9

 

Sierra stepped down from her coach—well, coach bus, to be exact. She smirked at the silly analogy and hiked her purse farther up her shoulder. The driver fished her case from the luggage compartment and set it on the ground. She smiled at him and reached for the handle. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Have a nice day,” he mumbled as he stepped back onto the bus.

She took a deep breath and looked around. No castle was up ahead, but there was a white spire she could make out in the distance. And where the church was, the store stood a few hundred feet away. Her pulse hammered in her ears. What would Cole’s reaction be when he saw her?

“Sierra?” An incredulous voice called.

Melissa was hanging half out the window of her car. Her eyes grew wide and she jumped out of the car and wrapped Sierra in a bear hug. “It is you.” She dropped her arms. “What are you doing here?”

Sierra grinned and waved at Pastor Bill, who was looking a bit stunned in the driver’s seat. She wasn’t sure if it was because of her arrival or how fast his wife moved. She had the feeling it might be the second. “I’ve come back for a while.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

Another vehicle was coming down the road, so Pastor Bill moved his car through the intersection and pulled off onto the shoulder. When the vehicle passed, he got out and walked toward her. “Welcome back.” He wrapped her in a hug every bit as tight as Melissa’s.

“Thanks!”

“Need a lift?”

“You’re like my own fairy godparents. Just when I need you, you show up.”

“Who needs fairy godparents when the God of the universe knows the very hairs on your head?” Melissa laughed.

“Guess you got a point there.” Sierra was a bit sheepish. “I wanted to surprise you, but I didn’t consider that you might have loaned your apartment out to someone else. Would it still happen to be available? I’d love to stay there for a month.”

Pastor Bill reached for her case. “It’s been waiting for your return.”

Melissa wrapped her arm around Sierra’s, and they walked toward the car. So far, so good. Thank You, God for these friends and the warm welcome.

 



 

Back at her apartment, Sierra quickly unloaded her case and put on the tea kettle.

Melissa had brought over a few food items to hold her until she went to the store later. While she waited for the water to heat, she had two phone calls she wanted to make, to Cole and Mrs. Whitten. Mrs. Whitten’s would probably be quicker. She didn’t want to rush her conversation with Cole, so she decided to call her former employer. She dialed the number by heart.

“Hello.”

“Mrs. Whitten, it’s me, Sierra.” She pressed the phone against her shoulder so she had her hands free to open the teabag and pull the sugar and milk out.

“Sierra! Where are you?”

“I’m in Daviston.”

The line was quiet for a moment. “Really? When did you get back?”

“Just a few minutes ago.” The teakettle began to whistle so she turned off the burner and poured the steaming water into her cup. “How have you been, how’s the market going?”

“I’m doing just fine…”

Did Sierra imagine it or did Mrs. Whitten’s voice seem a bit strained?

“Market’s doing well. The plants you nurtured are producing in abundance this year.”

“I’m glad it’s working out well.” She put the kettle back on the stovetop and pulled out a chair at the table. “Do you need a hand? I’ll be around for four weeks or so.”

Again, quiet. Something was a bit off. “Mrs. Whitten, are you OK?”

“Yes, yes. Have you spoken to Colton yet?”

Sierra’s stomach churned. “Ah, not yet, but soon.”

“I think you should call him. No, better yet, why don’t you go see him at the store, and then we’ll talk later.”

“Umm, sure. I guess I’ll catch up with you later, then.”

“Sierra...”

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you’re home.”

Home. What a lovely sound that one word made. Could Daviston eventually be that for her?

A knock interrupted her musing. “Be right there.” She called out as she made her way across the room. Flinging the door back, the smile wilted off her face as Clara’s cherry red, long fake fingernails drummed up against the doorway.

“It was you I saw. You have a lot of nerve coming back here, I’ll give you that.”

Sierra’s breath caught in the back of her throat. Like a wave tearing down a sandcastle, the warm feeling of home rode out with the tide. “What do you want, Clara?”

“Only what is mine...and you can’t have him.”

“Cole?”

