9

Sunday morning dawned, bright and cloudless. Garrett lay in the middle of his bed with the sheet pooled around his waist. Sleep still held him partially in its grip. His first thought as he came awake was that his feet felt like blocks of ice. With a quick movement, he grabbed the corners of the sheet, popped it up, and let the air underneath settle it into place. His cell phone lay on top of his to-be-read book pile on the nightstand. He grabbed it and checked the time. Too early for a single man to be up when there was nowhere to go and no one to see.

But there was someone he wanted to see.

A sinking feeling clawed at his stomach. His budding relationship with Micara was too much to hope for, and he didn’t want to dream. Wishing and dreaming terrified him because love and happiness could disappear in an instant. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.

He picked up the top book in his pile and ran his hand over the cover. John Steinbeck’s Cannery Row. He had finished reading it for the third time several nights ago. The first time had been in college as an assignment. If ever there was a story of hopelessness, this was it. And he understood completely. The people in the novel dared to dream. But if he allowed himself to dream, he wanted to be sure it would not be ripped out of his hands this time. He wanted to believe in what Micara had said, but trusting God again was hard.

After Micara’s grandmother told him about his parents, he doubted his decision to sell his land. Changing his mind about this would mean coming to terms with everything in his life. Was he ready?

Ridiculous to think God was at work in his life and had brought him and Micara together…wasn’t it? The doubts he was having…where were those coming from? But he knew the answers to those questions—and they were both Micara. She had a role in all of this. He just hadn’t figured it out yet.

He tossed the book onto the bed where it landed on the sheet without a sound. He let out a loud sigh, rubbed his face and groaned out loud. He needed to go somewhere…anywhere.

He hauled himself out of bed and prepared to leave, his mind still mulling over everything that had happened in the past few days. Skipping breakfast, he headed to the old oak tree. Maybe being close to it would help him make the decision about the land.

Kneeling under the tree, his father’s words came back to him. You gotta have God if you want your relationship to last. He’d said that when Garrett made the decision to ask Jayanne to marry him.

Trees know that better than anything. They always grow straight for the goal, and they grow bigger and live longer than anything else.

Was that what he needed? God?

The sound of tires bumping along the road caught Garrett’s attention, and he smelled the disturbed dirt as a car pulled to the side of the road. This road was a dead end. It led to nowhere. He turned his head to see who was out in the middle of nowhere with him.

Micara, of course. She must be here to see him. What other reason could she have to come all this way?

She wore her hair up when she worked outdoors. Today it was free, and the wind tossed it around her face. The dark tresses caught the sunlight, the resulting sparkle reflected in her bright eyes. Micara’s beautiful spirit shining through. She was light and goodness.

The allure of Micara Lee was growing stronger. After Jayanne, no woman had ever truly touched his heart. He’d dated and even had a couple semi-serious relationships but walked away from each of them unscathed. He doubted that would be the case with sweet Micara. She was different. She was special.

And Garrett was falling for her—hard.

He didn’t know how to stop it even though he wasn’t good enough for her.

Her flowing skirt danced in the wind. Bracelets adorned one wrist. This was Sunday, so she must be dressed for church. Her beautiful heart shone through, making her skin luminous and her countenance brighter than the Texas sun. Knowing her was changing him…for the better. She made him consider that life could begin again as it did for her at seventeen.

She knelt beside him on the ground, not seeming a bit worried about getting her skirt or her bare legs dirty. She didn’t say a word, but those big, brown eyes smiled right into his heart.

“My parents spent their last years on earth trying to reach me.” He opened his mouth, and the words spilled out. “They never lived to see me as a happy, accomplished person.”

She smiled. “They’re still working on it, and they will get that chance. They may not be here physically, but they’re alive in your heart. The ones we love are never more than a prayer away.”

