“And dear Lord,” Barb continued softly, “I pray Your peace and comfort on Ken as he sees to my needs, his own needs, and the needs of Woodland Church. Guide, guard and bless him, dear Lord. He needs Your strength as much as I do.”
Ken looked into her eyes as they finished in unison: “In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.”
Barb squeezed her lips tight and dashed away the moisture that sparkled at the edges of her eyes. “Now get out of here. Go back to the festival. I can rest now, and it’ll do you good to get out for a while. I’ll be fine…and you’re just a cell call away.”
Ken obeyed. Her tired eyes left him no choice.
As ever, especially these days, Woodland and its circle of faith brought him a much-needed sense of normalcy. He still visualized Barb back home, but gradually allowed himself to get into the spirit of the event. In fact, it wasn’t long before Kiara peeked out from behind the stage curtain and signaled Ken to start the proceedings.
Amazing to think that only about forty-five minutes had passed since the time they had greeted one another.
Ken gave her a nod. He walked to a podium set up to the right of the catwalk and picked up the microphone. “Welcome to Woodland Autumn Fest, everyone.” It was then that he remembered: He had completely lost track of his note cards. He froze for a few seconds—seconds that felt like hours—then did the only thing he could. He began to wing it. “Our charity this year is the Macomb County Shelter, MCS for short. The winter months are coming, and the funds being raised tonight will warm literally hundreds of stranded, displaced homeless people. Thank you for that blessing to our community.”
The lights dimmed and the stage became illuminated. He floundered internally but moved on. “So, without further ado, please join me in viewing the very latest in what the best dressed autumn reveler will be wearing this year. It’s no trick, just a treat, no matter what your age.”
A round of applause gave him time to make eye contact with Kiara. Busy with a hundred details of her own, she had no clue about what had happened to Barb; nor did she realize he had forgotten the note cards. She gave him a thumbs-up and an encouraging nod before sending the first runway participant into the spotlight.
Ken was eternally grateful for the fact that God graced him with a close-knit parish family. He knew, by name, each of the twenty-five participants. As to the costume descriptions, he did the best he could, improvising on the fly. A few times, he caught sight of Kiara in his peripheral vision, watching in puzzlement as he continued. He’d have to explain later.
The last two on parade were Mustafa the Lion, little Jimmy Ginion, and Kiara. Jimmy had re-found his outgoing demeanor now that his tail was back in place; Kiara, meanwhile, vamped like a long-time owner of the runway, watching Mustafa through her binoculars, posing playfully, even cringing when he turned toward her and growled.
Ken continued emceeing. “Last but not least, we have the lovely Kiara Jordan, enjoying a safari-side view of the king of the African plains: Mustafa the Lion.”
At the end of the runway, Kiara lifted Jimmy into her arms and paused so they could both acknowledge the applauding crowd. She encouraged Jimmy’s enthusiastic waves and they blew kisses toward the audience. The duo left everyone, Ken included, laughing, rejoicing in pure, sweet innocence.
“Kiara, is it smart for safari participants to play with the animals?” Ken couldn’t help but tease.
She looked over her shoulder at him and replied handily, “You bet it is, Pastor Ken.”
More laughter followed, and applause reached a crescendo while they returned to the staging area. As fast as Ken’s energy level had peaked, motivating him to get through the show, it evaporated. He exited the podium as fast as he could, leaning against a check-in table behind the curtain.
Thank you, Lord Jesus. Thank you. I needed you so much, and as always, you faithfully lift me up. Thank you. The prayer sang through his blood stream and soothed a depleted spirit, a tense body.
“Ken?” Very quietly Kiara spoke, stepping up from the buzzing crowd to touch his arm. She smiled, but hesitance shadowed her eyes. “That was quite a show. You were awesome.”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Lost my note cards.”
She didn’t take her hand from his arm. The assurance of connecting to someone helped steady him further. Ken breathed deep and could have sworn he came upon her scent—roses, and an undercurrent of vanilla.
