“It was great,” he said and cut it off right there. He focused on the plasma screen above them. The smack of pool balls added occasional punctuation to the atmosphere.
“If you think you’re getting off that easy, think again, pal.”
Their waitress delivered a pair of longnecks, giving Ken just enough time to put up a wall of defense. “Is this an inquisition, or are we going to enjoy having a beer?” Ken tempered the words with a grin then took a swallow of his brew.
Collin followed suit as he pretended to think about that question for a second. “I vote for both.” He hit Ken with a probing look. “It’s payback time.”
Ken couldn’t help laughing. Payback indeed.
“You remember my anger at God. You helped me destroy that wall I had around my heart after Lance was killed. You lost your wife. I lost my oldest brother. When I clawed my way back, it was Daveny, and you, who threw me lifelines. You helped me find my way back to faith, to Christ.”
Ken had a part to play in that redemptive process, sure, but God worked the miracle. God’s faithfulness astounded Ken anew each time he recognized the active, caring role Collin now assumed with his faith and Woodland. For a number of years, until he met Daveny, Collin had full-out rebuked God. Now he not only attended church, he took on an active role as a newly elected Parish Council member.
In the process of Collin’s struggle, Ken had welcomed him back to church, and even challenged him to leave behind emptiness so he could embrace a new point of view with regard to his spirit-life and his relationship with God. It seemed Collin had learned his lessons well.
Collin continued, echoing Ken’s thought pattern. “You helped me find my footing. Let me return the favor.”
To stall, he took another pull on his beer. Instinct left Ken wanting to step neatly to the side, shrug off what he felt. He didn’t want to bring people into his personal turmoil. Dealing with Barb’s illness had made him somewhat of a pro at that maneuver. Tonight, however, he shunted that instinct and instead moved toward Collin’s offer of friendship.
“OK. I’ll cut to the chase for you. She’s fantastic, obviously. But I could never keep her interested, Collin. Mine isn’t the kind of life she’s been looking for. My life is simple. It’s about church guidance, serving God, and being present to the members of my parish. It’s about church events and budgetary red ink. Meanwhile, Kiara receives offers to jet away to Europe.”
“Which she turned down, remember.”
Ken shrugged. “Point taken. True. But the fact remains, her life features excitement and adventure. An excitement and adventure she craves.”
“Act for one hot second like that isn’t exactly what draws you to her.”
Hmmm. So Collin wanted to play hardball. Ken battled right back. “It is. I won’t deny it, but therein lies the rub. She’s all about embracing new experiences with the people she draws into her life with nothing more than that smile of hers and the easy, attractive way she just is. I’m nobody’s sophisticate. I’m not electric like she is.”
“Oh yes you are,” Collin said definitively. “Every time you step up to proclaim God’s word, or deliver a sermon, you capture people. It’s all in a matter of what you’re passionate about. It’s all in the matter of what God calls you to do. You found your calling and embraced it from the get-go. You settled in nicely with Barb. Then, a seismic change occurred. You’ve had to reevaluate your entire life.
“Now go the other way. Take a good look at Kiara. At her spirit. What does it tell you? Ken, she’s doing exactly the same thing you are! She’s looking for her calling. She’s stepping away from the life she thought she wanted, with all of its temptations and allure, and she’s looking for something Godly. Something to fill her soul. She’s finding God, and in the process, she’s finding you. Take the hint.” Ken stared, swept into Collin’s words and struck silent.
“What I’m saying is, be ready for the chance God’s giving you to be a partner to a woman who wants, and needs, someone just like you. Not to satisfy who she was, but who she’s becoming.”
Ken ran his thumb along the cold, moist surface of the bottle he held. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It’s not.”
Ken appreciated that comment and gave Collin a quick glance. “I suppose it’s easy for some people to write off the confusion I feel, or just not understand it. Get over it, some may say. Barb’s gone. Move on.”
Collin gaped. “I’d personally deal with anyone who was that cold about the relationship you had with Barb.” He gave Ken a sheepish look. “Forgive the impulse toward violence.”
