the church early to setup and pray for their young students.
The routine remained the same for four or five years until the summer after their sophomore year at college. Burke stayed on campus that year to train and attend summer classes. The following spring, he left college for the pros.
Then her world fell apart. Belle squeezed her eyes shut, trying to end the mental parade through the past.
Duke still prattled on, however. "We worked like a fine tuned machine. Each knowin' what the other was a thinkin'. I didn't have to ask, he'd just know. Jake Morley and Cole Mitchell are fine hired hands, but Burke and me-"
"I think you're remembering it better that it really was, Daddy," Belle said
Duke shifted his kind, wise gaze toward Belle. "My memory is fine."
"Sometimes, I wish I'd never met him."
"Ah, nonsense girl. I hate to hear ya say that," Duke said. "I treasure my memories of him."
"Mine all lead to this tragic end."
"Then ya aren't looking at this right. We have to be grateful for our experiences in life. If'n they turn sour on us, don't mean they were worth nothin' to begin with."
"Daddy, I don't just remember our experiences together. I remember the laughter that led to love. The plans and dreams we shared."
"I know," he said, softly.
"I'm scared to get close to him, Daddy. Even just a little bit. Can you understand that?"
Duke sighed and nodded.
By now, the evening's events had drained Belle's emotional well. She excused herself from Duke's company and went to her room. Curling up in her window seat, guitar in hand, she stared at the twinkling heaven and offered her burdens to the Lord.
Chapter Eight
Late in the afternoon, Burke cut his convertible into the Benning's Circle B driveway, his mind weighted with unresolved relationships and new opportunities.
Warm, inviting lights glowed from the windows of the ranch house, but Burke's mind and heart remained fixed on his mission. He parked the car next to the horse barn and tossed his keys into the glove box.
Inside the barn, dim light filtered in through the open door and the high windows. The smell of leather and clean hay filled the air.
"Hello, Tracer," Burke said softly, making his way to his old friend. He patted the horse gently on the neck. The large gelding greeted him with a familiar nudge and snort. "Want to go for a ride?"
Tracer tossed his head as if he understood. As Burke led him out of his stall, the ceiling lights switched on and a voice called from the door. "You and Tracer heading out?"
Burke snapped his head up and turned around to see Reese strolling toward him with a cup of coffee hooked over his finger.
"Hey, Dad."
"Going to the chapel?" he asked, leaning his broad frame against one of the stalls, studying his youngest son as he saddled up.
Burke grinned. "How'd you know?"
Reese chuckled. "Just a hunch. You used to take Tracer out a lot this time of night during high school and college. When you came home, you always said you'd been to the chapel."
"I've been thinking about Coach's offer."
"It's an interesting proposition."
Burke paused and faced his father. "Think I should take it?"
He shook his head. "Son, you and the Lord work this out, then I'll let you know what I think."
Burke chuckled and threw the saddle over Tracer's broad back. How did his dad always know when to speak and when to hold his tongue? He hoped to be so wise.
"Besides the coaching job, there's my relationship with Grace, and last but not least, Belle."
"Did you think she'd welcome you home with open arms, son?" Reese asked, picking up on the most poignant point.
Burke led the palomino past his father and out of the barn. "No," he said. "But I'd hoped she'd be willing to talk by now."
Reese followed him into the barnyard. "Give her time. Belle's a wise woman, she'll come around."
A forceful wind blew through the barnyard from the northwest, and Burke surveyed the sky. Dark, heavy clouds drifted in, covering the fading blue day.
"Looks like rain," Reese noted. "The top up on that new fangled car of yours?"
Burke swung up onto Tracer and looked down at his dad. "Top's up. I won't be gone long."
"I'll have your mother save you some dinner."
Burke nodded, then kicked Tracer into a run.
***
The evening came without the song of the crickets, and the wind carried the heavy scent of rain. Belle trotted along the back roads towards the chapel atop Trixie, leaning into the gusts, her thoughts fractured with the events of the past few days.
Her heart felt delicate. Thoughts of Burke crowded her mind, and her usually peaceful soul struggled against anxiety. All day she continually prayed and cast her cares upon her Lord, yet the resolve and closure she longed for eluded her.
She fixed an early dinner for her dad, Jake, and Cole and left them sitting around the table sipping fresh brewed coffee, talking and planning the new fence line. Duke looked up and nodded covertly as she slipped out of the kitchen, the compassion in his eyes telling her he understood. Without him saying it, she knew he would be praying for her. That idea alone gave her strength.
In the distance, the chapel came into view like an oasis on the prairie. Instinctively, Trixie quickened her pace.
When they arrived at the old hitching post, the mare stopped routinely, and Belle slid off her back. Her feet hit the ground as another rider rounded the chapel corner and abruptly stopped. Without even looking up, Belle recognized the sleek golden coat and cream color mane of Tracer.
"Belle," Burke said, surprised.
She glanced up at him. "Burke."
He slid off of Tracer. "How are you?" he asked, reaching for her guitar case.
Reluctantly, she let him help and forced herself to smile at him. "I'm fine. How 'bout you?"
