RAINBOW’S END: FOUR-IN-ONE COLLECTION

by Valerie Comer, Annalisa Daughety, Nicole O’Dell

  Jeannie stopped on the path, forcing the others to do the same. “And involved in a church rally? I wouldn’t have thought it of you.”

  A burn rose up his neck. “Things have—”

  “Churches are merely social clubs for pansies, if I remember correctly. Have you turned into a pansy, Professor?”

  He stared at her, not daring to seek Lyssa’s eyes. “No, I …” How could he explain what had brought him to this point?

  It wasn’t just Lyssa and the treasure hunt.

  Jeannie yanked the box from his hands. “Thanks very much for offering to carry this, Professor, but we’ll manage just fine from here.”

  “About that—”

  “Have a great day.” Jeannie gave him a sharp nod and pulled Lyssa’s arm. They started down the path.

  Kirk gaped after them, the apology sputtering on his lips. It wasn’t until the women entered the parking lot that Lyssa glanced over her shoulder at him, eyes wide.

  “You didn’t need to do that.” Lyssa jerked away from Jeannie’s grasp as they approached the car. “You were downright rude to him.”

  Jeannie slipped the box off her hip onto Kermit’s hood. “Get a grip on yourself, Lys. You know he’s only using you to get his business name out to the town. You offered the cheapest advertising in Osage Beach.”

  “No, that’s not it at all.” Though the cost for frontlining in the brochure had been reasonable. Was that why Dale had relented in the end? Or had Kirk stuck up for her because he … liked her?

  “Look, you always had a soft spot for Professor Kennedy, even after he strung me out in class time after time. That was fine. You were an undergrad. Just a kid. Now you’re an adult—a teacher—and you need to open your eyes. A guy like him doesn’t do an about-face and suddenly start being sensitive to Christians. Did you hear him deny what I said?”

  Lyssa shook her head. He really hadn’t. Too bad she’d never probed. Too bad she’d never dared let on she remembered him from Lincoln U. She’d preferred to keep her head stuck in the sand in the hope that if she pretended everything was all right, it would be.

  “I’m just trying to save you some heartbreak, Lys.” Jeannie popped the hatchback and set the carton inside. “You need to get a backbone.”

  Why, so she could be nasty and abrasive, too? Look at her dad. Look at Jeannie. Until now Lyssa had slid through life making the fewest possible waves, trying not to draw too much attention to herself. And what had it gotten her?

  She eyed Jeannie. It had gotten her a roommate who persisted in protecting her while telling her to buck up. Jeannie couldn’t have it both ways. But neither could she.

  Kirk had never downplayed her church affiliation when they’d seen each other here at the lake. College didn’t count. Not anymore.

  Lyssa whirled around in time to see his car turning onto the street. Gone. But maybe not forever.

  “Let’s get going, Lys. You driving, or am I?”

  Lyssa set her jaw. “I am.” She rounded Kermit and opened the driver’s door.

  Jeannie slid in the passenger side and cocked her head at Lyssa. “Give it up, Lys. You’ll thank me later.”

  If so, it would have to be much, much later.

  Chapter 9

  Kirk opened the door to his Jefferson City apartment. No problem for him to get back in time for Monday morning, and he needed a break from his brother, if only for a day.

  This place was more like it. Sure, it lacked the view of the lake the pad in Osage Beach sported, but this was all his. The wood-paneled walls and deep colors suited him more than the airy contemporary lines of the other place. He switched on his topaz lamp and paused, staring at the glow of amber amidst the brown. Just like Lyssa’s eyes. Everything reminded him of her. A vision of her curled up on his brown leather sofa, reading a hiking magazine, swam into his mind.

  He needed her in his life, but what could he do about the history that separated them? Yes, he could apologize, and he would as soon as he could catch her apart from her roommate, though he owed it to both women. If only he could do those first few years of teaching over again.

  Kirk opened the glass door of his walnut bookcase. Yearbooks. Second shelf from the bottom. He pulled out the one from his first year on staff and checked the student index. His finger hovered over Quinn, Alyssa. Must be her. The odds were slim there would be two with such close names in that time frame.

