Hearts Surrender

by Marianne Evans

  As though reading her mind, he leaned forward, closing their slight physical distance. He was intent and enthused. That snared her heart like nothing else could, and filled Kiara with longing. In the end, she wanted to live up to the promise Ken saw inside her.

  “I’ve participated in a few missions recently. I know what I’m doing. You’re a special lady. I’d love for you to participate, and get a sense of what these trips accomplish. The joy and hope and freedom a little help from people like us can give to these people is amazing. One week away from everything you know, and all that’s familiar, is going to bring you to a place in your life and your walk with God that nothing else can match.” His eyes fixed on Kiara, drawing her in—a most seductive impetus. “It’ll be a gift, Kiara. In so many ways…”

  His full lips, the tumbled wavy brown hair that danced in a gentle breeze, left her transfixed. Wistful—in so many ways.

  “Do me a favor?” He asked.

  She nodded numbly.

  “Will you consider it? I understand it’s a lot to ask. I know being a part of this trip would mean sacrificing a week of vacation time from your job, but…”

  His voice trailed off. The impact of his gaze did not. Like she could refuse satiny eyes of chocolate brown—

  She caught her breath. “Of course I’ll think about it. The offer has taken me by surprise, that’s all.”

  They concluded their lunch companionably, and she had to admit that once she moved past the initial bout of giddiness Ken’s presence stirred, the surprise generated by his mission suggestion, she found it easy to settle into a comfortable rhythm. They caught up with one another and enjoyed lunching outdoors on a gorgeous afternoon.

  Much as she hated for the interlude to end, soon enough work schedules called and Ken accompanied her back to the office.

  There, Daveny waited.

  And there certainly didn’t seem to be a work-related fire going on that Kiara could detect.

  She deposited her purse in a desk drawer then paid her partner and best friend a visit in her office. True to sassy form, Daveny wasted no time on preamble. “When do you leave for Pennsylvania?”

  “As soon as I find out about the big corporate emergency you’re taking care of,” Kiara shot back.

  Daveny just blinked prettily. “Emergency? What emergency?”

  Kiara’s jaw dropped. “Daveny Montgomery Edwards. Are you attempting a set up?”

  “Everyone needs a hobby.”

  Kiara sank into the chair before Daveny’s desk, expelling a hard, tense breath. “Do you realize this would mean six hours. In a van.” In close, intimate proximity, she neglected to add. “What in the world am I going to talk about with him? What’ll we say?”

  “First off, let me enlighten you. I’ve helped Collin out in his high school English classes from time to time, doing organizational things and the like. I've gotten to know teenagers. Therefore, I can assure you, conversation will be the least of your worries. This trip to the Appalachians is going to be anything but quiet. Furthermore, I think you realize that fact without being told. Since that's the case, I have to ask, Kiara, what's scaring you?” Daveny’s eyes narrowed. “Because quite frankly, I'm stunned. When have you ever—I repeat—ever been timid about making conversation with a man?”

  Kiara's cheeks stung and prickled, the first alert of a dawning blush. “Dav, come on. You know what I mean. I'll be with Pastor Ken.”

  “Oh. I see. And as opposed to being a man, Ken's a zombie, is that the issue?”

  “Pastor Ken,” Kiara corrected. A touch of something sensuous and enticing skirted her nerve endings.

  “Ken.” Daveny answered right back. “And he’s just a man.”

  “Thanks for illuminating, but that’s not my point. I'm just not sure what we're going to have to say to each other during the course of this proposed mission. We're so different.”

  “Nice try, but I’m not buying. Kiara, you're afraid of him.”

  “Am not!”

  “I don't mean afraid like Jack-the-Ripper afraid, I mean afraid in a completely different way, and I think you know exactly what I'm talking about.” Kiara moved hastily to cut her off, but Daveny quelled a reply by simply lifting her hands. “Proof? Allow me to take you back a few years. You and I were neck deep in a church renovation, remember?’

  Kiara remained still, but inwardly fought against the sensation of being cornered by her own heart.

