by JoAnn Durgin
“I’m embarrassed to admit I think it’s been since you opened your art gallery,” Heather said. “Please don’t tell me that’s been longer than two or three years ago.”
Grace laughed, revealing her to-die-for gorgeous smile. The woman could do toothpaste commercials. “You’re safe. It’s only been 15 months.”
“How are things at the gallery?”
“Great, thanks. I have a special exhibition coming up in a few months to showcase the work of young local artists. If any of the kids from the dance studio are little artists-in-training, I’ll give you my card and you can point me in their direction.”
That sparked Heather’s interest. “That sounds great.” Her mind immediately went to Jamal Andrews although she was aware of two little girls from the dance studio who were budding artists. One, in particular, had to be told repeatedly to put away her art case to come into the studio for her lesson. “Can you join me for lunch? I’d love to hear more about it.”
“Sure, but I’ll stay seated until the Leering One is gone. Don’t look now, but I think he’s waiting for me to go to the counter so he can approach you.”
Heather sighed. “You’re a real friend. Thanks, Grace. Have I told you how glad I am to have run into you today? I mean that in more ways than one.”
“I totally understand, and I’m glad to see you again, too.” Grace explained more about the youth exhibition. When Heather glanced at the counter area a few minutes later, the man was gone. She released a sigh of relief as Grace went to the counter to place her order. When she returned, Heather told her about Jamal.
“He’s one of the older teens in Chase’s youth group, so I hope that doesn’t make him too old to consider for the art exhibition. I’ve seen one of his oil paintings in Chase’s office. There’s a maturity about his work, Grace. I’m no expert, of course, but my mother collects fine art and I assure you that Jamal has raw, innate talent. His work conveys an intriguing combination of sadness mixed with hope. In my estimation, his use of color and blending techniques is exquisite.”
“Sounds good.” She smiled. “I think you know quite a bit about art.” Grace pulled out a handful of business cards and pushed them across the table. “Take these. I’d prefer you call me first and we can discuss. If I ask you to have the kids or their parents—depending on their age—contact me, then give them the card. I know that sounds convoluted, but it’s easier and has fewer complications.”
“Makes sense.” Heather glanced at the cards and then slipped them inside the inner pocket of her handbag.
“From what I know, you have exquisite taste, so I trust your judgment. One question,” Grace said with a coy smile. “Who is Chase?”
Heather told her friend about meeting Chase in their respective roles as the Best Man and Maid of Honor. Then she told Grace about her first official date with Chase at Moretti’s, the terrific little Italian restaurant that had quickly become their special place. When the owners saw them come in the door, they seated them at the best table in the place, dimmed the lights, and placed a candle in the middle of their table. She’d spent many late nights talking with Chase at Moretti’s, trading stories, sharing childhood dreams, sharing with one another about their work, and everything else they could think of to discuss.
They’d settled into a comfortable routine of reading at the library, hiking the local trails, jogging around the city, choosing recipes and making them together, watching movies and pigging out on pizza and ice cream. She’d helped Chase as much as she could with his youth group—the swimming event at the rec center, exercise classes she’d set up for the girls that the guys liked to crash, the Bible studies, and even a lock-in where several kids brought their friends and four teenagers accepted Christ. One of those kids was Trevon. Chase had beamed like a proud papa that night.
“Chase sounds great,” Grace observed when Heather finished.
“Sorry to go into all that.” Heather’s cheeks warmed.
“I’ve never seen you look so happy. You wear love well, Heather, although I’ll admit I wouldn’t have expected you’d be the type of woman to fall for a pastor. I don’t mean that in a negative way, but…”
“That makes two of us. I never would have expected this either. But you know what? I love how strong he is in his faith. In its own way, his convictions are incredibly sexy, believe it or not. Chase would probably laugh if he heard me say that, but he’s firm with those kids and will do anything for them. He’s bold in his Christian witness, but he’s willing to unashamedly admit his own faults if he thinks it’ll bring someone else closer to a relationship with the Lord.”
