14

 

 

Soft guitar music greeted them when they left the theater. It served as a backdrop to Beth’s reflection over the happily-ever-after movie ending. She wanted to get closer to the musician, but the rise and fall of people on the crowded walk pushed them closer to the street.

Aiden stepped into the street next to the curb, then back on the walk. Rounding the corner of the block, he guided Beth to circumvent the feet of an impoverished man seated close to the guitar player.

She liked Aiden’s hand at her waist and was about to close the gap between them.

But he walked right into a swinging roundhouse.

“Barton!” Beth screamed, loud enough to open deaf ears.

It was all her fault.

Aiden fought for and regained his balance.

Barton feinted then clipped Aiden on the ear.

“Please help! Someone!” she screeched in horror.

Aiden swung. The sound of his fist cracking against Barton’s face was distinct in the gathering crowd. The men were evenly matched in height and shoulder width, but Barton had the edge. He had meanness on his side.

The thuds of flesh against flesh sounded louder than any movie track.

Somehow, it registered in Beth’s muzzy mind that several cell phones were held at ears of the gathering crowd, or out in front, snapping the fight.

It sounded like the blows went on and on.

Through blood and sweat, Aiden dodged another fist, but managed an uppercut to Littlefield’s ribcage.

Several things happened at once.

Beth swung her purse against the side of Barton’s head. The whap of the flashlight inside landed with a solid plunk, and he staggered into the street.

A bicycle cop skidded to a halt on the sidewalk.

Two cruisers screeched to a stop, blocking inner lanes of the intersection. And the strobe effect of blue bubble lights added an eerie glow to the whole scene.

An officer restrained Aiden from the back.

Beth pointed at Barton and yelled, “Cuff that creep! He’s supposed to be in jail.”

She met Aiden’s gaze over the bulk of Barton’s prone body, facedown with a knee to his back. Aiden shot her a smug smile, despite his swollen face. She knew how he felt. The sight of Barton zipped into plastic cuffs felt like the freshness of rain following a drought.

She only broke eye-contact with Aiden, the man she had endangered, when a police officer approached. Her mind raced between the questions and answers as she and Aiden gave their respective statements.

Through it all, underlying palpable relief, she felt lower than dirt.

Aiden was hurt because she’d been distracted by a silly, stinky mouse instead of remembering Barton was a viable threat. If she had been on the look-out back in Platteville, she would have never led Barton to Lincoln.

The officer wrapped it up. “Well, Ms. Phillips, I’m sorry your friend was hurt. But you got in a good lick with your purse. Be assured, with all these witnesses, and his record, Barton Littlefield will be put away for some time.”

Aiden approached with the officer who had taken his statement. “And I definitely want to press charges.”

The cruiser with Barton was the first to leave. They watched the crowd disperse.

“I could use a walk to clear my head.”

“Not thinking clearly is right. We need to find a spot where I can clean you up. You can’t hold those napkins against your head forever.”

”Let’s head to the Haymarket area.”

“One of the coffee shops sounds good for a stop.”

They held hands on the way, but didn’t talk. The sidewalk scene played over and over through her mind. It took scant minutes to reach the renovated historic Haymarket. But it felt like a month, due to her racing thoughts. I’m better off without a man. They either abuse me or I bring danger to them.

Yet, from the depths of her soul, she wanted to yell from the banks of the Platte River, “I want to live, to share, the whole story of my life with Aiden. Can’t I have a fulfilling life to finish my time on earth?”

But for the good of them both, she’d have to tell Aiden their relationship had no future. He was as good as lost to her. How could he truly love her when he realized what a terrible person she really was?

She’d been deceiving herself into believing they had a future. She’d never deserved love, even the love of her mother. Aiden was right to be cynical and judgmental towards her, the way he was when they first met.

No. God saw her as worthy. And what had happened before had been washed clean, in both her and Aiden’s lives. Their future was in God’s plans for their lives, whether they be together or apart. Sorry, Lord. Sometimes it’s hard to see myself as You see me.

Aiden stopped in front of a coffee shop, gave her fingers a squeeze, and pulled her to his side.

She finally took note of where they were. The Haymarket area thrived with several businesses, restaurants, and apartments. She turned, and leaned back to look into his face. “I’m all revved up, wide awake. With that coffee, I’ll make it back to Platteville just fine.”

Beth laid her head on his chest, where his heart beat a staccato rhythm. She felt his tension, as though he’d been drinking coffee for two days without sleeping. Maybe that’s what a good fist fight did for guys.

She felt high on adrenaline herself, putting off the details of what happened on the street. “Let’s get you inside so I can see your face in the light.”

