An Honest Life

She dug a few holes and indicated for Rick to hand her individual plants to put into them. Once she lowered them into the ground and patted the dirt back into place, she turned back to him. “Have you heard about that event? It’s like a family holiday dinner times fifty.”

“Sounds okay, I guess, if you like things like that. But if anything throws the schedule off, it won’t be happening this year inside the new building.”

“If the project is done, you’ll come to the church celebration, won’t you?”

He made a noncommittal sound and handed her another plant. Well, at least it wasn’t an outright no. She could almost guarantee he’d be a regular church attendee before that next holiday.

She looked back at him again. “How was your Labor Day weekend?”

“Short. I worked Saturday, remember? And isn’t today still part of the long weekend?”

She nodded and took a deep breath before diving in. “Didn’t see you at church Sunday.”

“I wasn’t there. I don’t attend church.”

Now that sounded like a definite no. Her confidence slipped, but it wasn’t like her to give up easily. “You need to give it a chance, Rick. You’d just love Hickory Ridge. It’s a great church community.” She refused to hear how empty those words sounded in her ears or to wonder whether she even believed what she’d said. If the church was so great, then why did she feel so lonely lately every time she entered its doors?

“It’s not your specific church I’m opposed to. I disagree with organized religion overall.”

Charity’s mouth went dry. How could anyone believe such a thing when church was so much a part of her life, the center point of her daily schedule? But then the shock evaporated into irritation. “If you don’t believe in churches, then why are you building the Family Life Center?”

“I believe in honest work and giving clients the very best. And my foreman, Rusty, convinced me this was a good project for us—a group he believes in—so we went for the contract.”

The dispassionate way he said it bothered her even more. “I don’t understand how you can think this important project is just work. And if it’s just about earning a living, then why are you here alone today when you won’t accomplish much?”

Instead of answering her question, he shrugged. Charity planted her hands on her hips, refusing to wonder why his apathetic attitude annoyed her so much. Of course, it was justified, and she hurriedly searched for a reason to tell him before he spoke again. But he beat her to it.

“Hey, great news about the youth minister’s new baby. I heard you helped with the delivery.”

A punch couldn’t have knocked the wind out of her as effectively as that statement had. Uneasiness put an end to her annoyance. How much did Rick know about Andrew? Had Andrew told him the whole embarrassing story?

Her thoughts whirling off-kilter, she struggled for some appropriate response. She had to think of something to say before the awkward pause in their conversation expanded like a fault line during an earthquake. In a rush, she choked out, “Yes, Seth is a sweet baby. He is so perfect—such a wonderful gift from God.”

“That’s funny,” he said. “I thought they were all supposed to be gifts from God—even the less-than-perfect ones.”

Charity jerked up her head, but he only looked away. That wasn’t what she’d meant to say. He’d just gotten her all flustered, and now she’d fallen in a trap of her own words. Why did it seem she couldn’t string two coherent thoughts together when this man was around?

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, part for effect and part as self-protection from the way he muddled her thoughts. “I know perfectly well that all children are precious to God. In Matthew 19:14, Jesus even says, ‘Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them; for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.’”

She couldn’t help feeling a little smug over that comeback. That would show him not to twist her words.

But Rick only shook his head, a strange smile appearing on his lips. “Yes, the Bible is an amazing book, the Book of Matthew in particular, where the Beatitudes are found. One of them says ‘Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.’ Meek and humble mean the same thing, don’t they?”

Charity felt color draining from her face. He’d as much as accused her of having no humility. She searched madly for some appropriate retort, something to put this arrogant fool in his place, but she finally ran out of steam. “Oh…just forget it. Did you have some real purpose here, or did you just come to bother me?”

Rick made a negative sound and didn’t meet her gaze when he said, “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Then why are you here? Really?”

“I thought it would be quiet at the site with the holiday and all.” He shrugged and took a few steps toward his black extended cab pickup. Over his shoulder he said, “I came to pray.”