He turned back to the tree and traced the block letters with his fingertip. When his parents met and fell in love, they took a chance that everything would work out. The initials should have caused him pain, but they didn’t. Instead, he read them as a sign that his parents were thinking about him. Their roughly scrawled initials were a symbol of young love and that there could be love in his future. He couldn’t deny how he felt about Micara. They were new and maybe a little shaky right now, but even this massive oak started out with a seed, like all other trees. Given the right conditions, it would grow without limits. Straight up toward Heaven.

Trees know that better than anything. They always grow straight for the goal, and they grow bigger and live longer than anything else. His father’s words echoed again in Garrett’s mind.

What would happen to his and Micara’s budding relationship if he sold his property? Could it be uprooted and replanted, or would it die?

“Micara, you know about plants and trees. If they widen the road, can this tree be moved?”

Her chin dropped, and he knew her answer before she gave it. “A tree this large and old would be almost impossible to relocate. Once you dig into the root system, the chances of it living…well, they’re slim to none.” She patted his arm and then looked over the initials carved about four and half feet from the bottom. “But you could always cut out the middle section of the trunk and put it in a garden to preserve the carving.”

He nodded and then lifted his forehead straight up at the sky through the branches of the tree. This situation was just like the so-called progress Micara warned residents about. Once something that mattered was gone, getting it back was nigh on impossible. Sure, it might be moved or framed or otherwise preserved in some way, but …it was never quite the same.

Micara stood and dusted off her skirt and legs. She missed several places but didn’t seem to notice or care. “I’m on my way to church. I’d love it if you’d come.”

He peered up at her. The sun behind her cast a glowing haze. He stared for a moment in silence. He hadn’t stepped foot in a church since he’d injured his knee, but he couldn’t bring himself to say no. His tight lips gave way to a partial smile. That was all the encouragement she needed. She grabbed the hand he used to shade his eyes and pulled. He remained grounded. She pulled harder and managed, to his great surprise, to scoot his bottom a couple of inches.

“Whoa, girl! I don’t need a grass stain on my jeans.”

“Then get up, you big lug.”

He liked this playfulness between them. He didn’t know if he deserved it, but he sure could get used to it.

~*~

The large brick-and-metal structure boasted a packed parking lot, but Garrett and Micara were the only people outside the church. Their visit to the tree had put them a few minutes behind. They neared the front doors, and music from what sounded like a live band drifted out to meet them.

Garrett’s feet felt mired in mud. Did he want to do this? He glanced at Micara, and one bright smile swept away his doubt. He reached for the door, but it swung open.

A young man smiled and offered them programs. They were late, but not too late. The band was playing, but no one was singing yet. Folks meandered around, shaking hands and giving hugs. The aroma of coffee from a pot on the back table filtered through the air. A variety of donuts and a selection of creamers and sugars were positioned next to the coffee.

Lots of familiar faces—and within moments, many of them rushed to Garrett’s side, welcoming him back as if he’d only been on a short vacation. No one said a word about his long absence. He appreciated their tact. Now was not the time to go there. Maybe not ever. He just wanted to be accepted.

Micara led him to a seat on the far side. Thankfully, she didn’t sit front and center.

“Where’s your family?” He searched the rows for her mother and grandmother.

“They prefer the traditional, early service over the later, contemporary one.”

Once seated, he scanned the crowd for people he knew. A few rows up, he spotted his brother, Gabriel. Slade wasn’t with him.

Doubts pounded in his mind yet again. He tried to shake them off.

After a few minutes, the lead singer stepped up to the microphone, and the congregation stood to begin the music service.

So different from the way he remembered it. When he’d last attended, music had consisted of a lady with a piano and a humble choir. Projection screens hadn’t been on the walls then, either. And the wooden pews he remembered had been exchanged for free-standing chairs. The changes made for a friendly, casual environment. He felt new, yet comfortable.

The pastor led them in prayer after the worship service; then everyone took their seats. The message that morning struck a chord—something Garrett remembered well from his church-going days. No matter what the preacher spoke about, it always seemed to be aimed at him and whatever was going on in his life. Today was no exception.

