Pastor's Assignment (12 page)

Twenty-four

Laney walked with Ty to the outdoor courtyard. Her wet hair and clothing chilled her to the bone, and for once she welcomed the heat and humidity. Plus, what could have happened if she and Ty had not gotten there in time was beginning to register.

What kind of world drove children to such despair that they would resort to such an act?

“You okay?” Ty put his arms around her shoulders and drew her onto one of the curved cement benches.

“I'm fine.” Laney let Ty envelop her in an embrace. The rush of adrenaline flooding her had drained away, leaving her bone-tired. Her head rested lightly against his shoulder, the curve of his muscle forming a perfect pillow for her face.

He lifted her chin to study her face. “You're crying.” He sighed, the uneasy sound of a man not comfortable with a woman's tears.

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't cry,” Ty said. He wiped a tear with his thumb.

“I can't help it.” Laney sniffed loudly. “I'm not used to things going right. It's a new experience for me.”

He laughed. “We did okay.”

Through her tears she smiled. “I say we got more than a little help from above.” She saw the agreement in his eyes. “God gets the credit.”

Ty nodded. “The credit is His.” His eyes twinkled. “I never thought I'd be saying that again.”

Laney nodded. “All because of that note I found in church.” Her expression turned radiant through the tears. “It brought us together. Neither one of us could have stopped the shooting without the other.”

Ty didn't disagree with her. He squeezed her more tightly against him. When she turned, she saw his head bent, as if in prayer. Her hands joined his as she added her own prayer.

Laney closed her eyes, enjoying the closeness. She was aware, as she knew he had to be, that things forever had changed between them. He had trusted her when no one else would and risked everything that mattered to him in the process.

They sat that way for a long time. When Ty gently pushed the wet hair off her face, Laney opened her eyes and met his gaze. She knew there were things unsaid between them, things that hung in the air as soft and beautiful as the scent of a rose. She did not know when the right moment would come to speak the words aloud. For now it was enough simply to sit next to each other and know she was at the beginning of something more precious and miraculous than she ever could have imagined a relationship could be.

Ty squeezed her fingers lightly. “I have something I'd like to ask you.”

“A question?” Laney bit her lower lip as she took in the sudden set to his face. Her heart began to beat faster at his serious expression.

He smiled. “I want to know about the pastor's assignment.”

Her brow wrinkled. “What about it? I know you weren't the writer of the letter I found.”

Ty's voice was low and gentle. “I want to know about your letter. What did you write?”

Laney swallowed. The image of herself crawling around the seats trying to find her lost note because she was too ashamed for anyone else to read it flashed through her mind. “You sure you want to hear this?”

Ty nodded.

“I'm a jinx,” Laney whispered. “Everything I touch turns into a disaster.” She couldn't meet his eyes. “You've seen for yourself it's true.”

Ty laughed.

“This isn't funny!” Laney cried out. “You're lucky to be alive. The shot that hit the sprinkler system could as easily have hit you.”

Another round of laughter erupted from Ty. Laney covered her ears with her hands.

“Look at me, Laney,” Ty said softly. “I'm more alive than I've been in years. Everything you said about me the first day we met was true. I knew it then, and I know it now. You haven't hurt me, Laney. You've healed me.”

Laney pressed her lips together and twisted her hands in her lap. “The credit is God's. If you're talking about me, you're lucky to be alive.”

“Yes, I am lucky,” Ty agreed. “Although I didn't feel that way until I met you.” He reached over and squeezed her hand tightly. “I have the feeling that as long as I have you next to me, that's the way I'll feel the rest of my life.”

“It'll be a short life,” Laney predicted gloomily, “if I'm in it.”

Ty scowled. “You can go on believing that, or you can take a chance on me. On us.”

Laney shook her head. “I don't want to hurt you.”

Sensing her hesitation, Ty continued, “I'm strong, Laney. Strong enough for whatever happens. The only thing I can't handle is for you to walk away from me.”

Laney studied the shape of their fingers intertwined. She could almost see how their hands would age, becoming more fragile, yet gaining strength from the touch of the other.