  The photo of a platinum blond with big glasses stared back at him. She looked vaguely familiar, but not like the Lyssa he knew. Kirk searched for Dawson, Jeannie, and came up with a face that had changed little over the intervening years.

  He sank into his recliner and flipped the pages between the two photos. Jeannie. She’d been a vocal one in his classes back when he had something to prove as a new professor. He’d challenged her beliefs over and over, often calling on her when he’d felt like waking the class up. When his own ego had needed a boost.

  The super-blond had sat on Jeannie’s right. She sank back into her chair and averted her gaze. She certainly never got into the spirit of the game, and Kirk hadn’t wasted any time wondering about her.

  Until now.

  He studied Alyssa’s photo. He could almost see the treasure hunt coordinator lurking behind those frames. Lyssa had walked into Communication Location, taken one look at him, and pivoted on her heel. Now he knew why—she’d recognized him. All the walls were back up, ten feet taller. Had Jeannie protected her back then? Was she doing it again?

  He’d caused it.

  Kirk sank his head into his hands. Lyssa didn’t trust him. And why should she? What had it looked like to her, knowing who he was all along? No wonder she’d seemed withdrawn. She’d become confident and fun when she relaxed a little, but never really let down her guard. Never freely talked about herself or where she’d gone to school. When he’d called her about pulling the funding, he had no idea how deep her scars ran. He still didn’t, not really, but at least he could begin to appreciate what this had looked like to her. Like he was toying with her. Nothing was further from the truth.

  That thought slammed into him and jerked him to his feet. He shoved the yearbook into its spot and closed the glass door. Maybe a good brisk jog would clear his head.

  “Excuse me, sir. Do you believe in life after death?”

  Kirk swung around and eyed the man on the sidewalk. “Pardon me?”

  He’d seen this guy around Jefferson City from time to time, always managing to avoid him. The man looked to be about fifty, with a full head of graying hair. He grinned at Kirk, took a step closer, and held out a folded piece of paper. A brochure, of sorts. “If you were to die today, where would you go?”

  The last time Kirk heard those words had been from his sister-in-law’s deathbed. Debbie had pleaded with Dale, and Kirk felt like an interloper just listening in. Her words cut him to the core.

  “Sir?”

  Kirk gave his head a shake. “Um, I don’t really know.” Yes, he did. And it wasn’t heaven.

  “Accidents happen.” The man waved to encompass a city bus, air whooshing from the brakes as it pulled into a nearby transit stop. “People get diseases. Not a one of us can know we won’t meet our maker in the very next moment.”

  Before Debbie’s death, before meeting Lyssa, Kirk would have brushed this man aside as a lunatic and gone on his way. He’d only have remembered the conversation long enough to share the joke with someone else. But tonight was already loaded with self-recrimination and regrets. Tonight … he wondered where he would go when he died.

  “I’d like to introduce you to Jesus.” The man pointed out a bench near the sidewalk. “Do you have a few minutes?”

  Kirk studied the man’s face. Something about him was vaguely familiar, but Kirk couldn’t place him. One of the mature students who’d reentered the halls of learning? A relative of one of his fellow faculty members? Whoever he was, could he explain Debbie’s death to Kirk? He’d know pretty quickly if the guy was just a weirdo who talked ou
t of his hat. Not that he was wearing one.

  Kirk nodded and took the few steps to the bench.

  The man sat near him. “My name’s Ron.” He pulled a well-thumbed black leather book from his pocket. “May I tell you what God has done for you?”

  Anyone who’d read his Bible enough to wear it to a nub couldn’t be all that bad. Kirk relaxed a little. “Tell me.”

  Lyssa followed Jeannie out to Kermit after church and slid behind the wheel. She turned to her friend. “Wow. How did Pastor John know what I needed to hear most?”

  Jeannie slumped into the passenger seat and massaged her temples. “He has a way with words.”

  This sermon had been aimed straight at Lyssa. No point in pretending to deflect the words onto someone else, hoping so-and-so heard. Today, she was the person who needed to hear, and there was no denying it.

  “You know, I knew those verses from Matthew 10 existed, but I’d kind of forgotten. About God denying He knows us if we say we don’t know Him, I mean.” How many times had Lyssa been guilty? Not out loud, of course. It hadn’t ever really come to that, being as she’d rarely stuck her nose out far enough so folks knew she was a Christian to start with.