Ken laughed, fingering the cocktail napkin beneath his beer. “Forgiven. Thing is? I can’t seem to reconcile myself to let go. On one level, I’m giving over to Kiara. It’s like I can’t even help it. On another, I want to hold back. I feel guilty, and definitely afraid. I want to be everything to her, and I know I can’t be.”
“Let me ask you something.”
“Yeah?”
“Is guilt and fear what you were thinking about when you looked at those pictures?”
Ken nodded then sheepishly came clean. “And more.”
“I figured out the and more part solo.” He gave Ken a wry grin, and then continued. “Look, seriously, I’m not belittling what you’ve said. I’m only asking so you can think about things. What is it about the situation with Kiara that’s giving you so much guilt? Is there something about her, or you, that makes you feel this way? As Barb’s illness progressed, Kiara’s presence in your life sharpened focus. There’s no shame in that.”
“Not from where I sit,” Ken murmured.
Their food arrived, steaming and fragrant, along with a second round of beers. They gave thanks and dug in.
“You know? Really? All I ever wanted was to live my life in guidance of Woodland, happily married to a wonderful woman—a woman I treasure and cherish. Someone to create a family with.”
“That’s still a possibility. In fact, it would seem to be a very good possibility.”
“Maybe, Collin, but…but I just can’t—dive in to Kiara.”
“You’re forgetting something.” Collin tipped back his beer then downed a trio of fries. “I watched you tonight. Your face tells me the truth that your words won’t. I’d say the dive you’re talking about already happened; you just need to face it.”
Ken stared. Collin’s verdict left him no escape hatch. Ken couldn’t deny the comment, but he couldn’t move forward yet, either. “Know what I feel like?”
“What?”
“A teenager. A teenager with a raging crush. I feel like the high-school geek who’s fallen hard for the homecoming queen.”
Collin feasted on his burger, and so did Ken.
“You know,” Collin said at length, “Kiara would absolutely, without a question or a doubt, hate that analogy.”
“I know. I’d never say anything like that to her directly, but I can’t help how I feel—”
Collin cut him off. “Back up a sec. I’m lost. When exactly did you become the geek in this story?”
Ken laughed. “OK, OK. I’m not a geek, but in so many ways it’s a similar situation.” He turned, squaring off directly with his friend. “Let me clarify the point I’m trying to make—and I can absolutely, without a question or a doubt guarantee that Kiara would agree with what I’m about to say.”
Collin smirked at Ken’s parroting job, but he listened.
“Kiara’s told me herself that she sees me as something up here.” Ken held his hand shoulder high. “I’m a pastor, which means—”
“Oh, man, which means you definitely shouldn’t be at a local watering hole tossing back a couple brews with a parish member. Cripe. Gimme that beer right now before you lose your preaching license or something—”
“Collin, you’re a jerk. As I was saying, I’m up here, while the rest of mere mortal humanity lies somewhere down here.” His hand lowered to almost brush the wood tabletop. “I’m different. Set apart. So you see,
while I may not be a geek, it’s the same difference.” He pointed at Collin. “And the results are just the same, too. Know what I mean?”
“Well, maybe that’s because you met and married Barb before you became a full-blown church leader. A comfort zone had already been established, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Could that be part of what’s upsetting the balance for you and Kiara? That the comfort zone just isn’t there for Kiara? Yet?”
“Yet?”
“Yet. Because it seems to me that during the mission trip, you came down from the mountain a bit, and Kiara found her way upward. Judging by the sapped-out look on your face when you thumbed through those pictures, progress was made. And progress is progress. In fact, I’ll bet she’s counting on you. So don’t let her down, and don’t you dare give up.” Collin sent a direct, penetrating look in Ken’s direction. “You gonna give up?”
Collin’s words struck him like a bell being chimed. Ken had let her down. He had told her not to worry. He had told her they would make it through. But then he had performed an abrupt and shattering back pedal. Out of fear.
