“Whether you realize it or not, Satan is using you against me.” He watched her face go white. Satisfied, he stabbed again. “I’ll talk with Ralph in the morning and see if there isn’t another area where we can use you.”
Her eyes flickered. “Please don’t.”
“Don’t what? Expect you to behave like my wife?”
“Try to use me anymore. I think it’s best if I step back for a while.”
He felt as though she’d punched him. “What am I supposed to tell people?”
“Tell them I’m sick.”
“Are you?”
“Yes, Paul. Sick at heart at what I’ve witnessed in our church.”
Paul threw his napkin on top of his half-eaten dinner and shoved his chair back. “I’m going out for a run.”
But even after a mile, he couldn’t get away from the guilt that chased him.
Samuel finished waxing his DeSoto and decided it was a good day for a drive. It had been a few weeks since Stephen Decker had knocked on his door. Samuel figured it wouldn’t do any harm to go to Rockville and see how his new project was coming along. He hadn’t been down that way in a month of Sundays. Not since Bjorn Svenson had gone into convalescent care.
Avoiding the freeway, he took a quiet country road. Windows down, he enjoyed the hot breeze over his bare arm. He could smell the hot sand and almond trees ready for harvesting. As he entered Rockville, he couldn’t help but wonder why Stephen had decided to pull up stakes in Centerville and move to a town with its best days long gone. He had no trouble finding Stephen’s building. In fact, it drew a laugh. Did Stephen know? Or did God have a sense of irony? He parked on the street. As he got out of his car, he heard the high-pitched scream of a saber saw sinking its teeth into wood. The front door was open, the smell of sawdust strong. Someone was ham-mering below.
A giant carpenter shoved his goggles up. “You looking for someone?” Samuel guessed him at six feet nine.
“Stephen Decker.”
“Hey, Boss! You got a visitor!”
“Ask what he’s selling!” Stephen called.
The giant eyed him. “You a salesman?”
“Nope. My name’s Samuel Mason. I’m a friend—”
“Oh, hey! I know who you are.” He yanked off his glove and extended his hand. “You’re the Bible teacher he’s been yapping about. My name’s Carl, but everyone calls me Tree House.” He hollered to Stephen. “Hey, Boss! It’s Samuel!”
“Well, show him some hospitality, you oaf! Offer him a soda! Send him down to the basement. Ask him to bring a couple more with him.”
“Okay! Okay! Like you’re paying me!” Grinning at Samuel, he nodded. “Ice chest is over there. Help yourself. Stairs at the back.”
Samuel took out three cans of soda. The stifling heat on the main floor gave way to the coolness of stone block and cement. Stephen had his foot up on a box as he leaned over a drawing board, studying plans with a young man with a ponytail. Straightening, Stephen grinned. “Samuel! Good to see you.” He handed a soda to his company and popped the lid off the other. “Samuel, I’d like you to meet Jack Bodene. Jack, this is Samuel Mason, my Bible-study mentor.”
They shook hands. “Nice to meet you, Samuel.”
“Likewise.” The young man had old eyes.
“So what did you think of the place when you drove up?” Stephen lifted his soda. “Think I’m out of my mind like the rest of the population?”
“Nope.”
“Wasting my money and my time?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“What the Lord wants.”
Stephen laughed. “I haven’t got a clue on that score. Come on. I’ll show you around.” Samuel met Hector Mendoza and Cal Davies upstairs.
The building was going to be a jewel in the middle of a rock pile, and smack-dab in the center of town, no less. Nothing happened by chance. Samuel couldn’t help but smile. He had needed a good reminder that God was sovereign. And here it was. Solid as the Rock of faith Stephen was still standing on. Thank God. Man plans, but it’s God’s will that prevails.
Stephen suggested they all take a break. Tree House, Jack, Hector, and Cal joined them in the basement. They all sat on folding chairs, enjoying the coolness of the block walls.
“You know, I’ve been thinking.” Stephen sported a sly grin.