Heather skimmed through her phone and showed Grace a few photos of Chase individually as well as the two of them together. “You’re right,” Grace said. “Chase is very handsome, and you two make a great couple. Congratulations, sweetie. I couldn’t be happier for you.”
“Thanks.” Heather smiled as she glanced at the photo Sawyer snapped during a recent pedicab ride.
“Who’s the red-haired guy in that photo?” Grace sounded intrigued.
“That’s Eric. He’s one of the guys who works for our friend Sawyer Mancini. You might have seen them wheeling around town in a Mancini Pedicab.”
“I have. They look fun, and I’m sure the tourists love them. Do you happen to know Eric’s last name?”
“Masterson. Sawyer promoted him to an executive status with the company but Eric still likes to operate a pedicab on the weekends. He loves the people contact and says it keeps him in shape.” Heather’s smile faded when she noticed Grace had visibly paled. “Do you know Eric?”
“I believe I met him once. A long time ago. I’m sure he wouldn’t remember me.”
“He’s single if you’d like me to arrange something,” Heather said. “Coffee date or whatever. He’s a great guy.”
“That’s not necessary, but thanks.” A hint of color returned to Grace’s cheeks. She sipped her asparagus soup and then broke off a piece of her sourdough bread. “So, how do I go about seeing Jamal’s work?”
Heather smiled. “I have a very good connection. Leave that to me.”
~~♥~~
Slipping out of the ballet office earlier than planned that afternoon, Heather decided to pay Chase a personal visit at the church. She wanted to tell him about her chat with Grace while it was still fresh in her mind and see if he thought Jamal would be interested in participating in the youth art exhibition. Maybe she should call ahead in case he wasn’t there, but sometimes the element of surprise was fun.
Heather smiled when she spied his Ford Explorer in the church parking lot. She pulled her Jeep into the parking spot adjacent to his and climbed out.
Chase and Pastor Williams seemed self-sufficient with the assistance of two sweet older ladies who volunteered in the church office three afternoons a week. Checking the back door, Heather found it locked. She pressed the buzzer. Shivering, she ran her hands up and down her arms. Even her warm wool jacket wasn’t cutting it in these cold temperatures. Glancing up at the gray skies with low overhanging clouds, she wondered if they’d get the two to four inches of snow predicted overnight.
“Hello? Who’s there?” Ah, this must be the day for the ladies to be in the office. She never could keep their schedules straight. The woman who’d answered was Sissy Parker. Heather had talked with her a few times when she’d called the church office. Sissy liked to be in charge of the phones and apparently the door buzzer. Heather grinned as she overheard another woman speaking in the background.
“I meant to say this is Sissy at Cornerstone Community Church. May I help you?” Heather heard more muffled words. “You leave me be, Opal. I can handle this. No, it’s not the police.”
“Hi, Mrs. Parker. It’s Heather Montague. I’m here to see Chase if he’s in this afternoon.”
“Of course. Is he expecting you, dear?”
“Oh, for goodness sakes. Sissy, I’ll handle this.” That must be Opal. “Miss Montague, I’m sorry about that. We still h
ave a little training to do here, as you can tell. You come right on in before you catch pneumonia standing out there in this freezing cold weather. I think Chase is in the sanctuary. He’s preaching this Sunday, you know, and I believe I heard him practicing a little while ago. I hope you can join us. Always lovely to see you in our congregation.”
“I plan on it. Thank you, ladies.”
Hearing the buzzer release, Heather pulled open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. She used to detest the musty scent like the one in this old church building, but not now since she associated it with Chase. He would hate that.
Laughing quietly, Heather walked through the back of the church and into the choir practice room to the back of the sanctuary. Hearing Chase’s resonant voice, she slowed her steps. Maybe she’d listen for a quick minute or two. She’d heard him speak to the congregation when Pastor Williams had taken a vacation, and he’d done a marvelous job although he’d gone on longer than Pastor Williams and interfered with lunch reservations for a key member on the church board.