Out of a lack of faith.
Lights in Ken’s heart clicked on, illuminating a few of his more unsettling errors in judgment. He gave Collin the most honest, bare-bones answer he could. “I can’t give up. To do that would be impossible.”
Collin stretched back and spread his hands wide, seeming to claim victory. Before digging in to his food again, he lifted his beer bottle and thunked it against Ken’s. They swallowed a tandem swig then Collin grinned at him, “Then go get her—and my work here is finished.”
Ken made plans. He’d talk to her after church this weekend. He’d take her home and make her breakfast after services. They’d talk—really talk—about a future. Together.
The idea left Ken smiling, and Collin just looked at him with a knowing smirk. Ken snapped to proper attention and they continued their meal companionably before Collin remarked, “So—now to the stuff that’s really important.”
Ken chuckled, weights unbuckling from his heart, allowing it to rise. “Which is?”
After wiping his mouth on a napkin, Collin munched on a French fry and looked up at the television screen, promptly losing himself in Sports Center. “Do you think the Lions are ever gonna climb out of the NFL cellar?”
Hearts Surrender: Woodland Series
16
Kiara immersed herself deep within the landscape design for a law firm in Bloomfield Hills. Thus settled, she only vaguely registered the tinkling alert of an incoming text message to her cell phone. Next came a more persistent vibration that sent the device skittering across the surface of her desk until it bumped and stalled against an open folder of renderings and lay-out plans.
Concentration shattered, her thoughts turned instantly to Ken. She fought the urge to growl. Growling wouldn’t do when she wore her professional demeanor—but plenty times of late she growled, stammered her way through ineffective mutterings, unanswered prayers, shivers of loneliness, and a pervasive, overriding need that rolled through her over and over and over again. Especially in the night. Especially when her body and mind sought refuge, rest and peace from loving him so much. The silence permeated her world. Obviously, Ken had written off their relationship as mutually unsuitable.
Days had passed since she stumbled upon the exchange between Ken and Maggie, and the lack of communication left her roiling. What was Ken thinking? Going through? Granted, she had turned away, but by the same token, Ken hadn’t reached out either. That spoke volumes.
A headache bloomed. Not an uncommon development these days. She worked her fingertips fruitlessly against a tight knot of tension that ran a circuit from her neck to her shoulders straight on down to her back. With stubbornness of will, she refused delivery and acknowledgement of her pain—again—and forced Ken Lucerne to a locked chamber of her heart.
Once again, she hunkered down with layout plans for the sweeping roll of land upon which rested the stately, Colonial designed headquarters of Stuart and Littleson, Attorneys at Law. She lost herself in work, mapped out bush and tree possibilities. She plotted the perfect display and color scheme of annuals, perennials, and accents like ultra-fine gravel in glimmering shades of pearl, or perhaps a more dramatic red stone border frame…
She pushed and pushed, relentless and hyper focused. She wanted—she needed—anything that would take her thoughts, and heart, far from an image that kept crowding her brain. The image came to her regardless. Spirit enticing warmth, flowing straight out from clear brown eyes, a wide smile framed by soft, full lips—lips she could now taste and feel…a rich, deep voice, a commanding, compelling personality.
Kiara straightened in her chair. She pinched the bridge of her nose and rolled her shoulders, finally picking up the cell phone, which, though silent, now flashed a tiny red attention light. Apparently, she was such a mess she now needed a distraction from distraction. She needed to keep herself from holding on so tightly to someone who, by virtue of their final words and a building silence, wanted nothing more to do with her.
She opened the text message, from a girlfriend, Anne Marie, who tended to coordinate group gatherings.
220 Merrill
Sunday @ 10 am
Brunch w/the gang
Bacon, eggs n gossip
U in?
The invite left her with mixed emotions. Once-upon-a-Kiara would have been filled with the happy expectation of a high-end meal with friends. But she was starting to wonder. Were these really her friends? Did they have her heart, and did she have theirs? Were they all simply convenient counterparts, possessing similar goals and life points, staving off an ever-present void by pushing one another with the goal of professional and material success?