To pray? Charity still reeled from Rick’s words, even as she watched him dump his tools in the truck and drive from the church lot. Part of her wanted to offer him good riddance, while the other part wished to pepper him with questions. It made no sense that he would have such a problem with churches and yet come to pray at the deserted church lot. Come to think of it, why was he praying at all if he didn’t attend church? And how was he quoting Scripture if he didn’t hear it every week in sermons?

Was it possible for him to have faith, even if he didn’t teach Sunday school or sing in the choir or, at the very minimum, attend Sunday services regularly? She just didn’t know.

And equally confusing was how he seemed so intent on twisting everything she said to make her look bad. It was as if he wanted to make some statement, but whatever it was, she wasn’t getting it.

At least he hadn’t pushed the issue of the Westin baby or any nastiness from her past regarding Andrew. Maybe he didn’t know as much as she’d first suspected. The relief that pushed a heavy breath from her lungs surprised her. Why did it matter so much that a near stranger didn’t know about her less than shining past?

Gardening having lost its appeal, Charity gathered up her tools and crossed to her car. She refused to acknowledge the voice inside that questioned her leaving right then, when the church grounds were finally empty and she could work alone.

She needed to get home and rest; that was it. The excuse was sure easier to swallow than that she was still bothered by that conversation with Rick. And not just the mini scriptural debate, either. She’d had plenty of those over the years, and she could hold her own against all but the best-trained biblical scholars. Far more troubling was how enjoyable she’d found chatting with Rick and planting with him side by side.

The image of his startling blue eyes, with character lines crinkling at the corners, stole into her thoughts. How light and sparkling those eyes appeared when Rick laughed. How anger darkened that color at least two shades. She knew. She’d seen—and probably inspired—both reactions.

Suppressing that image took more energy than should have been necessary, but she’d accomplished it by the time she’d closed the car’s trunk. Obviously, she had to be a little friendly with him to accomplish her mission of bringing him to church, but she wasn’t supposed to enjoy herself so much. She admonished herself to focus on her Christian duty rather than the handsome prospect as she climbed behind the wheel.

But that didn’t stop her from jerking her head sharply toward the sound of gravel being shot up at the end of the long church drive. Her pulse slowed only when inside the cloud of dust, she saw Andrew’s car instead of a pickup. You just didn’t want to argue with him again, she told herself, trying hard to believe it.

Obviously on the return ride from the hospital, Serena sat next to her husband, and a plastic handle from an infant car seat protruded from the center back seat. As they passed, Andrew stopped and rolled down his car window. Charity pressed her foot to the brake and hit the automatic window button.

A head full of dark curls suddenly pressed up against the back of Andrew’s seat, Tessa’s tiny hand waving madly through the crack between the door-frame and the headrest. “Hi, Miss Charity. We have a new baby brother.”

Teaching the Tiny Tot Sunday school class did have its advantages, like getting to know sweet little kids like this one. “That’s great, Tessa. I heard you’re a big sister. Boy, that’s an important job.”

“It sure is,” the kindergartner announced and sat back to fuss over the bundle in the car seat.

Andrew shook his head, his grin so big his cheeks had to ache. “Are you having a good holiday, Charity?”

“Not as good as yours, having your family home again.” Charity leaned forward so she could see the youth minister’s wife. “Welcome home, Serena. I bet you’re glad to be back.” It was surprising how much easier it was to have a friendly conversation with the other woman after having served as her nurse. Until now, they’d been polite but not overly friendly.

“I’m looking forward to having food with flavor in it. The hospital menu was pretty bland, but I guess you already know that,” Serena said just as Seth started fussing from Tessa’s overzealous attention. “Oh, I forgot the sleepless nights. Looking forward to those, too.”

Charity laughed with her. Not that she wouldn’t mind walking the floors a few hours with her own colicky newborn, but she refused to be envious today. It only exhausted her. “Let me know if you need anything,” she said and found that she meant it.

With a few waves and an increasing volume of newborn wails, the Westins drove past to park near the old barn behind the house. Charity continued out of the drive, her thoughts still on the family climbing out of the small car.

