Even before they met in the common area of Woodland Church, Kiara knew Pastor Ken was back in town, following a month-long sabbatical to participate in a Christian outreach and mission program.
He’d been doing such things a lot during the past couple years—ever since his wife Barb passed away. He had spent weeks in the far reaches of Michigan’s upper peninsula working with impoverished families and assisting their far-removed charitable organizations. During the winter months, he had spent countless hours at homeless shelters and soup kitchens around metro Detroit.
This past excursion had been his longest yet, however—a full month away from Woodland. Associate Pastor Ben McCallum always performed admirably, but the heart of Woodland Church beat strongest within the soul of its Pastor, Kenneth Lucerne. For almost a dozen years now—ever since his ordination, according to Daveny—Woodland was his home. Kiara often wondered if that wasn’t the reason why in recent times being at the helm of the church seemed difficult for him. After all, at thirty-five, he was far too young to have suffered through the terrible life-quake of becoming a widower.
Despite it all, Kiara gave him tremendous credit for natural charisma, and nothing lessened the impact of being in his presence once again.
Short brown hair, softly waved, framed a face that featured a strong, squared jaw and a pair of warm brown eyes that searched the faces of today’s attendees, drawing them in one by one as he preached.
Kiara included.
Before she knew it, his gaze tagged hers. A slight quirk of his lips let her know she’d been busted for staring.
“Where there's love, there is self-sacrifice,” Ken said, walking the length of the front line of pews. Kiara shook free of distraction and listened. “There’s a giving over, one to the other. A surrender. By that I don't just mean the surrender of time, or of giving up a few hours...right now probably more than a few hours...of sleep to soothe the cries of a newborn baby.” Ken smiled at Daveny and Collin who sat next to her. He slid his hand tenderly against Jeffrey's cheek. “What I mean by surrender is sacrifice. Love can’t grow into place without self-surrender. If either withholds the self, love cannot exist.”
Ken continued. “You know what? Sacrifice gets a bad rap. Sacrifice evokes the image and emotion of denial, of setting aside something we wish for. That's not the case here. When we speak of sacrifice in this instance, it involves nurturing and seeing to the needs of a newborn, sometimes as we set aside our own wants and needs. It’s selfless. We give and teach as a baby becomes a toddler, and yet again, as that child grows to adulthood beneath the protective wings of a loving parent and family. Furthermore, those sacrifices aren’t without benefit. For example? What a blessing, to witness the good that comes from watching a newborn grow into a self-sufficient being who remains, always, a part of our hearts and lives. Ultimately though, our children reach independence. When that happens, a different kind of surrender takes place. A release of the ones we love to the fullness of life—knowing in our hearts that the unchanging truth of God’s ultimate shepherding always stays in place.”
The sermon concluded a short time later, and Ken invited the Edwards family to gather around a baptismal font stationed to the right of the altar. Kiara followed behind Daveny. Once everyone was in place, Jeffrey’s christening blanket was removed. Then, clothed only in a cloth diaper, he was handed to Pastor Ken.
Ken offered introductory blessings and a prayer before holding him over the warmed, gurgling water of the font. “Jeffrey Lance Edwards, the Christian community of Woodland welcomes you with great joy. I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”
As he spoke, Pastor Ken dipped Jeffrey into the water three times. The family gathered in close and a few flashes went off, recording the moment. Swaddling Jeffrey in fresh, white linen adorned by a vivid red cross, and lifting the baby carefully, Pastor Ken walked the main aisle of the church in a ceremonious presentation to the parish of its newest member. Chills of pure joy skimmed against Kiara’s skin as piano music swelled and the congregation chimed in with a sung chorus of “Alleluia.”
Tears filled her eyes and spilled slowly down her cheeks. She looked over at Daveny, who watched the proceedings and glowed with happiness; her eyes sparkled with moisture as well and Collin tucked his arm around her waist, drawing her tight to his side. They both looked so proud, so fulfilled. Kiara rejoiced deeply for her dearest friends and their newborn son—named in part for Collin’s late brother.
When Ken returned to the baptismal font, he handed Jeffrey to Daveny, but his gaze settled on Kiara’s at the moment a fresh trickle of tears fell free. She dashed them away fast. It was time to leave services temporarily so that Jeffrey could be dressed in his baptismal garments.
Before returning to the proceedings, however, Ken passed by and discreetly pressed an item into her right hand. A soft, snow-white handkerchief. He touched her with a smile that made her muscles go weak.
****
Seeking a few moments of peaceful meditation following services, Kiara ducked back into the church. It would take a while for the crowds to thin, for the Edwards family to accept the multitude of congratulations and admiring comments.
The idea prompted a smile and a sense of contentment on behalf of her friends. Daveny and Collin could make even the most jaded person believe in the power of love all over again.
Which became part of Kiara’s quandary at the moment.
She longed to taste that kind of happiness, but trying to find it always seemed to end her up in tight, complex emotional tangles. Like the situation she faced right now with her most current male admirer…
“You coming, Kiara?”
The summons startled her. Kiara turned when she felt Daveny’s hand come to rest on her shoulder. She hadn’t even heard her friend approach—testimony to the degree of distraction she fought. “Yeah, I am. Sorry.”