“Something happened,” she said.
He nodded. “Barb. She got sick a little while after we arrived. I had to get her home, and I just…I…I lost track of everything to be honest. Everything but her.”
Kiara looked into his eyes, and her own went full, sparkling in the soft white light coming from overhead. “Which is just as it should be. And P.S.? You were amazing. Tonight shows how connected you are to your church, Ken. You knew every person by name. You brought everyone into the mood and fun, and all the while—all the while you—” Her words softened to nothing more than a whisper as she continued to look at him.
“Don’t look at me like that. I just did what I had to do. What she asked me—actually what she forced me to do.”
“Ken.”
She spoke his name on a breath. She gave him a tight, lingering hug then stepped back, brushing tears from her lashes. Meanwhile, he experienced a delayed reaction. He received and accepted her affection, of course, but the essence of her lingered. Surrounded.
Penetrated.
Ken stared at her, not really seeing—only feeling—a spark of life and heat filling his heart.
Kiara continued. “Tell Barb I’m going to stop by. I really did miss seeing her tonight. Would that be OK?”
He found his voice just fast enough to reply, “That would be very OK.”
“I’ll call first, and make sure she’s up to it.”
“If she’s able, she’ll love it.”
She nodded. “I’ll be there.”
After that, it didn’t take long for her to get swept into the congratulations and camaraderie of the people who put on the Autumn Fest. Ken, meanwhile, moved quietly, slowly away.
But Kiara didn’t make idle offers and let them vanish. The next day, after the promised phone call, she showed up at the front door, arms laden by a white wicker basket overflowing with multi-colored, fall-hued mums.
Ken appreciated the way Kiara focused on Barb, her affection plain as the two women chatted over the steaming mugs of the jasmine tea he prepared. They talked about Kiara’s job, happenings at Woodland, they even joked about Barbie attire and platinum blonde wigs. There was no awkwardness Ken could discern, not even at the mention of Autumn Fest. All that flowed between them was easy friendship. The relaxed way Barb related to Kiara assured him that the visit wasn’t just welcome, but enjoyed as well.
When Kiara left an hour or so later, he walked her outside, to where her car was parked in the driveway.
“Thanks for coming over,” he said. A cool breeze, spiced by the aroma of nearby burning leaves, slid against his face. “The flowers are beautiful. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to do that,” Kiara answered, sliding a set of keys from her purse and settling the strap on her shoulder. She unlocked the car with a blip of her key-fob then opened the door. When she turned toward him, her lower lip disappeared beneath the press of her teeth. A second later, tears sprang to her eyes and a few of them overflowed. “I don’t want her to suffer. She’s such a sweetheart.”
Her reaction cut Ken to the quick, lancing straight through to the very heart of every fear, every anxiety he possessed. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks, willing himself not to weaken. Not to crumble like a too-brittle reed.
The effort was wasted.
He pulled his hands free, gathered Kiara into his arms and held on fast. She answered the gesture with equal force and need for support. Ken could summon no resistance to the truth that her tou
ch, the connection they shared, felt beautiful.
Into the moment had ridden a tension-relieving sensation of affirmation and comfort that had played in perfect contradiction to his embroiled spirit.
Leaving memories behind, Ken shook his head and rubbed his eyes. His fingertips came away damp with a few tears that had squeezed free. He sighed, blinking until his vision cleared and the ticket he held came back into focus. His earlier plan to escape Kiara’s impact had utterly backfired.
He needed…
One last escape from home—one last respite from the non-stop battle he fought against a loneliness that periodically pervaded and choked his life. He wanted to channel negativity into something positive, a blessing to those in need.
He re-stowed the ticket and straightened, resolved to move forward with a plan that had been percolating in his mind for a few weeks now. He’d conduct a mission trip this coming autumn. Preliminary research had already been completed. The mountains of Pennsylvania called with a need for service, and he wanted Woodland Church to help answer the summons.
