Chapter Twelve

The parsonage kitchen was so small, Kate and Paul did more than one quick dance step to avoid collision during dinner preparation. They were used to working together, but back in San Antonio, they hadn’t needed traffic signals to open the refrigerator without bumping someone back into the entry hall.

Kate giggled the first three times Paul rounded the corner at the same time she bent over to grab a dish from the cupboard. The fourth time wasn’t so funny. He was carrying a platter with a freshly grilled whole chicken from the outside grill when she backed into him, her arms full of salad ingredients. Paul gasped. She screeched. The chicken flew into the air. The head of iceberg lettuce bounced across the linoleum. Tomatoes and radishes rolled.

At the same time, Paul skated across the room, platter still in the palm of his hand, and somehow managed to rescue the flying bird before it hit the floor.

A twinkle in her eye, Kate quipped, “I guess we might say you caught a fowl.”

Grinning, he set the platter on the counter and stooped to help her retrieve the vegetables. “And I guess you could say we already tossed the salad.” They both laughed.

Their eyes met over the head of lettuce as he handed it to her. “You know, Katie, I don’t think I’ve ever loved you more.”

She tilted her head, enjoying the romantic look in his eyes. And trying not to think about the pain in her arthritic knee. “Even here in the middle of our tiny little kitchen?”

He helped her stand. “Especially here in our tiny little kitchen.” He took in the worn linoleum, the oddly crooked painted cupboards, the old refrigerator with inner workings that sounded like a 747 racing down the runway. Then he met her gaze again. “You’ve given up so much. But I’ve never heard a word of complaint.”

He didn’t know she woke in the night, aching for home. Not for the material things. Truly, she was finding they didn’t matter as much as she first thought they did. No, she ached for friends and family and, simply, the familiar surroundings of San Antonio where she had been born and raised. She ached for lost time, time alone when she could pursue her passion for her stained-glass artistry. But since they arrived, she hadn’t found a spare minute to work on it—even if she had been able to find her boxes of supplies.

“I know this hasn’t been easy,” Paul said. “But I just wanted you to know how much it means to me—and how much I love you for it.”

She smiled and touched his cheek. “As long as you keep catching those fowls and I keep tossing salads, we’ll make a good team.”

“Just as we always have,” he said and kissed her.

It seemed they had been married forever, yet this man hadn’t lost the ability to make her heart dance. She was still smiling as she placed the lettuce in a colander and turned on the water to rinse the leaves. Then she rinsed the tomatoes one at a time, dropping them into the colander with the lettuce.

“Sometimes I think about all we had at Riverbend and how easy something like this would be to handle. Not the emotional part—that would be devastating,” Paul said. He picked up a tea towel, dried his hands, then slung it over his shoulder and leaned back against the counter. There was a half smile at the corner of his mouth. “But the financial struggles. There was a lot of money in that church. Wealthy donors who gave from the bottom of their hearts. Generous people who loved God and wanted to see his work go forward.”

Kate tore the lettuce into bite-size chunks and dropped it into the spinner. “The church got whatever it wanted.”

He nodded slowly. “That’s it exactly. If we wanted a pipe organ, we got the best. Something that would fill that huge sanctuary and cause hearts to soar.”

“Or if we started a building program,” Kate added, “it was funded before the first bulldozer rumbled onto the site.” She reached for the cutting board and a tomato.

“The biggest, the best—nothing stopped us from getting what we thought we needed,” Paul reflected.

She tossed the chopped tomatoes into the salad bowl on top of the lettuce and reached for the radishes. “Does it bother you that we don’t have the same donors here? That everyday seems to be a bigger struggle than the last? And that even now, we don’t know if we’ll have the money to rebuild?”

Paul studied the paint-splattered pattern on the linoleum for a moment before answering. “Honestly? Yeah. It weighs heavy on my heart. My prayer is that I’ll know when the time comes how best to meet the challenge.” His expression softened. “That I’ll be up to it.”

Kate put down the knife, wiped her hands, and reached for his hand. “I have no doubt about that, Paul. When God called you to this place, he knew what he was doing. He equipped you for this struggle. You will be up to the challenge—you are up to the challenge.”

