Bluegrass Courtship (16 page)

“Tony was never Jacob,” Janet said bitterly. “And Tony was never Dad. He had us all fooled.”

Her mother leaned in and grabbed Janet's arm across the
table. “I know. Mercy, how I know that now. But Jannybean, the whole world ain't like that. I wish I could make you see that. You fell for a bad man, and I'm sorry every day for what it did to you. But I think the right man is out there, waiting for you to come round, just like God is.”

J
anet expected the conversation with her mom to make things clearer, but it didn't. She bumped around the house all evening, unable to work on birdhouses, unable to find anything to do or eat or read and she certainly didn't want to watch television. She wandered the house, restless, until she ended back at her workbench, trying to sketch ideas for new birdhouses. Every attempt ended up wadded in the trash—nothing seemed to work for her tonight.

Her eyes landed on the Bible where it had fallen off her workbench, waiting to be picked up. The Bible had its share of imperfect people with plans gone wrong. Jacob, for example. She also remembered Jacob as quite the schemer, and something about him meeting his future wife Rachel at a well.

A well. A cistern, if you will.

Her faith was like this Bible. It was waiting, but she'd have to make the step of picking it up. It had never changed—it was still the same Bible that had guided her through such leaps of faith at church—only her distance from it had changed.

She picked up the book and opened to Genesis, thumbing through the pages until she caught sight of Jacob's name. She wandered back until she found the twenty-fifth chapter where Jacob and Esau began their adventures in life. The stories were filled with deceit, plans gone sour, bad advice and all kinds of wrong turns. As she read them, the tales became not so much about a man gone wrong as they were about a God determined to set things right. God loved Jacob, warts and all. Jacob's faults didn't make God any less powerful or less righteous. God was God all along—He only seemed to fade when you stopped looking at Him.

She had let Tony stand in for God. Let Tony's shadow block out anything Drew or
Missionnovation
may have shown her about God. Let Tony's sins define church and faith when it was God who should define her church and her faith. A God who hadn't moved His eyes off her no matter how long it had been since she looked at Him.

Janet poured on through Jacob's life until she hit the story of Joseph. She laughed when she read about holes in the ground causing more trouble—Joseph's brothers threw him in a pit to get rid of him. Two thousand years later, and holes in the ground were still wreaking havoc on relationships. As she read of Joseph's prayers in prison—a man who definitely understood what it was like to be hurt by someone else's deceit—an understanding seemed to dawn. Joseph didn't ignore Potiphar's wife's crimes. Her lie about his conduct landed him in jail. Yet, Joseph didn't let that scheming woman define his God. Joseph allowed his faith to stake a claim in God's bigger plan for his life, even when all he could see were dire consequences.

If Joseph—who'd endured far more than a broken
heart—could find a way to keep faith in God, then maybe Janet could find a way to return to faith.

I don't know how,
she offered up the fragile prayer.
But You do. You can chart my path back. You already have, haven't You? It's begun already. That big green bus really was a blessing, I was just too hurt to see it. Too caught up in the imperfections to see all the good things You brought to Middleburg through it.

She remembered now the verse her mother would quote to her when she became especially bitter about what had happened with Tony. “I will repay you for the years the locust have eaten.” She had lost years. More importantly, she'd lost hope. Perhaps it was time she asked God to restore both.
Can I come back, Lord? Can You take away the bitterness? I don't want to let Tony steal any more than he already has.
Janet picked up the Bible and took it to her couch, looking up “locusts” in the concordance in the back to see if she could find the verse.

When she found it in Joel, it was as if the verses jumped off the page to speak to her. The way they once had.

“Even now,” declares the LORD, “return to me with all your heart, with fasting and weeping and mourning. Rend your heart and not your garments. Return to the LORD your God, for He is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love, and He relents from sending calamity.”

Wasn't that exactly what she'd feared? That He'd sent calamity in the form of Drew Downing? She could come back. In fact, God had been waiting, patiently, for her return. And she knew, even if she knew nothing else, that the door of Middleburg Community Church would always be open once she found her way there.

