Whispers of the Heart (6 page)

Slowly, she placed her hand in his; she had long fingers, which felt softer against his palm than he'd anticipated. He held it a moment before letting go,
giving her hand a firm clasp. He had to force himself to let go—he'd wanted to hold on, to brush his thumb across the silky texture. Instead, he briskly set a time for later in the week.

Then, already certain of her answer, said, “Tomorrow is Easter Sunday. Want to come with Tim and me to celebrate?”

“Oh, I…I have plans.”

“All right.” At least he'd tried. “Okay, Timmy, time to say goodbye.”

“But we haven't named the puppy, yet,” Timmy protested.

“Oh, so we haven't. Well, what did you want to call her?” Autumn asked.

“I guess…Lady.”

“There's a lot of Ladys around,” Brent pointed out.

“Okay, then…” Timmy's gaze roved around the room as he thought hard. “How about Paint.”

“That sounds like a pony to me,” his dad murmured, hiding his grin, but exchanging amused glances with Autumn.

“Why did you name your dog Samson?” Autumn asked.

“'Cause he barked like he was a Samson.”

“Okay, well. Her little nose reminds me of a button and she's no bigger than one,” Autumn ventured. “How about that for a name. Buttons?”

“Yeah, that's a good name. Buttons.”

Father and son started for the door. Brent stopped as he opened it.

“Oh, and we have another package for you. It's outside.”

“What is it?”

“Dog food.” He reached into the tiny hall, out of sight around the door, to bring a bulging bag forth. “Puppy food. And an old playpen to keep her in while you're going through the training stage.”

Autumn gave him a glance that clearly said she thought him too clever by half. “You knew I couldn't say no to taking that precious little thing, didn't you?”

“I'd hoped,” he answered with an all-knowing grin.

Long after she'd put the lights out that night, Autumn heard the puppy moving around restlessly in the pen, whimpering. Crying, no doubt, over the first time of being without her siblings and mother. After a long time at play, it had slept through the early part of the evening.

Why now, Autumn asked herself? She'd been awake since dawn and needed sleep.

The whimpering escalated into a howl.

“Shh, Buttons. You'll wake my neighbors below.”

The puppy didn't understand her shushing at all.

Autumn rose, switching on one low lamp. “What is it, Buttons? You can't sleep? Well, come on, I know you must be lonesome.”

She warmed some milk, grateful now that Brent had returned with it toward supper time. He'd merely dropped it off and left quickly.

Buttons lapped it down to the bowl, then seemed content to curl against her arm. Autumn did the only sensible thing she could think of doing. She turned
out her light and went back to bed, letting the puppy snuggle down beside her.

She didn't know whether to be grateful or angry at Brent, but at the moment she thought she might just be more than a little annoyed. She thoroughly hoped Timmy's puppy was setting up a howl, too.

Dare she call him to complain? Buttons wiggled until she lay her head against Autumn's hand. Autumn petted the tiny head and stroked a delicate ear until she felt the animal relax into sleep. Contentment stole over her. She felt connected and needed. Maybe she wasn't so annoyed, after all.

Was that why Brent and Timmy had brought her the puppy?

I
n the end, Autumn refrained. But she kept a running complaint list in her head all week. The dog took too much of her time, she made messes on the floor, and loud noises scared her.

Furthermore, Autumn thought Brent had taken her by surprise all too easily. The fact she loved the little mite so much already didn't ease her fear that Brent'd known too much of her state of mind. He'd known that she'd needed Buttons to be a part of her life as much as Buttons had needed a home.

By the time Brent appeared at her door on Friday morning, freshly shaved and as wide-awake as the spring morning, she'd talked herself out of going to see the church. She wasn't too keen on getting deeply involved with a man who had guessed so much about her.

Yet Brent had already made as many inroads in her life as Buttons had, at least. She couldn't imagine her days without the hope of a glimpse of him.

She just wasn't too sure about this job offer.

Brent knocked on her door right at seven-fifteen.

“I'm not sure you should bother taking me to see the church,” Autumn murmured two minutes later. “I wouldn't want to waste your time.”

Hoping to put him off, she hadn't dressed for a business meeting; she wore her scruffy old blue jeans, T-shirt, sneakers, and a doubtful expression. It wasn't lost on him that she wanted to back out of her commitment.

She cuddled Buttons closely against her chest, the tiny dog yipping madly with excitement. “Hush, shh…” she soothed. She rather liked having the puppy to use as a diversion. Not only that, the little thing felt warm and comforting against her body.

“Why do you think it a bother?” Brent countered, refusing to close the door behind him. Instead, he held it open, expecting to leave immediately. However she was dressed, he looked determined to take her to the appointment.

“I don't think I want to take on a commercial work right now.” She leaned a hip against the back of her sofa. “This will be a waste of time.”

“Oh, I doubt that. I never waste my time.”