  “You sat in that very chair, telling me how much you enjoyed Ken’s company, how much you liked him and wished the quote-unquote good ones like him weren’t already taken.”

  Kiara squirmed but Daveny kept going. “You longed for a connection to him, but he was married. Off limits.” Shaking her head vigorously, staring into Kiara’s eyes, Daveny concluded firmly. “Well he’s not off limits anymore.”

  Like a temptation, that idea dangled before Kiara's thirsty, wanting heart.

  And Daveny went on. “He’s a man of meaning, a man of depth and substance. He’s exactly the kind of man you know you want and need, yet for some reason his attainability has you running for cover.” Daveny relented, leaning back once again. “I won’t put you on the spot and ask you for reasons why; your face alone tells me I’ve hit the mark. What I’m saying, sweetie, is that you need to look at that fact more closely. You need to ask yourself why that’s the case. Are you afraid of a genuine commitment from a genuine man? Before you answer, I have to I warn you, he’ll want it all. He’s not after a trophy girl, or instant gratification, but is instead searching for a woman who possesses equal parts substance and beauty. Someone just like you.”

  “Daveny, he's clergy! He’s a man of God. I’m…I’m...Cosmo’s with my girlfriends after work. I've had a few casual relationships based on sex appeal and charisma…and…and…” At last, Kiara came out with what she considered the deepest problem. “Dav, the point is, I’d be no good for him. I could never make him happy. Not over the long term. You talk about his substance, and that's exactly what draws me to him. I'll admit that freely. But I'm sorely lacking in the things he needs most.”

  “Bull!”

  “It's true. I’m these looks, and this body, and I’ve let myself be taken in by flash too many times to ever believe a man like Ken could find me suitable. Come on. Seriously. Me? The paramour of a preacher?”

  Undeterred Daveny just shrugged. “Why not, Kiara? Why not?”

  And one thing was for certain. Mona Lisa’s enigmatic turn of lips had nothing on the smile currently displayed on the face of Kiara’s best friend.

  ****

  Nervousness got the better of her. Kiara could own that fact. She could deal with it. She closed and locked the door of her apartment then trotted to her car. Once there she realized she had forgotten her notebook. Checking her watch, she took in how close she cut her arrival time. She didn’t want to be late to the mission trip orientation meeting, but ran back to retrieve the notebook, anyway.

  The four-mile drive to Woodland turned into an exercise in finding every red light and slow-moving vehicle in the city of St. Clair Shores, which meant there was too much time to think about Ken, and the idea of actually participating.

  With him.

  The thought followed her to the church parking lot. Kiara left her car and then remembered the notebook still rode shotgun. What was the message here? There had to be a message.

  Maybe: Don’t even try. Or perhaps: Don’t worry about notes, be more concerned with what’s written on your heart.

  She mentally admitted her betting money went on the latter option. Still, after an exasperated sigh, she retrieved the wire-bound source of her aggravation and marched through the entrance of Woodland.

  Resolute—defiant in fact—Kiara walked the long, narrow corridor to the left of the narthex. Along the way, she passed a number of darkened classrooms and conference rooms. She found her way to the brightly lit gathering spot indicated on Ken’s e-mail: Conference Room 1D.

  And the most amazing thing h
appened.

  Peace flooded her, unstoppable because it took her by such surprise. Calming peace and a soothing sense of assurance wrapped around her like a tender hug. She absorbed Woodland’s familiar flower and must scent, the stillness and quiet of the building. The moment did what nothing else could right now—telegraphed God’s presence.

  In that instant, she stopped fighting herself.

  After signing in, she looked around, cataloguing attendees. A dozen or so teens buzzed amongst themselves, a tight knit group huddled at the long table up front. Talk about multi-tasking—most of them sent text messages, laughed, talked, carried on phone conversations and picked at one another simultaneously. Kiara smiled at the exuberant behavior.

  Pastor Ken stood at the head of the teen table, somehow able to focus despite the relentless clamor. The sight of him stalled her at the welcome desk. She noticed the way he gnawed on the end of a pen, reading a paper he held.

  “Kiara, are you set?”

