Warren was rattling around in the kitchen, and she could hear him opening the oven door. A minute later the tantalizing fragrance of roast beef reminded her that she was hungry. She left the fire and wandered into the kitchen to find him taking plates from the cabinet.
“As long as you’re here, why don’t we eat before I take you home?”
“Okay. I’ll phone Tottie.”
“Phone’s on the hall table.” He took the roast out of the oven and set it on the stove. “After the day you’ve had, you need to relax and let me wait on you.”
Katie sat at Warren’s table as he dished up roast, carrots, potatoes, and onions, all swimming in rich brown roast gravy. He added sliced French bread brushed with butter and warmed in the oven. The man was a Wall Street genius and an admirable chef. His home was immaculate. Katie felt like crying. This was what she wanted: a home with someone to love, someone to have babies with and grow old with. She wanted Warren, yet she didn’t know why she was so dead set on getting him. Just because some old woman once predicted that she would marry a man who’d been in her life all along didn’t mean that God had hand delivered Warren back to Little Bush.
She knew this.
So why did she try so hard to make it come true?
He was smart, bright, and on occasion, fun to be with. But a hundred other men had the same qualifications.
What was it about Warren that filled a deep need inside her?
Was it his compassion? No, though he could be compassionate, like now, pouring her tea and adding dressing to her salad. She shook her head, trying to make sense of her jumbled and somewhat faulty analysis. If she cared about Warren and really wanted to deepen the relationship, why did she have this sudden longing to see Ben?
Warren filled his plate and sat down. “Eat up. You’ll feel better with something hot in your stomach.”
Accustomed to saying grace before a meal, Katie waited, but when Warren reached for a slice of bread and began eating, she did the same. She had been so sure she could win Warren over, restore his faith in women and mankind — and given enough time she might, but not by force. That was the problem. She had to initiate every step, orchestrate every effort to make her dream come true.
Maybe — just maybe, her dream wasn’t Warren’s dream no matter how hard she prayed for his transformation.
After the meal, Warren refused her offer to clean up. “No, I need to get you home. You’ve had a rough day, and Tottie is probably wondering where you are.”
“I called her. Meg’s due anytime — I try to stay close by.”
He gathered up plates and forks. “Maybe I need to get those tires fixed tonight.”
“No, we have the old farm truck for emergencies. I hope we don’t have to use it, but it’s there if we need it. Or I can call someone to help.”
He chuckled. “Well, don’t call me, at least not for that kind of trip.”
Why didn’t his comment surprise her? She wouldn’t call him; she’d call Ben. Her conflicted thoughts only puzzled her. She stood up, suddenly homesick. “I am a little tired. Would you care to run me home?”
She stopped by the hall table while he brought their coats. Neat, like the rest of his life. The only items on the table were a bronze statue of a rider on a bucking horse and the phone.
Neat and tidy. Just like Warren. Inanimate objects with no feeling.
Twenty-Nine
Late that night, Katie propped her elbows on a stall and studied the horses. Like the shelter, they’d soon be gone. The animals were healthy enough to be moved now. The infection had cleared up on the stallion. After the holidays, they would be on their way to California. Had it only been a couple months since she acquired the livestock that began a chain of events that Katie couldn’t fathom? Warren unexpectedly reentered her life. Clara Townsend, who appeared to be a curse, could possibly turn out to be a blessing in disguise if she got the bill through the Senate.
Tottie’s voice interrupted her musings. “It is late. Why are you still up?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” Katie stared at the horses. “Everyone will miss them. They’re good therapy for the women.”
“The owner wants them back, and they’re an expense we don’t need.” Tottie huddled deeper into a sheepskin-lined coat. “You have to admit, California would be nice this time of year.”
Nice. And expensive. Tottie had a distant cousin in Southern California. She’d visited there once, and Katie still recalled Tottie’s wistful tone when she relayed her adventure. Warm winds, white surf.
But instead of California, Tottie had been stuck helping Grandpops and Grandmoms raise Katie. By then she’d fallen in love with Katie and could hardly walk away, especially since Grandpops wasn’t in the best of health. She could have then and years later. But she’d stayed on, saying that Katie was her family now, Katie, who kept her tied to a battered women’s shelter, danger, and failing finances.
The older woman turned from the railing. “Come on, you need your rest, and it’s very cold.”
“Am I doing the right thing, Tottie?”
“I don’t know, Katie. Only God knows the future. We have prayed, and we have our answer.”
“I hate the answer.”
“No one knows the mind of God. Whatever happens, it will be for your best. You know that. Now come. I’ll fix you a mug of warm chocolate to help you sleep better.”
Katie absently nodded. “I’ll be in shortly.”
Tottie walked away. The horses would leave, and then Katie’s personal stock would be liquidated. She caught sight of Sweet Tea’s ears, visible in her stall. She’d have to keep her. She couldn’t give riding lessons without a horse.
Resentment burned like a hot brand in her stomach. The pain had stayed with her since the moment she’d decided to close the shelter. Yes, it was the prudent thing to do, but no, she didn’t have to be happy about it.
