Hearts Crossing (Woodland) (9 page)

Collin turned to verify; the spade he held fell from his grasp.

“What the...”

“Also meaning she's back in Detroit permanently. Stephanie and I ran into her at a friend's house this past weekend at a barbecue. She's working at WWJ radio now.”

Collin's heart raced, not out of pleasure or anticipation, but anxiety. “And WWJ is interested in Woodland because we're so incredibly newsworthy?”

We. He had said
we
. Where exactly had
that
inclusive statement come from?

Fortunately, Marty didn't comment on that but instead replied, “Sandy's started attending services here again. So, she's gotten wind of the fact that all of this improvement comes as the result of a parishioner leaving the bulk of his estate to the benefit of his church. She took that story back to the station, and the rest is apparently history. Now WWJ is doing a story on Woodland for their Community Focus program. Sandy's its director now.”

At present, Sandy was hidden from view by a production crew and Pastor Ken who led her away, taking her on a walk around the grounds. While Collin watched in trepidation, Marty squatted next to him in front of the brick lined edge of the flowerbeds that lined the church entry. In an assembly line of sorts Marty tilled, Collin dug holes, and the following team planted flowers.

Taller perennials were placed to the back, shorter, sturdy annuals to the front. Collin didn't know phlox from rocks, but the end result transformed barren grounds into a riot of perfume and color. Another group filled large brown terracotta tubs at each side of the church entrance with petunias in all sorts of pastel shades interspersed with white.

Every once in a while Collin hazarded a glance over his shoulder, but Sandy's back remained to him. Despite two years apart he easily recognized the gentle wave of red hair. She still wore it shoulder length. Slim, jean clad, of average build but dynamic, appealing features, Sandy turned to profile as she and Pastor Ken began to walk in tandem. Nope. She hadn't changed much at all.

They were headed straight to Daveny, which made perfect sense, but Collin's pulse went haywire.

When they stepped up, Daveny concluded a conversation with the head of the team commissioned to complete the wood engravings now that the bridge was in place over the pond. Introductions were exchanged and Collin's panic index went off the charts.

Returning his efforts to the job at hand, Collin did his best not to overreact, but the effort was futile. The final group of helpers in his group gently laid and smoothed a layer of protective wood chips.

Marty continued the thread of their conversation. “Apparently, Mom saw her at services this past weekend.”

Sandy and Collin had attended church here before...well,
before
.

Inwardly he sighed. “Really? Well, I'm sure she's glad to be back home.” Collin hoped the finality of his tone would guide Marty toward a new topic of conversation.

No such luck.

“Col, you should at least
talk
to her. Mom said Sandy seems kinda lost. No, unsettled. Yeah, that was the word she used. Unsettled.”

Perfect. Just what Collin needed. Guilt with a side of well-intended, conscience-provoking motherly influence.

Jeremy, the family's second-to–the-youngest, stepped up. He looked over Collin's shoulder and checked his progress. “Marty, stop gossip-mongering. Sheesh.”

Collin grinned to himself, grateful beyond measure for Jeremy's timely arrival and interruption. “Hey, JB. The lilac tree looks great.”

Freshly planted with his help, it resided just to the right of the bridge. It would take a year or so for the fragrant blooms to burst free, but it would be a perfect augment to the gently arched structure. The pine bore that fresh, bright sheen of un-scarred wood, light and glowing beneath the midday sun. That was the trouble with wood, and life, however. Sooner or later chips, creases and wear marks would develop. An overall dimming.

“Food's on,” Jeremy elaborated needlessly, since the aroma of grilling hot dogs and hamburgers permeated the air. “C'mon. Let's eat. I'm starved.”

“Like that's news?” Marty quipped, though he dumped his work supplies and stood to stretch.

But Collin remained lost to his thoughts, watching Sandy and Daveny as Pastor Ken took his leave from the freshly completed pond area. And a memory took hold.

“It's almost finished now, and I'm so excited! It's being called Parishioner's Bridge.” Daveny lingered over dessert and coffee after the dinner following the class presentation. She took delight in the idea. “Everyone seems to have taken to the idea we have of the bridge being a physical testimony to the impact of those who worship at Woodland, past and present, which is everything I had hoped for when we came up with the idea for it.”

Hope. God. Her belief in both lit Daveny from the inside out. Collin wondered, not for the first time since being in her company, what it would feel like to once again capture that kind of conviction for himself. Out of habit, he shook off the silky promise of that idea.

Instead, he stood and made his way to the area of the grounds where a barbecue was underway and attracting volunteers in droves. Tables were set up and stocked with things like fruit salad, veggies and dip, cookies and chips.

He needed to clean up before eating, though. He turned back and followed a group of people inside to wash up. He blew out a puff of air, rolling his shoulders, a sense of internal pressure on the rise. It was time for him to explain—everything—to Daveny. Circumstances seemed to be converging on him all at once and needed to be dealt with: the advent of a lovely, wonderful woman in his life; Sandy's return to Detroit; Woodland's renovation and all of its emotional ties to Lance; and, by far, the worst moment of Collin's life.

Once in the main building, the entrance to the church itself caused him to pause. The double wooden doors were open, as if in welcome or perhaps a predestined invitation.

