High Plains Hearts (55 page)

“Great. Church starts at nine thirty, so I’ll see you around nine fifteen.”

As she drove back to Obsidian in Gramps’s SUV, which was a sight better than Trevor’s truck, she looked at her surroundings, once again astonished at the panorama laid out around her. With something as spectacular as the Badlands as a backdrop to her new life, it was only fitting that she should offer praise to their Maker.

Church. She was going to church.

Hayden was used to the church, but now he was seeing it as he imagined Livvy would. How different it must be from the grand cathedrals and massive churches she probably saw on every street in Boston.

Trinity was a small white-framed structure, basically unchanged in its 125 years of existence. The interior showed the importance those first church members had assigned their place of worship. A large mural of the Nativity adorned the wall behind the altar, and its hues were still as bright as they must have been when they were first painted. Stained-glass windows, handmade by an early settler to the town, shed multicolored beams on the tiny congregation.

Hayden could feel Livvy’s uneasiness as they slid into the pews. He was so accustomed to coming to church every Sunday that it had never occurred to him how awkward it might be for someone not used to attending services to visit for the first time.

He smiled encouragingly and whispered, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Thanks,” she answered in a low voice. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

The hymns and Scripture readings were marked on the board at the front of the church, but there was also a bulletin. He noticed that she studied it closely, especially the announcements of the upcoming Men’s League barbecue, and the Women’s League garage sale.

He hadn’t been involved much recently in the Men’s League, and he reminded himself to make it to the next meeting. Maybe Gramps would like to be a part of it, especially since he would be moving into town.

The minister, Reverend Carlisle, stood in front of the congregation and motioned for them to rise for the first hymn. It was one of Hayden’s favorites, “Faith of Our Fathers.”

He loved the old hymns. Singing the same melodies and the same words as his forebears had done gave him a sense of connection with the past that he treasured. He heard Gramps’s wavering tenor next to him, and he put his hand on the old man’s shoulder, and was rewarded with a smile.

He could sing the hymn from memory, but he held the hymnal with his free hand so that Livvy could see it, too. She followed along well, her clear soprano melding with the others in the congregation, and he could feel her relax.

At the end of the song, they sat and the minister shared the day’s gospel lesson with them. It was the very beginning of Luke.
“Forasmuch as many have taken in hand to set forth in order a declaration of those things which are most surely believed among us, even as they delivered them unto us, which from the beginning were eyewitnesses, and ministers of the word; it seemed good to me also, having had perfect understanding of all things from the very first, to write unto thee in order, most excellent Theophilus, that thou mightest know the certainty of those things, wherein thou hast been instructed.”

It was, the minister pointed out, a passage about history and faith. It was the faith of their fathers, just as the hymn had extolled, that brought them to this point of being gathered together this Sunday. Luke had his own forefathers of the church to build upon, and he had drawn upon that in his own faith journey—and what a journey it was.

Who, Reverend Carlisle asked, was Theophilus? Was he simply someone to whom Luke was writing?

The name, he explained, meant either
lover of God
or
loved by God
. Was there a difference?

The part of his name,
Theo-
, meant God. In addressing the letter to someone named Theophilus, Luke was passing his own religious heritage.

The people he was about to share with Theophilus were those who been there from the beginning, who were, as Luke said, eyewitnesses.

Reverend Carlisle leaned forward. “And dwell, if you would, for a few minutes on the last of this passage: ‘That thou mightest know the certainty of those things.’ Think of it. The certainty. Luke was solidly convinced of the truth of faith, and that is what we all need, knowing with certainty that God is true, that faith is true, that His love for us is true.”

Hayden saw Livvy lean forward as if trying to absorb the message. Sunlight, dyed by the stained-glass windows, tinted her hair and face with blues and greens and purples.

“And when we know that this is true, that is faith. Loving God and being loved by God is an inheritance that is beyond anything we might get here on earth,” the minister continued. He beamed at those gathered in front of him. “Sure beats Aunt Ethel’s silverware or Uncle Ole’s letter from the president, doesn’t it? Not to say that those aren’t important, but …”

He let the thought trail off as the congregation took in the meaning.

Hayden let the idea of faith and love as an inheritance settle into his mind, and through the rest of the service, he considered it. He’d always been proud of his great-grandfather for being one of the founders of Trinity, but now there was more to it. Now he was also grateful.

Too soon the congregation was standing again, and the church service was over. He turned to Livvy as the recessional began and the congregation began to chat with each other in low voices as they filed out of the small church.

“So what did you think?” he asked. He was surprised at how important her answer was to him.

“It was wonderful,” she said, her face glowing. “I felt like a dry sponge in water, soaking it up.”

“It was good, wasn’t it?”

Gramps leaned around him and added, “I’d never thought about that part of Luke before. Grub, if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to go home and study this a bit more.”

Hayden looked at his grandfather in surprise. Usually they went to Clara’s after church for an omelet and coffee. Gramps looked tired and drawn, as if the service had worn him out. Hayden’s heart dropped. This was not good.

Livvy took the gnarled fingers of the old man in her own as they walked out of the church. “I think we all could use some time for reflection. I can walk back to my place.”

Hayden wanted to object, but he could see a slight tremble in the old man’s shoulders. It was a time of change, and it had clearly taken its toll on him.

“If you don’t mind,” he said.

“Not at all. I need to get home to make sure that Leonard hasn’t gone off in search of Jeannie. After all, she’s in Africa, and that’s quite a walk, even for him.”

