A Treasure of the Heart. Valerie Hansen
didn’t presume for a second that the rumors were true. Still, if Darla Sue was having problems, as Rosie had intimated, maybe there was a grain of truth to Helen’s statement.
“What’s wrong with Gram?” Lillie asked.
“It’s a long story. You plannin’ on stayin’ a spell? Miss Darla can use a shoulder to cry on right about now.”
“Business is really bad?”
“The pits.” Helen glanced at the morose cook. “It’s not Rosie’s fault. She’s doin’ her best. So am I. It’s just that Miss Darla did all the ordering and we’re not keeping up very well without her.”
“Why hasn’t she been coming in?”
The waitress tsk-tsked and shook her head. “That’s for her to say. Personally, I think she had a nervous breakdown or some such thing.”
“Oh, dear.” The last part of Helen’s earlier revelation was echoing in the back of Lillie’s mind. “What does that have to do with a new preacher at Gram’s church?”
“Nothin’. That’s a whole other story,” the waitress said. “Tell you what. Why don’t you go see about Darla Sue first. The gossip about the preacher’ll wait.”
“Are you positive there were attempts to get rid of the man? I mean, things like that just don’t happen around here.”
“Looks like they do now. The minute Brother James started talkin’ about buildin’ a new church, strange things started happening.”
Lillie knew how the locals hated change but she couldn’t picture them resorting to violence to stop it. “Maybe the guy is just accident-prone.”
Helen snorted. “If he is, it’s rubbed off on the church, too.”
Although Lillie was intrigued, she knew her primary duty was to Darla Sue. “Okay. Tell you what. I’ll go say hello to Gram like you suggested and look over the situation at home. When I get back, I want to hear the rest of your story about the new preacher.”
“Take your time,” Rosie said with a stifled yawn. “This is Friday so we’re open for supper, too. We’ll be stuck here till after nine, like it or not.”
Lillie was almost to the door when she heard Rosie add, “And I don’t like it. Man, I hate this job.”
The echo of her own career woes gave Lillie the shivers. Even paradise had its share of problems, didn’t it?
The engine of the massive motorcycle didn’t hum or buzz like those little imported bikes; it thumped in a galloping cadence reminiscent of the old single-cylinder gas engines that had once powered farm machinery and primitive factories from Maine to California.
Pastor James Warner often thought of the sound as the heartbeat of the beast he rode. Though he’d given in to the deacons’ urging that he wear a helmet, he was not about to give up the independence he’d found riding such a formidable machine. The Harley was the only thing he’d salvaged after his former life had fallen apart around him and he intended to hang on to it. After all, it wasn’t as if he had to drive a car in order to ferry family members. Except for God, he was essentially alone. And that was the way he liked it.
Snug in his black leather bomber jacket, he reveled in the sensation of the cool wind on his face, the unfettered freedom of movement, the way the motorcycle seemed to become an extension of his personality. Riding was more than an escape. It put him in tune with nature and that somehow brought him closer to God.
Funny, he thought. There had been times lately when he’d felt so blessed he’d wondered if he’d accidentally wandered into someone else’s life!
He began to grin. Members of his flock had made no secret of their worries that riding the bike would bring him face-to-face with his Maker before his time. He respectfully disagreed. Either he was in God’s hands all the time, or he never was. Psalm 139 said he was “fearfully and wonderfully made” and that God had known him even before he was born, so how could it be otherwise?
He shifted, banked and cornered, passing DD’s café. One of his recent disappointments was his inability to get through to Mrs. Howell. But he wasn’t going to give up. No, sir. Darla Sue Howell had once been a driving force in his church and she would be again. All he had to do was figure out how to inspire her and draw her back into the fold.
James grimaced. The last time he’d paid her a call he’d had to talk to her through a closed door. He knew she’d heard the Harley pull into her driveway because she’d slammed the front door practically in his face.
“It’s me, Mrs. Howell,” he’d called pleasantly, helmet in hand so she could see his face if she chose to peek out. “Brother James Warner.”
“I know who it is,” Darla Sue had shouted from inside the house. “Go away.”
“I’d have called first but your phone is out of order.”
“No, it’s not. I took it off the hook.”
“Are you feeling all right?”
“Right as rain,” she’d answered.
“We miss you at church. It’s not the same without you sitting in the front pew, keeping an eye on things.”
“Bah. Nobody misses me.”
“I do.”
“You’re supposed to miss me. It’s your job,” she’d snapped.
James had been at a temporary loss for words. She was right, yet there was much more to it than that. He did care. Deeply. It was one of the drawbacks of being a minister of the gospel. When the people in his congregation hurt, he hurt for them. Then again, when they were joyful he shared in that, too.
Sometimes, when he caught himself wishing there was more to be happy about, he’d recall the life he’d led before he’d come to Gumption. There was no comparison.
His only regret, at this point, was that it had taken him so long to find the right path and start to walk it. He had a lot of catching up to do and he was looking forward to meeting those challenges.
Chapter Two
Lillie’s grandparents’ home was one of those brick places that had started out as a simple rectangle and had grown into a sprawling megalith over the years. Darla Sue and Max had raised their own five children, seen them off to college or married or both, and then taken in Lillie, their only granddaughter. It had been clear at the time that Max had considered his child-rearing days completed. He had acted far from eager to welcome another youngster into the house but Gram had treated Lillie as if she were the only bright star in the sky.
Back then, Lillie had accepted that love as her due, but in retrospect she could see what a strain her presence must have placed on her grandparents and their marriage. To Darla Sue’s credit, she had never complained or said she wished she was free of the added responsibility of a child.
Max’s pickup truck wasn’t in the drive when Lillie arrived but Darla Sue’s car was. Parking next to a bed of nodding yellow daffodils, Lillie got out and climbed the wooden porch steps leading to the back door. Gram’s latest pair of tattered gardening sneakers had been kicked off and left beside the mat, just as they had been in years past. The familiar sight tugged at Lillie’s memories and transported her back to her childhood. What small feet Gram had. Funny how she’d never noticed that before.
Smiling and sighing, she knocked on the back screen door, got no answer and let herself in with a cheery “Hello? Gram? It’s me!”
The kitchen hadn’t changed in years, either. It was still typical of the 1950s, with homemade cabinets of cedar and a floor covered with worn linoleum instead of more modern vinyl. In one end of the kitchen sat the familiar chrome-and-red-plastic dinette set.
Darla Sue called out her answer from the other room as if Lillie hadn’t been away