Following a brief pause, he answered the question. “Amy is like a box of crayons because she’s bright and she has lots of different parts to her personality—like crayon colors. You can use them to crate artwork, and things that are beautiful. When you open a box of crayons, it’s kind of like seeing a rainbow.”
That shut up the raucous comments, and Amy looked a little breathless. Kiara, fortunately, kept matters going. “OK, Amy, you’re up. How is Tyler like…a rubber band?”
Amy groaned and Tyler rolled his eyes, seeming to expect the worst.
“Well,” she began in a tentative voice, “I think Tyler is kinda like a rubber band ’cause rubber bands are flexible. They expand when they need to, and they’re resilient. They’re dependable in that they always go back to what they were once you’re done.” Then she really warmed up, looking him straight in the eye. “Plus, when you pluck a rubber band after you’ve pulled it tight, it makes music.”
Amy’s final comment caused Tyler to look at her in sharp surprise. Amy just arched a brow, an all-knowing look in her eyes.
“Carlie,” Kiara said, helping move past Amy and Tyler’s interlude. “You’re up next...”
****
A narrow gravel road led uphill to a series of small, mom-and-pop owned stores along with a dozen or so homes. This wasn’t a neatly organized setting, however. The area was time worn and suffered from a state of near-terminal neglect. The neglect, Ken knew from research, didn’t stem from uncaring inhabitants, but rather a lack of funds, time and ability. So, mission teams from across the country converged on this tiny, poverty-stricken village to lend assistance. A few vans similar to those from Woodland were parked in the street and clusters of people walked about exploring.
Ken pulled the van to a stop in front of the dilapidated structure owned by Casey Kidwell. For a time, silence reigned within the vehicle. Everyone looked outside, surveying the scene. Clapboard siding was separated in spots to show gaping holes. The roof sagged, and a corner of it looked to be missing completely. Overgrown shrubs and plant life masked a porch that also sagged and featured rotted openings in spots—the product of neglect.
Woodland’s arrival prompted the Kidwell family to emerge from inside. Volunteers exited the van and Amy lifted the gift basked into her arms. Amy hesitated at the family’s enthusiastic onrush. “Gee, it’s like an episode of that home makeover show or something,” she said.
True enough. The entire team soon found itself engulfed by hugs, and Casey Kidwell’s grateful tears punctuated her appreciation. Amy handed the gift basket to Casey, who let the two youngest kids dive into the contents. The twin girls tugged Amy right down on the front yard grass and pulled her in to explore; the rest of the team joined in on a celebration that looked more like Christmas than the offering of a simple gift basket.
Ken kept an eye on the proceedings and then followed Casey into the house, with Kiara at his side. Soon he discovered just how big a task lay ahead.
Casey, a shy and diminutive woman, ushered them across the threshold, but her demeanor struck him as weighted, and oppressed. “I just want you to know; I’m embarrassed to show you how we’ve been living. I’m so ashamed, but there hasn’t been any other way, and all we wanted to do was stay in our home—such as it is.”
Ken rested an arm around her shoulder. “Please don’t be uncomfortable. We understand where you’re coming from; that’s why we want to help.”
She looked at him in silence then nodded, leading the way through the house. The tour didn’t take long, considering its small size and shotgun style composition. Brief discussions ensued amongst the team members who filtered in. Ken listened, but paid particular attention to the way Kiara absorbed the scene. She trailed fingertips against a patchwork quilt drawn between the kitchen and living room as a makeshift door. She looked out windows covered by cloudy, scarred sheets of plastic designed to add protection from the outside elements. Living room furniture, spare to say the least, had passed the “timeworn” mark long ago. A stale, musty smell permeated the house.
Kiara’s eyes went somber, her demeanor subdued.
Two tiny bedrooms skirted a narrow hallway of barren, distressed wood. The bathroom clung to usefulness by virtue of nothing more than heavy globs of caulk and duct tape. Chips and stains dotted the tub, sink and walls.