Since all the activity was happening outside, the church proper was empty and dimly illuminated. Backlit by the afternoon sun, the rich hues of the stained glass glowed, casting patterns on the dark gray carpeting.

Collin walked inside without being fully conscious of it until he started to tremble. The nearer he got to the altar, the more his knees threatened to weaken and give way. He made it about halfway down the rows of pews before figuring he'd come close enough.

He slid into place and sat, looking around. So much was the same. To welcome summer, flowers adorned the altar, lending a subtle scent to the air. The colorful bouquets lent a contrast of vibrant color to the simple white walls.

“Collin. How are you?”

Collin closed his eyes and drew a fortifying breath. Despite years of distance, he knew that voice.

“Hi, Pastor Ken.”

“I'll leave you to prayer or meditation if you'd like.”

Pastor Ken started to turn, but before doing so he gave Collin a welcoming smile. He offered nothing beyond that simple greeting.

Therefore, Collin could only assume he had picked up on the underlying current of disquiet in his salutation. That made Collin feel bad. After all, his problems weren't Pastor Ken's fault. “I don't mind. How...ah...how are you?”

“I'm well. Excited about the improvements, obviously.”

Pastor Ken's smile was as warm and compelling as ever. The church leader had been a tremendous source of support to Collin's family at the time of Lance's death, onward to this day—but Collin had stepped away. He had seen no other path to take. What would this man of God make of that?

The wooden pew creaked comfortably when Pastor Ken sat next to him. Black attire, white collar, kind, inquiring eyes—everything about him spoke of approachability and kindness. “I’ll be glad when the project is finished. Being in limbo is never fun.”

“Yeah. I can imagine.” Awkwardness skittered through Collin, but Pastor Ken seemed content and at ease.

“I notice you’ve been pitching in over the past few weeks, Collin. We appreciate it. It’s been nice to see you around.”

Was there underlying sentiment to that comment? Collin looked briefly into the pastor’s eyes and found nothing but sincerity, no calculating judgments or pressure. “I’ve enjoyed it.”

“Daveny is a remarkable talent when it comes to stuff like this. Me? I don’t know potting soil from mulch.”

That left Collin laughing spontaneously since he could completely relate. “I'm the same way, but I had some muscle that could be put to good use. No big deal.”

“It is to her, and it is to us.” Pastor Ken started to stand, and the oddest compulsion took over Collin. A compulsion to confession.

“Sorry I haven't been around, it's...it's not about you or Woodland itself.”

Pastor Ken sat back down. “I realize that Collin. You need to make peace. In your own time and in your own way.”

“You're not...angry?”

“How could I be? What you feel, what you go through, is between you and God. I'd never force the issue. Though I will say I've put considerable prayer time into your name, my friend.”

Somehow, for some reason, that left Collin feeling good.

“If...if I told you...” Collin stopped right there. This wasn't a good time to approach Pastor Ken, to follow through on this sudden and startling need to come clean. Pastor Ken was busy; the church was bustling and Collin felt sure any number of people needed his counsel and assistance at the moment. “Never mind.” This time Collin stood to leave.

Pastor Ken stretched out his long, lean legs and settled an arm along the back of the pew. And he waited.

“I have all the time in the world, Collin. I hope...I
really
hope you can find the strength to finally stop running.”

His words packed enough power to sink Collin back to the seat.

“I need to know...if I say something...I mean, I know this isn't a confessional, but...”

“It's just as sacred. If you want assurances that I won't divulge anything you say to me in confidence, I can offer that to you without hesitation.” For emphasis, and most likely to offer Collin a bit of time to gather his thoughts, Pastor Ken went to the doors and pulled them quietly closed.

After that, Collin's words poured out freely into the Pastor’s safekeeping.

Collin told him everything—his responsibility with regard to Lance, the pain he felt over hiding the truth from his family and regret over hurting Sandy and leaving her to feel withdrawn in her own place of worship. Collin even talked about his burgeoning feelings for Daveny.

“You fear Daveny's disappointment?”

Pastor Ken sounded genuinely surprised, so Collin enlightened him. “I could never—ever—stand the idea of Daveny looking at me through different eyes—through eyes that see my scars and my worst possible elements. Same holds true with my family, to be honest.”

“You feel that strongly about her.”

It wasn’t a question. It didn’t need to be framed as such.

So Collin nodded, but he felt lost within that admission.

“Collin, do you see that perhaps that degree of feeling is also part of the reason why you turned away from God? You were scared of the scars?”

No censure or reprimand could be detected in that statement—try, though Collin might. Then it would be easy to retreat and refocus himself on bitterness and regret and that soul-tying shame. But, he did find enough ire to say, “I turned away from God because He turned away from me first. He's shown me clearly that He doesn’t need Collin Edwards. I’m insignificant. God ignored me. God allowed that horrible wrong, that waste! Furthermore, the reasons for it fall squarely on my stupidity, my lack of…of…”

“Collin, stand back far enough, with enough clarity of mind to grant another truth—the truth that your heart was in the right place. You meant no harm! You wanted good. You wanted to help. That needs to count somewhere in your scale of justice.”