Chapter Two

It’s Faith Briar,” Paul said. His tone was filled with a sadness Kate knew reached deep into his heart. She followed his gaze to the top of the steeple as it became completely engulfed in flames.

A loud crack was followed by a dull clanging thud as both steeple and bell toppled.

Around Paul and Kate rose cries, deep and sorrowful, almost as if a death had just occurred.

Kate took Paul’s hand and squeezed it. After meeting her gaze briefly, he took a deep breath, then turned to the people standing around them.

“Please, I need your attention for a moment,” he said, raising his voice to be heard above the cacophony of spraying water and the shouts of the firefighters. “Are any of you part of the Faith Briar congregation?”

Slowly, people turned toward them. At first they frowned, then a slow dawning of recognition showed on a few faces.

An older man with a thin, wiry build moved slowly toward Paul and Kate. “You’re our new pastor,” he said, leaning on a walking stick. He was bald except for a fringe of white hair above his ears. “I met you when you flew out to look us over.”

Paul reached out to shake his hand. “Yes, I remember. It’s good to see you again.” He turned to Kate. “And this is my wife, Kate.”

“Name’s Joe Tucker,” he said. “Welcome to Copper Mill.” He cleared his throat, his eyes watering, and turned to look at the still-flaming building. Others had gathered round now, and everyone seemed to be talking at once.

Joe held up his walking stick to get their attention. “If you didn’t get to meet him before, let me introduce the man God knew we would need at this very hour.” He gestured to Paul, then turned back to the clusters of parishioners standing nearby. “This is our new shepherd,” he said, blinking rapidly, “though it seems his flock is in great need of a—” He choked up and couldn’t finish.

Paul stepped up and patted Joe on the back. “Folks, no matter how dark this day seems, God is with us.”

“But we’ve lost everything! I mean, look at it. There’s nothing left.” A petite middle-aged woman shook her head slowly. A man standing next to her circled his arm around her shoulders. Two teenage boys—one looking big enough to play pro football—stood nearby, staring at the scene across the street, seeming too stunned to speak.

A man who appeared to be in his early thirties was standing a few feet away from Kate. He stared at the fire in disbelief, tears visible behind thick eyeglasses that magnified his eyes. He was trembling. “What will we do?” he said, then his voice dropped to a whisper. “This church...not this beautiful little church.”

“I can tell you what we’ll do,” another woman said. Even though she appeared to be in her early seventies, she was wearing heels and a faux leopard-skin coat. She cuddled a tiny bug-eyed Chihuahua in her arms, keeping her chin high and her shoulders back, as if taking personal charge of the tragedy’s aftermath. She glanced at Paul and Kate briefly, almost as if they didn’t matter, then turned back to the gathering crowd. “As a member of the church board, I say we march right over to the fire captain and ask how this could have happened.”

“This is not the ti—” Paul began.

She shushed him and kept talking, raising her voice even louder. “We need to find out why this happened and place the blame where the blame belongs. We need to examine the evidence, find out who saw the fire break out, and if they noticed anyone suspicious around.”

This time Paul spoke more forcefully. “There’s no need for that right now. The fire department will look into it, I’m sure. And local authorities—the sheriff and his staff—will launch their own investigation.”

The woman dismissed Paul’s words with a flutter of her French-manicured fingernails and, high heels clicking, started toward the fire chief near one of the trucks. “Yoo-hoo,” she called out as she sidestepped puddles and stretched-out hoses. “Yoo-hoo...”

“You’ll have to forgive her,” Joe Tucker said. “She sometimes acts as if Faith Briar belongs to no one but her. She has a good heart, but...” he began, then obviously thought better of what he was about to say. “Her name’s Renee Lambert.” He smiled as if he might actually be fond of the woman. “And her mutt’s name is Kisses. She never goes anywhere without him.”