A remembered passage of Proverbs drifted through her mind, and she spoke it aloud. “In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord directs his steps.”
If that’s so, Lord, where did I take the wrong path?
Faith is the substance of …
Faith had always been her strong point. So when had she started doubting? Doubting herself, but worse, doubting where God had put her?
It happened about the time Warren reentered her life. Katie turned from the barn lot and walked to the house. She had a stack of work waiting to be typed, but her mind refused to abandon the subject.
Later she sat in front of the computer and stared at the blinking cursor. Finances had always been tough, especially after Grandpops lost his savings. Bills were late but always paid. They ate well. The stock was fed.
Katie focused on the small plaque hanging over the computer: I believe.
I believe. She believed that God knew her circumstances and could change them in an instant, if he wanted. If he didn’t want, then it meant for the time being she was where she should be.
So accept, and do what you have to do.
She glanced at the report waiting to be typed, and her fingers automatically set to work. Then she paused.
But if she was exactly where she should be in his plan for her life, then why should she change circumstances? Why should she close the shelter, cave to someone making her choose between her vocation and love? At that instant, sitting in Grandpops’s old chair with his personal effects surrounding her — pen, pencils, a glass paperweight — she was never more sure of her purpose to serve others less fortunate. It was hard to imagine anyone with more problems than she faced, but she only had to look as far as the women taking shelter under her roof for comparison.
Having money didn’t mean having fewer problems. Ask Janet. Her professor husband provided a good life and had community influence. Having power didn’t make for a perfect life. Talk to Clara.
Katie shifted, biting down on the end of a pencil. Brains helped, but they didn’t produce a euphoric life. Warren would tell you that.
Lov
e. Maybe Ben would have a thought or two on unrequited love. Goodness knows she’d been rude to him at times, and she regretted her impulses. But nobody ever said you had to love somebody back.
Resentment fanned the coal pit in her stomach. If she were happy with her life, chaotic as it might be, then why change it because of a crisis of faith? Or Warren?
Katie slapped her hand on the desk, bouncing paper clips from their plastic holder. Why should she change what she perceived the Lord was telling her to do? If the shelter was God’s plan, then he was capable of sustaining it in both good and bad times. How? She had no clue. Her troubles seemed insurmountable, but running away wasn’t going to help. She’d pinch a penny harder. She’d scrimp. She’d stretch one cup of soup into two. They’d pile on more sweaters and cut more wood. The spring garden would be bigger, and she’d preserve more produce for next winter. She could and she would take on a second or third job, even work a night shift, wait tables, or clean bathrooms. Others did.
Her fingers flew over the keys. She could type twice the amount of work she now had.
Tottie could …
She stopped short. Tottie. She would have to agree to the plan. Katie couldn’t lose her. She was the only family Katie had left.
Katie spit the pencil out of her mouth and went to ask Tot-tie’s blessing immediately. She wouldn’t sleep until she knew Tottie supported her decision to stay with the shelter.
Katie might not have answers to all the questions, but she only needed one to set her life back on a path of normalcy.
The right one.
Thirty
Nine a.m. Katie glanced at the bank clock and realized she was the first customer of the day. Tottie had not only supported her decision, she’d sprung out of bed and hugged her. That was verification enough for Katie.
Across from her, a neatly dressed bank officer consulted the loan form. “You would need the loan for thirty-six months?”
“Yes. I can offer my home as collateral.” She’d promised Grandpops to never risk the home unless hell froze over. She was pretty sure they were wearing overcoats down there today.
“Well, I don’t see any reason why we can’t help. When will you need the money?”
“As soon as possible. We have an expectant mother who is due anyday. The house is really cold and drafty for a newborn. We needed a new roof yesterday.”
“I understand.”
Katie left the bank with the promise of a loan and renewed hope. One thing left to do — no, two things. She had to arrange for a new roof and call Warren and tell him she’d decided to stay. Tough it out.
Bite the bullet.
Grab the bull by the horns, and pray it didn’t gore her to the ground.
Do what God had called her to without fear.
Test Warren’s true feelings for her.
December wasn’t ideal roofing weather, but on the positive side, the roofers weren’t busy. Milder weather created puddles of melting slush, but the roof was clear. With a promise to “get right on the job,” Katie left the contractor’s office feeling pretty good about the whole thing.
On the way home, she phoned Warren. “Hey.”
“Hi. What’s going on?”
She told him about the loan and imminent roof repairs.
“You added another bill?”
Yes, Katie, that is irritation in his tone. But repairing the roof was hardly a frivolity.
“I have no choice, Warren. The women are cold — I’m cold — and we can’t bring a newborn home to a frigid house. Besides, the gas bill is climbing sky high.”
“I would have helped nail shingles over the hole.”
“When I called to ask, you were too busy.”
“I can’t help my time schedule.” Oh yes, definite irritation, but she wasn’t backing off of this. The spine that had been missing, hers, had been implanted.
“That’s the problem. There have been too many shingles nailed over too many holes over the years. A new roof is the only sensible answer.”
“That’s why you’ll never have one red cent. Why? I don’t understand you — do you thrive on trouble? Do you enjoy hardship? Do you have a brain in your head?”