"Good, good."
"You still in town? I thought you'd be gone by now." She kept her gaze averted.
"No, I'll be here for awhile."
"Oh," she simply said, feeling uncomfortable, struggling to maintain her composure. A tiny part of her sparked with anger that he'd showed up at her favorite prayer spot. She'd come here to get away from the thoughts of him that deluged her mind.
She snatched her saddlebag from Trixie's back, and walked with Burke toward the chapel steps. He followed her as she scooted through the narrow chapel door,then handed her the guitar. She thanked him curtly for his aid and darted down the isle to her favorite corner under a tall stained glass window. Once she got situated, she paused for a moment and took a deep breath, longing for the peace that saturated the quiet air of the chapel to saturate her soul.
"Your peace, O Lord, guards my heart, my mind, my feelings," she confessed softly. Subtly, the Lord's gentle voice touched her spirit.
Just be with Me.
She exhaled, loving the idea of just being with her Lord. She resolved to spend her energies on Him, not being anxious about Burke. She focused on her purpose and dug her Bible out of the saddlebag, then tuned her guitar.
In the back of the room, she could hear him settling in, the pew creaking as he got comfortable.
Just ignore him and focus on Jesus, she re
minded herself. Yet, her songs sounded flat and lifeless, her prayers routine and uninspired. Once she checked her watch and found that only fifteen minutes had passed when it seemed like an eternity.
Her eyes constantly looked toward the back, trying to catch a glimpse of him. She couldn't see him, so she guessed he was kneeling somewhere.
Focus Belle, focus. Fix your eyes on Jesus! She continued on, worshipping as an act of her will. Another fifteen minutes passed as she paced in front of the altar, praying and reading scripture. She picked up the guitar again and sang the words of Psalm Sixty-three. Gradually, peace replaced the swirling anxiety, and she warmed with the love of her heavenly Father.
***
Burke lay prostrate on the floor, listening to Belle's worship, feeling as if he were invading a private moment. He tried not to listen, but his heart loved the lyrical sound of scripture and music.
With quiet resolve, he offered his burdens to the Lord, gradually discovering answers to the issues that burdened his mind.
First, he prayed about the Coach's offer to lead the Haymakers' football program. Lord, is this the job you have for me? Is this one of the reasons you brought me home?
One by one, he prayed over the other job offers he knew were on the table; sports commentator, sitcom actor, commercial spokesman, traveling speaker. Though each one had a certain appeal and intrigue, nothing excited him like the idea of coaching young, high-school men.
After a long while, he grew confident that he understood the Lord's heart in the matter. He knew he should accept the invitation to become Haskell High's head coach. A peace and joy welled up inside him every time he conceptualized the idea. He took another moment to pray, thanking the Lord for His wisdom and guidance.
Relieved to have the status of his new career nailed down, Burke shifted his prayers to Grace. He cared for her, that much he knew. For months now he'd been asking the Lord if she was the one for him. Yet, when he seriously considered their relationship, he had to admit they were little more than good friends. While they enjoyed spending time together and considered themselves a couple, their relationship had not deepened much during the past year. Instead, it had grown comfortable and convenient.
A decision must be made one way or the other. Would Grace want to leave Hollywood? They could not carry on a long distance marriage. Burke refused to even entertain the idea. It was hard enough when he lived in Colorado and she in L.A. Had he stalled until he ironed out the past with Belle? He continued to pray with that thought in mind, but he sensed no real instruction from the Lord other than to wait. He would supply the answer in His perfect timing.
Belle's sweet soprano wafted through the air. How ironic, he thought, that she prayed and sang on the other side of the room, but a chasm wider that Grand Canyon kept them apart.
Buried memories of times he spent in the chapel with Belle surfaced in his thoughts. When they were high school freshmen an evangelist spoke at their church, impressing their young hearts with the power of prayer. Eagerly, they'd made a pact to meet at the chapel every Wednesday to pray. They treasured and guarded that time, desiring to honor the Lord and grow in their faith. Every time they saw an answer to one of their prayers, they grew in their commitment and hope.
They continued the tradition even after they left for college. But gradually business, and the lure of a new life in college, drew Burke away from the simplicity of the Gospel he loved. He skipped the prayer time with Belle so often that she started inviting others to join her.
His faith began slipping away. He couldn't see it then, but now he realized those times of prayer were seeds in his own heart that kept him and eventually brought him back to his Lord.
Burke offered a heart-felt whisper to the Father. "I trained and worked so hard for the glory of football, now I want to train and work hard for Your glory alone."
As he prayed the desires of his heart, a powerful peace washed over him.
Chapter Nine
Belle glanced cautiously toward the back of the chapel as she slid her Bible into her old saddlebag and slipped the canvas case around her guitar. She hoped to catch a glimpse of Burke. Looking quickly, she didn't see him. A slight disappointment smarted her heart.
During her prayer time, the presence of the Lord had tenderized her soul, and once again she began to see things as He saw them.
She knew she must give Burke a chance to say his piece. In return, she must share with him about the pain and heartache he had caused her.