Kiara seemed intent on growing her faith walk and relationship with God. If she could help out, so much the better. It might be just the needed way forward—for both of them.
Hearts Surrender: Woodland Series
5
To: [email protected];
[email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Lunch?
Do you crave sustenance? Let me know if the two
of you can get together for lunch at some point this
week. I’ll come to Birmingham to make things
easier logistically. I’d love to see you, and
brainstorm an idea I want to explore…(Are you
intrigued yet?)
Ken
Kiara re-read the e-mail from Ken then beelined to Daveny’s office. Standing at the threshold, she asked, “Did you see the e-mail from—”
Daveny studied her flat-screen. She chuckled quietly then looked up. “Ken, right?”
“Ah—yeah.”
Daveny shrugged, but her eyes sparkled, which further unsettled Kiara’s nervous system.
“A warning, my friend,” Daveny said. “Take it from someone who knows first hand—Ken Lucerne possesses the gift of sneak-attack.”
No kidding. Kiara’s heart trip hammered.
“Something’s brewing—and he knows just how to draw people in. So beware, my dear.”
Fabulous. This was precisely what Kiara needed to hear when just the thought of him made her nerves shiver. “Well it seems, my dear, that his e-mail was directed to both of us.”
Daveny just kept on grinning. “What day works best for you? I’m open this week.” Kiara set her jaw, tension and anticipation rolling off her in waves. Meanwhile Daveny waited, calm and unaffected. Further, she arched a brow, prodding. “Well?”
Kiara huffed at her friend’s demure posture then muttered, “Thursday.”
Daveny nodded. “Thursday it is.”
Turning on her heel, Kiara exited the doorway. Daveny’s accompanying laughter did nothing at all to sooth Kiara’s stirred up senses.
Daveny called sweetly: “Hey, Miss Agitated, shall you reply, or shall I?”
“I’ll do it,” Kiara cringed because her sharp reply would do nothing but confirm nervousness at spending time with Ken outside the comfort zone of Woodland Church.
“Touchy, touchy,” Daveny replied. “By the way? A bistro table in the courtyard at 220 Merrill sounds wonderful…”
A deliberately appealing and relaxing restaurant choice—idyllic in a way—which only worsened Kiara’s escalating tensions. With fierce keystrokes, she hit the reply toggle and began to type. She could have left the task of responding to Daveny, but didn’t want to. She wanted to be the one to connect to him. She wanted to see him. But facing that realization scared her to bits at the moment, because in reality the anticipation of seeing Ken outside of church overrode everything else. Pushed. Magnetized. Provoked.
Attracted.
Lord was she was in trouble. Hence, she felt like a trapped grizzly bear.
****
Daveny looked crestfallen. “You’re leaving? Again?”
Ken nodded. “Yes, but only for a week, and this time it involves Woodland. After this mission, I promise, I’m staying put.”
“A week in Appalachia.” Kiara continued to listen, and watch him. Her words came out as a statement, not a question.
Ken looked at her, and his gaze stayed put for a moment. “With the STAGE group.”
Woodland’s teen-based service organization. Kiara nodded, still wondering why he needed Daveny’s input, or hers. It seemed all systems were go. Why did Ken urge the lunch they now shared? They had claimed a small metal table on the outside patio at 220 Merrill, a favored hot-spot in the heart of a very busy, summer-kissed downtown Birmingham.
Ken continued, his gaze now including Daveny. “Here’s where I could use your help. I need volunteers. Daveny, can you help me recruit a few adult chaperones?” While Daveny thought that over, his focus returned to Kiara. “And actually, Kiara, I was hoping you might be able to join the trip.”
At that moment, their food arrived—thank goodness. While the server placed platters, shock swept in. Kiara swallowed hard, staring down at her corned beef on rye.
“Told you I’d remember,” Ken said. The soft tone of his voice bore undercurrents of an intimacy that her heart welcomed, even if her head resisted. Heat moved through her body in a rush, speeding upward from her toes straight on through to her dizzying head.