The petite woman who had spoken earlier smiled at Kate and Paul. “This wasn’t the welcome we’d planned.” She looked across the street at the clouds of smoke. “We were going to have a luncheon for you in the fellowship hall tomorrow.”

Then she smiled suddenly and reached out her hand to Kate. “I’m afraid this has made us all forget our manners. My name is Livvy Jenner.” She glanced over her shoulder. “And this is my husband, Danny. Our sons, Justin and James. We’re members of Faith Briar...” Her voice caught. “I’m sorry. It’s just that this church means everything to us...”—she gestured to the silent parishioners around her—“to us all. To those of us raised in Copper Mill, and that’s most of us here, it’s the only church we’ve ever known. Danny and I were married in this church. He’s on the church board, and I work in the nursery on Sunday mornings. And now...this.”

Kate squeezed Livvy’s hand. How could she find the words that would comfort her? In a time like this, words were inadequate. Finally, she said simply, “We’ve come to help, to do everything we can.”

By now the word had spread that Paul and Kate had arrived, and several more people joined the earlier group to meet them. After they had been introduced around once more, Paul stepped forward and raised his voice so all could hear.

“There is a passage in Isaiah 61 that seems appropriate on this dark day. I think it might bring us comfort to hear it.” He pulled his pocket Bible from his jacket and opened it. The crowd fell silent, except for a few sounds of soft weeping.

“To all who mourn in Israel, he will give beauty for ashes, joy instead of mourning, praise instead of despair. For the LORD has planted them like strong and graceful oaks for his own glory.”

Compassion filled Paul’s clear blue eyes as he gazed at the despairing crowd in front of him.

“We mourn today, my friends,” he said. “But God’s promise is this: The ashes you see now will someday be exchanged for something of exquisite beauty, your mourning exchanged for joy beyond measure. That is our hope—he is our hope, and we must cling to his promises. We don’t know how it will happen, or even when...but consider this: God has planted you like strong and graceful oaks here in this place. He will give you the strength, the stamina, to get through this tragedy.”

By now the firefighters had subdued the worst of the flames, but all that was left was a charred, burnt-out hulk of a building and a wet, smoldering pile of ashes and embers.

“And I can tell you this,” Paul continued. “Faith Briar couldn’t be more loved—by you or by our Lord.”

As Paul spoke, Kate noticed a middle-aged man sidling closer as if to hear better. By the cast of his shoulders, he seemed broken down by life. His grayish brown hair was thin and collar length. He wore a brown wool plaid shirt, the collar turned up as if to protect his neck from the cold. He met her eyes briefly before turning away. There was something in his expression that haunted her.

She turned her attention back to Paul, whose voice was filled with both sorrow and love for his new flock. “Keep these words in your heart, dear friends. In the dark days ahead, remember: God will give you beauty for ashes, and the oil of joy instead of mourning. We need to remember this promise even as—”

Renee Lambert hollered “Yoo-hoo,” interrupting him as she started back across the street in her high heels, clutching the Chihuahua. “Listen up, everyone,” she cried. “I was right.”

Murmurs rose in the crowd as Renee clicked her heels closer, skirting the puddles again before stepping up onto the curb. The Chihuahua’s big eyes looked soulful, his oversized ears flopping with each of Renee’s tottering steps.

Kate exchanged a quizzical glance with Paul.

“I just heard it from Deputy Spencer himself—” Renee said, then she interrupted herself, staring solemnly at the smoldering ashes. “Our bell...” she choked, clutching her hand to her bosom. “Our beautiful historic bell...it’s covered in mud and debris.” She looked up at the crowd helplessly. “I have a special place in my heart for the old thing...”

“We all do,” Danny Jenner said, his voice raspy with emotion. “We all do. And I promise you, we’ll keep it safe. We can’t lose the bell too.”

Renee nodded.

“Renee,” Livvy said. “You were about to tell us something?”

Renee brightened considerably. “Oh yes. My news,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “I heard it from the deputy himself: It’s arson!”