High Plains Hearts (16 page)

Quickly she turned to the verse: “Let your speech be alway with grace, seasoned with salt, that ye may know how ye ought to answer every man.”

A snapshot memory of her grandmother appeared in her mind: She was standing by the old stove in the kitchen, stirring something warm and spicy and listening to Tess’s tearful confession about a teenage spat. Tess had said something about one of her friends, words that had come back to haunt her, and her grandmother had advised her on that long-ago day, “Tess, make sure your words are seasoned with salt, as you may have to eat them.” At the time it had seemed a curiously old-fashioned thing to say, but now it made sense. How like her grandmother to turn to the Bible for wisdom!

She read it again, just the verse, and then in context. How she wished she could have met Paul! “Walk in wisdom,” he said in a nearby line. That was her goal.

She recalled Reverend Barnes’s words. She needed to start making her wish list. At the top of it would be those words: “Walk in wisdom.”

Jake burst through the door, balancing three take-out trays, a plastic bowl covered with foil, and a drink carrier. “I’m here,” he announced breathlessly. “I know I’m early. So shoot me. Have I got news for you.”

She flipped the sign on the front door to C
LOSED
and motioned him toward the back. Cora roused herself from her slumber and, at the sight of the take-out cartons, came to life with amazing alacrity.

The three of them marched into Tess’s small dining room. Tess pushed aside the week’s accumulation of mail she would get to, someday, and cleared a spot for them to eat.

Cora wound herself in and out of Jake’s legs in a frantic figure eight, punctuating her movement with plaintive meows.

He reached down and absently patted her head with his hand, but it had nothing in it to eat. Cora’s massive disappointment was clear. Fortunately Tess saw the look and captured Cora’s attention with Meow Meals before the cat could snack on Jake’s fingers. She’d seen that expression before and knew exactly what it meant. It did not bode well for him.

As she was saving his hand from certain attack, she noticed he seemed almost chipper. The more she watched him, the surer she was. He must have good news.

The take-out containers held a variety of sandwiches and salads, and the bowl was filled with wild rice and cheese soup. Her mouth began to water as she helped him set the food on plates.

The drinks were Italian sodas, and she poured them into clear glass tumblers so they could enjoy the bright colors.

Before he took a bite, she covered his hand with hers. “I’ve always done this silently, so maybe you don’t know I do it, but I say grace before each meal. May I say it aloud this time?”

She dared not breathe as she awaited his answer. He had been so angry at God before, so opposed to her praying, at least for his plight. She had been hoping it was a temporary snap of anger with God and not a revelation of his true feelings. How would Jake react now? Would he let her pray?

“Tess, I must apologize for my angry outburst. There is no excuse for it. I wouldn’t blame you if you could not forgive me.” He looked down in misery.

“Not forgive you?” She gripped his hand. “How could I not forgive you? Think what Jesus forgave. They killed Him, Jake, and He forgave them. How could I hold this against you? Is your sin worse? No, it isn’t. It is up to Him to forgive you, and I think He already has.”

“Thank you, Tess.” He looked up and smiled shyly at her. “I needed to hear that. And there’s more I need to hear. I need to hear you pray. Yes, please, offer grace.” He bowed his head in reverence.

She breathed a sigh of relief, and then she began.

“Heavenly Lord, bless this food which You have given us. We ask so much of You, and in return You provide. Thank You, dearest Lord, in the name of Your Son, Jesus Christ, who is indeed the greatest gift of Christmas. Amen.”

“Amen.” Jake joined with her in response.

Their eyes met, and for a moment Tess saw the oneness she had been seeking.

The mood was shattered as Cora meowed loudly, indicating it was dinnertime.

“What’s your news?” Tess asked Jake as she passed him the plate of sandwiches.

“What’s yours?” he countered.

“I don’t want to get into one of those who-goes-first battles,” she said, “so I’ll start since mine is first in line chronologically.”

She told him about Mayor Lindstrom’s visit, and when she ended her narrative, he leaned back and nodded thoughtfully.

“That goes a long way to explaining my news,” he said at last. “I had a call from the editor of the paper, apologizing. The entire situation is bizarre. Here’s the story.