Clara rolled her eyes. “Of course.” Her once sultry voice took on a much different, shrill sound. “At least you finally admit it.”

Sierra wanted to slam the door and wipe the grin off the woman’s face. When she had first seen Cole with Clara, she had wondered if he might have feelings for her, but after speaking to him and living through that agonizing period of doubt, she knew it wasn’t true. From Clara’s nails to her voice, the woman lived in a world of make-believe. Sierra almost felt sorry for her. “Cole’s not a thing to be owned, but a person to be loved.”

Clara lowered the lids of her eyes until they were just slits. “Don’t trifle with me. You have no idea what I can do to you...or anyone else I see fit to ruin in this town.”

Unease snaked its way up Sierra’s spine. This was not the homecoming she had anticipated.

 



 

Cole stocked the shelf and wondered for the thousandth time how things got muddled so quickly. The town, thanks to the worship team, Mrs. Whitten, Pastor Bill and Melissa, had finally begun to come around when Sierra left. Now, all of the popular opinion had gone south in a short time under Clara’s influence. He wondered how he had ever seen anything attractive about her.

“Cole, do you have any more of those cinnamon buns you had last week?”

Cole glanced up and smiled. “Pastor Bill, I was just thinking of you in a roundabout way.”

“Funny, ‘cause I was just thinking of you, too.” He raised and lowered his eyebrows. “And those cinnamon buns.”

Cole laughed. “I just so happen to have a new batch. Hang on a second and I’ll get you one.” Cole made his way to the front and pulled a pastry out of the glass case. He put it in a bag and set it on the counter. “On the house.”

Pastor Bill titled his head to the side and studied him for a moment. “Oh, are you celebrating something?”

“No, should I be?”

Pastor Bill shrugged. “I was just wondering if you heard from Sierra lately.”

“I spoke to her a day or two ago.” Cole tapped the front of his shoe against the floor. “I didn’t tell her about,” he looked up at the ceiling and back again,” you know.” He sighed. “I just don’t get how the town could turn their backs on her again so quickly.”

Pastor reached for his sweet roll. “Why not? They did that to Jesus, too. One day He’s hailed as a king, and next thing you know they’re yelling, ‘crucify Him.’”

Cole shivered. “Ah, thanks...but that wasn’t the reminder I was looking for.”

Pastor Bill wrapped a large hand behind his neck and sighed. “I didn’t mean the endings need to be the same. I was only trying to point out how fickle we humans can be.”

“What do you think will happen when she finds out?”

Pastor glanced over his shoulder. “I guess we’ll know soon enough.”

Cole followed Pastor Bill’s gaze and rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. “Sierra! Wow, I didn’t think you could get away yet.”

She lifted a slender hand and waved. “Hey, Cole.” She nodded to Pastor Bill and grinned. “Are you trying to spoil my surprise?”

He held up his cinnamon bun in defense. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Melissa would have my head if I did.” Pastor Bill looked between the two of them. “Well, I guess I’ll let you two get caught up, then.” With a nod to Cole he softly said, “I’ll be praying for you.”

Cole’s gut clenched. “Thanks. I have the feeling I’ll need it.”

Sierra’s wavy hair cascaded down her shoulders and rested against the multi-colored, flowered print of her blouse. Her eyes shone with an inner light. She was stunning and he loved her. He sucked in a breath. He knew he was attracted to her from the very beginning, but this was different. This was the ‘til-death-do-us part kind of love. Why had it taken him so long to figure that out, and what would he do about it now that he had?

“My plans changed.” Sierra grinned. “The person I was substituting for came back quicker than I expected.”

He rounded the corner and opened his arms. She walked right into them and rested her head against his chest where she fit perfectly. He inhaled the sweet smell of the light fragrance she wore, her shampoo, and a scent that was uniquely hers. “It’s good to have you back.”

She looked up. “It’s good to be here,” she said softly.

Mere inches apart, he dipped his head a bit closer. What would she do if he kissed her?

Someone cleared his throat, and Cole suddenly remembered where he was.

Sierra took a step back and waved to his employee. “Oh, hey, Sam. How’ve you been?”