“It is making itself known. I don’t feel any blood. Maybe a cold cloth would help,” he slurred.

“Ya think? I see a growing fat lip, right before my eyes.”

He started to laugh, but it ended in a groan. They headed inside and wove their way to restrooms in the back. She grabbed several paper towels from the ladies room and ran them under cold water. He waited in the hall. Tenderly, and without words, she attended to his face. His ear had stopped bleeding. The cold helped the redness. “You’re going to have so many bruises come morning.”

“How about kissing them and making me feel all better?”

She accommodated him. When she kissed the corner of his mouth, she tasted blood and drew back.

“‘S all right. Just a little split.”

She rested her palms on his chest when he started to pull her closer. She raised her gaze to meet his. “It’s getting later by the minute, maybe I shouldn’t stay for coffee.”

“I’m thinking my lip wouldn’t like the heat.” He guided her outside.

Turning, she cupped the side of his face. What she couldn’t put into words must have shown through her expression.

“I’ll be fine.” He offered his hand, and she laced their fingers.

They strolled past loud and boisterous imbibers at sidewalk cafés, coffee shops, and establishments unique to the area. She wondered if Aiden purposely walked her aimlessly so she’d be calm by the time she drove back to Platteville.

Thank You, Lord, for taking away the jitters of that ugly incident with Barton. Thank You that Aiden wasn’t hurt worse. Thank You for the police, and please give me peace that he’ll stay behind bars this time.

“Aren’t you glad we don’t need the false hope found in a bottle? That God has replaced that restless searching in our hearts?” He halted their steps at the curb.

“We’re in agreement again. We are so blessed to be children of God.”

They waited while three cars bounced over the uneven paving bricks.

He rubbed her wrist with the feather-light dance of his thumb. With a hand squeeze, he spoke as they stepped onto the street. “I have so far to go. I know the Lord needs to work on my reaction to pass judgment on those who don’t behave the way I think they should.”

“Consider this, if we were magically turned perfect on our day of salvation, we’d be taken to heaven.”

He chuckled, and the sound warmed her.

“I have a feeling that’s what grace really means. I am ashamed to admit that when I first heard all your last names, I looked down on you. You’re helping me learn to look for the best in another person.”

Reaching the opposite curb, she silently praised the Lord to be having such a conversation with this man she cared so much about. “We all have our stuff. If we listen to the prompting of the Spirit, we are guided step-by-step. Not knowing what lies beyond today exhibits faith.”

They continued to mosey and came upon The Burkholder Project on their jaunt. Beth tipped her head back to scan the signs and she tried to guess which artist sold what goods behind each window. “I’d like my next trip here to be during the day so I can enjoy what’s on the other side of that door.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ve only been inside twice. Never been on the top floor.”

“That’s because you prefer the outdoors.” She turned to face him. “Another date, then, so I can appreciate the art?”

At his nod, she licked her lips. She stretched to graze his swollen and split lip with a butterfly touch, then gingerly kissed the other side of his mouth.

“You betcha, another date.” He traced the shape of her mouth with a gentle fingertip, a tickle that caught at her heart-strings. “Sorry we have to wait before I can give you a proper kiss.”

She hoped it would be at Wildlife Safari. She needed to see Lakota. Then again, Aiden could just surprise her with where they’d spend their next time together. Was she kidding herself that they may have a future?

He held out his arms, and she snuggled into the embrace, wishing she could stay in his arms forever.

Before long, he dropped her off at her pickup. As she drove away from Aiden’s city, Beth convinced herself she must give up the idea of his love. Forget another date.

Dare she imagine a life with him?

No. She’d have to put him out of her daydreams.

Barton would get out of jail, eventually. He’d find her again. And she would not endanger Aiden, no matter how much she loved him.

She’d lost everything on the earth that brought her pleasure: the hope of a relationship with Aiden, the joy of living in the woods, the companionship of Lakota.

The night sky was black above the lights of the interstate. Maybe that darkness contributed to her bleak thoughts. Life would surely look better in the morning.

Maybe she could have a life with Aiden, if God intended it.

 

****

 

The next day, after a shift at Frivolities, Beth’s tread was heavy on the vine-painted steps to the loft. She hadn’t been able to find the words to tell Aiden to forget about any kind of future relationship. She’d left him thinking they’d have another date.

“Lord, I’m mixed up again. Living for You is not an easy thing to do. I never gave much thought to my actions all those years when I didn’t listen to my conscience.”

She planned to ask Moselle if she considered the verse in John 15, when Jesus said, “I am the vine, you are the branches,” while she painted this ascending path.