The Westins had given her an idea. Sure, she needed to continue her mission to bring Rick to church, but she shouldn’t focus her ministry so singularly. There were plenty of other needs in the church she could address as well. The Westins might appreciate some help in adapting to life with their new baby, and Tessa probably needed a little extra attention right now because of her changed status in the family.

That was it. If she was busy ministering to several church families, she would be much too preoccupied to let her thoughts focus on one brooding man. The plan seemed pretty good, but for some reason, it still didn’t allow her to relax. In theory, it sounded perfect, but she worried it would fail woefully in practice.

Chapter Four

Rick stomped into his downtown Milford house, not even taking the time to wipe off his work boots as he usually did. A little dirt couldn’t harm the badly scarred hardwood floors he’d recently uncovered, but it seemed counterproductive to his restoration project to make things any worse. Today, though, he just didn’t care.

He didn’t even take time to admire his handiwork on the newly refinished crown moldings and six-panel doors, glancing beyond their glossy mahogany to the rest of the nearly gutted structure. Everything was dark and drab—just the way he felt.

Why couldn’t I just avoid her? Now that was the question of the day. He could probably spend another year trying to figure out the answer to it. But for whatever reason, the flower beds she tended—or the gardener herself—had diverted his interest from his own work until he finally had no choice but to talk to her.

It was bad enough that he’d started round two in their featherweight matchup by mentioning the Westin baby. But then he’d made it worse by throwing her an uppercut to the chin for that sanctimonious-sounding comment about the baby being a gift from God. Every child was, and she hadn’t specifically singled that one out. But he’d been unable to resist the temptation to put her in her place, anyway.

In his defense, a flimsy one at best, she had all but called him a “heathen” for working on the church project when he didn’t attend. He sure hadn’t done much to convince her otherwise, he thought, as he kicked aside a sealed can of wood stain.

A real Christian should have been able to take the high road—to turn the other cheek, even—from her uninformed judgments. The thought halted him in kitchen doorway before he could step on the cracked, yellow linoleum. Just past the entry, Rick opened the junk drawer beneath the wall telephone and rustled through the mess until he connected with one of his most special possessions, an old Gideon’s New Testament, its cover reattached with the handyman’s solution to all problems: duct tape. If only he could move beyond just learning the Scriptures and begin to follow the lessons inside it.

Conviction settled deep in his heart before he could tuck the Bible back in the drawer. Sure, Charity seemed to use Scripture as a weapon to protect her from whatever she was afraid of, but hadn’t he done the same thing? He was as guilty as she, playing her same judgmental game.

Father, I’m having some trouble with this one. I’m sorry I’ve behaved so badly, but this Charity just gets under my skin. Please forgive me and give me patience for dealing with all difficult people.

He paused long enough to open the refrigerator, pull out the fixings for a turkey with Swiss sandwich and set the armload on the tile countertop. “You know how sanctimonious she is,” he prayed aloud this time as he made the sandwich. “You know her….” He let his words trail off as a realization struck him again. “But I get the feeling she doesn’t know you.” His prayer ended without an “amen” as they would be talking more throughout the day.

After downing the sandwich, Rick grabbed a sander and started smoothing the rough spots on the stripped hardwood. Focusing on the scrape of the sandpaper and the earthy scent of the fine wood dust, he hoped to extricate thoughts of Charity from his mind. But she only burrowed through his consciousness in layers not unlike those he uncovered in the old wood.

Her face flashed before him again—the perfect, porcelain features and huge, almost golden eyes that showed every emotion from flattery to fury. He liked the former a lot better, especially combined with that girlish blush. And her small rosebud mouth…it sure contrasted with her penchant for speaking out of turn.

When he saw her again—and he no longer held any illusions that he could avoid her for the duration of the project—he vowed to be nice to her. No matter how hard she made it. He would be a loving Christian example to her if it killed him, and if he needed to spend more time with her—say dinner—to make that point, then—

“Knock it off.” His words bounced off the walls as he reached for his hammer and aimed for an errant nail, landing on his thumb instead. “Ow!”

