Hearts Crossing (Woodland) (2 page)

Reviewing the grounds through the eyes of her chosen profession—a landscape architect—Daveny uncovered incredible potential.

A cross-tipped spire stretched into a cobalt sky devoid of clouds. Adding much to the setting was the fact that directly across Jefferson Avenue was Lake Saint Clair, a wide, sparkling blue jewel that dominated the horizon and added a gentle rumble of water life and boat sound to the air; especially on a restful and gorgeous Sunday morning like this.

“Jim had no children,” Pastor Ken continued. “He had an older brother and a younger sister, both of whom passed on before him. I think that's part of what led him to be such a vital component of our church family.” He stole a glance toward Daveny. “I can only assume that's why Woodland was named a beneficiary in his will.”

Their meandering ended. Pastor Ken turned to face her fully. Daveny went into landscape design mode once again, thinking about how wonderful a wrought iron bench would be right now, a few of them perhaps, along the curved edges of the sidewalk that skirted the church. That way they could sit and be comfortable.

Pastor Ken continued. “He designated fifty thousand dollars toward restoration and beautification of the church.”

Daveny's jaw dropped. She froze, staring at Pastor Ken. He simply smiled and nodded, saying, “I see you can already tell where I'm headed with this.”

“Oh...ah...gosh...”

His laughter filled the rapidly warming air. Bird song and the light aroma of lily of the valley and hyacinth flowed into the atmosphere.

“You're an incredible designer and a remarkable woman. God needs to use that. Frankly, there's no one I'd trust more to make this project work. I discussed the idea with church council last week, and they're behind it one hundred percent. Contracts will have to be put together, as well as timing and fee schedules of course, but we want you to design and execute the exterior development.” He paused just long enough to give her a kind and challenging look. “Can I count you in?”

“Count me in? It would be an honor. Just try to keep me away.”

Delighted, with seeds of vigor taking root, Daveny squeezed his hand as they sealed the deal.

2

“Mom,
please
. You're pushing.
Again
.”

Collin stood firm, steady and unaffected when his mom, Elise, clucked her tongue. She turned from her salad-building exercise to give him a glare. She was a tad put-out, despite the fact that his reprimand had been quietly spoken. That settled his disquiet to simmer instead of boil.

“Collin Alexander Edwards, I'm not asking you to do anything but deliver paver bricks and some bags of mulch to the church. Just drop it and leave. The landscape company is going to be on site today and tomorrow so they need the materials as soon as possible.”

“And since I happen to have a truck...”

“And since you happen to live in the area...” She paused from her lunch creation once again; this time she beamed at him.

Yep
, Collin thought in resignation,
I'm toast. Hooked right in.
He couldn't hold out against his mom. Not when she smiled like that. Plus, like she said, he wasn't attending services or anything. This was simply a delivery job. Nothing to it. And it would help her out.

Collin relented and walked to the kitchen counter where she stood, timeless as a precious memory with her sweatshirt, blue jeans and page-boy style hair of silver. Though he had already eaten lunch, he swiped a few slices of celery. A baby tomato. She slapped his hand and sighed.

“Do I get dinner tonight if I say yes?” he asked.

“A bribing mercenary,” she muttered, continuing her salad creation. “I raised a bribing mercenary.”

Collin pecked her cheek. “Where are the supplies I need to take?”

“The mulch is in the garage. On the cork board behind you is the receipt to pick up the pavers we bought the other day to donate to the cause.”

He found and removed the receipt in question. Framed by a picture window overlooking the freshly mowed back yard, his mother paused to give Collin a final smile. “I appreciate this, and I'm counting on you for dinner. Love you, sweetheart.”

He winked at her. “Thanks, Mom. I love you, too.”

Marching orders in place, Collin turned to leave behind the sunny, airy kitchen of his parent's home.

****

The closer he got to Woodland Church, the more Collin's tension increased. He faced that fact without flinching and without apologizing.

He couldn't help the sense of anger he felt whenever he considered matters of faith and the topic of God's goodness, so he didn't try to stem the tide. Helping his mom is what mattered, and the thought kept Collin centered as he turned off Jefferson Avenue and into the church parking lot.

“Wow.”

The single word exclamation was Collin's instinctive reaction upon seeing the church. Grounds were torn up in large spots and contractors worked at the open sores. Collin slowed his truck to a stop next to a series of graders, haulers, and a semi that were presently swarmed by what he assumed were church volunteers.

He hopped down from the cab of his pickup and released the back latch, looking around for a person who might be deemed the leader of this renovation project.

And a project is exactly what this was. Major league. A sizable chunk of land to the rear of the facility was torn up as well. There, a hauler and back-hoe were being put to use. Field stones and flat limestone pieces were positioned, ready for placement, and it looked as though some kind of water supply system was being put into place.