She noted he didn’t even bother to say “pretty head.” “I do the best I can.” That’s all God asked of anyone, their best.
In the end he agreed it was her call. Financial suicide, but her call.
She knew that. She’d made her share of bad choices, but like Grandpops would say, in for a penny, in for pound.
Katie was no quitter.
Thirty-One
Katie had planned to spend the time between dinner and bedtime typing. She had put out feelers, trying to drum up more work. The bank had mentioned grants, and she needed to find one. Somewhere there was a source to keep her afloat until donations picked up again. If she could expand her transcript-typing business, maybe branch out into other types of at-home work, she might avoid taking a second job. She needed to be available to the women whatever their needs.
They had just finished clearing the table when someone knocked on the door. Katie opened it to find Warren standing there. He grinned sheepishly. “I was pretty hard on you today. How about going out for a latte?”
She didn’t feel the immediate elation she usually felt, but she never passed up a latte. Going out would mean staying up later to finish her work, but the idea was doable. “Let me grab my coat.”
She disappeared to her room where she changed to black pants and a sweater, combed her hair, and slapped on lipstick. He was in the living room with the women when she returned. When she appeared he was on his feet and urged her out the door. She barely had time to say good-bye to the others. He was never at ease around the shelter women.
“Are we in a hurry?” she asked as they quickstepped to the truck.
He slowed the pace. “Sorry. Just anxious to get you to myself.”
Somehow she doubted that. “They won’t bite, you know.”
He looked down at her. “Who?”
“The women. They’re just ordinary people who need help.”
“If you say so.”
“If you got to know them, you would understand their problems a little better.”
“I don’t want to get to know them.”
They had reached the truck, and she let him open the door and help her inside. Topic closed for now. She had no desire to spoil the evening by arguing over the shelter. In the short time it took to reach Little Bush, they talked about the weather, the horses — safe stuff. At the coffee house he led her to a back booth that allowed more privacy.
Latte for her, coffee for him, he reverted back to the earlier subject. “Tell me you haven’t changed your mind about keeping the shelter open.”
Katie sat her cup down. “Call me the typical woman, changing her mind, and then changing it back. I can’t ignore the feeling that I’m where God wants me to be, so I’m not going to close the shelter. It’s a challenge, but one I can’t abandon.” At this point, she didn’t care about his reaction. Her mind was made up, and nothing he said would change it. “The house wouldn’t sell without a new roof anyway.”
He shoved his cup back, slopping coffee over the rim. “You can’t be serious. What are you doing, waiting until you go bankrupt and lose your grandfather’s land?”
“My land now,” she corrected. “I know it seems insane, but the shelter is me, Warren. Women deserve a safe haven from abuse, and they deserve to have a chance to develop job skills and start over. Someone has to do it, and I want to be a part of that movement.”
Warren reached to take her hands. “Listen to me. I met a woman. Her name isn’t important, but it’s enough to know that I fell for her, fell hard. I thought we would have a life together.”
Katie heard the pain in his voice, and she felt tears forming. After all these weeks, he was opening up to her. “I’m listening.”
“I trusted her. I’d have given her anything she wanted; she had no reason to treat me the way she did.�
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He released her hands and picked up his coffee cup. “She charged thousands on my credit cards, costing me a fortune. Once she had the material things, she drained me emotionally. She ran off with a man I’d considered my friend. I got a phone call from her in Belize warning me not to come after her. It was over.”
Katie shook her head. She suspected as much, but he’d never said and she’d never asked. “I’m so sorry.” This time she reached out for his hand, holding tight. “Women sometimes do hateful things, but not all women. You’re a victim, much like the shelter women.”
His eyes hardened. “I’m not a victim of anything other than stupidity.”
She couldn’t argue. Why would a man turn his credit card over to a woman he was dating? Warren appeared to have more savvy.
“I loved her. You know how I was in school, Katie, the nerd. She was the first woman to make me feel important. I had just started on Wall Street and was still learning the ropes. It was like I owned the world when I was with her, but then after several years she walked away. The nerd struck out again.”
Katie leaned forward, her eyes locking with his. “Don’t give her the satisfaction of ruining your life.”
He nodded. “I know I have some serious hangups because of her, but I’m working on overcoming them. In the meantime, I need your patience. I feel something between us, Katie. I know you’ve felt it. I’ve tried to ignore it, tried to keep you at arm’s length, but it isn’t working. That’s why I’m asking that you reconsider and close the shelter. Give us a chance. The shelter may be your calling, and it may be a worthy one, but it isn’t my calling.” His gaze held hers. “Won’t you reconsider? Give us a chance to find solid footing?”
Her heart sank. Well, here it was — what she’d hoped and prayed for. A chance with a man. A few days earlier, she’d been so certain he was the man. The shelter was threatening him and undermining their future. What did she do now?
She did the only thing she could think to do. She made a promise that she knew she wouldn’t, couldn’t keep. “I’ll reconsider, but Warren, the shelter is my life. I’d be lost without it.”
“Is it more important than us?”
Now and Always Page 19