She thought about the day in church when Pastor Bruce had asked them to throw away their fears and regrets. At the time, she realized, she'd held on to her doubts about herself. Looking into Ty's eyes, she knew it was time to let go.

Laney leaned forward. “What are you asking?”

Ty swallowed. “For a chance to date you in a restaurant without your crawling away from me like GI Jane. To picnic with you at our pond. To write you poetry.”

The proof of his feelings gleamed softly in his eyes. Her own eyes answered him, filled with hope and promise. As Ty leaned forward to kiss her, Laney heard the thunder roll.

Thank You, Lord. You are truly awesome.

Twenty-five

Two weeks after Ty won the uncontested race for sheriff of Sutton County, an elderly woman walked into Animal Ark. The woman had pure white hair and a small pair of glasses that sat so low on her nose they seemed to be glued in place.

Removing her arm from the depths of a fish tank, Laney studied the woman. She seemed familiar. As she searched her mind for the right connection, the woman wandered over to the gerbil cages.

To Laney's amazement, the woman sighed loudly and moved so close to the glass tank her spectacles actually clinked against the tank. “Oh,” the woman said, pointing. “That gerbil looks just like my Mandy.”

As usual the sight of someone in distress went directly to Laney's heart. Putting her hand on the older woman's shoulder, Laney asked kindly, “You've lost a beloved pet?”

The woman nodded. Her white head bobbed, but her glasses remained in their gravity-defying position. She blew her nose into the handkerchief, folded it neatly, and repeated the action.

“I'll pour us a cup of iced tea,” Laney said.

Drawing her toward the back room, Laney clasped the older woman's hand gently. The woman's bones showed clearly through her skin, so Laney took care not to squeeze too hard.

She turned to the older woman. “I'm Laney Varner.”

“Diana Gibson.”

Laney led Mrs. Gibson to the back of the store and cleared a bag of rabbit pellets off the desk seat. Taking a bottle of iced tea off the shelf, she poured some into a paper cup.

As they sipped their tea, Mrs. Gibson talked. She told Laney all about the various animals she'd had and loved. It was obvious the woman was lonely.

The cup of tea long finished, Mrs. Gibson continued talking. By now she'd moved into relatively recent history and begun to recount an incident ten years ago when her husband had given her a rather unusual anniversary present—a Mongolian gerbil.

“You know,” Mrs. Gibson confided, “you always hear of people getting attached to their dogs and cats. Obviously they've never had a gerbil. I named her Mandy after the Barry Manilow song. When the grandchildren came, she never bit them.”

Suddenly Mrs. Gibson's eyes began to swell with tears. “That's how the accident happened, you know. About a year ago, one of my grandkids was playing with her. We were letting her run laps around the inside of the washing machine. I'm afraid the wrong button was pushed.”

Laney patted Mrs. Gibson's arm and muttered soft words of encouragement. “I'm so sorry,” she said.

“It was all my fault,” Mrs. Gibson said sadly. “I was careless with my love.”

The words echoed in Laney's ears. Her mouth fell open in astonishment. “I was careless with my love,” she repeated. The words matched perfectly in her brain, but she refused to believe the implications.

“It's been a nightmare living with the guilt,” Mrs. Gibson added, shaking her head and blinking furiously. “Once in church, I even—”

“Wrote a poem,” Laney finished.

“How did you know?”

“I found your poem,” Laney said. “I picked it off the floor because I thought it was mine.” Her eyebrows pushed together in sympathy. “I thought the poem was beautiful, and I tried to find who wrote it. I wanted to help.”

Laney opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out the crumpled piece of yellow paper, glad her brother had returned it to her. Now she understood why the woman had seemed so familiar to her. She must have seen her in church.

“I'd like to tell you about what happened because of your note,” Laney said. “God used it to work a miracle.”

As Laney told her about the love she'd found with Ty, a smile lifted the corners of Mrs. Gibson's mouth. She laughed when she learned of the fruitless school search and the Eat and Go incident. When Laney finished with the troubled boy at the school, she sighed. “I can't tell you how much it means to hear of so much good that came from such an accident.”