The lesson dealt with trusting God to be the ultimate Leader, no matter what a person’s plans for his life might be. The pastor related the story of Joseph, one of the biggest dreamers of the Bible. Now there was a man who had big plans for his future. No matter what horrible misfortunes befell Joseph, God still came through. Nothing could stop God’s plan. That much Garrett understood.

But what if the desire of a man’s heart wasn’t God’s plan? The preacher covered that, too. Many passages in the Bible expressed trust without guarantees. Life was full of disappointment. Garrett knew about that.

Micara reached over and patted his hand. Ahhh…he was tense enough for her to see. His back was rigid and ramrod straight. The muscles in his neck flexed. He gritted his teeth so hard, his jaw hurt. And her hand…her warm and comforting hand brought him back from the hyper-focused state that held him captive. Micara’s touch made it melt away.

Back from that deep place where he took everything the preacher said and applied it to his own worst memories, he became aware that Micara wasn’t patting his hand solely for comfort.

The congregation was in prayer.

His head lowered, but his eyes remained open, his gaze fixed on her hand. “Amen.” He mumbled the word after Micara, though he hadn’t heard a word of the prayer.

“Before we dismiss for the day, I’m turning the floor over to Micara Lee. She’ll give us an update on the next town meeting.” The pastor unhooked his microphone and descended the steps to join the congregation.

Micara gave Garrett a couple of harder pats and then stood and made her way to the stage. She seemed comfortable as if she’d done this before. She walked right up to the microphone.

“Testing.” A loud squeal traveled across the room. People covered their ears. Some searched the sound booth to see who was to blame.

A man in a red ball cap adjusted a few dials and then yelled, “You should be good.”

“Testing.” This time, the amplification sounded perfect. “Great. OK.”

She breathed into the microphone, and a whoosh of air rushed out. Her hands trembled. He’d never known her to be shy when it came to public speaking.

“I planned on giving y’all the details about the next town meeting, the date and time and all that. But now the meeting is canceled. Well, I’m not going anyway. I’ve done a lot of soul searching and a lot of praying, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve been trying to take control of a situation that is beyond my control.

“It’s no secret that I’m against allowing developers to buy up land. I have my reasons, and those reasons led me to behave in a way that I shouldn’t have. I knew what I wanted, and I was shaken. I started calling town meetings and talking to people. But I never once prayed for God’s will to be done. I prayed for what I wanted.

“Brother Frank gave a great sermon today about trusting in God’s plan. So I don’t need to stay upset all the time. I don’t need to worry. All I need to do is trust and pray. God’s plan always prevails. And if God’s plan doesn’t include Sweet Home remaining just the way it is, then there’s nothing I can do about it anyway. So the meeting is canceled. Instead, I want everyone to pray that no matter what happens to our beautiful little town, that God’s will be done. Thank you.”

Complete silence followed her surprising announcement. Garrett had never expected to hear those words, but now that they were said, their truth was undeniable. Micara left the platform area and ambled toward him, the impact rippling around the room. No tears streamed down her face, just a glisten in her eyes. Satisfaction and acceptance radiated outward.

Why couldn’t he make decisions so easily, and be able to live with them? His doubt kept him from making a decision about his land. Deep down, he knew that everything Brother Frank said today was correct. He’d been wrong about his purpose in life. Playing football wasn’t what he’d been born to do, or he’d be doing it. He’d have been the one honored at the Sweet Home Heroes banquet.

Then what?

He’d considered various scenarios, but they always ended with his living the same pointless life he did now—and he wanted no part of that.

He left the church without speaking to a soul. Didn’t see the look on Micara’s lovely face, but he had no trouble imagining the glisten in her eyes turning to tears, and her soft lips parting in surprise. Her questioning gaze burned into his back as the sun blinded his eyes.

Once in his car, he started the engine with a quick flick of his wrist and drove away fast.