He reached for an avocado and cut it in two, pitted it, and as he sliced it over the salad, continued, “I could use a good dose of wisdom right now. You want to drive to Chattanooga with me tomorrow to visit Nehemiah?”

“As long as we’re back in time for choir practice,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

A hint of a smile returned. “Ah yes, choir practice at Renee’s.”

“I still wonder why she mentioned my voice to Sam.”

“Because you have a pretty voice.”

“Not that pretty. I croak on the high notes.”

“That’s why you’re an alto.”

“Middle C has even brought on a croak. I’ll have to mime the words.”

“Hey, you,” he said, grinning. “There’s another reason I love you.”

“And that would be my creaky, squeaky voice?”

“No, it’s because you’re a good sport. You could have said no.”

Kate took a deep breath. “The more I’m around our parishioners, the more likely someone will slip and tell me something I need to know. Choir practice will be a good beginning.”

They went back to work on dinner, still dance-stepping around each other. Paul carved the chicken while Kate whisked together an olive-oil-and-rice-vinegar dressing, then tossed the salad.

“About that organ,” he said after a few minutes. “There are those odd little moments when I think, ‘Boy, how I would love to add a pipe organ to the building plans.’”

“Somehow I knew the subject wasn’t finished.” Kate laughed and reached for the refrigerator door. He danced out of her way. “Or a big screen for projecting hymns and PowerPoint presentations?”

“Ah, you know me well.”

“That I do, Pastor Hanlon. That I do.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “And because you know me so well, you can guess what I’d like to do with the money we save by not putting your plan into action.”

He popped a radish in his mouth. “Hmmph,” he said as he chewed. “Has to do with cooking. Kitchen. Entertaining.” He popped another radish.

“Close,” she said. “Food, yes. Kitchen, yes. Entertaining... ?” She made a rocking gesture with her right hand. “Seriously, honey, I have a big dream for the church kitchen.” She smiled. “Or maybe I should say a dream for a big kitchen.”

“We’ve got to build everything exactly as it was. Eli has the blueprints from the old church. He knows an architect who’ll update them once we get the go-ahead from the board. To keep the costs down, everything will stay the same.”

“My dream has to do with a kitchen and fellowship hall big enough to supply meals for those who are having a hard time making ends meet and need a helping hand.”

Paul’s smile was soft. “I would love nothing better. It’s a matter of money.”

“And prayer,” she added.

AFTER SUPPER KATE AND PAUL took the Lexus over to the site of the fire. As they drove by the creek, Kate could see beams from flashlights crisscrossing the church property and a few shadowy figures milling about. Apparently, word had spread about the lumber delivery. Who would have known the event would be such a draw? Kate laughed; she and Paul had come to watch just like everybody else. Were they already getting acclimated to small-town living?

Eli came over to greet them as they exited the car. He pointed with his flashlight beam to the lumber, which was stacked on what once was the parking lot. They followed him over to have a look. “High grade,” Eli said proudly. “Redwood. Can’t beat the price either.”

The other shadowy figures materialized into Livvy and Danny Jenner, Joe Tucker, and Sam Gorman as they came closer to join the conversation.

“Did you hear about the latest offer for the property?” Livvy said to Kate.

Even in the dim ambient light of the flashlights, Kate could see the concern in her eyes. “I did,” she said. “It gives one pause, doesn’t it?”

Eli overheard the question. “They came to me. Practically offered us the sun and moon if we’d sell them this land.” He paused, looking back toward the burned-out hulk where the church once stood. “I don’t know how you all feel—and, of course, I can’t make a decision on my own—but I’d like to tell them to go jump in the creek.”

An almost imperceptible sadness crossed his face. It appeared then disappeared so quickly, Kate thought she had imagined it.

“I can’t see putting up a new building anywhere but here,” he continued. “I was raised in this church. Until the week he died, my grandfather rang the church bell every Sunday morning. No matter what. When he couldn’t drive anymore, he walked, even in the snow. It just wouldn’t seem right hearing that bell come from any other place but here by the creek.”