When they returned outside, Ken made sure to pass by Kiara. Shell shocked, eyes wide, she scanned the scene, her lips down turned. He gave her hand a discreet, understanding squeeze.
In reply to the gesture she firmed her chin and stated quietly, “I can’t wait to get started.”
The comment warmed his blood. Supermodel looks and her chic style and attractive persona, amounted to nothing compared to the determination and compassion he saw in the depths of her eyes.
Hearts Surrender: Woodland Series
7
Red Ridge Lake featured the type of commonplace camping facilities that called to Kiara’s memories of summer camp, and rustic vacations with her family. Pleasantly weathered plank-wood cabins featured step-up porches with wrap around awnings. Amenities included a store, a long, narrow recreational/mess hall and a pair of male and female bath facilities. Trees burnished by the vibrant, fiery birth of autumn rimmed a wide calm lake that perfectly reflected the colors, the puffy white clouds and surrounding mountain peaks. Wood and pine spiced air assailed her senses.
She helped unpack the two vans, then the group broke off into four teams of five and they trekked to their cabins.
Following a quick settling in period, Kiara wandered toward the lake. Canoes were neatly stacked near the shoreline. A sturdy looking dock extended several feet into the water. Plastic chairs surrounded a deep, rock-lined fire pit. Next to that resided an endearingly timeworn swing set.
The wooden structure, with thick chain links and a pair of wooden seats, called to a child-like part of her soul. Besides, after the non-stop cacophony of traveling for hours with teenagers, a touch of solitude is exactly what her spinning mind needed in order to reboot.
So Kiara sat down at the swing and pushed off.
Delighted, she pumped her legs and the lake climbed toward her then filled her vision, receding when momentum sent her backwards. The freefall flipped her stomach lightly and tickled her insides. A cool wind kissed against her skin.
She slowed when footsteps crunched on the leaf and needle strewn path of gravel behind her. She turned and butterflies erupted when Ken approached.
A whole different type of freefall took place.
“I wanted to make sure you hadn’t run away,” he greeted, a teasing smile curving his lips.
She tried not to stare at that perfect, tempting mouth and instead, feigned offense. “You have that little faith in me, eh?”
He stepped into the scuffed and worn spot of dirt behind her and settled his hand against the small of her back. She nibbled on her lower lip as he gave her a push.
The motion sent her gently forward, and then she glided right back to him. He pushed again.
“I have faith in you.” He left it at that. “The sundry shop is still open for business in case you’re hungry.”
Kiara chuckled. “After all the junk food we consumed during the trip? I won’t be hungry for days.”
She soared back to him, close enough that their gazes met when she turned to look at him. Close enough that she could glean the flecks of gold that highlighted his dark brown eyes.
He pushed; Kiara flew.
“This is a gorgeous setting,” she offered starting to tingle, and tremble.
“Um-hmm. Lakes and swim-time never fail to get kids to sign up for mission trips. They don’t care how cold the water is.”
“Not me. I’m not a fan of ice-swimming.”
“When you see the shower facilities, you might change your mind.”
Kiara swung a bit more. Sunlight burnished the world to a molten hue of gold. Rich shades of green, red and orange illuminated the waving scrub grass and surrounding tre
es.
“Can I ask you a question?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“I noticed the point in Little Women when you turned inward. You stopped bubbling the minute Marmee March told Meg not to worry so much about being the belle of the ball as maintaining her strength of character. Do you mind my asking why that scene in particular seemed to hit you so hard?”
His question struck against the crux of Kiara’s deepest inner-dilemma—one she tried desperately to avoid confronting. To compensate for self-doubt and insecurity, Kiara took comfort in control, especially with regard to relationships. She called the shots with men who fell into easy admiration. Right now though, she depended on Ken, on winning his interest, and not just physically. She wanted something more. Something he offered that left her feeling not just beautiful, but fulfilled.
This means something, a voice inside her said, but you're not the one in control. Neither is Ken. It's out of both your hands. Instead, your fate resides in the steady possession of a loving, heavenly Father. Rest easy in that truth.