Quite frankly, her time with Ken left Kiara questioning everything. Pastor Ken Lucerne had opened her heart and filled it up with God’s promise and grace, and the power of love. For a time, she had actually tasted fulfillment, experienced a sense of spiritual growth that made her happier than anything else she could remember.
She missed him so much she literally ached—especially in those moments when she found herself most alone, when vulnerability climbed to its highest peak—when dreams and memories turned into a tantalizing swirl.
Now only emptiness remained.
Pain twisted its way through a deep, heretofore impenetrable area of Kiara’s spirit. She reviewed the invitation to 220—a favorite restaurant of hers in downtown Birmingham. Ten o’clock in the morning on a Sunday. That would mean missing church.
And for some odd reason, that realization caused her worst, most painful memory to descend…her final words to Ken.
“You told me you have faith in me. That you believe in me. Well do you, or don’t you? You asked me to find out who I am. You urged me to become the best possible version of myself. Well that’s what I’ve done. That’s what I’m going to continue to do, no matter what. Not for you, not for me, but for the person I want to be before God.”
Noble? Sure. Meant it whole-heartedly? At the time, absolutely. But now Kiara felt weak. Her strength waned, siphoned pint by pint and replaced by overwhelming pain and need. Did anything really make a difference? And honestly—would missing a Sunday service truly matter? She needed a taste of her old life—of the old Kiara.
Pain continued to grow, blooming into a debilitating burn. She went tense, jiggling her crossed leg nervously. She clenched the cell phone tight and started to rapid-fire click the keys. With a resolute push of the “send” button, she returned a simple, three word reply:
Count me in.
****
“We’re here today,” Anna Marie began, “to toast the end of an era. To mourn the death of manslayer supreme, Kiara Jordan, who is a newly sanctified Holy Roller and mission worker. So, tell us about the trip.”
Anna Marie lifted her flute of orange juice and the half-dozen people gathered at their table followed suit. Kiara’s beverage remained untouched. She c
ouldn’t bring herself to join in the chortles. The way Anna Marie emphasized the words Holy Roller rankled her nerves something fierce.
Yep—this brunch date was one colossal mistake.
Sharing a meal at 220 Merrill with the gang didn’t sit well with her today. Elements of this get together rubbed her in places which were already raw and aggravated. Well, she supposed, this kind of newness, this revised perception, shouldn’t be shocking. She had changed a great deal recently.
So Kiara glowered at Anna Marie, delivering a tight, unfeeling grin. “Thanks so much for the eulogy, Anna Marie. Really. That’s so nice.”
The group laughed and teased as Kiara rolled her eyes and finally sipped her drink. But she didn’t chink glasses with everyone else. At one time, perhaps the guffaws and bawdy comments that followed her comment would have seemed harmless—nothing more than good-natured fun and one-upmanship.
Not anymore.
Reaching beneath the surface of this group revealed much more. The mention of God’s power and mission taken out of proper context hit Kiara first; then the lack of sensitivity hit her heart. The joking session left her aching instead of laughing. No one asked about the truth of her mission trip, or its impact on her heart. Truthfully, they didn’t care. That was fair enough. What she disliked was the fact that she was being torn down and mocked based on conviction of belief.
Kiara had slipped into her former role for this gathering. It was comfortable to her right now. Familiar. She wore a Michael Kors cashmere twin set of delicate pink, and the cardigan presently rested on the chair behind her. A slim cut, royal blue skirt of silk was paired with leg flattering high-heeled pumps crafted by Ferragamo. The hair and makeup were perfect, but the needs of her soul beat relentlessly against her heart, refusing to be still, or quiet, any longer.
She glanced at the slim gold bangle watch on her wrist. It was almost eleven. Right about now, services at Woodland would be winding down. Ken would be doing everything in his power to wrap the church in God’s embrace—though preaching and presence.
Hearts Surrender Page 13