“Can’t complain.” He shifted from one foot to another looking decidedly uncomfortable. “Ah, boss, I noticed Clara’s car...”

The bell over the door sounded and Clara appeared, her gaze sweeping the store, first looking at Sierra, and then at Cole.

Sierra’s breath hitched as Clara raised her chin in battle. “So, this is your decision, then?”

Cole took a step closer to Sierra and placed his arm around her shoulder. “Let it go, Clara.”

The air in the room became volatile.

“You’ve made your decision, and I’ve made mine.” She turned and stalked out the door.

Silence filled the room.

“I know she doesn’t like me, but I feel like I’m missing something here.”

Cole resigned himself to the inevitable. “Sam, hold down the fort for me, OK?”

“You got it, boss.”

Cole reached for Sierra’s hand and led her to his office. “We need to talk.”

 



 

“She what?” Sierra was flabbergasted.

Clara had threatened Pastor Bill.

To lash out at her was one thing, but how could Clara hurt Melissa and Pastor Bill like that? If she were Cinderella, the clock had definitely stuck midnight. But she wasn’t. There was no glass slipper to drop, not even a kiss, just a promise of one in Cole’s eyes earlier.

She ran toward the door.

Cole called after her.

Sierra didn’t slow down. She prayed he wouldn’t follow her as she ran all the way over to the church and up into the sanctuary. “God, why are you letting this happen? I came to bring peace, but I’ve only brought hurt to those I care most about.” She despised her situation. What a fool I was to ever hope I could live a “happily-ever-after” type of life. “I love him, Lord. Help me.” She cried out and dropped her head into her hands. She didn’t know where to go, but she had only one choice. For the sake of Colton, the love she held in her heart for him, the pastor’s family, and a few other dear friends, it was time to leave Daviston for good.

Pastor Bill eased into the pew next to her and held out a tissue. “Want to talk?”

She shook her head. “Not really.”

He took a deep breath and turned to look out the window. “OK, mind if I do, then?” He took her silence as invitation. “It’s through the tough times that we have the opportunities to grow better or bitter. It’s a choice we, as individuals, need to make.”

She blew her nose. “Do you know what Clara’s doing?”

He had a sad look on his face. “I do. But I keep reminding myself that Christ died for her, too. Strange as it may sound, this isn’t taking God by surprise, and He can accomplish His purposes through it.”

“I feel like He doesn’t even care.”

“Abiding in Christ isn’t about feelings. If you let your circumstance dictate your direction, you will get nothing but trouble.” He pulled the hymnal out from the rack in front of them. “You know, one time you were explaining how violin music is made by friction on the strings. In the same way, God can make beauty from friction in our lives, through a soul surrendered and reconciled to Him.”

“I’d rather be the musician than the instrument.”

He gently smiled. “There are days when we all think that.” He flipped through the pages. “Ah, here’s a very old hymn that I have come to love that reminds me that I can’t do it on my own. It’s called I need thee every hour by Annie S. Hawks. “Listen to this.” He began to sing.

 

I need Thee every hour, most gracious Lord;

No tender voice like Thine can peace afford.

 

I need Thee, O I need Thee;

Every hour I need Thee;

O bless me now, my Savior,

I come to Thee.

 

I need Thee every hour, stay Thou nearby;

Temptations lose their power when Thou art nigh.

 

I need Thee every hour, in joy or pain;

Come quickly and abide, or life is in vain.

 

I need Thee every hour; teach me Thy will;

And Thy rich promises in me fulfill.

 

I need Thee every hour, most Holy One;

O make me Thine indeed,Thou blessèd Son.

 

“The threat of temptations, joy or pain, nothing can remove God’s hand in our lives. I don’t know how this whole situation will end, for you or for me, but I do know that in Christ, we—you—can stand.”

“Thank you, I needed to hear that.” She wiped the tears away and stood. “I’m leaving Daviston. Can I take this book with me?”

He studied her. “Of course. Are you sure that’s what He wants you to do?”

“I really do think so, but I’ll keep praying about it.”

Pastor Bill nodded. “Good. I will, too.”