Kiara swung her legs slower and slower, decreasing her levitation, but continuing to swing.
“The scene kind of hits home,” she finally said. “Especially as I find myself mixing and mingling with teenagers.”
“Why’s that?”
She came to rest, but Ken pushed her just slightly, giving her the freedom of flight, of movement, while she considered how to answer.
“I’ve been Meg. I’ve been the wallflower who bloomed. But Meg believed in herself enough to give up fancy trappings and rely instead on her strength of character. I’m not sure I possess that kind of courage. I've clung to vanity-centered ideals for too long, I suppose. I’ve worked hard to fit in, and finally I succeeded. Problem is that kind of success is a double-edged sword. That pathway, once you start to follow it, is hard to leave.”
In an unexpected, graceful motion, Ken caught her swing by the chains. He held her in place, suspended backward, with nothing but a cushion of air between them. All at once Kiara went dizzy and hyper-focused, tempted once more by that full, supple mouth, and the satiny-looking fall of his thick brown hair as he leaned over her. He was close enough to touch. In this moment, she wanted nothing more than to do just that.
“Some time, at some point, I’d like to hear more about that, Kiara. I’d like very much to know how you became the woman you are.”
She looked at him steadily. “I’d bore you to tears. It’s nothing extraordinary.”
“All present evidence to the contrary.” He set her gliding once again and Kiara’s stomach performed a sparkling fall-away. She delighted in his words but forced herself to brush them aside before they could take root and sway her into believing he saw richness to her spirit. After all, it was part of Ken’s persona to be gracious and encouraging.
But he continued, and those arguments splintered to shards when he said, “You're moving forward in directions that are not only admirable, but eye-opening—not just for you, most likely, but to everyone who's part of your life—don't hold to what other people see, or expect of you. Be who you are. And while you're at it, create the best version of yourself you can imagine. The only question, with the only relevance that matters, is this, Kiara: Who are you now?”
When she sailed back his way, he caught the chains of her swing once again and whispered in her ear, “I believe in you.”
With that, he released her on a push, sending her on another dizzying spin of sensation. He walked away, retracing his steps up the path to the cabins and mess hall. She swung to a stop then sat in silence for long moments after he left, absorbing, shivering in a way that had nothing at all to do with the cool of the encroaching night.
****
Since the Woodland team ate dinner on the road, Kiara didn’t have to worry about food—or cooking and cleaning—once they settled into camp. To finish off day one, the entire troop met in the recreation hall, which doubled as the eating area. The building featured a huge kitchen and lines of cafeteria-style tables. While Ken conducted a brief info-session to map out tomorrow’s schedule and the KP itineraries, Kiara noticed even the most energetic teens leaned their heads and elbows on the tabletops and yawned frequently.
In conclusion, they toured the campgrounds and became familiar with its layout. They entered the bathhouse en masse to check out the facilities, which were empty for now. The kids performed a unilateral grumble when viewing the space. Sure enough, Kiara found out Ken’s earlier comments about the condition of the showers hit the mark.
Sliding back a white vinyl curtain Amy poked her head into a stall. Kiara peeked in along with her, and cringed. Couldn’t help it.
Amy said it for them both: “OK, seriously? This is so far beyond the word gross.”
Peripherally Kiara noticed Ken standing in the doorway, watching; he seemed to be waiting on her reaction.
In honesty, she tended to agree with Amy, who made a valid point. To her credit, though, Amy didn’t whine. She made her comment, and then shrugged, looking at Kiara for reaction as well.
Attempting stalwart behavior despite black mildew splotches on the yellowed calking, despite the peeling floor and chipped wall tiles Kiara said, “Yeah. Gross covers it pretty well.” A clean-looking plastic floor mat hung on the wall next to the stall. Kiara unhooked it and dropped it to the floor inside the shower. “This will help. Besides—at least it’s a shower, with hot water. We’re staying in a cabin with beds and clean linens. For now, we’re a few steps ahead of the family we’re here to help, right? And for us, it’s temporary. For them, it’s constant.”