She decided, just then, that her next birdhouse would be shaped like a wishing well. Not exactly a house, but then again, maybe it was time for holes in the ground to get a new reputation.

 

Drew sat at an enormous black conference table between a line of network high-ups and several HomeBase executives.

Charlie, seated next to Drew, looked like he'd just run a marathon. Kevin and Annie were on the sidelines of the room, holding hands and looking nervous. Jeremy looked as if he hadn't decided how this was going to affect his precious career path. Mike hadn't even flinched.

“
Missionnovation
will move forward in exciting new directions with Kevin and Annie at the helm. It's time for me to step aside and move on to other projects.” Drew caught Charlie's glance out of the corner of his eye. “I'll stay on board through the Christmas special and remain as an executive consultant to the production team. I'll do whatever limited appearances HomeBase deems necessary, and oversee whatever's needed to let these folks take
Missionnovation
into its new format.” At that, all eyes turned to the quartet on the sidelines. They were ready to take the spotlight. Drew knew it, and they were beginning to see it as well.

J
anet hung a new beach-shack birdhouse in the window of Bishop Hardware. The week before, she'd presented Pastor Anderson with a new birdhouse—the wishing well birdhouse—for the church lawn. He'd been delighted to accept a second birdhouse, but he made sure Janet knew he was far more delighted to have her in church again.

Her return to church was not the usual “come back to Jesus” dramatic moment. As a matter of fact, Pastor Anderson joked with her about having the most unusual return to faith of his career. It had started with daily inspections of the new roof. Excessive, yes, but Janet couldn't shake the constant need to look it over, watch it, guard it.

As she made those visits, she and Pastor Anderson began to talk about all that had happened, about God, even about Drew. Then it didn't seem like such a big leap to stay for a Wednesday night service. Then a Sunday morning. Then every Sunday morning.

The original church replica birdhouse now sat on a post right next to the giant watering can Janet still couldn't bring herself to like. Everyone thought it was the cleverest thing
they'd ever seen, and while she stopped saying it, she still believed it belonged underground. She'd made a little bargain with herself about that tank—she'd keep her mouth shut through the winter. If it survived the freeze without problems, she'd revise her opinion. If it broke or heaved or did anything of that sort, she'd allow herself the luxury of a loud, long, “I told you so.”

Vern was late to work this morning. Granted, business wasn't exactly booming this late into October, but it still wasn't like Vern to ever show up anything less than five minutes early. With a tug of alarm, she hoped nothing had happened to that dear old man. He lived alone, and he was getting on in years.

She was just getting ready to call Vern's house when an unfamiliar car pulled up and parked right outside the shop windows. Vern got out of the passenger side, waving to whomever was inside. He walked into work with a wide smile, whistling besides.

“Who drove you to work, old man?” Janet snapped the ladder shut and pulled it back into the shop.

“Wouldn't you like to know, missy?” Vern practically winked.
Winked.
Something was definitely up. “I'm just gonna head on back into the stockroom and tidy up a bit.”

Vern? Tidy up? Not in a million years. “What's going on?”

“Oh, nothin'.”

Shaking her head, Janet headed to the back of the store to put the ladder away. A minute or two later she heard someone call out, “Well hello again and how are ya, Middleburg?”

She knew that voice. Janet turned to find Drew Downing standing in the paint aisle. Drew Downing, standing with his hands in his pockets and a gigawatt grin on his face, in her paint aisle.

“I'm here to check on a certain roof. The frost'll set in
soon, and I want to make sure there'll be no leaks. So I need a ladder.” He walked toward her, and Janet thought the paint aisle might just blow away to bits behind her.

Janet found her voice. “You're here?” she gulped out.

“I took a few days off. Actually, I took most of next season off. I'm still there, sort of, but it's going to be Kevin and Annie's thing now. They make a really good team.”

She'd heard things about how Drew Downing was changing his role in
Missionnovation.
She had tried not to think about what that might mean. Now, she didn't know what to think. Thoughts of surprise and suspicion and delight were colliding so fast in her head she couldn't sort them out. “Why are you here?”

“Like I said, I came back to check on the roof.”