Smiling, Laney handed her the note she'd found in church so long ago. The elderly woman folded it carefully and placed it in her purse.

Laney knew there was only one thing left to do. She led the woman back into the store and to the front of the gerbil cages. “Please,” she said, “let me give you the gerbil that looks like your Mandy.”

Mrs. Gibson's hand reached inside the cage, hesitant at first and then more confidently among the scurrying rodents. She gently stroked one of the gerbils' heads, and when she looked up, her smile was radiant.

Watching, Laney's heart lifted in response. If she hadn't retrieved the wrong note that day in church, none of this would have happened. She closed her eyes, filled with a profound sense of love of God and gratitude and a commitment to give back as many of the blessings she'd received as possible.

Mrs. Gibson waved gaily as she left the store with the gerbil secured in a pet box. Laney, still lost in the wonder of it all, did not notice the top of the gerbil cage was wide open.

Epilogue

One year later

A soft breeze lifted Laney's veil and stirred the rose petals under her feet as she walked slowly to the man waiting for her by the edge of the church's pond. Although most of the town had gathered to witness her wedding, she had eyes only for Ty.

No music played, no bridesmaids preceded her, and no flash of any camera recorded the moment. She'd wanted it simple with none of the frills or pressures of a formal wedding, and that was just what she had.

Step by step she moved closer to Ty. As the distance between them lessened, the smile on her face widened. It wasn't that he looked so handsome in his policeman's dress uniform or with the sheriff's badge glimmering on his chest. It was the simple things—the sprig of wildflowers pinned to his lapel, the expression in his eyes, the smile that promised a life of good times and difficult ones—that melted her heart.

Oh, Gertha Williams had tried to talk her out of having the wedding here in front of the church pond. The church secretary had struggled not to appear appalled. “Wouldn't you be much more comfortable,” she'd said, “in our new church?”

Laney had thanked her for her concern but held fast to her desire to marry Ty in the place where it all had begun. Gertha hadn't been the only one to question Laney's wedding plans. “What do you mean?” her father had said. “You're going to take out a full-page ad in the
Daily Destiny
instead of sending out wedding invitations?”

Even her friends had been slightly baffled.

“What are you going to do if it rains?” June had asked.

Laney had simply smiled. In the end, June had pinned her hair up in a soft bun guaranteed to survive any kind of weather.

Angel, stationed at Ty's feet, wagged his tail as Laney approached. He made a handsome ring bearer, she thought. His long hair had been brushed until it gleamed. One of her father's last acts as sheriff had been to award the papillon with a specially designed coat that identified the dog as a canine officer. On that coat her father had pinned a medal of valor for Angel's role in preventing the school shooting.

Finally Laney reached her destination. Her throat tightened as Ty lifted the veil from her face.

Someone in the audience sighed. She saw in Ty's eyes that he thought she was beautiful. And beyond that she felt the connection between them, so deep and strong it could only be a gift from God.

In the distance, sunlight broke into millions of pieces and danced atop the smooth surface of the pond. Somewhere along the banks a frog hopped into the pond and broke the silence with a loud plop.

“I guess that means we should get started,” Pastor Bruce said. He smiled as several people chuckled.

As she reached for Ty's hands, Laney thought how right it all seemed. Everything was in harmony, from the frogs in the pond to the breeze on her cheeks.

Ty looked deeply into her eyes and spoke the age-old vows. As he slipped the gold band onto her finger, Laney felt a sense of wonder spreading through her.

And then it was her turn to say the words that meant so much. With calm hands, she put Ty's ring on his finger.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Pastor Bruce declared.

The guests began to applaud as Laney lifted her face to meet Ty's kiss. He was so tall that she had to tilt her head way back. Her veil started to slip, but Ty steadied it before it fell.

“Congratulations,” Pastor Bruce said warmly.

Turning, Laney met Pastor Bruce's gaze. He grinned and seemed so pleased that she couldn't help but recall the last time he'd looked at her and Ty that way.

“Congratulations,” he'd said, returning their papers to them. “You've passed the premarital exam.”

And best of all, Laney recalled, smiling, they only had to take the test once.