“Look out, amigos. El hombre has got another harebrained idea.”
“Duck for cover!”
Stephen grinned. “Any chance of getting you to come over to Rockville once a week and teach a Bible study?”
“I’m too old to be on the road at night.”
“Small problem. You can stay over. I’ll give you the best room in the house.”
“If he gives you a choice, pick the basement,” Tree House said.
Samuel realized Stephen was serious. “Why don’t you teach?”
“I’ve been trying, but these guys have more questions than I have answers.”
Samuel looked around at the small gathering of men. It would be nice to step in and start another class, but he felt the Lord nudging him in another direction. “Let’s talk about it.”
Stephen nodded and let it go.
Samuel stayed another half an hour. “I’d better go so these men can get back to work.” Stephen walked outside with him and asked him again about leading the Bible study.
“You know, my young friend, the Lord will equip you for whatever job He’s given you to do.”
“You have years of experience and a lifetime of studying behind you.”
“You’ve got to start sometime, Stephen. This is as good a time as any.”
“I miss Wednesday nights. That group was my church family.”
“We miss you, too.”
“Is everyone still coming?”
“Sally and Charlie are still coming. And Eunice . . . ” Oh.
Stephen laughed softly. “Don’t give me that look, Samuel. It’s better if I keep a distance. Abby knew.”
“Yes. Abby knew. We both knew. I just forgot.”
“Good. Do me a favor and forget again, will you?”
He saw it was more than Eunice keeping Stephen away. “What else is bothering you?”
“Paul is what’s bothering me. He’s been given enough rope to hang himself.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Never mind.” Stephen smiled wryly. “As you can tell, I still have a long way to go before I can learn how to love my enemy.”
Samuel hadn’t realized Stephen’s feelings ran so hot. “I’ve had my struggles where Paul is concerned.”
“Yeah. I guess you have at that.”
“Paul isn’t the enemy, Stephen. Our battle isn’t against flesh and blood.”
“I know.”
They shook hands at the DeSoto. Samuel got in and cranked the window down. “Pray for him.”
“Easier said than done.”
“I’ve been doing it for years. Make it an act of obedience. Which it will be for a while. But I’ll tell you something, Stephen. You won’t be able to keep hating Paul if you pray for him. God will give you another vision of what Paul can be if he surrenders himself again.” He started the car. “Remember, Christ died for us while we were yet sinners.”
“Paul’s going to have a lot to answer for one of these days.” Stephen didn’t look like he relished the thought.
Samuel felt the gentle nudging again. God had something more for him to say. “You need to know, Stephen. Be ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“I don’t know that yet. What I do know is one of these days, Paul Hudson is going to need us. When that day comes, and I don’t think it’s far off, we need to be ready to do whatever Jesus asks of us.”
Raising his hand, Samuel pulled away from the curb.
Nothing was by accident. Impulses were often nothing of the sort. The hot wind swirled inside the car, bringing with it the scents of the Central Valley. Peace settled over Samuel as he he
aded home. Inexplicable, precious peace.
The message God had sent him to give had been received.
Paul listened to the members of the building committee and felt a growing despair and disgust in the pit of his stomach. Everything seemed to be going wrong. Rather than working together, they were all going off on their own pet projects. Gerald Boham had spent a weekend up on Nob Hill in San Francisco and gone to services at Grace Cathedral. Now, he was all hot on the idea of a labyrinth. “We could have it in the new multipurpose room.”
“What’s it for?” Marvin poured himself another glass of water.
“Well, the idea is for people to walk a spiritual path. There are stations on the labyrinth.”
Another snorted in contempt. “You mean like the Stations of the Cross?”
“I didn’t see it in a Catholic church.”
“But what’s the point?” another wanted to know. “Isn’t a labyrinth something that brings confusion?”
“No. That’s not the idea as I saw it. By the time you get to the end of the thing, you’ve reached enlightenment.”
“Just because you walked along some tiles in a floor?”
“You stop and read instructions every few feet and meditate on whatever it says. Then move on and so on.”