  “Telling people where it’s at has never been a big deal for me.” Jeannie shot Lyssa a sidelong look. “I’ve never understood why it’s so hard for you.”

  Lyssa shook her head. “I’ve always blamed it on my dad, but that’s not totally fair either. No reason to go to the opposite extreme.”

  “I’m pretty sure your dad means well.” “I know he does. It’s just … he accosts everyone around him. People laugh at him, sometimes shove him out of the way.” Jeannie nodded.

  “Probably there are people he actually helps.” On the heels of that sermon, Lyssa had to be fair. “It always seemed to me, growing up, that everyone ridiculed him, but I know he’d sometimes come home excited because he led someone to Jesus.” She jammed the key into the ignition and started the engine. The church parking lot had nearly emptied while they talked.

  “So he was just spreading the Word, hoping it would find a receptive heart here and there.”

  Lyssa pulled the car out into the street. “I have no trouble telling people that soda and junk food are bad for them. I don’t care what they think of me for that. Why is it so different to tell them about the Lord?”

  “Because it matters more. Junk food affects our current life, but faith affects eternity.”

  Lyssa took a deep breath. “So we need to be bold. I need to be bold.”

  “We all do.”

  As though her roommate wasn’t already. “Okay.” Lyssa poured resolve into her voice. “Well, I know what I need to do then.”

  Jeannie tipped her head and peered at Lyssa. “What’s that?”

  “Right after we have lunch, I’m going to drive over to Kirk’s.” She ignored her roommate’s gasp. “I’m going to tell him who I am and find out where he stands with God.”

  “I don’t think that’s wise, Lys.”

  “You told me to be bold.”

  “But not with him. He’s not a changer.”

  “He already has changed, at least somewhat. The evidence is that he signed up to sponsor the church treasure hunt to start with. The old Kirk wouldn’t have done that.”

  “He tried to pull back his sponsorship.”

  “That was his brother’s fault, and Kirk made sure it didn’t happen in the end. I think God is working on him.” Just the thought ran goose bumps up Lyssa’s arms.

  “And I think you’re not being sensible. You’re twisting that sermon just to go see him. It’s not the gospel you care about; it’s a cute guy.”

  “That hurts, Jeannie. Really.”

  Jeannie’s jaw set. “It’s true.”

  “So you’re willing to stick your neck out for Jesus, but you don’t believe God can change people, is that it?” “That’s not what I said.”

  “Sure it is.” Lyssa shot her friend a look as they pulled into the driveway at the condo. “Unless it’s only Kirk you think God can’t change.”

  Jeannie wrenched the car door open. She hurled herself out and leaned back in, dark eyes blazing. “Go, do your missionary thing. It’s your heart I care about. Professor Kennedy is going to hurt you. Again. Don’t come running to me when he does.” She slammed the door.

  Lyssa leaned her head against the steering wheel. “Is that all it is, God? Give me boldness. I need it. But please don’t let me be foolish.”

  Kirk glanced in the rearview mirror as he turned into the apartment complex parking lot back in Osage Beach. Ron was right behind him. He’d told the guy where the guest parking was located, so Kirk pulled into his own spot, parked the car, and jogged back out to meet his new friend.

  He took a deep breath. Yeah, he’d called Dale to say he was bringing a guest by for dinner—assured him it wasn’t that girl—but still, how would his brother handle a straight-talker like Ron? Yet Dale needed to hear Ron’s message as much as Kirk had.

  “Hey, man.” Kirk beckoned the street preacher behind him through the apartment door. “Ron, I’d like you to meet my brother Dale. Dale, my new friend Ron.”

  Dale looked up from the table, which was covered with Communication Location paperwork. Guy didn’t look like he’d slept last night. “Pleased to meet you, Ron.” But he didn’t get up to shake hands or ask any questions.

  Ron rested a hand on Dale’s shoulder. “Good to meet you, too, son.”

  Dale’s shoulder dipped slightly, no doubt trying to get away from the man’s touch. Maybe bringing a stranger in hadn’t been such a good idea. Kirk’s relationship with his brother had been too rocky recently for this kind of trust. He should’ve waited a while, or tried to talk to Dale again on his own.