“My gut reaction is to agree with you,” Danny said, “but from a practical standpoint, we may not have a choice.” He paused, looking every bit the professorial math teacher he was. His logic was right on target. Even so, something felt so wrong about it.

Paul turned to the others, stroking his chin, his expression thoughtful. “Sometimes we have to step out in faith,” he said. “I know that financially we’d perhaps be better off selling this land to the developers, taking their money and rebuilding elsewhere. But in the short time Kate and I have been here, we’ve seen firsthand the incredibly strong faith of this congregation. We’ve also seen what this place—not just the building but the setting, the land, even the creek view—means to each individual and family. In some cases, generations of the same family have worshipped here.

“When you consider the births, deaths, marriages, anniversary celebrations through the decades—and yes, even Eli’s grandfather ringing the bell—you can only conclude that this very ground is sacred.”

Silence fell. Kate looked around in wonder. The rushing sound of the creek carried like music toward them on an almost balmy Indian-summer breeze. Sacred? Oh yes. Kate’s eyes stung with tears.

Paul continued, “I think about those first members of Faith Briar and the sacrifices they made to put up a building here. I’ve been doing some research at the library, pulling up old microfiche accounts. I found out that this core group of only seven or eight miners scraped together all they had—and in some cases, it was little more than a widow’s mite—and they bought this land.

“These were men with families, and obligations that go with them. But they gave of their time and money because they knew it was what God wanted them to do. Their children needed a Sunday school. Their wives needed a place of worship. These men stood before God and said, in essence, ‘Hey, we’re your guys.’”

He grinned. “They arrived here, where we’re standing, before they reported to the mine—no small feat, because their workday started at dawn. And they came back at night after their shifts were over, mining lamps attached to their caps so they could see to work after sundown.

“I think about the dream they had for this holy ground, I think about how hard they worked to fulfill that dream, and honestly, folks, I can’t imagine building anywhere else.”

There were murmurs of agreement.

Danny cleared his throat. “I say we spread the word,” he said. “We’ll rebuild right here, no matter what it takes. No matter how long. No matter the sacrifice.”

Paul’s gaze met Kate’s. She saw compassion, commitment, and wisdom in his eyes, and though it was difficult to tell in the dark, she thought she saw tears. She thought about how far they had come—from the comforts of San Antonio and the large congregation that wanted for nothing to this place of sacrifice. They had so little to work with, yet never had God’s grace seemed so abundant.

“Amen,” she whispered.

THERE WAS A MESSAGE on their answering machine when they arrived home. It was Skip Spencer. He sounded excited. “Missus Hanlon,” he said. “The arsonist wants to talk to you again. He said to call and tell you he’s ready to talk.”

“Do you mind going to Chattanooga alone?” Kate asked Paul a few minutes later. “I should go see Jed first thing in the morning.”

“I agree. Do you want me to come with you?”

She shook her head. “He might not open up if someone else is there. But I do want him to meet you as soon as possible.”

THE PHONE RANG in the middle of the night. Kate squinted at her bedside clock: 1:46. She reached for the phone, hoping it wasn’t an emergency with one of the children.

“Mrs. Hanlon?”

“Yes,” she said groggily.

“It’s Eli.”

“Oh yes. Eli. What’s wrong?”

“Can I talk to Pastor Paul?” He sounded frantic. “Please. And fast.”

“Of course.” Frowning, she handed the receiver to Paul.

He listened for a moment, then said, “Eli, it’s okay. It’s a setback, but we’ll recover. God won’t abandon us now.”

Paul fell silent again as the young man went on. Then he said, “Call your contacts in the morning. See if they have any way of tracing the shipment. Find out when we can place another order.”

He paused, listening, then said, “The bulldozer?”

The two men talked for another few minutes, then Paul returned the receiver to the cradle. He swept his fingers through his hair, then let out a deep sigh.

“We’ve had some vandalism,” he said. “The entire shipment of lumber was stolen tonight. And the bulldozer’s gone. Eli is frantic. The ’dozer, as he calls it, belonged to a friend.”

“Oh, Paul,” Kate said, reaching for his hand. “What next?”