Could he have been attracted to Charity Sims? No, it couldn’t be that. But she did pull at him somehow. Maybe it was an emptiness he sensed beneath her religious armor. Or maybe he’d just imagined that to excuse some of his earlier behavior.

Anyway, even if he was interested in her, it wouldn’t have made a difference. She looked down at him, at least for his beliefs. And if that didn’t matter to him, it just proved he’d spent way too many months—make that years—without as much as a coffee date.

Were he to choose someone for a romantic relationship, she would be someone kind and pure-hearted like Rusty’s Tricia. Although Rusty had been young when they’d wed and had only become a man during their marriage, Tricia had stood steady by his side. Envious? Not at all. He was more amazed, really. Rusty and Tricia were the only couple he knew who contradicted his theory that true love, at least the romantic kind, didn’t exist.

Why was he allowing himself to think those thoughts, anyway? About anyone, let alone someone like Charity Sims. He’d been on his own as long as he could remember. He liked being alone. Except for his relationship with God and, much later, Rusty, he had avoided the complications of friendships. It had been for the best.

Needing people could be disastrous for a loner like him. It would only make him vulnerable—something he couldn’t allow. He could never again let himself be that lost child of his memories. The only way to avoid that was to rely only on the person beneath his own skin. He’d never needed anyone, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Early Tuesday afternoon Rick perched two extra two-by-fours on his shoulder and headed back to the framed building. A noise to his right caught his attention, and he turned to see a familiar car coming up the drive. He didn’t have to look twice to recognize the driver, and he smiled against his will.

“Here we go again,” he said, unloading his cargo onto the stack before glancing back at the parking lot.

If the idea of another verbal sparring round with Charity bothered him so much, then he shouldn’t have been sauntering right to her, his heart tapping out Morse code in his chest. He reminded himself of a clown punching bag, the kind with sand in the bottom to keep it popping back up for more punishment.

But his comparison didn’t stop him from stepping next to her car when she parked it and bending to speak into her open window. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this. People will talk.”

Her hair wasn’t tied back this time but flowed to her shoulder blades in a wavy mass. A crazy temptation to see if her tresses felt like silk had him tucking his thumbs safely through his tool belt.

Instead of saying something clever, she blushed. “I came to pick up some materials for my Sunday school class.”

“Did you forget them when you were here yesterday?” He extinguished the thought that she’d made an excuse to see him, but not before feeling the tiniest bit pleased.

“Yeah, I forgot.” But the way she chewed her lip and refused to meet his gaze as she got out of the car decreased her credibility. She fussed with her hair, shoving it over her shoulders as if it was a bother.

She seemed so uncomfortable, the woman of far too many words suddenly struck silent, and he scrambled for a way to relieve her discomfiture. “Did you come to monitor our progress? I can show you the roof trusses we’ve set. We’ve worked really hard. I promise.”

“No, that isn’t necessary.” She shook her head emphatically. “I just need to get my things from the church so I can get over to Andrew and Serena’s house.”

“The Westins?”

Nodding, Charity took a few steps toward the door. “I talked to them this morning and promised to come over and play with Tessa for a while before I go to work. It’s a big transition for her, suddenly having a brother.”

So she hadn’t come by to see him after all. He hated the disappointment that reared inside him, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to delay her departure a few minutes longer. “It’s nice of you to think of that little girl.” Her blush deepened at the compliment.

“Tessa’s really special. I teach her in Sunday school. Although she lives with a painful illness, juvenile rheumatoid arthritis, she’s always smiling.”

Charity gazed at the parsonage, her eyes shining a bit too much, but she rolled her lips inward and looked away a few seconds. When she faced him again, the shimmer of threatened tears was gone. Rick wondered if it had been there at all. It was the most honest expression she’d displayed since they’d met.

“Yeah, I’ve seen her playing on her swing set. She’s always laughing,” he said when she didn’t speak.