  “What?” She turned to look at Margaret Voorhees, Woodland’s church secretary, who also coordinated youth group activities and had helped implement the upcoming mission trip. Since attendance was completed, Margaret watched her curiously. “Oh. Yeah. I’m fine, thanks.”

  Kiara moved away, taking note of a white vinyl banner that covered the wall to her right. Painted a variety of bright colors, the sign read: WELCOME TO THE STAGE!

  She stepped up to the table where Ken stood.

  “Hi,” she greeted tentatively. And she couldn’t help wondering where the fluttery, bashful vibe of hers was coming from these days. The look in Ken’s eyes warmed her senses, set assurance and welcome sailing through her body.

  “Hey! I’m glad you’re here. Take the seat by me.”

  “OK.” Kiara returned his smile, but looked away shyly, reacting instantly to his warm kindness. She deposited her notebook and trip materials on the table then checked out the sign a bit more closely, reading its subtext aloud: “Super Teen Angels Go Evangelize.”

  Ken glanced over his shoulder and looked at the sign as well. He nodded. “STAGE. It’s our name, and our mantra. Plus, they’re at such a formative age. When necessary, the STAGE name makes it easier for them to talk about meetings and group events without risking stigma.”

  That kind of pressure Kiara understood. “I can imagine.”

  “Especially for teenagers dealing with their peers, and type-casting, it’s important to live their Christian faith, not lose confidence as they’re teased about church related meetings and being part of a youth ministry.”

  “Like that old saying: Live the Gospel—use words only if necessary.”

  “Exactly.” He filled two Styrofoam cups with ice water and handed her one. She accepted his thoughtful gesture with a smile; her fingertips trailed against his, drawing their eyes into a brief, stirring connection before he walked away.

  Ken crossed the room, calling for everyone’s attention and quiet. Kiara took her seat as he clicked off the overhead lights. A laptop was set up at his spot on the table. When Ken returned, he began the proceedings. “Meet the Kidwell family.”

  Click by click, he took the potential attendees through a computerized slideshow presenting each needy family member. First came the young mother, Casey; then Phillip, the oldest boy and freshly minted teenager who smiled shyly for the camera. Next came six-year-old twins, Amber and Alyssa, who both possessed such sparkle and spunk their images leapt from the display screen.

  In conclusion, however, he returned to the image of Casey Kidwell. Long brown hair was tied into a simple ponytail. Her fair features were plain, but clear and clean. Jeans and a t-shirt were nondescript, but her eyes were large and wide, retaining an innocence that left Kiara moved.

  Pastor Ken continued. “Casey struggles to make ends meet. Her sense of hope? It gets trampled on every day because, as her application states, she feels all alone in the fight to keep her family safe and well provided for.”

  Silence filled the room as he continued. “This trip is about service, and it’s about helping a struggling family find hope, but as many of you know, lately I’ve spent a lot of time lending assistance to missions very similar to the one I propose to you right now. So let me assure you of something.” He paused strategically and performed a slow, deliberate survey of the posture, faces and eyes of the dozen or so teens and the sprinkling of adults who gathered. “Beyond heeding God’s call to uplift those who need it the most, this trip will transform you. It’s as much about evolution, and advancing your own spiritual walk, as it is about applying fresh layers of paint, cleaning, or planting trees. You’ll be the face of Christ to our needy brothers and sisters, but don’t expect to walk away from the experience without being changed.”

  A murmur of acceptance and agreement circuited the room.

  “So…details about the mission. If you open your folders, you’ll find an itinerary that outlines the details and goals of the program. We’re headed to Zion Grove, in the Appalachian Mountains.”

  Kiara followed along, reviewing statistics and overall program information.

  Ken went on. “A community of nine families is living below poverty levels and has been identified by the Christian Youth Outreach Program. What that means is we won’t be alone in this. Nine other church-based teams are headed to Pennsylvania to help refurbish homes and reestablish these individuals into lives restored by hard work and a helping hand.”

  “Where are we going to be staying, Pastor Ken?”