“Why'd you come back to check on the roof?” It wasn't fair. He looked even better than he did before. Less theatric, which made him all the more handsome somehow. Janet's insides were doing jumping jacks, and she found a broom at the corner of the aisle and held on to it for support.

“Because that's the kind of man I want to be. But, you know, I'd lost sight of that for a while.” Drew fished a slip of paper out of his pocket. It was the check she'd sent back to him through Kevin. She cringed, thinking what a mean gesture that had been. More than once she'd tamped down the urge to call him and take it back, especially when the roof showed no signs of problems. “I needed a wake-up call, Janet. I was turning into someone I didn't recognize, and it took you to show it to me. So I'm back to check on your roof. And I'm going to keep checking on it all winter. And I'm going to fix anything that goes wrong.” He raised an eyebrow, “But I'm here to tell you, I don't think anything is going to go wrong. Your church got a good roof. I'm just
here to stand by my work.” A grin swept across his face. “And a few other things. So, you got any ladders?”

Janet nodded and stumbled toward the aisle where ladders were kept. “We've got ladders over at the church. You won't need one of your own.”

He stopped walking, and a warm look lit up his face. “We?”

Even though part of her had yearned to call or write Drew and tell him she'd found her way back to the church, she never could find the nerve. Now that he was standing here, the words eluded her. “You…um…you might say I finally came around. Isn't that how you always put it?”

She couldn't describe the expression on his face. Part surprise, a hint of wonder, genuinely happy, and something she wasn't sure she was ready to call affection. Which was a lie—she was more than ready to call it affection. His eyes melted her composure and did something warm and wonderful to her soul. “I don't suppose you've got a minute to walk over and show me how you think the roof is holding up?”

Janet could think of nothing better she'd like to do at the moment. Smiling—probably grinning like a fool, she thought to herself—she managed to say, “I think I can find the time.”

 

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. She'd changed. Even if she hadn't told him she'd made peace with the church, he'd have known it by the way she looked. There was an inner quietness about her that had always been there before, but seemed to be in full bloom now. Something spacious in her eyes. He knew, as he followed her around the church, poking into crawl spaces and looking at gutter fastenings, that he'd always been in love with her. Maybe even from the first day, but now, as she stood close to him looking up at the steeple flashings, he could barely hear the
words she was saying for the thumping of his heart in his ears. This was the stuff of high school crushes, not a grown man renewing his professional integrity. Go slow, he kept telling himself, even though he counted no less that six times he could have pulled her to him and kissed her if it wasn't such a dangerous idea. He'd never been a patient man, and now he seemed drowning in impatience.

“So,” she was saying as they walked under a tree in the church's front yard, “I'm watching this section over here because it gets so much moisture.” She was blushing. A rosy glow he felt tingle through his fingertips and made him itch to brush his hand against her cheek.

“You're right, that will be the spot trouble shows up.
If
it shows up. But I don't think it will.” He caught sight of a birdhouse hanging from the tree branches. It was a charming wishing well. He knew instantly it was hers, and something uncurled deep in his chest. “This yours?” he could barely gulp out.

She nodded.

“It's wonderful.” It was just a birdhouse, but at that moment Drew thought it the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Well, maybe second most.

“Drew,” she said quietly, “I'm really glad you came back.”

He looked down for a long moment, and when he looked up, Drew felt his restraint puddle out through the soles of his shoes.
Oh, Lord, You're going to have to help me here. I'm a goner.
“I had to come back,” he admitted, feeling like he was admitting far more. “For me. For you.”

With a surety he never expected, Janet leaned in and kissed him. A gentle, feather-light kiss that washed over him like a blinding light. The perfect stillness of it startled him.
It was as if all the frenetic energy, all the business of his life had rushed to this single moment. The place where everything came together.
Her. Here.
He pulled his hands up to cup her face—as much to hold himself upright as to give in to the urge to touch her. The indescribable softness of her took his breath away. He loved her. It didn't solve everything, and it didn't need to. He'd take it however slow it needed to go from here, even if it near killed him. She was worth it.

She always had been.