He glimpsed the shine again before she turned to pull open one of the glass double doors. “You’re sure you don’t want a tour?” he said, relieved when she stopped again and turned back to him. “Or better yet, you could come back tomorrow, and I could put you to work on the crew. How are you with a pneumatic nailer?”

She laughed at that, the sound sweetly feminine. Melodic even. “I don’t think you want to let me loose on society with one of those.”

“That’s too bad. I sure could have used a bigger crew, especially for framing. I only have eight, and a dozen would have been better. Faster.”

Something akin to relief filled him when she allowed the glass door to fall shut and turned back to him. “Adding me to the crew would be like subtracting one of your regular guys. Maybe even two. They would have to work full-time to fix my mistakes.”

“You’d be fine as long as you remember one rule. Measure twice, cut once.” He demonstrated the concept with his hands.

“I’ll try to remember that.”

Levity glimmered in her eyes, tempting him to tell his best knock-knock joke just to see her laugh again. But he waited too long, and she reopened the door. “Sorry, I’ve really got to go.” She waved and disappeared inside.

A few minutes later, after Rick had returned to the power saw, Charity crossed the parking lot and hurried to the parsonage. She emerged again with the petite curly-haired brunette, who danced rings around Charity as they approached the wooden play structure behind the house.

As much as Rick tried to focus on his own directions about measuring and cutting, he found himself watching them. First, Tessa slid down the yellow slide into Charity’s open arms. Then, Charity stood and twirled around and around with the child’s legs tucked around her waist. When both appeared sufficiently dizzy, Charity carefully lowered to the ground, and both rested on their backs kicking their feet up in the air.

The scene was so sweet and private that Rick felt it was an invasion to watch, but he couldn’t make himself look away. Charity’s laughter drifted across the lot on the few occasions when he turned off the saw and his crew took a break with the nailer. His chest tightened, the sound of their laughter threatening to wrap itself around his heart, but still he observed them.

Though she wrestled and laughed with Tessa, Charity moved cautiously, as if to protect the child. A nurse’s instinct. Hospitals—Charity, working there, and Tessa, a frequent guest—probably were the common denominator connecting the two.

Before Charity had mentioned anything about Tessa, Rick had already known about the Westins’ fragile child, the information courtesy of Rusty. If only his friend would stop telling him stories about the people at Hickory Ridge. It felt too personal.

He especially wished Rusty would stop talking about Charity. Without that information, Rick could have been just a casual observer now, one who might have guessed he was witnessing a tender moment between mother and child. But Rick knew better. And the knowing ruffled his thoughts even more. This was not her child but Serena’s daughter. Serena, the woman who had taken what Charity had believed to be her place in Andrew’s heart and by his side in church hierarchy. The youth minister’s wife.

But the loving picture the woman and young girl painted together, still giggling as Tessa straddled Charity’s belly and tickled her under the chin, revealed none of that uncomfortable history. The sides of Rick’s mouth turned up in a smile he couldn’t restrain.

For once, Charity was being benevolent and living up to her name. She was such a paradox. Just when he thought he had her figured out and could justify his resentment toward her, she allowed him to glimpse this other, endearing side. He wasn’t sure how to process this observation, fearing he liked this side a little too much.

In what felt like a short time later, Charity and Tessa walked hand in hand through the back door into the house. Rick surprised himself by wishing she wouldn’t leave so soon. The way she blurred the clear lines around his personal boundaries, he should have been wishing she would disappear until the building dedication instead of hanging around and distracting him.

From his perch on the ladder, Rick glanced at Charity as she climbed in the car. She looked over and waved shyly before closing the door. Despite his embarrassment over getting caught watching, Rick couldn’t help wondering when he’d see her next. Or hoping it wasn’t too long.

At work a few hours later, Charity tried to contain the smile that pulled at her lips as she yanked the shirt of her fresh scrubs over her head. Finally, she just gave in. It was amazing what a play date with Tessa and a civil conversation with Rick—especially that—could do for her mood. She’d sensed his gaze upon her several times as she’d played with Tessa, but she’d probably imagined that.