  Kiara looked down the table, at the bright-eyed, blonde-haired teen who asked the question. Amy, her nametag read. Ken lifted a color brochure from inside his folder and held it up. “If you pull out this flyer about Red Ridge Lake, I think your questions will be answered. The program we’re participating in will take over a small campground. The Woodland team will be responsible for our own meals, cooking and cleanup, but we’ll share ministry with the other attendees. We’ll be in cabins, four volunteers and one chaperone to each. My hope is to take a dozen members of STAGE and recruit four adult volunteers.”

  “I don’t know anything about, like, home repairs and stuff. What about that?”

  Kiara smiled at the second teen who spoke up, a lanky, sandy-haired boy seated next to Amy. Tyler was his name. Kiara readily understood his eager, if somewhat intimidated demeanor.

  “Contracted professionals who donate their time will oversee the heavy lifting—stuff like drywall, carpeting and cabinetry. You’ll be helping, not supervising, so no worries. You’ll get training and tools without a problem.”

  Questions continued and more details were ironed out while the meeting progressed.

  Slowly, Kiara was drawn into the idea of being a part of it all. A tremor from within brought her to the realization that walking away from this opportunity wouldn’t be an option. The faces of the Kidwell family, freeze-framed on the wall to her left, pulled at a need in her heart to help. To be present.

  At the end of the meeting she hung back, not eager to leave Ken’s company. Here she felt assured. Here she felt affirmed and cared for.

  The room emptied, and she helped disconnect and store computer parts, then stack up extra information packets while Ken said goodnight to Maggie Voorhees.

  When he turned back and saw the results of Kiara’s work, he looked pleasantly surprised. “Wow. Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  “Seriously, I appreciate it.”

  He tossed cups and napkins into the trash. “So what did you think?” He lingered as well, taking his time about packing supplies into his carryall.

  “Well, I think this is a departure for me. It’s service, and of course I like that, but it’s not like anything I’ve ever done before.”

  “Service is what you’ve provided to Woodland ever since you joined us, Kiara. This trip isn’t much different from that.”

  He nodded toward the chairs they had occupied during the meeting and Kiara made herself comfortable at the table. “But the service you’re
talking about was provided on a much smaller scale, Pastor Ken.” At last she came out with the truth—her biggest fear. “It’s intimidating. Am I really up to this? Am I qualified? I’m just not sure, and I don’t want to mess things up.” She watched for any telltale reactions, but his presence soothed, a gentle oasis in the desert of her unease. “Really. Think about it. Who do I think I am, being a mission participant for heaven’s sake?”

  “For heaven’s sake indeed,” Ken quipped in turn.

  He looked down at his folded hands. They rested close to Kiara’s, and she tingled with a need to touch him. She didn’t. Again and again she kept thinking, Pastor. Modernista. Conservative. Contempo. Oil. Water.

  Disquiet simmered though her bloodstream, but combating that onslaught rushed a longing that poured through her thick and warm, a quest for…for something. Something more than the world, the time and place she currently inhabited. To share an experience like this with Ken? Her mind raced even faster.

  “You’re stepping off a ledge, Kiara. I understand that. Just remember; the hardest part is letting go.” Their gazes aligned and Ken slid her notebook out of the way. Leaning close he tucked his hand over hers on the tabletop. Her mouth went dry, and she fought hard to focus. “Look at this as an opportunity. I’ve pushed you. Maybe I shouldn’t have. The thing is, though, ever since I’ve met you, it seems you’ve been moving into something larger than yourself. You attend church here regularly, but beyond being a worshiper, you’ve contributed. I’d love to see that continue. It’s been beautiful to watch.”

  In a perfectly sequenced activation process, his words slid into her then through her. She caught her breath, looking into eyes of deep, velvety brown, falling headfirst. She allowed herself to enjoy the luxury of their soft tenderness.

  “This isn’t just about opportunity. It’s about ability. Abilities you possess, Kiara. You’re a natural motivator, and the kids love you.” He lifted his hand from hers and ticked off a couple more attributes on his fingers. “You magnetize, and you galvanize. You have more energy, spirit and enthusiasm than most people I know. Plus, you draw people in. You can lead.”