“I'm not dressed for church. I'll have to change.”

“This is an inner-city church, Autumn. People dress all kinds of ways there. And David doesn't care a jot. He figures God's love is the same for each one of us no matter what we look like.”

He made no move to close the door, made no effort to remove his hand from the knob. It didn't seem he would accept an easy excuse, and Autumn hadn't learned how to be completely rude.

Especially after she'd already said she'd at least view the place.

Buttons's tail waved at a furious pace. Brushing her hand along the dog's back, Autumn let her lashes drop. “I don't think it wise to leave Buttons.”

“Put the puppy in the playpen. She'll be all right for a little while and you can make it up to her by taking her for a walk after you get home.”

“Oh…but I'd planned to work this morning.”

“Sure, I do, too. Visiting the church is part of my work, and yours, too.” He picked up her small portfolio lying on the worktable, a sheet or two peeking from the opening. Even though she'd decided she didn't really want to do the mural, she'd taken the trouble to gather up examples of her work. “Are these the sketches you want to take along?”

“Yes, but— Oh, all right.” Grabbing a denim overshirt against the morning chill, she did as he suggested and placed the puppy in the playpen. When Buttons whimpered, she gave her a dog biscuit and a chew toy before turning her back and walking through the door.

“Are you smothering in outside work or something?” Brent asked as they rode down to the first floor.

“Well…”

“You're not, are you?”

“I have a number of projects I want to do.”

“What kind of projects?” He escorted her across the street to his parking lot and opened his car door. The streets beyond their relatively quiet one were already choked with morning traffic. “You said you
weren't doing any more architectural renderings. Have you taken on something else?”

“Not exactly. No, I meant I have my own things to concentrate on.”

“More of the watercolors I saw last night? They're wonderful, Autumn, but why not spread your wings a little?”

“I am spreading my wings. A lot. Why, I—I—”

“Uh-huh?”

She pressed her mouth closed. She didn't have to answer to anyone but herself.

“Have you been in to see Curtis lately? Shown him more of your work?”

“Well, no…”

“Then what are you doing with all those paintings? Where do you plan to exhibit? You can't go on forever merely painting for yourself, can you? With nowhere to show them?”

“I have Mirror Images.”

“Don't you want more scope for your talent than one gallery?”

What could she say? Why should she tell him she hadn't yet gathered enough courage to go about to any of the galleries alone. She would, one day soon. One day she'd screw her courage to the point when she could easily face more than one outing at a time, or more than three people in a room. She'd promised Spring she'd handle life on her own and she would. Just as soon as…as she had…Buttons well trained to take with her.

The mile and a half distance to the Community Church of Hope site took only minutes. She forgot all about answering Brent's deeper questions as she
viewed the original brick church building. She'd been by this corner many times over the course of her growing up. Yet she'd never really looked at its structure before now.

The original redbrick building rose majestically high in front, at least fifty feet to the top of the cupola. The front of the building hosted a columned portico, its double doors tall and arched and in need of paint. On each side of the doors, huge stained-glass windows looked like shuttered eyes. On the side street, a second building in a much later style sat toward the back of the property.

Two utility trucks already occupied the space in front of the building. Brent parked on the side street and led her into the second building by way of a side door, then down a dim hallway, and into another before they met anyone.

A tall, thin man with a mop of dark curly hair stood near the open office door labeled Pastor. He was talking with a man who appeared to be an electrician. He gestured a hello and waved them through to his office, left the workman, and followed them.

“Hiya Brent. How ya doing this morning?”

“Great, David, just great, and I'm excited about getting these renovations under way. Has the crew I sent over last week been to your satisfaction? I've stopped by a couple of times but you weren't in. Is everything going to plan?”

“Sure is, Brent, I'm mighty pleased.”

Brent made simple introductions, and the young minister gestured for them to be seated.

“Yes sir, the Lord's been good,” David continued. “Mighty good, seeing how this time last year I
didn't have a clue about how to get this thing going. But He's brought everything together these past months. Don't know where the money's coming from for next month's bills,” he chuckled, and gestured with an open palm, “but I'll trust Him to bring it along as He's done every month.”

“I'm not worried, David. Like you, I think this is the Lord's church and His project. He'll bring the donations in to pay the bills as they come up.”

Beneath downcast eyes Autumn listened with fascination to the two men interact. Brent answered so matter-of-factly, as though he knew what the minister knew. They not only conversed as if they were close friends, they even talked about God that way. With a light tone. How could one be so certain God would bring money in to pay the bills?

She'd always thought ministers and priests were stiff, formal men with little humor—not that she'd ever had close contact with any. Uncle William had kept his distance, claiming he was an intellectual who could handle life without either the help or the interference of the church.

Yet he'd believed in God. He'd kept a Bible on his shelf. She even suspected he sometimes read it.