Beth criticized her own behavior. She longed to abide in Jesus. To bear fruit for Him. Had she accomplished that by her talks with Aiden? Had the Lord placed her in Aiden’s life for the day of his salvation?

The rest of the verse, she set down to a mantra and planned to repeat it every morning upon rising. Apart from Me, you can do nothing.

Several days passed without incident. She had stopped wondering how Barton had kept from getting caught earlier. An officer told her he borrowed a buddy’s car, and ID, in Missouri. And he’d lived on the acreage where he’d worked.

Enough.

Beth finished up what she could do at the cabin. She’d painted the last cabin wall, and it felt good beyond reason. She had faced her fear of big men like Barton; she’d even hit him over the head. Though he was tucked away, he’d gotten free before. She made sure a weapon was within reach, if it was nothing more than a can of ant or wasp spray.

And I’m totally committed to accepting where I fit in Your plan, Lord: set apart and beautiful in Your sight.

Beth propped her elbows on her knees and cupped her hands in her fists. “I’m going to miss this little corner of the world outside Platteville,” she said to her lopsided shoe tree.

The day was too beautiful not to write something down. She hustled to her truck for her wolf journal. She began a new page under the heading Wolf Antics, which she had left after Lakota moved on, and wrote:

Christ said, “I have overcome.”

I feel as though I have, too, thanks to You, Lord. I do miss Lakota, but You are keeping him safe and presumably happy in his new environ.

Aiden knows his value in Your sight, Heavenly Father.

She contemplated the serenity. Getting comfortable at the picnic table, she penned:

 

Worship Where You Are

God’s divine design planted me in the country at this time of my life. I believe it’s my responsibility to sense the place where I am. Spring bursts into bloom after winter sleeps and I picture Jesus busting through linen wraps to escape the stench of death. Summer unfolds and I experience life all around me. I see no lies in nature, where only God’s truth abounds. His breath in the breeze kisses my soul, my spirit. And sensing His presence, I look down to see dirt, where God created Adam. I look up and see the sky, where Jesus will return for His bride. The songs of earth and sky, made by His spoken word, lift my spirit until I soar into praise. He is an awesome God. And I thank God I was a transplanted country girl, short as it’s been, where my heart and voice are free to surge forth into song—any time, night or day—I am free to worship where I am.

 

Beth looked up from her journal, and wiped off her tears. She rubbed the back of her neck, and massaged the tight muscles. She felt lighter-hearted when she headed back inside to pack up her supplies.

Grace surprised Beth when she stepped onto the porch with paint supplies in tow.

“Hi, Grace. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’m OK. I haven’t seen Lakota in a long time.”

“Oh, I didn’t get to say goodbye to him, either.”

“Is Lakota safe? Why did that bad man hurt him?”

Beth set the paint, roller, and pan on top of a bucket. “I don’t have an answer for that, honey. It’s often a mystery why people do what they do. I have to remind myself sometimes that we often don’t act like other people think we should.”

“I think moms and dads are supposed to want the best for us kids. They make mistakes if they don’t listen to what we want.”

“You are a smart girl. Daddies and mommies and all people make mistakes. Sometimes grown-ups get lost for awhile, searching for answers when times are tough. When they make bad things happen because their lives aren’t going well, that’s called sin. If God isn’t in their lives, they can turn bad, losing their way.”

“I heard about that on TV. A man called Jesus died on the cross for sin.”

“That’s so right, sweetheart. God loves us so much that He sent His only Son to pay a blood price for us. May I hug you?”

When the girl nodded, Beth put her hand on Grace’s opposite shoulder. She sighed a silent thank you to the Lord when Grace laid her head against Beth.

“Sometimes innocent children get in the way of those mistakes grown-ups make. Like you and me.”

Grace jerked away to look Beth in the face.

“That’s right, Grace. Someone I trusted hurt me when I was a girl. But I was older than you are now. And, I didn’t have anyone to help me. But you do. You have me.”

“Can I talk to you, Beth? Will you promise to not tell my dad so I don’t get in trouble?”

“I promise not to tell your dad.” But I can’t promise I won’t go to the authorities. “You can talk to me any time you want.”

Beth’s healing came to her as a thunderbolt. I’m not flawed! What happened to me enables me to understand the plight of others.

She turned that realization into a prayer.

I will love this volunteer job as an advocate, Lord. Please guide me to the best training available over the Internet. And lead me to just the right people to talk to in Lincoln. Thank You again for bringing Grace into my life.

She gave the little girl her undivided attention.