“Sometimes we need to die to self,” he said. “What does that mean?” When Chase paused, Heather could envision him moving across the stage. She needed to remind him to remove his keys from his pants pocket on Sunday morning. The last time he’d preached, he’d rattled them. That had been her only complaint since it distracted her a bit from concentrating on his actual message. Sitting on the front row, she’d scribbled KEYS in large letters on the blank side of a church insert and then held it up for him to see. From that point on, whenever she’d wanted him to stop talking, all she had to do was say the word keys.
“When we become a Christian, we accept that Christ died to save us. We accept that our old ways are gone, replaced by the new creation we’ve become.” Pause. “It means we want to live for God and His glory, not our own. If you’ll look in your bulletin today, there’s a reprint of what C.S. Lewis wrote in his book Counting the Cost. He states very clearly that giving halfway to God doesn’t count. God doesn’t ask for halfway, He wants all of us—not a branch of the tree but the whole tree. He demands that we hand over everything. All of our thoughts, both good and bad, our desires, our talents, our hopes, our wants, our needs. In return, what He gives us in His rich mercy is far superior to the greatest riches of this earth.” Pause. “As Lewis states so beautifully, when we are saved by His grace, God’s will becomes our will.”
Heather almost stepped into the sanctuary but something kept her right where she was.
“In Second Corinthians 5:17, the word of God in our Holy Bible tell us this: ‘Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come.”
When Chase paused again, Heather wondered if he was finished for now. She stepped forward, one foot in the doorway leading onto the sanctuary platform.
“I’d like to tell you about Jacqui.”
Heather stopped. He’d said it so quietly she almost hadn’t heard. His voice was full of deep emotion. Sadness. She had no doubt he was talking about the girl he’d loved back in high school. How it hadn’t been a healthy relationship. What was it he’d said? Something about bad family situations and how they were both ill-equipped to handle the emotions.
“Jacqui lived next door when I moved here to Indianapolis with my dad. She was my friend first and then my first love. Our family situations weren’t ideal. As most of you know, my mom died when I was ten. Jacqui’s dad had gone off to points unknown and her mother was often away for hours at a time and even some weekends. Neither of us had a sibling to snitch on us, and both of us were lonely. Jacqui and I spent a lot of time together, unsupervised.” He paused for a long moment and Heather thought she heard him blow out a sigh.
“You can probably imagine what happened. We were two healthy teenagers with normal desires and a curiosity about the opposite sex. For both of us, it wasn’t a relationship based on sexual need as much as emotional need. Jacqui was my best friend, and I was hers. We slept together, we cried together, we shared our hopes and dreams, and we talked about everything. We shared our hearts. In my optimistic adolescent fantasies, I envisioned us getting married one day. In many ways, it’s like we were married, although we were immature, lost kids.”
Heather stepped closer, standing just inside the open sanctuary door, one hand on the doorframe.
“When my mother died, she left an insurance policy that paid out more money than I could ever have imagined. She specified in her will that a certain percentage of those funds were to be set aside for me to attend college. Not just any college but a Christian college. She was the one who led me to faith, and it’s abundantly clear to me now that my mother had a plan for my life. In order to make that happen, she worked extra shifts as a lab technician at the hospital. She also helped cover the costs at home when my dad was laid up with a disability, the result of an on-the-job construction accident.”
Heather hardly dared to breathe.
“Could my mother have had any idea she’d develop pancreatic cancer at the age of 37 and be gone a year later?” Chase said. “I doubt it, but she had foresight. She had a vision and a dream for me. I’ll love her forever for that. Her wise financial planning and hard work enabled me to attend Wheaton College and then Grace Seminary.”
What happened to Jacqui? Something bad was coming. She just knew it. Heather moved her hand to rest above her heart.