“The writer of Shop Talk had written the story before checking with me because his wife was due for a heart transplant, and he was working ahead to be ready. He had written the copy but hadn’t intended it to go in yet, pending verification of the story. He’d heard about it from someone who’d heard about it from someone who’d heard about it—one of those long, convoluted stories you can never get to the bottom of.

“Then his wife got the call—there was a donor heart—so they packed up quickly and left for Rochester, where the transplant is being done. Unfortunately he left the copy on his desk as a way to remind him to call me and check out the story when he got back. And his replacement saw it, thought it indicated he wanted the story to run, and used it.”

“Oh, wow,” she breathed. “What an incredible story! Who ever would have thought it would be something like that? How’s his wife?”

He stood and hugged her. “Only you, Tess Mahoney, would ask that question right off the bat. You really do care about other people, don’t you?”

“Well, how is she?” she persisted. “Heart transplants are more common now, but a grave element of danger is still involved. Is she doing okay?”

He nodded. “So far, so good. She just underwent surgery, so it’s early yet. But she’s a fighter, they say.”

She sent a quick silent prayer heavenward for the woman’s safety.

“You know,” she commented, “it tells me a lot that you knew the answer. That means you must have inquired about her health.”

“I can’t imagine,” he said softly, “how it feels to know you must risk your life in order to live. And what those around you who love you must go through at the same time. How can they deal with the uncertainty, the not knowing?”

“It’s called faith.”

“Maybe someday I’ll understand.” He looked at her, his deep brown eyes liquid with hope.

The light over the table cast severe shadows on his face, and she was once again struck by how tired and worn down he was. It seemed as if the silver threading through his hair was more abundant now, but that had to be a trick of the light.

“Jake, it’s there. You just have to reach out with your heart and accept it.”

“I want to—I really want to,” he said, “but there’s this ironclad part of me that wants proof. And what can I do? Despite all your avowals how can you prove it to me? How can I prove it to myself? Is it even possible, or am I asking the impossible?”

“It is kind of a looping theory,” she admitted. “You need to have faith in order to believe in faith or even to understand what it is.”

“How did you come to have faith?” he asked. “I really need to hear this.”

“I was raised in a family that went to church every Sunday, but more than that, they absolutely believed in Jesus and in God. It was as much a part of our lives as, say, electricity.”

“No power failures?” His lopsided smile didn’t cover the deep concern she heard in his voice.

“God doesn’t have power failures,” she stated firmly. “None. At one time when I was a teenager I tried to outrun God. I couldn’t do it. My grandparents wouldn’t let me, He wouldn’t let me, and when it came right down to it, I wouldn’t let me.”

“You? You seem as if you’ve never doubted God at all.”

“Wait a minute,” she protested. “I never doubted Him. I was a teenager, sure that I knew more than anybody. God was in my life, but I had my priorities jumbled up. Grandma and Grandpa were rock-steady, and with their help I pulled through adolescence with few scars. One of the most important things I learned from my grandparents was that I had to have my own faith, not just a general ‘I believe in God,’ but a strong current that runs through every hour of my life. My faith is a commitment to Him. I made that pledge when my rowdy time, short-lived though it was, ended. I had the foundation from my family, but when it came right down to it I had to make a personal decision to give my life back to Him.”

“I believe in God—I truly do—but I’m beginning to wonder if I have faith,” he confessed. “I mean, I look at you, and you have this wonderful trust and assurance that it’s all working out fine. While I’m a basket case waiting for the men in white coats to come and take me away to a place with pillows on the walls.”

“What’s interesting,” she said, “is that all the worry in the world isn’t going to make the situation better for you. As a matter of fact, it can only make it worse because it robs you of sleep, causes you to neglect your eating habits, and generally makes you a crabby person.”

“Have I been crabby?”

“You’ve had your moments.”

He grinned. “I certainly didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“That’s my point. It’s not what you intend to do, but it’s what you do. How can worry possibly be good for you? Grandma used to say, ‘Idle hands are the devil’s workshop,’ but Grandpa would correct her and say, ‘A worrying mind is the devil’s workshop.’ ”

“I wish I could have met them,” he said wistfully. “They must have been great people.”