“It sounds like New Age religion,” Paul said.
“Well, maybe, but aren’t we trying to bring in the New Agers? We’d be the ones writing the messages.”
“How much would a thing like that cost?” Marvin was always concerned about the bottom line: money. It was his job as church treasurer.
“A couple of thousand, I’d guess. Not that much.”
“Not that much?” Marvin snorted. “We’re barely scraping by as it is. We need every penny coming in to pay the bills we have now.”
Sweat broke out on the back of Paul’s neck. “I thought giving was up this month.”
Marvin flushed. “It’s up. Sure it’s up. I’m not saying we don’t have enough. It’s just that we don’t have surplus to spend on new projects.”
“So what are you saying?” Gerald’s face darkened. “That my idea is stupid?”
“Did I say stupid? Expensive. It’ll be expensive.”
“Okay,” Paul said quickly. “Okay! It’s an idea to think about, Gerald. And you’re right, Marvin. We need to keep to the budget. Maybe we could put it on the list of things to consider next year.” It took a few minutes to settle them down again, and by that time, his stomach was churning. Tempers were running high tonight. No one seemed to agree on anything anymore, other than that a lot needed to be done.
“Maybe you could come up with another one of your bright fund-raising ideas, Gerry,” Marvin said in a tone that could have been serious or seriously combative.
“Marvin—” Paul gave him a quelling stare—“we do not need another fundraiser right now.”
“Easter is coming,” Gerald said. “Giving is always up at Easter.”
“And what if it isn’t?” Marvin was always the doomsayer. “We can’t wait around until the Christmas pageant to make money, Paul.”
“So what’s the problem?” Gerald, on the attack. “Seems to me, last meeting, you were telling us we had enough money to sail through the quarter.”
“Well, I thought we did. But we had some unexpected expenses.”
“What unexpected expenses?” someone asked.
“That guy who fell off the ladder. Tibbitson. Remember him? The medical bills are heavy.”
“What about the insurance?”
“I’m working on them. But now Tibbitson is saying he needs physical therapy.”
Everyone started talking at once.
Paul was beginning to feel like a fireman trying to stomp out sparks blowing into a field of wheat. When it was clear no one was listening to anyone, he slammed his fist on the table. A shocked silence followed. He tried a soft laugh. “Let’s take a breath, shall we? Why don’t each of you give me your reports, and I’ll go over everything? Right now, let’s just calm down and enjoy the rest of the meal.”
“Sounds like a good idea to me.” Marvin took another bite of dessert.
Others agreed.
“So,” Paul said, eager to change the subject to more pleasant things, “I heard your daughter received a college acceptance letter, Hal. Congratulations are in order.”
“She’s not going if I have anything to say about it.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s got some quixotic notion about being a missionary. I told her I’ll send her to USC, but I’m not about to waste twenty-five thousand dollars a year so she can go to some no-name Christian college to prepare for a job that’ll pay less than a postal worker. Not on your life!”
Paul had a splitting headache by the time the meeting was over. On the way out to the parking lot, the men were talking about their wives attending a candle party that evening.
“Aromatherapy is the new rage. Kristin has been raking in the money ever since she became a rep.”
“Yeah, she’s got my wife burning those candles all the time. I can tell what mood she’s in when I walk in the door. If it’s lavender, she’s trying to calm down about something.”
“And if it’s cinnamon, romance is in the air, eh, Don?”
They all laughed.
“Is Eunice feeling any better, Paul?”
“A little. She’s taking it easy.”
“Jessie said she looks like she’s lost weight.” Gerald talked about Jessie’s job as the high school nurse and how many girls were coming in looking like starving Ethiopians because they wanted to look like some movie star.
Larry slapped Paul on the back. “I’ll have Kristin bring a couple of candles over. Eunice will be feeling better in no time. Kristin’s got some herbal blends that are guaranteed to enhance good health.”
Paul didn’t want to think about what Eunice might say if Kristin came over with aromatherapy candles. “She’s been doing a lot of meditating on Scripture since giving up the choir.”