  “Kirk tells me you’ve opened a new business here in town.” Ron moved away from Dale and pulled out a chair at the end of the table.

  Kirk dared to breathe. Maybe the guy, straightforward as he was, had enough tact to handle Dale after all. “Yes, I have.”

  “Anyone want a cola?” Kirk opened the fridge door. Looked like Dale had gone through the better part of a case since Kirk left yesterday. He glanced up. “Dale? Ron?”

  “Sure,” said Dale.

  Ron shook his head. “My daughter talked me out of drinking that stuff years ago. Said I didn’t need to be hepped up on chemicals and caffeine.” He laughed. “To say nothing of the sugar. She said I was hyper enough.”

  Just like Lyssa, only she’d complained of school kids. He passed a can to Dale and popped the tab on a second one. There weren’t a lot of other options in the fridge.

  “A glass of water would be great. Thanks.”

  Kirk nodded and filled a glass from the fridge dispenser. He and Dale had joked the first week they’d been in here how cool it would be to have a cola line instead of a water line. Probably wouldn’t have gone over well with Ron, not that it mattered. Could he give up soda for Lyssa? Man, he’d give up anything she asked. Missing her created a vacuum deep inside.

  His mind kept sliding back to her. Tomorrow, for sure, he’d connect with her. Come clean. Make her listen at least long enough to tell her he wasn’t the professor she’d once known. The issue concerning his class must play at least a part in her rejection of him. Whether she’d be convinced of his sincerity or not, he didn’t know. But his heart twisted every time he thought of her, and he couldn’t give up this easily.

  She wasn’t here. Not now. Now it was this guy, Ron, whose last name he didn’t even know, who had explained the gospel in a way Kirk could grasp.

  “Have you lived here in Osage Beach all your life?” Ron asked Dale.

  Dale measured the older man with his gaze. “No, we grew up in St. Louis, but our grandparents had a place on the lake here.”

  Did Kirk dare focus on dinner and trust that neither of the men would set the other off?

  “So you must have had good memories, then, to draw you back.”

  Whew. Ron could be more tactf
ul than he’d appeared when he stopped Kirk on the street. Yet that boldness had been just what Kirk needed.

  He turned to the fridge and pulled out a package of hot Italian sausages. The bag of salad in the crisper still looked good. The pantry held a jar of pasta sauce and a package of linguine. He’d call it dinner, and it wouldn’t take long.

  Soon sausage chunks sizzled in the pot, loosening their peppery aroma into the air. Man, those things were hot. Just the vapors brought tears to his eyes.

  “It’s Father’s Day today,” Ron said. “Either of you a dad?”

  Kirk froze, wooden spoon poised in his hand. He closed his eyes. Oh please, God, no. Dale wasn’t ready for this.

  “No, actually I’m not.” Dale’s voice, which hadn’t warmed up in the brief exchange thus far, now sounded positively icy. “My wife had two miscarriages before she passed away a few months ago.” His chair scraped. “Excuse me, please. I need to make some calls.”

  Kirk turned, trying to catch Dale’s eye, but his brother marched down the hallway without a glance. His bedroom door shut firmly.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to rub a raw spot.”

  Kirk eyed his visitor. “He’ll be okay.” Probably wouldn’t have mattered who Kirk brought home. Ron hadn’t even gotten to the heaven-and-hell thing yet.

  “How about you? Any children?”

  Kirk narrowed his gaze. “No, sir. I’ve been too busy building my career for a wife and family.” But he was ready for that to change. Anytime.

  The sausages. Kirk pivoted to wrench the jar of pasta sauce open then dumped it over the meat. He filled a large pot with water and adjusted both burners. “How about you, Ron?” Kirk leaned against the counter.

  Ron stared out the patio door. “My kids are grown up now.”

  “I guess that happens eventually.” A thought struck Kirk. “No one invited you over for Father’s Day? They must live far away.”

  “My boys are back east, but my daughter lives here in town.”

  Kirk tilted his head. Interesting. This time it seemed Ron was on the defensive. “They call you?”