With a sigh of resolve, she walked toward the back of the chapel, guitar and saddlebag in tow. As she neared the final pews, she could hear the muffled sounds of praying. She peaked between the pews and smiled. Burke lay prostrate on the floor.
Gently she kicked his foot with her boot. "Hey, Benning," she said in a low voice.
Burke lifted his head and peered over his shoulder at her. Instantly, he rose to his knees and turned his body toward her. "Leaving so soon?"
"It's been over an hour."
He slipped into the wooden pew. "I hadn't realized that much time had passed. The peace felt so strong."
Belle rested her guitar case on the pew and dropped her saddlebag to the floor. "It's always like that in here," she said, bravely adding, "Listen, I'm sorry about my attitude last night on the phone."
He looked up at her. "It's okay, I understand."
"You got a minute?" she ventured.
"For you, yes."
Nervousness took over. Gentle tremors shot through her body as she boldly slid into the pew next to him. She stared at the floor for a long moment, trying to speak. But emotion choked her words.
Burke leaned against the back of the pew as if to give her space and waited quietly.
"I had such a confidence a minute ago, I thought I could do this," she confessed with a slight laugh.
"Opening Pandora's box can't be easy."
She tried to talk again, but couldn't. Finally, she gave up all efforts to speak without feeling. With tears streaming down her face, she confronted him. "You left me on our wedding day. Not the week before or the day before, but minutes before. Do you know what that did to me?" Her shoulders collapsed with sobs. She felt nauseous and drained.
Burke's broad, high cheeks reddened, and his blue eyes watered. "It wasn't because I stopped loving you, Belle." His words were hushed and sensitive.
"Then why, Burke? Why?" Out of frustration, she pounded the pew once with her fist.
He hesitated before confessing. "I got cold feet."
She couldn't believe her ears. "What?"
"I got cold feet," he repeated, his tone a level louder.
Belle gaped at him. Of all the reasons she imagined over the past twelve years, being scared wasn't one of them. "Cold feet?" she echoed, unbelieving.
"Hard to imagine isn't it? But it's the truth."
She slid off the pew and walked to the window, restless and agitated. Dark ominous clouds obscured the brilliant colors of the setting sun.
"Daddy came in the dressing room that day looking white as a summer cloud. I thought he'd gotten sick. He asked all the girls to leave, and when the last one out shut the door, he started crying."
She turned around to face Burke and dropped her back against the faded blue paint of the chapel wall, arms crossed over her chest. His complexion had faded from red to pale. "I hadn't seen Daddy cry since momma died. In my wildest dreams I would have never guessed you were the cause of his tears. Not you, Burke."
"Belle, I--" he started, but she spoke over him, continuing her tale.
"Daddy couldn't speak for several minutes. I thought I'd go crazy if he didn't say something soon. Finally he said, 'Kit, Burke's gone.' He might as well have been speaking a foreign language cause I didn't understand a word he said. After a few minutes, the meaning of his words hit me like a slap in the face. Then I fainted."
"I never intended to hurt you," he said, low and measured.
She walked over to where he sat, leaned on the pew in front of him an
d said to his face. "Then what did you mean?"
"I meant to not get married. Period. I struggled with doubts."
She sunk to the pew with a heavy sigh, blinking away the burning tears. "Why didn't you tell me how you felt?"
He rested his elbows on his knees and stared at his hands. "I thought I could go through with it. I thought the doubts would pass."
"Go through with it? Burke, I wasn't forcing you to marry me." The trembling increased and her teeth chattered as if she were cold.
"I realize that," he answered, stretching his hand toward her, but dropping it onto the pew before he touched her.
Belle glared at him, her eyes narrowed and her lips pale. "If I recall, you asked me to marry you. What made your feet suddenly turn so cold?"
He sat back and looked into her eyes. "When the pro draft came after my junior year, it took me by surprise. My life took a turn I hadn't expected."
"You won the Heisman that year, Burke. The draft should have been no surprise," she interjected, caustic.
"The Heisman, the draft. It overwhelmed me and went to my head."
She thought his excuse sounded lame, and it infuriated her. "You make no sense, Burke. Your whole life focused on football, on being the best, on winning the prize, on going pro. You want me to believe that going pro a year earlier than you intended changed you into a completely different person?"
He swept his brawny hand over his cropped blond hair and tried again. "I knew it would be hard to explain this to you and now that I'm saying it out loud, even I can't comprehend my own reasoning. That was twelve years ago."
"Burke, there had to be more to it than just going pro. What happened?" she asked.
"All right, here it is," he said, flinging his arms wide as if opening his heart, setting all caution aside. "That spring I went to my first pro training camp. You remember my walk with the Lord wasn't that strong at the time, so the glamour of professional football captivated me. And while I had prepared to be a professional athlete, I hadn't prepared for the life that came with it.
"I met other women, Belle. Nothing happened with any of them, but nagging doubts started pursuing me about our relationship. We'd been together for so long I didn't know if we were getting married because we truly loved each other, or if we were just comfortable, doing what everyone always expected us to do."