“When I went to college, Jacqui and I swore we’d email or call each other every day. I missed her like crazy, and I assumed she missed me every bit as much. I went home almost every weekend for the first few months. Then I got involved in campus life and new friendships. The weekend visits became more infrequent. I went home one weekend and found Jacqui with another guy. ‘I got tired of waiting and you’ve left me in your dust with all your new religious friends,’ Jacqui yelled. She threw a vase at me and it narrowly missed me, shattering against the door like the pieces of our broken relationship. I tried to talk with Jacqui, tried to reach her, but I returned to campus without talking with her.”
A long pause. Heather’s heart pounded.
“The next time I went home was for Jacqui’s funeral. At the age of 18, she died of a massive overdose of her mother’s painkillers a month after the last time I’d seen her. She left a note telling me she loved me and how she wished she could have been a better person. For me.”
Oh, Chase. Chills shook Heather. She wrapped her arms across her middle and her tears spilled freely onto her cheeks.
“Jacqui’s death reminded me of the fragility of life. At first, I railed against God, the same as I’d done when my mother died. How dare He take away the two most important women in my life? Mom knew Jesus as her Savior, but Jacqui didn’t. I knew the Lord but rarely shared my faith with her. I can console myself with the knowledge that I did try to talk with her a few times, but she never took the step toward faith. She was eaten up with bitterness and rejection from her earthly father at the time and didn’t want to listen.”
Wiping away her tears, Heather heard the distinctive jingle of keys in his pocket. For some reason, the sound made her smile. She clamped a hand over her mouth.
“Ultimately, Jacqui’s death brought me back to my faith in a way nothing else could have done. Do I have regrets? Sure. Every single day, but I’ve finally realized I can’t blame myself. My friend didn’t know the Lord, and she won’t be in eternity. But here’s the thing I’d like you to know: I tried to turn away from God, but He wouldn’t let me go. He pursued me with a vengeance. We serve a jealous God, a passionate God, and One who wants you to give your all, not your halfway attempt. I was a hurting kid, and He surrounded me with loving arms in my local church at Wheaton. Wonderful people who loved me and took care of me when I needed them most. During that time, I committed myself to full-time church ministry, and I’ve never looked back.”
When she heard the keys jingling again, Heather walked into the sanctuary. Straight to Chase with open arms.
“Heather?
What—?”
She gathered him close. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Chase sniffled, and she felt the moisture from his tears as he rested his cheek on hers. “Because Jacqui is my greatest personal failure.”
Moving her hand to the back of his neck, Heather pulled him close. “She wasn’t your failure, Chase. It’s like you told Trevon that night. We all have free will, but it was her choice to make. You should see Jacqui as your reminder to live for Christ and to keep sharing your considerable talents and abilities with these kids. You do it so well, and you can face God one day with your head held high. You never do anything halfway. You always give your all and there’s no doubt in my mind you’ll continue to do so.”
Chase wrapped his arms around her. She loved it when he held her like this. She never wanted to leave. He wore his suit today. She liked how he dressed up most days for the office. He’d told her that the kids dropped by a lot to chat or for counsel and he liked to set the example of dressing for work. For the youth meetings, he dressed more casually.
“Heather?”
“Yes?”
“I love you. I’ve known it since you let out that unbelievably loud belch right here in the church. It was pretty amazing.”
“Ohhh,” she groaned. “I still can’t believe I did that. You’re never going to let me forget it either, are you?”
“Nope. You know why? Because it showed me you’re not afraid to let people know the real you—Heather Montague, a beautiful, giving, loving, caring woman.”
She lifted her head to match his gaze and felt as though her heart would burst. “I love you, too, Chase, but please don’t tell that story from the pulpit. Ever. And I knew in the closet when you thought you might have missed my shoulder and apologized. Such a sweet gentleman you are.”
When he started to speak again, she placed a gentle finger over his lips. “Keys.”