He smiled despite his worry. Her words lightened his heart a bit, and he was appreciative to her for that.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

He watched her walk away, and he turned his attention to Gramps, who nodded slowly. “She’s a good one, Grub. Don’t let her get away.”

“She’s just going to Jeannie’s guesthouse, Gramps. She’s not going far.”

The twinkle came back to his grandfather’s eyes as he said, “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. She’s the one for you.”

“I don’t—I barely know—we just met,” Hayden stammered.

“Remember what Reverend Carlisle said. Certainty. It extends outside the church walls, Grub. Have a little faith. No, have a lot of faith. Have a lot of faith.”

Hayden hugged the old man’s shoulders lightly. “I do, Gramps. I do.”

L
ivvy walked to her little house, mulling over the worrisome tremors she’d felt in Gramps’s hands. He’d looked especially frail when Hayden had picked her up, but she had chalked that up to the suit he wore. Maybe it had fit him once, when he was more muscular, but now it hung on him. Still it was sweet, she thought, the way his shirt was pressed and his tie neatly knotted. Church obviously meant a lot to him.

But when they’d left the service, his face had been pale, and his movements feeble. She had to trust Hayden’s judgment. He’d take him to the small hospital if he felt Gramps’s condition warranted it.

She wanted to pray for him. More than anything, she wanted him to be healthy and whole and not sick at all.

The thing was, she couldn’t pray like the ministers did. She had never been able to figure out what the difference was between
thee
and
thou
. But Reverend Carlisle hadn’t used those words. He had simply talked to God.

She could do that. Her attempts were halting.
Make him better, God. You know what he needs. Please get it to him. Make whatever is wrong, right
.

It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t magnificent, it wasn’t long. But it stated what she wanted.

Leonard barked happily when he saw her coming down the block, and she had to restrain him from knocking her over out of sheer glee when she opened the fence and came into the yard.

“I was gone an hour, you goofball,” she said as she unhooked the tether from his collar so he could run freely in the yard. “A whole hour. During which you managed to knock over your water dish, spill your doggy doodles on the grass, lay across your mommy’s prize rosebush, and dig a hole right next to the birdbath. You’re a busy boy.”

She repaired the damage as well as she could, and let him come in with her to the guesthouse. He flopped beside her as she stretched out on the futon. It wasn’t that she was tired, she just needed some time to rest and reflect.

“This isn’t made for both of us,” she said to Leonard. “One of us is going to have to concede defeat and get up.”

The dog simply sighed and settled even more deeply into the cushions.

“Well, there is something to be said for peaceful coexistence.” She pushed him as far to the edge as possible, and laid on her back, staring at the ceiling fan.

She’d actually gone to church. It wasn’t as if she ever had anything against going to church. It was just that her family hadn’t made it a priority. They usually went when she was a child, but there wasn’t much of a reason behind it. They went because they were expected to.

She rolled off the futon and retrieved her laptop. As she opened it, Leonard flung himself across the rest of the cushions. She wasn’t getting back on without some pushing of doggy flesh.

Jeannie had thoughtfully continued the wireless account, and Livvy was soon able to connect with her mother.

“So,” Mrs. Moore began, “how’s life in North Dakota?”

Livvy laughed and told her the story of the plumbing, lightening it up so it sounded comedic—although, in retrospect, it was really kind of funny. Then she said, “Mom, guess what. I went to church today.”

“Good! Did you like it?”

“I did. It made me feel peaceful, and yet there was a lot to think about, too. I’m going to go back.”

“That’s wonderful, honey! Did I tell you that your dad and I found a church here, too? We went initially just to see what a Swedish church service was like.”

“Was it different?”

Mrs. Moore laughed. “Well, it’s in Swedish. It’s interesting, attending services when you aren’t a native speaker. Your father and I have to listen to each single word.”

“I thought you two were completely fluent.”

“Not totally. We’re competent but there are some gaps, especially in the Old Testament language. So we take both Bibles, Swedish and English. You don’t suppose that’s cheating, do you?”

Livvy chuckled. “Somehow bringing two Bibles to church couldn’t be construed as cheating, I’d say.”

“That’s true! I hadn’t thought of that. Actually,” her mother said with some surprise in her voice, “I’m learning more about God by hearing the words in a language not my own. I hate to say this, since I’m a teacher, but it’s amazing what you can learn if you listen to every single word.”

So her parents had come back to the church. Her mother continued to talk of her social activities, and ones at the church were mixed with those from the school, or those with her friends.

Livvy thought of the Women’s League garage sale she’d seen in the bulletin. Certainly in those boxes stored across the property at Sunshine were some things that she could donate—with Hayden and Gramps’s permission—and that might be fun, getting involved with the women of Trinity. It would be a great way to meet people and make some friends.

After all, Sunshine was fifteen miles out of Obsidian. It wasn’t like she would have a next-door neighbor to drop in and have a cup of coffee with. Even Hayden and Gramps would be gone.

Leonard sighed in his sleep, and when she ended the conversation with her mother, she returned to the futon.

She threw her arm across Leonard. He moved and pressed against her even more tightly.

There was something very calming about lying on the futon, squished between an oversized dog and the back cushions. She should get up, make some lunch, run the towels through the washing machine, and pay some bills, but all that could wait.

This was Sunday, and her soul was at rest, and soon, so was she.