A week. With Ken.
She couldn’t quite move past the fact. Meantime, he kept quiet, taking his time about unwrapping cutlery and spreading a linen napkin across his lap. Dressed in crisply pressed tan slacks and a simple blue shirt that he wore un-tucked over a loose white t-shirt, he looked a far cry from the role of preacher. Everything about him spoke of approachability—and male appeal.
Daveny perched her chin on folded hands. “I think I know of a couple people we could approach.”
“There’ll probably be a dozen or so kids—evenly divided into performance teams—so the way I figure it we need a couple men and a couple women to help oversee everything. Maggie Voorhees, our secretary and youth group director, already signed on.”
“So,” Daveny said, “you’d be looking for one more woman and two men, right?”
“Yep.” He sidled Kiara a look, but that was it.
Shell shocked, Kiara remained a silent observer. She ate, watched and listened, until Daveny slid her cell phone from the pocket of her blazer, checking its face.
“Dang,” she muttered. “I’ve gotta head back to the office.”
Kiara snapped to, and her heart leapt into overdrive. “What? There’s nothing on the schedule—”
Daveny grabbed her purse from the spot at her feet and pecked Ken’s cheek in passing. “Just came up. Ken, can you take Kiara back to the office?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks. Talk to you later. Take your time, though, OK?”
Daveny vanished and Kiara couldn’t help being bewildered. A strand of hair rippled across her face. Nervous and shy, she tucked it behind her ear. She tried to focus on lunch, but her appetite no longer existed.
“So,” Ken murmured, his focus on his plate. He picked up a section of his turkey club, but didn’t bite in right away. He looked uncomfortable as well, and in fairness, Kiara realized she wasn’t helping matters by acting like a bewitched teenager.
So she reigned in her poise and pushed disquiet to the side. She gave him a smile. “So.”
“I honestly didn’t mean for this lunch to turn into an ambush, Kiara.” His gaze lifted to hers, and her heart stuttered. That fact she knew without being told.
Conciliatory, she touched his arm. “I’m surprised by the suggestion, but I don’t feel ambushed. Please don’t worry about that. It does give me a l
ot to think about, though.”
“You came to mind immediately when I planned this trip.”
“Really?” She honestly couldn’t figure out why that might be, but felt flattered he thought of her.
“Yes, really. To me, it’s obvious.”
Kiara puzzled, and waited on elaboration. Realizing that, Ken’s smile dawned as warm as spring sunlight.
“Kiara, stop being the deer that’s caught in the headlights. You’re a natural to work with. You’ll be more than able to guide and engage a group of teenagers. Remember how well you handled preps for Autumn Fest?”
Her heart went light at his praise; at the same time, a lance of painful memory pierced her spirit. Barb. “That was years ago, and…and, that was easy.”
He gave her a pointed look. “Do you think so?”
To fill time, Kiara broke their visual connection and munched on a chip. She hoped to disguise her turmoil and deflect the power of his appeal. Being attracted to him, considering the prospect of intense, out-of-church interaction, left her with a mid-section full of tickling, dancing butterfly wings.
The idea tempted, but at the same time, the thought of participating in a Christian service mission removed her far—make that very far—from her comfort zone. Still, she melted into a form of mental surrender. Mission work would fill an empty spot in her spirit, a need and a call to do something more. Most likely, Ken sensed that fact as well—he was as perceptive as he was caring. Dogging Kiara’s heels of late nipped the feeling that her life lacked merit beyond that of being arm candy for sexy, successful men. A chic fashionista. Didn’t she feel increasing unease about being seen as nothing more than a honey-blonde who could attract attention as easily as nectar attracted bees?
The life she embraced up to now left her empty, and wanting. Had for years. Ever since meeting Ken—ever since joining Woodland Church—she had discovered a world outside her heretofore narrow focus.
Hearts Surrender Page 4