A pond perhaps?

Flower beds were being expanded and upgraded across the front and sides of the church. Bushes and trees stood in waiting, roots wrapped and tied in protective burlap. The grounds were a transitory mess.

The fact that he stopped to stare drew the attention of a passerby, an older, friendly looking man who called affably, “Need some help?”

Collin gave him a nod. “Delivery. Can you point me to the right person?”

“You bet. That’d be Daveny. She’ll get you taken care of. Follow me over.”

“Thanks.”

They crossed the lot and closed in on a cluster of folks who were in scrubby clothes, water bottles and gardening tools in hand. At the center of it all was a slender, petite woman wearing jeans and a lime green t-shirt. They stepped up, and Collin realized she was in the process of assigning volunteers to designated sections of the church grounds, occasionally consulting an overview spec sheet of the project spread out across a picnic table and secured at each end by a pair of weighty rocks.

During a pause in the delegation efforts, Collin's escort spoke up.

“Daveny, this gentleman brought us some supplies. Looks like the brick borders and mulch have arrived.”

“Perfect. Thanks, Gabe.”

She turned.

Her gaze lifted to his in greeting.

Collin's world tilted.

Something—something overwhelming and instantly captivating swept through him like wind song when she smiled. The gesture was radiant and warm, straight from the heart.

“Hi, I'm Daveny Montgomery.”

Collin, meanwhile, stumbled over his own name, mentally stalling out while he stared at her. There was a purity he sensed, elusive and instantly haunting.

“Collin Edwards,” he finally managed, taking hold of her extended hand. Firm grip, he noted. Skin, soft as silk. Nice.

“Glad to meet you—wait—
Edwards
. You must be one of Elise and Ben's sons.”

Collin focused on a faint, fresh smudge of dirt on her cheek. The sight made his fingertips twitch with a longing to stroke it gently away. “Guilty as charged.”

“They're amazing.” Daveny's compliment was stated with a flat out degree of conviction. Something flickered through her eyes though, confusion it seemed. “You live around here?”

“Just a couple miles away.”

“Oh. I thought I had met all of the family.” Her confusion fell away, replaced by acceptance and kindness. “Let me recruit some volunteers to help unload.”

“OK.”

With a nod, she headed to a group of men who were ripping out a series of disintegrating rounded rubber boarder frames. As they ripped, they tossed the refuse into a rapidly growing discard pile.

Daveny wore a gray baseball cap that featured the green and white Spartan logo of Michigan State University. Her long brown hair was fashioned into a straight, shiny ponytail that she had tucked through the back end of her cap. The ponytail bounced in time to her movements, and Collin found himself smiling, strangely fixated.

Daveny Montgomery. Pretty name...

Then it occurred to him. Suddenly Collin understood why she seemed somewhat flummoxed by his arrival. Every week, the entire Edwards family made it a practice to attend ten o'clock services together at Woodland.

Everyone except Collin.

She probably wondered why he wasn't in the pews along with his obviously loving and close-knit clan—especially if he lived nearby.

The realization fell on Collin's heart as Daveny gathered their reinforcements. The weight was unpleasant, but it burned off nicely in the face of his bitterness. No matter Daveny's brightness and appeal, he refused to feel bad about leaving church life, and God, behind.

The unloading process didn't take long, but the bricks were gritty and cumbersome. At the end, Daveny turned to him, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Thanks again for providing shuttle service, Collin. We really appreciate it.”

There it was again. That flash of heat and promise she could inspire by simply looking at him and speaking his name out loud.

He didn't want to leave. Not quite yet anyway.

As that realization took hold, Collin glanced around, looking for a means by which he might be useful. He had a few hours to spare before dinner, and it wouldn’t hurt to lend this lovely lady some assistance. A group of people were gathered by that sizable hole in the ground at the rear of the property. A variety of tools and materials were spread out across the grass, along with a light blue-colored skin of plastic.

“You’re creating a pond?”

“Yep. If it turns out the way I hope, it’ll be the showpiece of the entire renovation.”

“Can I help?”

Daveny turned to him with wide-eyed gratitude. “Are you kidding? We’d love it. You can help stretch and place the pond liner, or you could help lay and spread pea gravel for the overflow channel. Check in with Jim Sauser. He’s the one with the bright orange cap—and our head contractor. He’ll get you hooked up.”

But where will you be?

That’s the question Collin most wanted to ask, but refrained. For now it would be enough to just work near her, and watch—gain familiarity by absorbing her mannerisms.

“Sounds good. I’ll go see what they need.”

Her gaze lingered, as did her smile. “Thank you, Collin. Really. This is a big help.”

“No problem.”