Just like that, she found herself the center of attention. Mere words stirred comprehension of what they were there for, along with a renewed perspective. Amy’s eyes brightened. She nodded and pulled the curtain back into place, saying, “Yep. You’re right.”
A few more murmurs of reluctant agreement followed as they gathered outside. When Kiara passed Ken, leading her four lady delegates to their assigned cabin, he slid his hand against hers and he gave it a squeeze. His smile spread slow and sure, like sunlight breaking through a thick bank of clouds.
“And to think you were once intimidated,” he said.
Hearts Surrender: Woodland Series
8
Sunlight beat onto Kiara’s exposed neck, the air thick, laden by an unusual degree of humidity. She yanked away an obstructing line of overgrowth and bramble that lined and overcrowded the front of the Kidwell residence.
“This is gonna take forever,” Amy muttered.
“Yeah—but it’ll make dinner and shower time feel that much better,” Tyler said, ever present and encouraging. Kneeling next to Amy, he pulled weeds as well. Kiara swiped her brow with the back of her hand and watched the twosome move in a neat tandem down the wood-beam border that had just been installed to frame in a small flowerbed.
Kiara smiled at the way Tyler looked at Amy, quietly enamored. Pretty similar, she imagined, to the way she looked at Ken. The thought left her searching for him. Ken stood atop a nearby ladder propped against the roofline, handing up equipment and supplies to a crew that replaced disintegrated tiles.
“It’s not that I don’t want to help, but, dang!” Punctuating her statement, Amy grabbed a handful of tall, leafy sprigs and yanked them free. “This thing is a mini tree!”
Tyler gave her shoulder a shove and they laughed.
Kiara piped in, picking up a pair of gardening shears and giving her all to trimming bushes. “I hear that, Amy.” Minutes later, she gathered up discarded branches. “Maybe you can think about it this way: Consider the fact that everything we do right now is one less thing Casey has to worry about. Plus, it’s not like she has any extra money to spend. She can’t repair the roof, or replace those rotted floorboards in the porch. She can’t replace kitchen cabinets and lay new flooring. The elbow grease is tough, and sweaty, but it’s why we’re here, right?”
“Well said, Kiara.”
She froze, her arms chock-f
ull of thick, prickly tree branches. A recycle bag stood nearby, tall and half full—completely ignored when she turned, and faced Ken.
“She’s brilliant,” Amy deduced, not even looking their way while she continued to tug at the weeds and wrinkle her nose at the muddy debris. Her unguarded praise made Kiara’s skin flame, because it only served to expand Ken’s smile.
She faced him like a statue, roughened bark and pungent leaves punctuating her senses of touch and smell. Ken stepped close and removed the refuse from her grasp. “Let’s dispose of these before they end up back on the ground.”
Ken stuffed the branches into the recycling bag, then took Kiara’s arm and led her away from the activities of the landscaping detail. He walked toward a stack of boxed up shingles that stood on the porch. “Can you help me with some supplies over here on the porch? The contractors need more materials. I was thinking you could hand them up to me while I’m on the ladder.”
“Sure,” she answered quickly, glad to divert from the fact that she had openly gawked at the man.
“We’re nearing the end of the day ahead of schedule.” He looked over his shoulder at Tyler, Amy and Carlie. Kiara puzzled over the way he paused. He seemed to be buying time while he retrieved roofing nails, a short-stack of shingles and water to replenish the crew. He gathered the supplies rather than handing them over. At length he said, “Kiara, have you ever thought about joining the youth group ministry as a team leader?”
Kiara blinked a few times. “Ah. No.”
“You should.”
“Me?”
“You.”
Flattered by his confidence, she tried to clear her head, and think. Ken’s idea took strong, unexpected root, weaving through her mind, thriving, enlivening her spirit. She stammered a bit then tried to call him out on the suggestion, probing his seriousness. “Trust me, I’m nobody’s theologian. I can’t quote scripture verse for verse, or lead discussions on doctrine, or—”
Hearts Surrender Page 7