“They were. Not a day goes by that I don’t thank God for having given them to me, and I miss them. But they’re with Him now, and I know their pains are gone, and their happiness is fulfilled.”

Cora jumped up on her lap, and Tess buried her fingers in the soft longish fur around the cat’s neck. “And Grandma has her cat the color of pussy willows, and so do I. Right, Cora?”

Cora sniffed meaningfully at the plate where uneaten remnants of Tess’s sandwich were.

“I think she smells the seafood salad,” Jake said. “It has crab and shrimp in it and some kind of whitefish.”

“Definitely more appealing than Giblet Niblets,” Tess said, scraping the sandwich filling onto Cora’s plate. “And, I hope, a little more conducive to sweeter bedtime breath. That stuff lingered way beyond the normal span. If only they could make perfume that potent and long-lasting!”

“In the kitty world it’s probably the equivalent of expensive French perfume. You know, if you rubbed some of it behind your ears, Cora would undoubtedly think you smelled heavenly!”

“I could just go roll in the garbage,” she suggested cheerfully. “Maybe that would work instead!”

They chatted a bit longer until Jake said he had to go home.

“Home?” she repeated. “Are you serious? Even after all this, you’re not going back to Panda’s?”

He shook his head. “You’ve converted me to this thing called sleep. I sometimes have a little problem convincing my body it’s okay to sleep, but I’ve been using your suggestion of a glass of milk, and it’s working great. Last night I added a turkey sandwich and could barely stay awake enough to brush my teeth afterward.”

“Oh, yeah, turkey has that stuff in it that makes you sleepy. At least, that’s what Grandpa said whenever he slept in the living room after a big turkey dinner. Claimed he couldn’t help it; it was nature’s way of giving him a well-deserved nap.” The old memory brought a smile to her lips.

She walked with him to the door. Cora trailed behind but backed away quickly when she felt the icy draft from under the door.

“The wind is blowing so hard it’s coming right through the door frame,” he said, putting his hand out to feel the air move. “That’s one of the problems with old houses. The wood dries and shrinks a bit, and you get gaps. I can even hear the wind whistling through the cracks.”

She patted the wall fondly. “Yes, this old house whistles and creaks and groans, but so will I when I’m this old, I suspect.”

“I could seal the cracks and make it stop—in the house, I mean. You’re on your own with your personal noises, I’m afraid. It wouldn’t take long for me to straighten this right up for you, and I suspect it would save you considerably on your heating bill this winter. Right now you’re trying to heat part of the outside, but with this wind it’s just getting blown off to who knows where.”

“So my leaky house is responsible for global warming?” she teased. “Actually, if you can fix these places where the heat is escaping, I’d very much appreciate it.”

“No problem. I used to work for a construction firm specializing in renovating old houses, so I do know my way around homes like this and the problems they have. If it’s warm enough tomorrow, I can hang your lights, too, if you have any.”

“If I have lights, he says. Of course I have lights. And they’re shaped like—?”

“Angels?” he guessed.

“Right!”

With promises to see each other the next day, he slid his arms around her.

Before she fell into the embrace, she saw Cora look up from her station near the heating vent.

She must have been mistaken. It wasn’t possible.

The cat looked absolutely smug.

T
he controversy over Jake’s moving Panda’s downtown blew over with the ease of a prairie wind. When the newspaper published the clarification that it was still tentative and explained the error in the column, the townspeople accepted it.

The Enders thought Panda’s would, of course, stay put, whereas the downtowners were sure Panda’s was joining them. But each side was so sure it was right that the issue never arose again, much to Jake’s relief.

The newspaper even waited an appropriate amount of time for the Shop Talk column to be forgotten and then ran a full interview with Tess about Angel’s Roost and what it was like to own and operate a downtown business.

Sales soared, and Jake began to tease her about how she was going to have to hire someone. And to think she’d once worried about how to advertise Angel’s Roost.

Jake had fixed the leaking door frame and hung her precious angel-shaped lights that Grandpa had made. They were an intriguing set of small lights set on metal forms he’d fashioned himself. They gave the appearance of a host of glowing angels surrounding her house.