“No worries, sweetie. Just wondered about you is all.” Daveny sat next to her with a sigh. “OK, so the pudgy ankles are gone, the waistline is starting to resemble that of a normal human being again, but I’m here to tell you; Ken wasn’t kidding. Boy, does sleep deprivation take it out of you.”
Kiara grinned. “I slept in until eight thirty this morning.”
“Wench.”
“Stop snarling. I may have slept through the night, but I don’t have a beautiful baby boy to tend to. And I certainly didn’t wake up next to a man the likes of Collin Edwards.”
“Was it Andrew, perhaps?” Daveny asked tentatively.
“No.” The reply was flat and lifeless.
Daveny paused. “Have you decided?”
On the inside, Kiara cringed. On the inside, she braced against…everything. Right versus wrong. God versus the devil in her soul.
In an instant, Kiara found herself thousands of miles away. She traversed the narrow, cobbled streets of Paris, hand in hand with a sexy, and admittedly, besotted suitor, her world painted a soft, dusky shade of rose. In her mind’s eye, she saw the Eiffel Tower framed in the window of a five-star hotel where she lounged on a balcony overlooking the ancient, gorgeous city. She could almost feel a cool evening breeze ripple the glossy fabric of a satin robe and negligee against her skin.
Beyond the set of double French doors at her back? Andrew—dark haired, olive skinned, a bewitching specimen—stretched out upon a king-sized bed, tangled up in its sheets, half covered by a plush down comforter…
“Kiara?”
Jarred back to reality by Daveny’s voice, Kiara took a deep breath and spoke from the heart. “I realize my ‘No’ should be automatic. It’s wrong. His offer to take me to France for a romantic getaway feels too much like a deliberate ploy. A blatant seduction. Payment for services rendered.”
Daveny didn’t agree, or disagree. But then, she didn’t need to. Like a good friend, she waited and allowed Kiara to come to terms.
“Why does it appeal to me so strongly?” Kiara wondered aloud. “Why is it so hard to just refuse and move on?”
“Because he’s attractive. He’s successful, and he’s absolutely enchanted by you, Kiara. He has been from the start of our landscaping project for his company. He’s offering you a trip that’s certainly a fantasy come true. Once in a lifetime.”
Daveny was correct. First class flight, the Ritz Hotel, a week of…
Surrender to mutual attraction.
But was it mutual? Was it right?
Kiara studied the simple altar illuminated by vibrant stained glass windows that framed its perimeter. She wondered. Did her longing to agree to this trip stem from feelings she harbored for Andrew, or from the fact that she felt increasingly lonely? After all, what woman wouldn’t enjoy being sought after by a well-to-do, sexy man who wanted to treat her like a princess?
“However,” Daveny continued, “let me be clear about something. When all is said and done? You deserve much more than a seductive interlude, Kiara. You deserve a man, a relationship, of substance and honor. Don’t lose sight of that. Is this developing relationship playing to your heart? Do you really even know him?”
Kiara shrugged. “Well, that’s kind of the point. To escape together, to find our footing—”
“Really?”
Kiara heard and understood the skeptical tone—and found no fault with the mild reprimand that rode beneath its surface. “Well, no. It’s about…well—”
Chuckling wryly, Daveny bumped Kiara’s shoulder with hers. “I know, I know.”
A frail sense of self, a near life-long quest for affirmation, clawed at Kiara’s chest. By careful design, that fact might surprise most people who knew her. She wore a Donna Karan ensemble from Saks, a new pair of Jimmy Choos. Perfectly styled hair and an expert application of makeup downplayed every flaw and up-played every attribute like a protective shield. Her smile lit up, her bubbly personality engaged…
But the demons she fought were over 25-years-old, and they were relentless.
She stood and sighed through the smile. “I’m going to say no. I know you’re right. I know I deserve more, I know what God would want, but so far, the best offers I get come from men who are attracted to this face, this figure, and not much more. To be honest, I’ve played to that truth for so long, I’m not so sure about finding a way out.” She shrugged. “Trapped in my own cage, I guess.”
Daveny watched her for a few moments then took her hand in a firm squeeze. “Don’t ever sell yourself short like that, Kiara. You’re anything but shallow—or immoral. You’ll find the one—the one who will give you so much more than you’ve gotten so far. God’s preparing you, honey. And when you’re ready, I promise, He’ll send you a man who looks deep and long at who you are, not just the gorgeous cover-work.”
Too serious. Too close to home. Kiara forced herself into an easy-going demeanor, re-sealing her heart as they left the serenity of the church. She tossed Daveny a saucy look, and then linked their arms together. “By the time that happens, I’ll be ninety-something, but hope does indeed spring eternal. Come on. The family’s waiting.”
In the narthex, Pastor Ken stood amidst the Edwards family, temporary custodian of Jeffrey, who gurgled and squiggled. A cloth had been draped over Ken’s shoulder to protect his vestment. He cuddled Jeffrey against it and rubbed the infant’s back, swaying just a bit, in time to music only the two of them could hear. Kiara’s forward progress halted while she absorbed more of the scene—his soft, assuring hum of sound, the tender way he held Jeffrey close.
Thoughts of Andrew left her empty. Instead, she made a wish, then and there, that a man who possessed the tenderness and charisma of Ken Lucerne might be out there for her…somewhere.