“Why, last week we had almost thirty worshipers for Sunday evening and we haven't officially even reopened our doors yet,” David concluded.

“That's great. Wish I'd known, I'd have brought Timmy. Well, David,” Brent said, nodding her way, “I've found just the person who can solve our problem with that south hallway. We brought along a few sketches to show you what she can do.”

Caught off guard when both men suddenly looked
at her, Autumn began to stutter. “I—uh, um, I—I'm not so sure about that. I didn't agree to, um,” she tossed Brent a quick glare for having gotten her into this. “I only said I'd come see the, um, the place.”

“Well, then. Let's go see it,” David said and rose, heading out the office door with long strides.

Didn't he want to see her samples first? Brent tossed her a grin and speedily followed suit; Autumn had no choice but to trot after them.

Turning to the right, Autumn caught up to the men. Bright daylight shone ahead, and when they reached the end of the hall, they all turned and stopped. A long corridor stretched in front of them, one wall made completely of glass windows, the opposite, blank and bare, the color of dirty beige.

“This corridor joins our education building to the old sanctuary. We don't use the old chapel much, or I suppose I should say before the membership drain over the past dozen years it was hardly utilized at all. But I want to use it again after the refurbishing is complete, and this wall needs something to interest people as they walk by it.”

“That might happen quicker than we'd speculated, David,” Brent said. “The building inspectors tell me the chapel's basic structure is sound. We're getting estimates on new plumbing and heating now.”

“That's great news, Brent. Thought so, but it's good to have that reaffirmed.” The young minister turned to gaze out the windows. “Thanks, Lord. You're awesome!”

He spoke as if the Deity were right there in the hall! Autumn glanced from one man to the other. But Brent didn't seem to find that strange and unusual.

“This patch of weeds has gotta go, too,” David continued, gesturing to the square of yard beyond the windows. “Haven't made up my mind whether we should put in playground equipment or a small garden. I favor the garden idea, for prayer and contemplation, but I guess we'll put it to our guiding board members to vote on. It hasn't been high on our priority list before now.”

Autumn stared out at the weed-choked patch, too, then turned back to the blank wall. A painting to overlook a garden? Bright colors to soak up the light? To offer a backdrop, an extension, one with another…

A feeling of creative longing crept over her, invading her mind, running along her veins like pure oxygen. Fourteen feet from floor to ceiling, she guessed, perhaps more; and the morning spring light showed evidence of many a hand brush and smudges of bygone years. This hallway had once been alive with worshipers; it would be again, and every time someone passed this way…

“What do you want here?” she murmured. Both men turned to her, letting their own conversation drop. “What are you thinking about, what would be fitting?”

“Oh, an active mural of some kind. Something that really speaks, y'know?” David said. “Like Jesus healing the lepers or walking on the water, or teaching…”

“The sermon on the mount?” Where had that idea sprung from? Autumn immediately asked herself. She knew so little about it. “With angels hovering
above, in the background? This wall could take all that. It could…”

She'd never painted on the scale under discussion, nothing to come even close. Doubt started up from the soles of her feet to invade her heart with a rush. It felt like doors shutting, slamming, resounding with the noise. What made her think she was the one to do it? What impudence to even think she could, she who had no faith at all, nothing, no inner knowledge of God to express? Surely someone with vastly more experience should take it on.

She had to swallow and pause, to stiffen her knees to keep from running as far and as fast as she could. “I think—”

Something curious in Brent's expression caught her attention, a waiting, a knowing. His bright eyes shone like dark pennies and held her gaze fast, allowing no room for retreat.

“Yes, that's it, Autumn. The multitude.” He seemed delighted with the concept. “Listening to what the Lord has to say…”

“Jesus's most reported sermon,” David said with a nod.

What had Jesus said? Autumn didn't want to admit she didn't know, so she merely nodded in return. She'd look it up in Uncle William's Bible and read it for herself when she returned home.

Meanwhile, she turned back to stare at the space again, and the morning light. She'd had every intention of turning down this offer, but now she knew she wanted to do it. More than merely wanted to, she felt a compelling need to fill this wall with figures to represent those of long ago.

“All right,” she murmured slowly. “But I want to work with this early morning light. From just after dawn.”

They'd accept that explanation easily enough, they wouldn't have to suspect her other reasons for not working later into the day.

“I, um, don't want to work any later than midmorning at the stretch. Will someone be here to unlock the doors at so early an hour?”

The minister nodded. “I'll see to it.”

“And what about, um…traffic? I'm afraid I couldn't work with people coming and going.”

“I think we can fix that. Now that it's warmed up, I can block this passage to traffic and direct the workers and others to cross from one building to the other outside, if necessary. That way you won't be interrupted.”

A weight lifted from her shoulders. If she could work from first light until about the time when everyone else would be coming in to work, she'd be comfortable. None of her usual fear would interfere. “When would you like me to begin?”