“Oh, well, that’s good. Kristin meditates, too. She’s got one room all set up for it. She bought a fountain last week. She says the sound of running water is soothing to the soul. She lights up a whole table of candles, turns off the lights, and listens to Yanni. She says it helps her feel centered. Maybe that’s what Eunice needs. Centering.”
Centering on what? Paul wanted to ask, but didn’t. Gerald might be offended. He bid them all good night and headed for his new Lexus parked on the far side of the lot. He could hear them talking as they headed for their cars.
“My wife has a dozen of those Celtic CDs. She’s playing them all the time.”
“That’s better than the rock music my kid’s playing. . . . ”
Paul clicked the remote, opened the car door, and slid in. Letting out his breath, he popped open the glove compartment and took out the medicine his doctor had prescribed. His stomach was killing him again. His cell phone vibrated in his jacket pocket. He took it out and tossed it onto the leather passenger seat, where it buzzed like a rattlesnake. Stomach churning, he gripped the steering wheel until it stopped. Then he picked it up and pressed a button. He recognized the number illuminated in yellowish green. Sheila. The dash clock said 10:18.
Temptation gripped him. He could feel it sinking its fangs into him and sending hot currents through his body. The fangs turned to teeth gnawing at him.
He could call Eunice and tell her there was an emergency.
Or he could ignore the call.
Rob Atherton was on another one of his business trips. He knew because Sheila had mentioned it on Sunday morning when she gave Eunice a hug. “You should come over for a swim, Eunice. I get lonely all by myself. Rob’s going to be gone all this week. He’s going to Florida again.” Sheila kissed Eunice’s cheek. “You’re so pale, honey. A little sun would do you a world of good.” She had smiled at him as though he was an afterthought. “Oh, and you’re invited, too, of course, Pastor Paul.” He’d laughed about it, ma
de the expected remark about being the poor forgotten husband. He couldn’t look at Eunice, afraid she might see guilt in his eyes.
He’d had only one lapse. That’s all. What Eunice didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. And he wouldn’t let it happen again. Gripping the wheel tightly with one hand, he turned the ignition key.
The house was quiet when he entered. He saw the light was on in the family room. Eunice was sitting with her head back, her eyes closed, her Bible open in her lap. For a second, he had the sensation of déjà vu, only it was his mother. Maybe it was just that Eunice had so much in common with her. She was always reading her Bible, more now than she had when they were first married. She opened her eyes and found him looking at her.
“You look tired. Was it a rough meeting?”
A fiasco! He felt as though he had been in a mud pit with professional wrestlers. But he wasn’t about to say any of that to Eunice. “It went well. We got some work done.” He had managed to rein them in again and keep things under control.
She closed her Bible and put it on the side table. “Do you want to talk?”
“Not really.” The last thing he wanted was a heart-to-heart talk with his wife. Most of what was going on inside him lately didn’t bear discussing with his wife. He was falling in love with Sheila Atherton and was afraid there was nothing he could do about it. “I think I’ll hit the sack. I’m beat.”
“I’ve been praying for you, Paul.”
He raised his head.
She smiled self-consciously. “Not that I haven’t always prayed for you.” Her smile waned as she searched his eyes. “I just had the feeling you needed extra prayer tonight.”
He was glad of the dim light that hid his blush. “Any particular reason?”
“I don’t know. Can you think of anything?”
He thought of Sheila again and shame filled him. “Nope. Everything’s fine.” He gave her a weak smile. His conscience writhed. “But don’t stop.”
She got up and turned out the lamp on the side table. The streetlight illumined the family room enough that he could see her come toward him. She touched his face tenderly. “I love you.”
“I know.” His throat closed. “I love you, too.” He did. Just not as much as he once had. He pulled her close and heard her soft intake of breath. “I know it doesn’t seem that way at times, but I do.” I want to love her, God. Lifting her chin, he kissed her. Gently. At first. Until he thought of Sheila.