14

 

Rejuvenated, Shana consulted her thesis outline and orderly notes. It was flowing the way writing should. After a few hours she bundled up and went onto the deck. The sordid tales she’d documented left a sour taste in her mouth. Then her own predicament, the one she’d avoided facing earlier, hit her full force. She needed God’s wide open spaces.

An invisible stranger had intruded and upset her life. First-hand, she identified with other innocent citizens who were affected by another’s crime. Knowing facts intellectually was different from experiencing them for real. She cornered personal thoughts and returned to her laptop, where she again set to work.

At bedtime, it took a while for her mind and body to quiet. She decided to concentrate on Creighton and how he made her feel.

With morning came cold, which felt like frost in the room. Shana grabbed socks and shoes, then a sweatshirt. She remembered the heater Creighton had mentioned, and found it just where he said it would be, stored in the pantry. She rolled it into the kitchen. The oil within the old-fashioned radiator-looking thing soon bubbled and popped.

Instead of coffee, she heated cranberry juice in the microwave and added a spoonful of honey. She sat at the table close to the heater and enjoyed the view, sipping her drink. A cottontail rabbit hopped into a bunch of tall brush across the creek.

Over a bowl of oatmeal, Shana turned the fragile pages of Vera Rice’s Bible. She’d have to ask Valerie or Creigh how to go about this reading of scripture. Should she continue with the first chapters in Genesis and go all the way through? She knew from her father’s theology classes at university, that there was a lot of meaty historical information in the first few books. But, was it practical for today’s world?

“Well, here goes.” She closed the Bible, and then opened it at random. The book of Romans. But it was tough to follow. Next source, the Internet. A few clicks and she had a reading program for new believers. It was a long time before she noticed the remnants of oatmeal had dried in the bowl, and a ring of red congealed in her cup.

“Hello, the cabin.”

She jumped at Creighton’s greeting. She’d been sitting so long that her leg felt like lead. As feeling returned, Shana hopped to the door in a rhythm that matched Creighton’s footfalls on the deck. She slid the bar and opened the door.

“Did I get you up?”

“Uh, no, I just haven’t—” She stepped back. “I lost all track of time. Come in.” Shana closed the door and continued. “I got so caught up trying to make sense of reading the Bible as a newbie…” she glanced at the clock. “Wow! Ten o’clock.”

“You don’t have to explain a thing. If I can help make a suggestion,” he nodded towards the open book on her table. “The Gospels make an easy place to start reading.”

“The Gospels? Oh, right. I have a guide here from the Internet.”

“It probably points out Matthew, Mark, Luke, and especially John. The beginning of the New Testament is called the Gospels.”

“Thanks for the suggestion.” She smoothed the hem of her sweatshirt, now too warm in the cabin.

“Since it’s so gloomy and chilly outside, I came down to see if you’re up to our next Scrabble game.”

“You’re on.” She lifted and rotated her shoulders to release the kinks. “What time?”

“Turn around.” Creighton began to massage her neck and shoulders, his thumbs gravitated right to the knots. “How about after two? I’ve got a chicken boiling and we can have chicken and dumplings.”

Shana sighed with anticipation at the thought of comfort food, prepared by Creighton. Her tight muscles gave way under his ministrations, and became as loose as noodles. “You make dumplings?” she finally managed.

“I cook ‘em, but they come from the grocery freezer.” His thumbs on her neck above the sweatshirt thrilled down her spine.

“Think I’ll change that old adage to say ‘the way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach.’”

“I don’t know about the heart. But at least you think about food now. A week ago you didn’t.”

“A lot has changed since a week ago.” She reached for Creighton’s hand. “I don’t think I’m the same person.”

“You aren’t.” He held both her hands in his, and squeezed. “God has done that. And this is just the beginning.”